#astarion smut

[kittenintheden]

how to lose your mind

WE HAVE LIFTOFF. yeah I. it's a companion piece to how to train your brat and can be considered a future NYS teaser-spoiler. read the tags. enjoy.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Ori (female Tav/OC) Word Count: 5k Content: 18+, pegging Astarion into an absolute puddle, sex toys, anal, handjob, multiple orgasms, facesitting, oral sex, overstimulation, prostate stimulation, idiots in love and so horny about it, future NYS content

That old Harper druid is a bloody harpy. Sniping, judgmental, disdainful. Eager to tell him exactly where his shortfalls lie and rebuff him like a child, smirking all the while.

Heroes. Who has need of them? Certainly not him.

Astarion bursts into their private room at the Elfsong like there’s a storm cloud over his head. Ori’s reading in an overlarge armchair near the small fireplace clad in one of her short robes. Her legs dangle off the side of the chair.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “I sense there’s a story here,” she says.

He flails his hands through the air in exasperation and stalks over to the cabinet, snatching up the crystal decanter he’s been keeping his spare blood supply in lately. He turns around and points the neck of the bottle at her.

“That Jaheira is nasty,” he gripes, removing the stopper from the decanter and turning back around to pour himself a glass. “She called me, and I quote, a ‘homicidal imp easily distracted by shiny things.’” He waves his hand through the air for effect and glances over his shoulder at her.

Ori lets the hand holding her book fall to her chest and gives him a fond smile. “Is that inaccurate?”

“She’s not allowed to say it,” he says. “She hasn’t earned the right.”

He picks his goblet up by the rim and turns, resting back against the cupboard and properly looking at her as he brings it to his lips. The hem of her robe rides up her bare legs and stops just before her arse. If he had to guess, he’d say she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“And what have you been doing this afternoon, darling?” he says, pitching his voice lower and taking another drink as he holds her eye.

Ori shrugs. “Sorting through our chest of assorted nonsense.” She holds up her book. “Reading a bit. Enjoying the lack of whinging.”

He tuts at her. “I come to my partner for support in my time of need and all I get is teasing,” he pouts. “Woe, for I am alone in all things.”

She lolls her head back and laughs. Rolling her body toward him, she lets her book dangle from her fingers and gives him bedroom eyes from beneath her lashes. The split in her robe separates between her breasts and gives him a peek at her cleavage.

“That’s too bad,” she says coquettishly, running the fingers on her free hand over the vine tattoos twisting over her collarbone. “Here I thought I had company and that he might want to spend quality time with me tonight.”

Astarion hums at her and knocks back the rest of his refreshment. “He’ll think about it.” He turns around to pour himself another, tapping his toe against the wooden floor as he does. Over his shoulder, he says, “What were you reading, anyway?”

“Something I picked up at Sharess’ Caress,” she says.

His mouth tics up in a half-grin as he watches blood refill his silver goblet. “Ah, it all makes sense.” He sets down the decanter. “Give you any ideas for the evening’s activities?”

“One or two,” she says, a tingle going up his spine at the sultry lilt in her voice.

He looks over his shoulder to throw another quip and it sticks on his tongue when he sees that she’s sitting perched on the edge of the chair. The robe’s untied and laid fully open, revealing her bare, freckled chest and full breasts, her legs stretched out in front of her. She has her hands on the cushion behind her and arches her back so he gets the full effect as his eyes follow the natural path down from her parted lips to the valley between her breasts to the plane of her stomach to-

Ori glances down to the place his eyes have settled and says, “I thought maybe, if you wanted to, you’d like to come sit on my lap while we consider our options.”

Astarion chokes a little on his own saliva and coughs to cover it, glancing away. He clears his throat and looks back to the space between her legs, feeling a wave of surprised arousal ripple down his torso, leaving heat in its wake.

“Is that, erm.” He gestures at the dark gray, exquisitely shaped cock she’s attached to her hips with a black leather harness. “Is that the one…”

She lets her head fall to one side and grins at him. “The one I saw you eyeing when we were out before?” she says. “It is. The D-”

He waves a hand in front of him and shakes his head. “Don’t… please don’t say the name again. I can’t handle it.”

Ori giggles, head thrown back and toy bouncing teasingly in her lap. When she rights herself, her smile goes soft. She lifts a hand and holds it out to him. “Come here,” she says.

He does, leaving his second drink on the cupboard as he approaches, taking her hand. She pulls him to her gently, just enough to indicate that she’d like a kiss as she tilts her face up for him. He bends at the waist and presses his mouth to hers once, then a second time. Then he drops his gaze to the toy and reaches down to touch it.

It’s hard in a way that makes his own cock respond in kind at its promise, but softer than he’d thought it would be, as if it’s covered in a thin layer of well-conditioned leather. He runs his fingers over it, mapping its shape. Good. Very good shape. Very good size.

“Mmmn,” he breathes before he can catch the sound in his throat.

Ori leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “It’s an option. If you want. Or we can do something else.”

He laughs through his teeth. “No, this, uh. This is. I like it.” He meets her eye. “I think I would like to do that. With you.”

She smiles and waits.

“Now,” Astarion specifies. “I would like to do it now.”

“Lucky you,” she purrs, twisting her fingers in the front of his shirt and pulling him against her for another kiss.

Their tongues tangle together and he falls to his knees between her legs. He pulls the robe off her shoulders so he can run his lips and tongue along her collarbone and up over the place where her neck meets her shoulder. Another rush of arousal throbs through his core as his body and mind remember that this can feel good, it can feel so good, and he trusts that she’ll take care of him.

Ori’s hands go up under his shirt and she helps him get it off over his head, their mouths only parting long enough to remove it. She twines both hands around the nape of his neck and strokes her tongue sweetly against his. He groans as he presses his body to hers and feels the cock pressed between their bellies.

Half-reluctantly, half-eagerly, he breaks away and pushes himself to standing, going to undo his fastenings. Ori’s hands fall over his and he lets her take over, loosening his ties. As she does, she presses soft kisses along the line between his navel and his pelvis, further igniting his need. It’s all he can do not to whine at her.

She chuckles and gets his laces undone, hooking her fingers under the hem of his breeches and pulling them down until his hard cock springs free, the head swollen tight and pink with want.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, observing him mere inches from her face. “I thought you might like this, but I had no idea.”

He murmurs his approval as she pokes out her tongue and runs it sweetly over the slit on the underside of him, his pre-fluid creating a tiny pool in the center of her tongue. Then she looks up at him and swallows.

“How would you like it, dearest?” she says. “This is for you.”

It fully hits him, then. His gaze shifts to the side table where she’s set out a few things – towels, a basin, vials. The toy she’s wearing won’t give her any pleasure of her own, at least not the way she’s offering it to him.

“You planned this,” he breathes. “For me.”

She nods.

His throat bobs, desire and adoration swirling together inside him. He doesn’t know how to thank her. For this, for everything. But he’ll figure it out. Every day until it all ends, he’ll figure it out.

“I can be on top?” he asks softly.

“Of course you can, love,” she says, running her hands up the outsides of his thighs. She helps him remove his remaining clothes and then reaches for one of the vials.

Astarion lifts one of his legs and sets his foot on the chair beside her, leaving the other on the floor. Ori takes his hint and applies lubricating oil to her fingers before she reaches between his legs, continuing to press open-mouthed kisses to his stomach as she runs her middle finger along the cleft of his arse. His breath catches when she finds the opening and massages it gently with the pad of her finger.

He closes his eyes and relaxes into the feeling, letting himself enjoy the way she’s touching him. His thigh falls open wider, giving her better access. She takes her time, completely unhurried, letting him shiver and sigh for her. She touches him, kisses him, sings him his praises.

When he begins to squirm impatiently and cracks his eyes to give her a heated look, she gives the head of his cock another lick and pushes her finger inside slowly, up to the first knuckle to start. He clenches on instinct, then in pleasure, then relaxes as she pushes deeper, past the second ring of muscle.

He didn’t have doubts about her experience, really, but any he might have had evaporate when she curls her finger and finds his pleasure center almost immediately.

“Oh,” he breathes, curling over her slightly and gripping the arms of the chair. “Yes, there, right there.”

She works him slowly with one finger, then two, stroking circles along the place inside him that makes his toes curl. A low, aching, insistent tension begins deep inside him. The feverish need for more.

Instinctively, hard-coded from years of experience, Astarion reaches out blindly for her cock to stroke along its length, to bring her in closer to his body. It takes him a murky moment to realize it’s likely for naught, but he does it anyway. He feels oil against his fingers and realizes she’s added more, this time to the phallus she wears. He swallows hard and spreads it, pumping like he would if she could feel him.

Ori reaches up to the back of his head with her free hand and presses their foreheads together. “Whenever you’re ready, love.”

“Ready,” he pants. “Gods, so ready.”

She carefully removes her fingers from him so he can crawl up onto the chair with her, his knees on either side of her hips as he straddles her. Ori puts her hands on his hips while he holds on to the back of the chair and helps him line up, the phallus held firm in its harness. He finds it and sinks down, his breath coming rapidly as the head of it stretches him.

He rocks softly down, down, and down again, and then she’s partway inside him, the curve of the toy hitting him just right.

“Uuuuhhh fuck me,” he grits out as he moves.

“Trying, baby,” she says.

She puts her forearm against the chair for leverage and rolls herself up into him, her torso undulating in a smooth wave. Astarion shudders out his breath and lets his eyes fall closed as she works the full length inside him, stroking firmly along his hot spot on the way in and out. His fingers tighten against the chair and he turns his head to the side to gently bite down on his own arm to stifle the noises threatening to spill from his lips.

He works his hips in tandem with her, finding an easy rhythm that feels absolutely delicious. Ori’s hands run up his chest and around his ribs to his back. She brings her face in close to him, licking her tongue over his pectoral until she finds his nipple, and pauses there to gently suck.

“Hmmmmn-ah,” Astarion moans, releasing his arm where he’s biting it and letting sound rise out of his throat once more. Too focused on the tension building within him to be anything resembling coherent. His head feels far too heavy as he presses it against the side of her face.

With his mouth near her ear, she can pick out a select few words – mostly Elvish, with her name peppered in for good measure.

She takes her mouth from his chest and turns to kiss him quiet. He continues to rock against her, occasionally bobbing up and down. His timing goes increasingly spotty.

When they break, she whispers, “This must feel good. You’re doing the garbled Elvish thing.”

“Mmmm sh-shhh,” he shushes her, leaning in to cover her mouth with his, kissing between shallow gasps. For once, he has no clever comeback on deck. The only thing currently top of mind is that the combination of riding good cock and knowing the good cock belongs to the person he loves is driving him out of his absolute mind with pleasure.

He releases a hand from the chair and lets one arm fall to his side, dangling it as he leans back and rolls his hips against her, panting out a steady stream of hah, hah, hah as he lets the sensations wash through him.

While she watches him lose himself from below, Ori rubs circles into his lower back and around his hips. “So beautiful,” she murmurs. “Beautiful and riding me so well.”

He brokenly cries out her name. The tension inside him is swelling and rising, threatening to burst. He reaches around to take his cock in hand and finish himself off, but Ori stays him, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m ready to come,” he gasps. “I’m… right there.”

“I know,” she says gently back. “You can. You can come for me, love.”

“I need to…” He tries to touch himself again.

She holds him. “Trust me, baby. You can. You can come, just like this.”

“I… I…”

Ori continues to slowly fuck him through his overwhelm. When he relaxes against her again to let the pleasure continue, she releases his hand and reaches between his legs, not quite touching his cock. She briefly cups him before moving a knuckle behind his balls to massage the spot right at the base of his cock.

Astarion’s eyebrows tick up and his jaw goes fully slack as the additional stimulation tips him over, the tension releasing from him as he clenches down around the toy, riding out the heavenly pulses sending ripples through his entire body.

His cock leaks a bit, fluid trailing over the tip and down the underside, but continues to stand rock-hard and at attention.

“Bleeding gods above and below,” he groans. He’s only had one of those a handful of times in his life. For good measure, his body gives one last mild clench.

Ori lightly runs her fingers over his skin. “Did I do okay?” she teases.

He heaves a breath and hums at the feeling of her still inside him, the need already starting to prickle at the edges of his awareness.

“I just came so well that I don’t think I could pretend I didn’t if I tried,” he says, deadpan.

“So, yes, then.”

“Yes.”

She takes one of his hands back in hers and brings it to her mouth to kiss. “Do you need to take a breather?”

“Also yes,” he says.

With her help, he gets his legs back under him and carefully rises up off her, whining a little at the loss. It felt good and he’s still so hard.

But he also genuinely needs a moment to catch his breath.

Astarion helps her to standing and she gives him a kiss before she moves to the side table. He moves to flop down onto their shared bed, flat on his back. The blankets are cool against his sex-heated skin.

Ori takes a moment to do a quick cleanup with her gathered supplies before she comes to stand between his spread legs where they hang over the edge of the mattress. She lays two towels down on the bed beside him.

With a pleased sigh, she runs the pads of her fingers down the dip in his abdomen, making him jump beneath her touch as she nears his leaking cock. She doesn’t quite touch and he flops his head back in mock disappointment, his blissed smile giving him away.

“I think…” she says as she crawls up to straddle him, holding his eye. “... you could do another of those. If you wanted.”

“Gods,” Astatrion groans, his core clenching in memory and anticipation. “I don’t know that I could.”

She places her hands on either side of his head and bends down to kiss him. He feels the rigid tip of her phallus against his hip and subconsciously nips at her lip with a growl.

“Would you like to try?” she asks sweetly, batting her eyes at him. “Before the big finish.”

A rumbling hum rises from deep in his throat and he reaches up to move a curl out of her eyes. “You don’t have to keep going.”

Ori smiles fondly. “I want to.” She lays on top of him and he gives a gravely moan as her weight settles across his erection, trapping it between their bodies. She reaches up and traces her fingers over his face, gazing at him like she’s enchanted. “If you knew how gorgeous you looked just now, you’d want to make it happen again, too.”

He barks out a laugh and swallows. “Always knew you liked them pretty.”

She puffs a breath out through her nose and leans in to kiss his cheek. “I like them well-loved,” she says. Another kiss. “And fucked the way they deserve.”

His body responds to that like a reflex, arousal stretching and purring under his skin, his cock insistently reminding him of its need. He kisses her with a hum, breaking to rest his head back against the bed so he can look up at her with lidded eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love making you feel good. Will you let me?”

Gods, he adores her.

“I’ll allow it,” he says with a slow smile.

Ori raises her eyebrows. “Good.”

She goes to fetch another vial and spends a moment prepping them both again, running her heated palm over the back of his thigh and guiding him to bend his knee to open himself back up for her. When he’s ready, she puts her hands on either side of him and pushes cautiously back inside, careful not to go too hard or too fast as she lowers herself over his body.

Astarion instantly tightens his leg around her and draws her in closer, groaning out his desire. It’s wonderful, but it’s also overwhelming. He’s so gods damned sensitive, the head of his cock nearly purple with unspent arousal.

“I don’t know if I…” he whispers.

Ori slowly rolls one more time, brushing her hand along the side of his face and whispering into the opposite ear, “You’re all right, dearest. Whenever you’re ready to let go, I’m right here.”

He sputters out a tearful sound and arches into her, lifting his leg higher up to wrap along her hip. The adjusted angle makes him gasp, igniting the tension to build anew, higher and more maddening this time. With a whine, he grips her upper arm and turns his face toward hers.

“Love me,” he says, breath warm on her cheek. “Love me, Ori, love me.”

“I will love you so well,” she says, closing the distance to kiss him deep. “You remember our word?”

“Yes,” he breathes, nodding a little for good measure.

“Say it for me, one time,” she says, voice soothing.

Without hesitation, he says, “Weavemoss.”

Ori kisses him again. “Any reason we want to stop, no matter what, that’s our word.”

He presses hard into the kiss, then says, “I understand. Now fuck me again.”

“Whatever my sweetheart wants,” she purrs, pivoting her hips to set a slow, reverent pace.

It’s too much and not enough at once, sticky-sweet with an edge. He wants to both melt into the feeling and cling to it desperately.

He hadn’t exactly been quiet before, but he’d maintained a sliver of control over his utterances. This time, he doesn’t have the capacity to care. He leverages himself to grind back against her, whining and huffing and groaning out his pleasure.

“That’s it,” she says, her voice winded from the exertion. “You’re incredible. What a good, beautiful boy you are.”

“I am,” he agrees, huffing out a delirious laugh. She adjusts her angle slightly and gives him a series of quick, shallow thrusts followed by a long roll and he loses himself.

“Gods, arsurinyas, gods,” he gasps, head thrown back. “How are you doing that?”

“Practice,” she huffs, leaning heavily on her arms and increasing her pace.

From there, it’s only a simple of matter of time before his pleasure catches him again, the thread drawing tighter and tighter until it snaps once more. The whole of his pelvis and abdomen goes sore from its clenching, but in the way that feels like the high after a run, after a kill, after an unbelievable fuck.

And still, and still, his bullocks ache with unspilled seed. He’s nearly mindless from it.

While he comes down from his latest high, he feels Ori pull out and he tries to tell her no, come back, it’s so much but it’s also so wonderful, but he needn’t have worried. She takes his hands and uses her bodyweight to pull him up to sitting. He lolls there, blissed out and feral with need. 

“Think you can turn around for me, love?” she asks, giving his hands one more gentle yank. “I’ve got you.”

He groans and does as asked, thoughts too muddled to argue or attempt anything but her request. His leg is heavy as he lifts it and flips himself, feet now on the floor as he puts his palms on the edge of the bed. Ori approaches behind him and he barely registers her spreading the towels out under him, but then her hands are rubbing his back and he goes jelly-boned under her touch, a completely pliant mess.

“Ready?” she says. He feels her palms spread over his hips, holding him together.

He arches his deep in response. “Yes,” he breathes, barely audible.

When she enters him again, his mind hollows out and he instantly clenches down around the toy. She gives his body a moment to settle before she begins to move again. Her hands slide from his hips to the divots in his lower back, her thumbs massaging into the muscles there in the most deliriously enjoyable way, relaxing him and drawing a reedy purr from his throat.

Ori presses her breasts up against his back as she rocks into him yet again, kissing between his shoulder blades. He whimpers, overstimulated and desperate and continually dripping onto the towels below. 

“You’re being so good,” she croons. “Such a good boy. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” he sighs, rocking back into her. “I’ll be whatever you want.”

Another kiss on his spine. “Good boys get good things.”

His hair is damp with sweat, breath puffing from his lips in his lustful haze. “Please,” he whispers. 

Ori rolls up on her tiptoes and puts her mouth against his ear. She gives the lobe a little suck and enjoys his shuddering whine before she says, “Good boys get to come on my cock thrice.”

“Fuck,” Astation gasps, dropping his chin and feeling his cock pulse and twitch, his balls pulling in tight. 

Then Ori reaches around and takes him in hand and his mouth falls open with a guttural moan.

The remaining oil on her hand and his own slick spread under her touch, offering a splendid glide as she jerks him, making sure to brush up against the slit with her thumb as she works.

“Aaaa-aaaahh,” he manages as he thrusts into her hand.

She follows his hips with hers and together the set a rhythm, him fucking into her hand while she fucks into him, a perfect storm. There’s no drawing this out. He’s already hurtling toward the end, eyes squeezed shut until tears trail from the corners.

“Ori, gods, Ori,” he whimpers. “I’m going to cuh- gods-”

Like a shiver, it runs down the length of him from the crown of his head all the way to his toes. He breaks apart like so much stardust, his release spilling out in an incredible rush, then again, again, and again as Ori pumps him through it until it slows to a trickle. Everything goes soft and quiet, his body sated at last.

He doesn’t speak and neither does she, their heavy breathing the only sound. Ori wraps her arms around him and holds him close, peppering kisses over his shoulders, his back, his neck. Slowly, softly, she trails her fingers over his lower belly, soothing the soreness there.

When she pulls out, the only thing he feels fit to do is drag his burdensome body up onto the mattress and collapse into the pillows. He hears her soft laugh as she removes her harness and collects the messed towels, setting everything aside for a proper cleaning later. She takes some time to wipe herself down with water and mild soap from the basin, then brings a damp cloth over to do the same to him.

His breathing slows as she turns him onto his back, helping him tent a leg so she can carefully clean up the oil and spend from his skin. Astarion blows a breath between his lips and cracks his eyes open to look up at her, curls falling limp and sweaty against her head. Her skin is dewy with lust and exertion.

It’s been a minute since anyone’s fucked him so well, so selflessly. He reaches up a hand to brush against the side of her face, taking the cloth from her and tossing it aside so he can guide her down into his waiting kiss. They’re drunk on one another, lips and tongue and touch.

They make out for several minutes before Astarion runs a hand down her body and between her legs, finally. He finds her completely drenched with slick.

“Hmmm,” he hums against her mouth. “Someone enjoyed that almost as much as I did, I think.”

“What can I say,” she sighs, hitching her breath as he runs a finger along the seam of her. “It’s a bit of a rush to get your love off three times in a row, especially when he looks so pretty coming apart.”

“I can relate,” he says, voice low. He reaches around to palm her just below her arse and pulls her up higher. “Get up here.”

She chuckles. “This was for you, sweetheart.”

“The hells it was,” he lilts, pulling her with slightly more insistence. “If you think I’m going to let you get away with all that without making you scream your pretty heart out, you don’t know me at all.”

“Promises,” she teases. But she relents, letting him guide her as he scoots himself down the mattress and lifts her leg until she’s settled directly on his face.

He runs the entire flat of his tongue along her heated cunt, savoring the moaning gasp she makes, and moves his hands up over her sides, counting every rib as he goes before he lowers one hand to her waist and palms her breast with the other. Ori offers little resistance before she begins rutting against his mouth, chasing relief he’s all too happy to offer.

His tongue works magic as he curls it up into her, stroking along the rough place just inside before drawing back up to lave at her clit.

Ori puts her hand over his on her chest, making him squeeze her tighter there as she begins to bounce a bit. “Gods damn it, you have such a sweet mouth,” she pants.

He smiles and continues to work her, using everything at his disposal to light her up – the flats of his teeth, the whole of his tongue, the suction of his lips. Her clit goes pebble-hard under his ministrations and she whines out his name.

“Gods, gods, gods,” she huffs out between bounces, her voice tight with need. “Gods, Astarion, that’s so fucking…”

He redoubles his efforts, moving both hands to the globes of her arse and gipping hard so he can help her fuck his face to her content. And she does, she does and she does until her thighs quake.

Astarion rolls three circles in quick succession, a delightful swirl that he knows will drive her mad, and she throws her head back and gives a rewarding, sobbing cry to the ceiling as she comes, her slick coating his chin.

After, they lay side by side naked on top of the covers, Astarion wrapped around her from behind with a hand still palming one of her breasts, softly snoring.

They don’t wake until midnight, and they don’t talk about the fact that for all his disdain for heroes, he certainly doesn’t mind being fucked by one.

[graveyardcuddles]

The Space Between - NSFW Reader x Astarion one-shot

18+ MDI

Summary: blood drinking and other fun activities in front of the mirror.

Word Count: ~ 2800

tags/warnings: post-canon, established relationship, porn with feelings, afab reader, gender-neutral reader, shameless vampire smut, blood-drinking, scent kink, mirror play, body exploration, fingering, PiV sex, unprotected sex

Astarion rarely ever mentions his lack of a reflection these days. Whenever the topic is brought up it's normally in his trademark sense of humor: a casual "You're blocking my view, love," when you enter your shared bathroom to preen as he's washing his mouth out with mint and rosemary water in the mornings. One of the many new habits he's picked up in the months since the two of you moved in.

He'll occasionally sneak up behind you to wrap his arms around you unexpectedly while checking over your outfit in the mirror, scaring the daylights out of you more than once. "We do look good together, don't we?" playfully whispered to you as his cool breath tickles your ear before proceeding to break out into heady laughter at your frightened reaction.

Your lover has had so many things taken from him. You could hardly blame him for holding onto his rage. Wrath was all he had for so long. Enabled him to survive before you came into his life and shared your blood with him. Gave him hope that despite everything he lost, he might one day at least have revenge. After achieving said revenge, for the first time in nearly two centuries, he could imagine more.

Adventures with you in the years following the fall of the Absolute only brought you two closer, intertwining his life with yours. The feeling of belonging to someone without being possessed by them. It was overwhelming at times for him. Most of the time on your travels together, he was happy to sit or stand back while you planned out the finer details of travel routes and provisions around the campire, carefully mapping out the following day. Yet it was usually never very long before he decided ne needed your attention, using his vampiric stealth to his advantage to startle you into breaking your concentration with a cold kiss to your neck.

You weren't all that surprised to how well he took to his freedom, having had faith in him and his resilient nature. But sometimes you were taken aback how easily Astarion accepted the daily monotony of everyday life. Oh sure, he had much to complain about and many eye-rolls to give every time he mentioned how terribly boring the whole prospect sounded. At first, he was resistant to routines. Too restrictive. He was free now. He wanted to do whatever he wanted when he wanted. You assured him you weren't about to give a vampire a sleep schedule but that he should at least pick up some hobbies during your off-seasons of adventuring.

Eventually, the two of you settled into something of a routine, and over time, you found yourself unable to imagine a life without him. The way his laughter filled you up with joy. The sound of him practicing on the recently-aquired piano in your living room, shy and tentative at first. He now plays almost daily. The way the scents of the perfumes he crafts fill your home. Everything about Astarion seemed to fit perfectly into your life, even if it took patience and time.

You had just finished a bath and were going through your nighttime routine as you stood before the full-length mirror in your bedroom. Letting the towel fall away, you combed your hair and applied perfume to your wrists and clavicle. It's a new blend of fragrancs Astarion had spent a tenday perfecting. Floral with warm undertones and a hint of sweetness. It was easy to lose yourself in it. Close your eyes and let it's aroma warm and dissipated across your skin. You feel relaxed and light. If Astarion wanted to be particularly cheeky, he could startle you quite badly if he wanted to. Instead, he announces his presence softly.

"Hello, darling," he purrs to you as he steps up behind you.

You smile as he places the tips of his fingers on your shoulders, touching you so lightly you can barely feel them. Letting yourself lean back a little, you relax into his chest and run your fingers through his hair, inviting him to touch you further.

"Fond of the new blend, are you?" He lips leave cool kisses in the crook of your neck as breaths in your scent. You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

"As a matter of fact, I am. I think it might be my favorite so far." He grins in that unique way he does when you know he's hiding something.

"What is it?" You query as he kisses your shoulder and runs his hands down to ever-so-lightly hold onto your hips. "Oh nothing," he says nonchalantly as he kisses up your neck, kindling warmth throughout your body.

"Right... you're just that giddy I enjoy the new scent, is it?" Your hands wander through his silver curls and gently brush against the tip of one of his ears. His fingers dig into your hips, and he buries he groans softly into your neck. "Mmm, I might have made it with you in mind," he mumbles into your skin.

You watch in the mirror as invisible digits dig into the pads of your hips, skin on your lower belly pulled taut from how hard he was gripping you. It was nearly painful. You inhale sharply give his ear an extremely soft tug, determined to give as much teasing as you got.

"Oh? Do you mean it compliments my natural pheromones is that it?" Astarion hummed and kissed along your neck mercilessly. "Something like that," he says melodicly as he grazes his fangs across where your jugular throbs, tantalizing him.

In the mirror, your arm seemingly floats overhead, caressing your unseen lover. You turn to actually look at him, and his eyes are full of lust and longing and vulnerability. "It's inspired by the scent of your blood," he whispers as those big crimson eyes stare at you through silver lashes. "Meant to pair with your impossibly delicious bouquet." One of his pale hands comes up to cup your breast.

You sigh at his touch. "Would you like to test how well they pair together, then?" He begins to trace lazy circles around your nipple with his forefinger, and you inhale sharply as you watch its reflection wiggling and twitching in the mirror. The sight alone was making you quickly lose your composure, his fingers sending cold shivers across your skin.

Your excited heart begins pounding rapidly against your ribs, and you're certain that Astarion can hear it. Probably smell it. He once told you the scent of someone's blood becomes stronger the faster it rushes through their body.

"In fact," he leaves a deep, bruising kiss on your neck, and the imprints of both of his hands sink into the flesh of your breasts as they dig into you. His needy grip on them has you bracing against him. "May I please indulge, my love? We can move to the bed and get more comfortable."

You were rapidly losing your will to continue teasing him. Leaning your head back, you offer your neck to him in answer. "Mmm, no. Wanna watch you drink from me here," You lean back further and stare up as him adoringly. He smiles with a wicked sort of pride that's normally reserved for combat. "Well, how can I say 'no' to that?"

With practiced lips, he feels out your pulse point slowly, taking his time. The burning in your core that's been building for a while now is nearly painful. You watch your nipples continue to be pintched and stretched seemingly on their own. Astarion licks up your artery, and you can see his saliva glistening on your neck just as you feel it.

Despite your best efforts to maintain your composure, you squirm a little in his hold. He laughs, kissing your cheek. "You know better than to flail about, darling. Let's not have an accident, hm?" Gently, he tilts your head back and to the side, holding you firm by the jawline. His forefinger and thumb rub your chin tenderly as his fangs line up with your neck. His other hand comes up to rest his palm over your heart, feeling it hammer underneath his touch.

You watch as the side of your neck, slick, wet, and rudy from hickeys and love nips, forms two tiny indentation marks. He ghosts his fangs over the spot, creating pinpricks marks over where your blood pounds just under the skin.

The tension builds as those twins dots dig deeper into your skin. The burning icy bite turns into a sharp sting as you hear the soft mutted 'pop' of your skin being broken. You exhale a strained moan as the marks on your neck erupt, and crimson ichor wells up and washes over your flesh. Your neck is painted in red as his velvety tongue works over the wounds, each roll licking up more maroon gushes.

Mouthfuls of your blood vanish before your eyes as he drinks you in, making you a part of him. Invisible lips and teeth tug and suckle at your flesh, drawing out more blood. In your ear, you hear the sound of your blood on his lips, every greedy gulp from his throat, and every little satisfied exhale from his nose. You begin to lose your balance as your head gets light, but his hold on you remains firm. Just as you feel yourself growing weak, he withdraws his fangs and laps at the bite to close the wounds.

Without warning, he uses his supernatural strength advantage to lift you off of your feet, hugging you by your waist. You lean back against him and watch as you float midair, your feet hovering a few inches off of the floor. A trickle of blood flows from your neck down your torso. Your head is spinning, your toes curl, and you feel as though you might pass out. Luckily, he takes mercy on you and slowly sets you down. You stumble a little on your feet. "Ugh, asshole," you mutter. Astarion can only laugh.

"Delicious as always," he says to you, voice low and rumbling. "You are always full of such brilliant ideas, you know that?" he giggles as he nuzzles into your neck, keeping a firm hold on you. Turning your head to look up at him, he traces the edges of your face as he smiles, a bit loosened up from your essence.

He pulls you into a bloody kiss, mouths open, and tongues overlapping one another. His hand cups between your legs as you kiss, and you moan loudly into his mouth. When he pulls away, he gives you a playful look. "Sit, love," his eyes are full of anticipation as he gingerly pushes you down by the shoulders.

You sit back on your knees, and he settles down behind you, keeping an arm around your waist. "You like seeing yourself like this, darling?" He pulls you flush against him to sit on his lap, back flushed against his chest and legs straddling his thighs. You feel his arousal pressing into your ass as your reflection hovers just off the ground in the mirror, leaving you exposed to him. "Because I adore you like this. So wanton," he kneads one of your breasts while his other hand holds you still against him.

Your core throbs with need, and Astarion watches you over your shoulder eagerly. He tugs on your nipple some more, causing pleasure to shoot down your body. You feel your cunt fluttering around nothing as he mercilessly draws out your pleasure. Your pelvic muscles contract involuntarily as you stiffle back a whine.

"Aw, does it ache, darling? Do you need to be filled so badly that it hurts?" He keeps playing with your breasts and your body heaves and pants from your nipples being overstimulated and your pussy being neglected. You loll your head back, aching with arousal. "No, no," he scolds, taking you by the jaw and making you watch yourself. "Just look at the mess you made, naughty thing." He wasn't lying.

Your cunt was desperate for attention, pulsing and leaking slick down to the bulge of his pants. You're beyond trying to keep yourself quiet and you moan desperately as Astarion applies pressure to the flesh just above your clit with his fingerpads, just barely tugging on the sensitive bud. He was torturing you, so close and yet so far. "Ugh, Astarion pleeeaasee." You grind your ass against his erection, trying to convey your desperation. But feeling him throb underneath you as he groans your name only drives you more crazy.

His fingers move down to finally run along between your legs, tracing light circles slowly around your bud. Taking his time. You moan openly for more. As you wriggle in his lap, he plays with your pussy, admiring how it pulsates so frantically, begging to be filled.

He finally gives you some relief as he presses two fingers inside you, your body more than ready enough. His silver curls tickle the side of your face as he leans his head forward to get a better look. As you feel the familiar, wonderful stretch of his cool fingers, he gasps softly in quiet astonishment.

"Look, love," he whispers to you. Looking in the mirror, you see the ringed muscles around your cunt quivering as your pussy is gapped open by his fingers. Two fingers become three as he plunges even deeper and wider into you. Your lips are pulled and pushed back and forth by unseen forces as Astarion whispers sweet nothings in your ear. Your body is unbearably hot, yet his cool frame and fingers provide relief even as he simultaneously makes it worse.

"You're so beautiful like this," he says softly, his teasing demeanor beginning to fall away. "Your body is so open for me. It's so lovely, so gorgeous. All for me." He kisses you on the side of your face as you lose yourself to the sensations. "Fuck," he pulls his fingers out of you and pushes you off of him to undo his pants. "You'll be the second death of me."

Astarion pulls you back onto his lap, shifting your hips so that his cock is nestled between your folds, parting them and rubbing up against your clit. His lazy rocking motions are meant to further edge you, but you can hear him breathing heavily in your ear, trying to maintain composure.

You rolled your hips in turn, increasing the friction and causing lewd sounds to fall from both of your lips. Astarion makes a high-pitched whining sound that he fails to stifle, making him bite his lip and knit his brows together in desperation. He was adorable like this.

You reach down between your legs and stroke up and down your folds and his shaft. Grabbing onto his length, you turn back to look at him, seeking permission. He nods, gripping your hips tighter.

You line him up with your entrance and watch as your pussy stretches again, the pressure pushing inward as the head spreads you open. Lowering yourself over him slowly, you savor the sight of him filling you.

"Gods," his chin digs a little into your shoulder as he watches along with you, his breathing heavy. He openly moans as you sink down on him fully, feeling the base settling around you. He whispers your name and pulsates within you, causing the ring between your legs to flutter.

"Fuck," his digits sink into the soft flesh of hips and he struggles to form words as he observes your body. "So full of me," he pants.

Holding the position, you can see at least a few inches within your body, your pelvic muscles hugging Astarion tight. You tilt your head over to look at him, how he watches your body react to him. He looks almost dizzy, his mouth hanging open in a haze of lust. You run your fingers across his cheekbone gently, breaking him from his concentration on your reflection.

His eyes hold your stare as you simply feel one another. Your arms wrap around his head as you pull him into a kiss, this time gently. Still full of passion but slow, burning, lips and tongue softly brushing against one another as your faces nuzzled together. "I'm yours," you break the kiss to say to him. Within you can feel his cock throbbing, causing you to gasp and tighten around him.

"Say it again," he growls softly, pressing his forehead into yours and moving a hand down to just above your pubic bone. He applies counter pressure on where his cock is already internally pressing on your g-spot.

He rocks just enough to move in and out of you by a few inches, keeping himself inside. "I'm yours, Astarion!" The bow drawn tight inside of you was threatening to let loose. You were babbling more than dirty talking as Astarion turned his attention once more on your pearl. As he bounces you roughly in his lap, he presses onto your lower abdomen while rutting into you.

The rough fucking along with the stimulation of your g-spot and clit have you cumming around his cock, your muscles contracting wildly. Astarion praises you breathlessly as he watches you flex around him in ecstacy, and his voice is quickly cut off with a succession of whines, which become moans as your climax pushes him towards his own.

His cock throbs, filling you up as he clutches onto you, pale fingers digging into your ass and hips. In the mirror your messy and swollen pussy pulses rhythmically as it leaks with his cum.

You relax into his chest as you let him slip out of you, his arms wrap around you and hold you close.

You sit there together for a long while, kissing each other tenderly. His lips delicately kiss each finger on your hand, and then the back of your hand and up to your shoulder before kissing all over, adorning you with affection. He kisses you as if he's trying to trace constellations on your face. You shift to sit on his lap and cup his face gently. Sweeping a lock off of his forehead, you lean forward to kiss his brow. "We fit together perfectly."

[thewritetofreespeech]

A Million Relms Away

words: 2.8K

rating: E

pairing: Astarion x Tav

tags: heterosexual sex, sex & comfort, oral (female), mentions of emotional trauma, Nym & Sorn

summary: You and Astarion return to Sharass' Caress to take the Twins up on their offer. But you have to wonder if this is really what he wants.

Ao3

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

What better way to celebrate a victory than with passionate sex?

With Cazador defeated, and Astarion free, you decided to reward yourselves by taking the infamous drow twins of Sharass’ Caress up on their offer.

They seem delighted to see you again. Although it maybe that they are just delighted to see your gold again. Still, they take you gently by the hand and lead you both upstairs. Nym made some comments about bathing the room in darkness to enhance the experience. All part of the show more like. With a wave of her hand the room was indeed plunged into darkness. A black so thick you almost felt you could reach out and touch it.

“Be a dear and help me out of this, won’t you?” The beautiful drow’s voice beckons to you. Leading your hands to the clasps of her dress for you to undo. The soft silks falling away in a pool at her delicate feet.

The remaining members of the party all undress at their leisure before all four of you arrive at the bed. Nym takes your hand again. Only this time not to do her bidding but pull you in close to do yours. Her lips are soft and well cared for. Her skin smooth and cool under your fingertips as they slide over her upper arm.

“All right sweethearts. You are to dance with a professional, you’ll get your desire.”

Your eyes turn to Astarion in the dark. Professional?

Astarion wasn’t a professional. Sure, he was experienced. You knew that. But he wasn’t like the twins between them, getting paid to perform these services. He wasn’t a prostitute. He was…..Astarion. Wasn’t he?

“For this, I feel we should be paying you.” Sorn’s assumed compliment falls on deaf ears. Astarion wasn’t listening to him. He wasn’t listening to anyone. When you catch his gaze in the few moments Nym releases your lips to dance kisses over your shoulder, you realize that he’s a million realms away.

Astarion is somewhere else entirely. Somewhere far away from here in his mind…..

“Stop.”

The elves all stop immediately and collectively pull away from each other at your single command.

“Is something wrong, darling?” Nym asked in her honey sweet voice. “Have we gone a little too fast for you?”

“No. It’s not that. I…can I just speak to Astarion alone for a moment?”

The twins look puzzled, as does Astarion, but respect your request. You were the client after all. The drow get up and pull on some thin robes quick before leaving the room. Instantly returning to its normal brightness without Nym’s shadow cloaking to cover the room.

“What’s wrong pet?” The vampire asked once you were alone. “Have I done something wrong? I suppose we didn’t really talk about ‘who would be paired with who’ before coming in here. We sort of jumped head first into it like always—“do you want to do this Astarion?”

He seemed taken aback by your questions. Blinking widely and opening & closing his mouth as those usually charming lips struggled to grasp onto some words. “W-Wh? Of course I do. I said I wanted to didn’t I!”

“You also said you weren’t comfortable with this just yet.” You reminded him.

Astarion huffed, annoyed, and moved to sit cross legged on the bed. No longer in one of his sensual poses. “That was before….”

“It was literally a few days ago.”

Though it may have felt like months, or eons, since you started off on your journey, it had really only been a short time since you had been traveling together. The experiences, the danger, the trauma, the trials. It all made it seem like the two of you had known each other much longer than you had. All your lives, it felt sometimes. In reality, the conversation you were talking about and the defeat of Cazador had only been just shy of a tenday ago. “I just want to make sure you’re ok with this. You just seemed…distant a while ago.”

Astarion doesn’t even bother to deny it or make a joke about how physically close he was too you. ‘How can I be distant when I was just moments from being inside you?’ You can almost hear his voice say in your mind. “I’m…not..not ok with this.” He told you honestly. “I thought I would be more ready with this. With Cazador gone…I thought things would be different. I would feel different.” You remember his words right after it happened. About feeling numb. After that he seemed to be back to normal. His usual charming, chipper-ish self. What a fool you had been to believe charlatan’s lie.

You reach out a hand and clasp it around one of his, hanging loose in his lap. “You don’t have to rush things.”

“You just seemed so excited.” He told you. Glancing out of the corner of his eyes to catch your gaze before looking down at the ornate blanket under him. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Telling me no isn’t ‘disappointing me’ Astarion.” You reach up from his hand to his handsome face. Cupping his cheek to look at you. You don’t want to force him, but you need him to look into your eyes for this. “I don’t ever want you to do anything you don’t want to do. This isn’t about what I want. It’s our relationship. And if you’re not ready for sex, or just not ready to have sex with hot drow twins, then I understand.”

Astarion scoffed once at your joke. Reaching up to take your hand in his. “I don’t hate sex you know.” He told you. “I just…don’t think I’m ready for group sex yet. Maybe I never will be again. It’s sick but…sometimes even when I was doing it for Cazador, I couldn’t help but like the attention. To have all those people ‘love me’ for a little while.” You knew that he knew that none of them truly loved him. They loved his body. They loved his charm. They loved what Astarion could do for them in the moment to make them feel pleasure, with no regard for his feelings, and that wasn’t love. “I don’t think I need that anymore. Others, I mean. With you…I know what it’s like to be really loved. And it feels better than all that ‘love’ put together. So maybe I really don’t need anyone else anymore.”

You felt your heart swell in your chest. With his vampire hearing he must be able to hear it but doesn’t comment on it. You lean in to give Astarion a kiss and he meets you halfway. It’s slow. Passionate. Deep. The kind of kiss that makes your lungs burn for air and the space between your legs ache for something more.

“We don’t have to do this you know.” You told him when you break away for air.

“I know.” He told you back. “I want to.”

His arms wrapped around you and suddenly you were on your back against the bed. The speed of the sudden shift in perspective making your head spin. Almost as much as the vision of Astarion hovering over top of you. His intense gaze. His hard body. The smell of his musk mixed with that cologne he wears washing over you. Stealth be damned in the face of self-care. It’s all Astarion. And he’s all yours.

You crane your next up to kiss him again, and again he comes down to meet you. Your lips crashing into each other. Your teeth connecting with his fangs now & then as you both seemed determined to reach even the deepest corners of your mouths. Wrapped in each other’s arms you can feel that Astarion was serious about wanting this. His erection hot against your belly and you shutter. Thinking about it being near your belly inside you.

He broke free of your lips and kissed a trail down your jaw towards your neck. You let out a full body shutter this time when you feel his fangs just whisper over the skin of your throat. Astarion’s deep chuckle coming up to your ear. Clearly amused and clearly aroused that you had been trained so well by your vampire lover to enjoy his teeth at your neck now.

His kisses go lower until they reach your breasts. His tongue was hot while his fingers were cold. The contrast making you moan. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

Astarion shifted lower. Kissing over your ribs, your stomach, your naval, your hips. During the times you had had sex before, Astarion had always been thorough. But now it seemed like he was on a mission to map out your body. Relearn every part that made you moan or twitch. Find those weak spots that only he could find with the same precision as one of his daggers.

By the time he came to rest between your legs, you were already quivering. Between Nym earlier, and now this agonizing long path Astarion had built for himself, you felt ready to burst at even the slightest touch to your apex. You don’t, however, when his tongue caressed your wet folds. But your back ached off the bed like you had been possessed. Calling his name like some kind of prayer that would save you from this possession.

That skilled tongue, in more than just insults, licked over your entrance. Teasing the sensitive nub at the top of it with just the tip. The lapping at your folds slicked wet with your juices. You felt like you would go mad from the lust burning inside you.

On instinct you reach down to grab at Astarion’s hair. Blindly searching for purchase somewhere, in an attempt to ground yourself in this maelstrom of arousal, but realize quick what you were doing and let go. You don’t want to hurt him. The sound that came from Astarion, however, was not one of pain. If you could interpret it from the way his head bucked up against your hand. You actually couldn’t hear the sound fully as it was muffled by your cunt. You moan and grip his hair again, hopefully with less force this time.

The silk tresses indeed keep you grounded, but do nothing to stop the burning inside you.

One more flick of that sharp tongue over your clit and you were coming undone. Back arched, legs shaking, holding onto Astarion as he seemed committed to working you through this and drinking you down.

By the time your shakes had subsided, Astarion was already on top of you again. His face clean, although you could barely tell. Those red orbs of his were staring at you so intensely that it was hard to focus on anything else. You felt about as pinned to the mattress by his gaze as if he had gripped your hands above your head. “I’ve never wanted anyone in my life the way I want you.” The hand not keeping him upright above you reached down to your thigh and lifted it up next to his hip. “May I?”

“Yes Astarion.”

He probably could have asked you for anything at that moment. All of the camps gold? Sure. The Moonlight Glaive Dame Aliyn gave you? Where should you leave it. Your soul? He already had it.

The fact that he wants what you want, to be one at this moment, was more than a happy coincidence you were more than willing to abide. You were moments from begging Astarion to be inside you before he asked. Thrusting his cock inside you quickly after your reply to the sound of your unabashed moans.

In the past, when you and Astarion have had sex, his movements are always controlled. He would thrust his hips in a very precise manner. Built on technique he had likely developed over decades and hundreds of lovers to bring the exact amount of pleasure to bring them to climax. He’s done it to you too before. And he always seemed pretty proud of himself.

Now, however, Astarion was fucking into you like a mad man. His thrusts were hard and fast. As if with every thrust he was trying to get deeper inside you. Or not thrusting at all as he rolled his hips against you. Like those few seconds of being not completely inside you was too much to bear. You hold on to him tight with your legs and your fingers. Nails scratching at his back at one particularly thrust, causing Astarion to moan your name in your ear.

You catch a glimpse of his face when you open your eyes. Twisted closed in pleasure for so long that you almost had to open them to prove you could again. The look on his face made you moan and the walls around his quiver. Before where he looked a million miles away, he now looked like he couldn’t be more present and focused on you. Like no one else in the world existed but the two of you.

You pull him down into a kiss. Messy and hot. Your lips sliding over each other as it was hard to keep them together with Astarion thrusting the way he was. “Astarion…” you call out to him through labored breath, “I’m going to…I’m gonna cum.”

The vampire just groaned. No witty comment of ‘cum for me my love’ or ‘lets die a little together then’ like usual. Instead, he just held on to your hips tight and continued thrusting until he all of a sudden stopped inside you. Your own orgasm following close after.

The two of you collapsed onto the bed. Exhausted. You haven’t been this worn out since going through Shar’s temple. But this was much more enjoyable. “We should probably get going.” You look down at Astarion, who lifted his head from your chest and shoulder where he had been resting to look at you. “These brothels charge by the hour. Gods know how long we’ve been in here now, but I’m sure if we stay any longer, they’ll have us working off out depts to the clientele.”

You chuckle a little at the joke. “Ok. I guess I can’t keep you all to myself forever.”

“I never said that.” The cheeky grin on his face had a softer hue to it than normal as he sat up. Taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. “Just not in a place that would cost us all our coin.”

You both untangle from the bed and clean up a little with the water & rags provided, before you dress and head out the door.

Astarion was much more well versed in leaving brothels. Knowing to keep his head down and keep moving until you made it out the front door. You, however, were not aware of this rule, and catch sight of Nym and her clever smile just before you make it down the stairs.

“Hey, um…sorry about…you know…kicking you out…stealing your room….”

The drow lifted one delicate hand to silence your apology. “You needn’t apologize. I was listening at the door.” She let out a lyrical little chuckle at your probably mortified look. “Don’t be so embarrassed. This is a brothel. There are clients far and wide that pay for such a service.” But you were sure the parties were in on it; you want to say back to her. “But, I sell love for a living and what you two have well…it’s special. To have such passion, but also respect for one another, is a rare thing. You should cherish it. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in being able to taste just a bit of it, but I would never want to get in the way of what you have.”

You thank her for your understanding and compliment. You tell her to keep the money, not that she made any offer to give it back to you, and move to catch up to Astarion. Who was waiting for you outside the door. “Was she heartbroken?”

“Oh, devastated.” You told him as you linked your arm around his to head back to Elfsong and meet up with the other. “Are you alright though?”

“Hm…I am.” He replied after a moment of thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as ‘alright’ as I am right now.”

“That’s not just the sex high talking, is it?”

Astarion laughed. “No. I think not. But I would be willing to test the theory though. Ask me again in a few hours. Then, tonight, when I come to have you again, you can ask me once more. We’ll go from there.”

You blush at Astarion’s explanation of his ‘scientific testing’ method. You wondered if you had perhaps some kind of beast in Astarion. More than just a hunger for blood that lay below his vampire surface. You just hoped you had the stamina for both.

[pursuitseternal]

Introducing “Love Me or Hate Me (for both work in my favour):” Enemies to Lovers, Gur!Tav x Astarion

Astairon x Tav (Katja) | E | 4k Chapter 1

Ask box fill from @thegoodwitchs-blog

Summary: Katja hates her circumstances of a tadpole in her head, but she hates him more. Gur by birth, monster hunter by trade like her people, it takes all her limited Barbarian control not to stake him in his sleep. As for him, she’s the same stock of vagrant that killed him all those centuries ago; punishing her should be fun and harmless… well, maybe just a little harmful.

CW: Enemies to Lovers, Hate sex, angry sex (DubCon?), manipulation, semi-public sex, jealousy, biting and mild choking, Act 1 spoilers

Ao3 Link | Astarion fic Masterlist

Ch. 1:Little Vagrant

Every single instinct in Katja’s body sat at high alert from the moment she met him. Since the moment he pulled a dagger on her, she should have disarmed him like her elders had taught her back in the village and staked him through the heart for good measure.

And that was before her worst suspicions had been confirmed.

Before she saw the after effects of his true nature, the morning after he bit her cleric.

Vampire… slave to sanguine hunger… monster…

Enemy.

But there were worse monsters to fight—Mindflayers. And he was too useful to dispatch, not while they had a healer to find and a Goblin camp to infiltrate and an Archdruid to save.

Katja would just have to let the monster’s undead heart keep beating at a dirge’s pace until she no longer needed him. His blades were too quick, his ferocity in battle unmatched, especially now that he could fight with knife and fang. She had to admit, it was thrilling to watch… his lithe movements, graceful and equally deadly as he fought. She understood why her people couldn’t let his kind live.

They were too powerful, too dangerous, and too beautiful.

Once, she stumbled on him bathing in the river, another gift of the tadpole to allow such a monster the ability to enter running waters without harm.

Pugh.

At first she had been revolted by the paleness of his skin and the scars on his back. It was… too disgusting for her to look away, she told herself. Too risky to leave him unobserved, unguarded. He could attempt to do anything… best to remain in hiding.

Crouching in the bushes, she heard him giggle. “Well, well, well. Our churlish leader…. You’d be a blight on your people if they knew you were… lusting after a soulless creature like me.” He turned those unnerving crimson eyes in her direction. “Likely they’d put your head on a pike just for thinking about what I look like naked, darling.” He smirked wickedly. “Tch, what a shame that would be to have one less Gur vagrant in the world.”

His lip twitched as she stood from her hiding place. Katja’s rounded human ears turned beet red in the dark, her long golden braids whipping her back as she spun on her heel and made for camp.

He won this battle. But she would win the war between them. His insufferable voice would quiet permanently someday, his shifting, crimson eyes would stare at her lifelessly. He would look so beautiful with a stake through his ribs.

He was a menace, and Katja was lucky by all the gods that he hadn’t killed her yet. She didn’t know why he had yet to drain her dry. Maybe his hunger was sated because he was drinking his fill from the Cleric every night. She rolled her eyes as she watched them each morning departing their shared tent. It made her sharpen her ax extra those mornings before battle. This day, they were headed for the Goblin camp, just beyond the village. And as they packed up camp, making their way over trails, Katja bristled as Astarion’s cold presence drew close.

“Are you alright, darling? Your pulse sounded this morning as if your feeble, mortal heat was bout to explode. I didn’t know that a Gur had a heart, much less that it could beat so childishly fast with jealousy,” he sneered down at her. Those sharp and sinister features were a good head and a half above her after all.

“Jealous? Pft,” Katja grimaced, shifting her pack on her shoulders. “Why would I be jealous of a creature with no soul, vampire?”

“It’s not my soul that interests you, I’ve noticed. It’s my body, and what I do with it…” his icy lips pressed nearer to her ear, almost touching, “and to whom I do said things…”

A dagger pressed into his ribs faster than he could draw a breath, a breath his undead body didn’t need. “Careful, monster,” Katja hissed. “Or I’ll be the one thrusting. You’ll be rammed on the point of my weapons, not unlike our poor Cleric whom you’ve beguiled.”

“She doesn't consider herself in such dire straits. In fact, she rather enjoys it. You should ask her, see what it is you’re missing out on…”

“I’d sooner skin a kobold,” she gagged. “The Cleric's choices are her own. If she wishes to sully herself with the undead, to damn her soul by feeding you her life essence, then so be it.”

Astarion paused in his tracks, laughing slowly. “Oh, I can’t tell if it would have been worth the risk to bite you instead.” He tilted his rumpled silver head, eyes assessing her every inch, noticing weaknesses in her hide armor, watching her fingers still twitching on her dagger’s hilt. “No, corrupting you and your narrow prejudices wouldn't be worth the risk of tasting your blood. I bet it’s sourer than vinegar and just as repellent.” He sneered so wide, she could almost see her reflection in the glint of his teeth.

“You try to bite me, and I will make a necklace from your teeth…” she hissed. “Once I pry them from your skull, Vampire.”

“Oh, I do like them feisty….” A single cold digit ran down her blushing cheek. Ice on her temper’s flames. A gentle caress, a lover’s touch. It made her whole frame go rigid in a second.

And it made Astarion chuckle, low and throaty as he continued on the path.

“Honestly, we could just leave the Druids and Tieflings to their own natural consequences,” the Vampire mouthed off as usual, complaining with his typical arrogance and selfishness. Leaning against the wall of the Shattered Sanctum, he gave his wicked half-smile to Shadowheart beside him.

Katja just shuffled her feet, switching the shoulder her greataxe rested on for a reprieve. “We can’t let a bunch of Goblins in league with the Absolute decimate a sacred grove,” she sneered, making that scar down the side of her left cheek twist. “But I don’t expect the Cleric of Shar and a fucking vampire to understand the sense behind it.”

Astarion raised his brow, his sinister smile turning to land on her instead. “Can’t you imagine just how wonderful the resulting chaos would be if we did?” He gave a deep and almost lewd sigh. “It would be… delicious.”

Rolling her eyes, Katja mumbled a curse in her native tongue, sure that neither of her least favorite companions would understand.

But given the way the vampire’s mouth curved down in distaste, she wasn’t so sure she was the only one in their midst to speak Gurri. Katja grimaced as she looked around the desiccated temple of Selûne, remembering all her childhood prayers to the goddess and ignoring the way the Sharran seemed to gloat at every violated shrine.

Honestly, they deserved each other, she decided with a derisive sniff. She had company enough with Gale, sweet and intelligent, and with Wyll, bold and legendary monster slayer himself.

Stuff of dreams and fantasies. The kind of man to make her tribe proud.

She should go and find him, the Blade of Frontiers, but her feet seemed frozen. If she left these two imps, what trouble would they get into… no. She needed to stay right where she was, even if it was vile and disgusting company.

“Shadowheart!” the Wizard’s voice hissed from behind a column, and all three of them turned around. Gale beckoned the Cleric forward. “We need to find where the Archdruid is being kept… but we also need to deal with a little… problem. This Priestess Gut seems to need a talking to, asking us about some brand and the worship of the Absolute. It’s your time to shine, Cleric of Shar, or… well, as a servant of the Goddess of Darkness, I guess you won’t shine so much as…”

Astarion huffed to interrupt the beginnings of another awkward and king ramble from their companion. “You can’t handle it, Wizard? Didn’t you used to fuck a Goddess and now what? Can’t handle a lowly Goblin priestess?”

“I’d be more than happy to handle this,” Shadowheart grinned. “It was getting a little too crowded in here for my tastes.” She shot a pointed glare with those green eyes towards their blonde Barbarian.

As the Cleric left with Gale, Astarion closed in on Katja, silently and stealthily until his body barely brushed her back. “You Gur always ruin all the fun,” he hissed in her ear. “Not the first time your kind has… spoiled my endeavors.”

She turned to face his glare, crimson and wroth. “I haven’t done anything to you, Vampire, not yet anyway. I’ve only found myself in the same predicament as you; such hatred for someone who could be your ally.”

“Or my sworn enemy,” he sneered, looking down this aquiline nose at her, this little Barbarian. “Don’t you have some throats to cut and innocents to swindle?”

“Or monsters to stake?” she sneered right back, unknowingly drawing her small and strong frame to stand toe to toe with him. Her face mere inches from his own, his breath washed down on her, cool and metallic in scent. And then that mouth twisted in a wicked smirk, opening to speak…

“C’mon,” a high-pitched, nasally voice giggled beside them as three Goblin children bolted past them. “That bear they captured is in the Worg pens. Bet we can make him roar!”

“Halsin,” Katja whispered, following the urchins at a distance as they weaved through the camp. She was small, but certainly not stealthy, and even as she managed to slip into the cells, the faint growls of a large animal’s rumbling in the distance, an ice cold hand shot out from behind her to pull her into the shadows.

A small storage room, just off the cell block, that’s where she was. Astarion’s hard, cold body pressed her against the wall, his finger over his lips to signal for her silence.

But her rage ignited, her nostrils flared, ready to burst. Quickly, his chilled palm closed over her mouth just in time to muffle the below of anger she gave. His frame crushed her, and that palm wasn’t enough to quiet her. Long, icy fingers closed around her throat, silencing her and shutting off her air.

Her breath ragged, she did the one thing her feral mind screamed for her to do. She bit him.

“You viper,” he hissed right in her ear. “Do you want us to get caught? Want to join the Druid in the cell?”

Katja only bit harder, struggling to fill her lungs.it made her body squirm against him, fighting to move to claw at him, but her arms were both pinned behind her back, already going numb. Writhing, she chased some unknown feeling… a blind need for release, her heart racing as her hips bucked against his thigh. His toned leg pressed harder between her thighs, the friction making her eyes tear as she struggled. She needed to break free, she told her brain, but her body, her core longed for a different release.

His laughter rumbled in her ear, the din of the dungeons thick enough to cover whatever little sounds they made in this small, neglected space. His thigh lifted her, pressing perfectly against her seam where she burned for more. Sparks of light crossed her vision, heat seared through her veins, and something pressed into her belly, something long and hard. His own icy, blood-stinking breath raced faster as he observed her grinding on his leg. And as she stared into his gaze, she watched as his eyes dilated, from crimson to black in seconds.

Shit, she cursed, unable to keep her body under command as she just squirmed more against that lean thigh and that protruding erection.

“Oh, little vagrant, you’re in trouble, aren’t you?” he hissed in her ear, rubbing that wet, cold tongue up its shell. “I can smell you, just how excited you are to be so close to your quarry. It’s a pity you chose a predator as your prey, darling. You see… you can thank the Cleric for her blood to sate my hunger, but she is rather closed off… or closed-thighed… when it comes to other hungers of mine.”

Fingers released her throat, his nails tearing into the laces of her breaches as she squirmed even harder. Cool, dank dungeon air made every hair on her now-bared mound and thighs stand on end as he tugged them down to her ankles.

“I know you want me, that you’re too proud and stubborn to seek it out for yourself. Allow me, darling, to show you what you’re miss—”

Silencing him, Katja freed one hand, launching it to close around his own scarred and pale throat.

A fang-toothed grin was his only reaction. “Oh, darling…” he rasped from beneath her knuckles. His fingers brushed the skin and curls of her mound and something untamed and hungry unleashed itself from within her. Her grip on his throat tightened, yanking that sneering mouth to hers. She wanted to devour him, to silence him and punish him in the only language he seemed to understand— the language of body and blood.

Jerking her shoulders, she freed her other hand, her nails tearing into the buttons of his own leathers. A growl in his throat, he gripped her ass, lifting her as if she were no more than a child to shove against the wall again. One hand squeezed around her mouth once more, keeping her moan muffled as he finally slotted himself inside her. The rough and ancient brick dug against her armor, padding her flesh from every jolting slap he made against her, his thrusts fast and punishing.

Air hissed through her nostrils, her dark eyes locked into his own, that crimson stare daring to do something. Kill him? Fuck him? Kiss him again? She knew not which. Her body cried out for all of them at once. Never mind the elders or the tribe or her gods.

Heat unlike anything she had known before coiled in her belly, drawn forth by his thick and cool cock inside her. Her teeth grinded into his hand again, drawing blood to coat her tongue. Making him smile. Making his tongue run over his lips, as if he barely bridled his own need to drink.

But her hand kept its place on his gullet, pushing to keep him at a distance once more. Careful not to risk his fangs and sell her soul to be his next meal.

His eyes rolled back and closed, his bone white fangs bared at her, inches from her flesh. Those thrusts grew hard and erratic, his breath whistling in time with hers. Pathetic, she grinned. The sight of him at her mercy burned itself into the back of her eyelids as pleasure burst from inside her, her body shaking as it squeezed him in wave after wave.

One last thrust and he groaned in her face, jaws snapping on air as if he wished it was her neck. Her hand gave one last punitive squeeze of his throat before she released him. Crimson eyes opened halfway, still hazy with lust. A sly snarl twisted his lips as he set her small and muscular frame down.

Disgust roiled in her belly as she ignored the way his cum leaked from inside her. No, she kept her mind on fixing her breeches, a hard task to do as she watched him do the same as he stuffed his half-softened cock inside those form-fitted leathers. Katja tried to swallow the drool that collected in her mouth as she straightened.

His hand ran through his hair, those dangerous lips parting to speak again when shouting sounded from the cells. The bear roared, iron bars clanged as then burst from their hinges and smashed to the ground. Before they could think about what passed between them any longer, monster and monster hunter grabbed their weapons and bolted towards the fray.

Gale turned, launching his magic missiles at the Goblins nearest them. “Oh good, there you both are,” he turned and fired off a few more in the opposite direction. “We thought maybe you had finally killed each other.”

“Something like that,” Astarion replied calmly, despite the smug glare he leveled at Katja. It made her ears burn beet red with hate again. But as she gripped her greataxe and launched into battle, she wasn’t sure if it was hatred more for him or for her own actions.

A few cleaving swings through Goblin flesh, and she knew it was hate for him.

For what he made her feel, for what he made her choose to do, she would hate him forever.

Wine flowed freely, but gods, what Katja would give for a flask of her tribe’s liquor, clear as glass and hotter than the Styx. Or a pint of mead. But neither was within reach. The green glass of her sweet red wine bottle pressed nearly constantly to her mouth. Anything to try to numb the feeling of his cum still dried to her thighs.

He would pay for this. But not tonight. Tonight they celebrated. Many monsters slain; many questions answered, even if those answers only gave rise to more questions. Halsin, the ancient and wise Archdruid loomed over her. More than anyone else. Gods, he could probably eat her in one bite as a bear. Good thing he was a Druid and no monster, she smiled to herself.

She let herself go numb, drinking and listening to the ancient elf talk about this Shadow Curse and the freedom of nature’s gifts… she ignored the way Astarion kept one hand on Shadowheart’s narrow waist, his face pressing into her neck where bite mark scars were beginning to form.

Trying not to gag on her wine, Katja rolled her eyes as they came closer. Halsin’s eyes scanning them all. “I should thank you all for coming to my rescue. It’s nice to be among friends. A wonderful balance to find, if surprising, to see monster and monster hunter as lovers…”

Katja spat her wine out at her feet. “How… the fuck…”

“Forgive me, my wild form tends to lend me heightened senses even in this state, and let’s just say, the nose knows, eh?”

Astarion’s eyes pinned on her, wild and accusatory. “I don’t know…” he started to shirk off the suggestion, even as the Cleric rounded on him.

“Oh, so that’s where you two disappeared to in the camp today.” Her vitriolic scoff hurt more than an arrow would have into Katja’s stomach. Actually she would have preferred the arrow. “No, no makes sense. You always claim to love a challenge, what better place to try to sheathe your little dagger than the one person who hates you.” She narrowed her green eyes at him, “I won’t worry then about keeping you well-fed or strong. Maybe I can find someone who enjoys my devotion to my lady instead of whining about your hunger every day.” The Cleric gave a nice, long, and dramatic sigh, “Well, if that’s over, I’ll be glad to save the spell slots from having to keep myself from being bloodless every day. Thank you, Katja, for doing me that favor.” The sarcasm in her tone lingered long after she strode away, losing herself in the fray of the party.

The glare that Astarion threw Katja shouldn’t have hurt at all, let alone more than the bitchy glares from Shadowheart, but it did. It was a piercing look of malice and disappointment as he strode after her, lies pouring from his thick lips to try to smooth things over.

“I… I’m sorry if that was a secret,” Halsin tilted his head as he watched the drama unfold. “Over three centuries in this realm and I can still be taken out at the knees by surprise.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Katja replied, wiping the stains of red wine from her jerkin. “It was a mistake, nothing more. I may have left with a stain on my conscience, but my soul is intact at least.” She pointed her finger at her neck. “I won’t be bitten, even if I’m fucked.”

Halsin shook his head, laughing. “I forgot how deeply superstitious your people are, little child of the Gur. To think that a vampire’s bite has any effect on your soul,” he smiled gently and chuckled, “you might feel a bit woozy, but by Silvanus’ beard, you won’t lose one bit of your warrior soul.”

Katja’s spine straightened, as if shot once again in the gut. “I’d call you a liar, but you’re a Druid…” she whispered, more fearful for own good.

Halsin’s own scarred face twisted in mirth as he gave a deep belly laugh. “Implying I can’t lie?” He chuckled harder, “a good thing that isn’t the case. But I assure you, a vampire has no interest in your soul. They aren’t fiendish, just hungry and often imprisoned by the whims of their masters.”

Katja tilted her head, considering. Their masters… she turned to scan the crowd for that mop of silver hair or a hint of glaring crimson eyes. If Astarion was a spawn, where was his master? That haze of hatred seemed to part for a moment, a moment of lucidity amid the burning hatred, and Katja realized what a poor hunter she had been. What were his weaknesses and ambitions? What would bait him into the open or control him enough to bring him to heel?

She’d have to get closer to him to discover that. And that thought made her stomach wrap tightly in knots and made her heart set at a galloping pace.

As if summoned by her loping heart, he stepped into her line of sight, browline furrowed, half his fangs bared as he smirked. A single finger crooked in her direction. And Katja made a visible point to check her dagger before crossing towards him. “You seem to be alone,” she smirked, tucking her weapon back home at her hip.

“Thanks to you,” he sneered slightly, the clench of his jaw a slight tell to the rage simmering beneath that cool, alabaster exterior. “You owe me…” he snarled, quiet and pressed from behind his clenched teeth. “Because you, you grub, didn’t have the decency to clean yourself after your little moment of weakness today, I’ve lost my tentmate and meal ticket,” his voice was cold and exacting, a none-too-slight of a threat hidden beneath that refined exterior.

She just tossed her long, blonde braids behind her. “Needless to say, it was your choice today to do that, too,” Katja rolled her shoulders, squaring up for a fight.

“Oh, little brat, always angling for combat,” he suddenly eased, a well-practiced, sultry smile on his handsome face, “it’s bad form to discuss such… personal matters in the open.” He cocked his head, looking down at her seething, defiant glare. “Let’s find a little piece of nowhere, a place to… discuss all this madness like two mature creatures.” His crimson eyes shimmered like the shitty wine in her near-empty bottle. Extending a cold, pale hand at her, he drew close, invading her space. “Truce?”

She just narrowed her eyes, disbelieving the sincerity of such a gesture. Refusing to take his hand in hers. “Where?” she snipped.

His predatory grin widened enough to bare his glinting fangs. “There's a secluded place nearby that will do nicely… far enough away so no one will hear you scream…” his voice scratching into a growl.

“You mean from when you try to kill me?”

Thick lips twisted dangerously as he took a breath. “Death… a little death… it’s all the same, little brat,” his gaze hardened, “isn’t it?”

Katja glared at him, her mouth twisting to hide her confusion, sure there was a hidden meaning in his words she failed to recognize. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” she sassed back at him, confident outwardly…. Only to be discouraged as his grin intensified and as he gripped her hand by force. One yank, and she was pulled against the hard planes of his chest. This time there was no armor to hide the feeling of his skin or to conceal that sharp, clean scent of citrus and herbs.

“Oh, but you do know, better than anyone now,” he growled into her ear before shoving her away again. “There’s a clearing,” he jerked his head to his right, “we can meet there, no weapons, no axes. We can discuss our truce with just the clothes on our backs, what do you say?”

Katja just stared at him, fuming and stoic.

“Or are you too cowardly to meet a monster alone?”

“See you there, asshole,” Katja snarled before turning away, wine bottle raised high above her little blonde head to drink. Draining the dregs of that disgusting vintage, she smashed it against a tree before entering the dark, moonlit forest.

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 17: Let Me Forget

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.4K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

With the medley of parchment laid out on Gale’s lengthy kitchen table, the silence hangs heavily over the room, suffocating the air with an oppressive stillness and unspoken words. The only sound is the angry rain, drumming on the grand, arched windows, and the raging wind that buffets the manor with forceful gusts. 

It is a foreboding sound. You have never been afraid of storms; you enjoyed watching them before, but you find yourself closing your eyes at every quaking groan of Gale’s tower and every rattle of the windows as they hold out against the blustery squalls. 

Gale finally takes one piece of parchment and examines it. His brows furrow, and he rubs his chin. Eventually, his eyes flit up to Astarion. 

“Dal’s.” Astarion sighs, answering the unasked question. Wracking his fingers through his hair, he points to each piece. “Petras’s. Yousen’s. Violet’s.” 

Shadowheart’s voice is softer than normal when she speaks. “Where are your siblings, Astarion?” 

“In the Underdark, as far as I know.” He shrugs. “I never returned to see them.” 

Your hand coasts over the indented, scarred skin of your arm from the time you visited the Underdark. “They were in the Underdark. They were using the Arcane Tower as a home.” 

“You saw them?” Astarion asks. “All of them?” 

“Dal, Petras, and Leon were definitely there, as well as the spawn we set free.” Your fingernails bite into your scars as you try to repress the memory. “I’m not sure about the others.” 

“Did they say anything?” Astarion turns to you with his speech a little more rapid than usual. “Anything at all?” 

“It was many moons ago, Astarion. They weren’t interested in talking to me much, but no, they never mentioned someone was hunting them or requesting to sketch their scars.” 

“Why do they have scars written in Infernal?” Hecat’s brows furrow as she regards the symbols. “It’s pieces of a contract.” 

“We know.” Shadowheart says brusquely. “We know what it says and what it’s about. What we don’t understand is why it’s here.” 

“Do you have scars like this, Astarion?” Hecat asks carelessly. 

Your whole body immediately tenses, but you master yourself and attempt to appear unruffled by her inquisition. Astarion is capable of deciding how to answer this for himself. 

“I do,” he nods. “A… gift from my old master.” 

“Who must be dead?” Hecat presumes, still trying to make sense of everything. You’re not sure how much you want her to know. “Since you’re here and all, and still a spawn.” 

“Yes, he’s dead.” Astarion answers calmly, but he subtly rests his hand on your thigh, and you realize his fingers are trembling. 

Taking his hand, you give it a reassuring squeeze. He squeezes back while breathing deeply. It is not something you’re used to seeing him do unless he’s trying to calm you. It alerts you to his unease, setting you further on edge. 

“I suppose I will ask the question none of us want to.” Shadowheart surmises with her lips pressed together and a clenched jaw. “Why are Astarion's siblings' scars drawn on pieces of paper we found in a manor hidden by illusion magic?” 

You frown and chew on your bottom lip. “Is it possible that another Vampire Lord can try to fulfill the contract?” 

Gale shakes his head. “We destroyed everything that even dared hint at that ungodly ritual.” 

“We destroyed the paper trail.” You nod and glance at Astarion. 

“But not the pawns of it.” He finishes, looking down at his lap. “The only people living who might be able to tell someone how to complete the ritual are my siblings, me, and all of you.” 

“Hells.” Gale rasps, his hand rubbing his forehead. “Do you really think that’s what this is all about?” 

“It makes sense,” you murmur. “But what we don’t know is if they are trying to collect the spawn that are already marked for sacrifice or if they simply need the markings on them.” 

“Either way, they will collect them.” Astarion concludes bitterly, with one corner of his lips curling up in contempt. “Likely to make sure no one else has access to those markings. Furthermore, the spawn we set free in the Underdark will be rounded up as well. A Vampire Lord is not going to waste time making 7,000 spawn if there are already that many running around in the Underdark who have been conveniently carved up already. Gods. I knew I should have killed them.” 

“So, what do we do?” Gale paces around, clearly agitated. “What can we do?” 

“There are still two of Astarion’s siblings unaccounted for.” You sit back in your chair. “Maybe Astarion and I should visit the Underdark. If they are rounding up his siblings, maybe we can get to them before they do.” 

“And bring them where, exactly?” Astarion spits, twisting in his chair to look at you. “Certainly not here.” 

“Not here, but maybe our house?” Astarion’s brows pinch together, and his mouth snaps shut. You continue, “It’s well hidden; they can hunt in the forests, and it’s already set up for the particular needs of a vampire.” 

You’re not particularly fond of the idea of letting them stay in your house. It feels like an encroachment, but it is the best idea you have right now. Judging from Astarion’s sour expression, he, too, is not pleased with it. 

“Kamena…” Gale’s hands rest on the back of a chair, and he looks at you with his expression clouded by somberness. “I don’t wish to overstep, my friend, but are you certain it’s a good idea for you to return there?” 

Astarion quirks a brow at you, and your hand moves to cover the scars everyone is now staring at. You ignore the urge to get as far away from this conversation as you can and take deep breaths. Admittedly, you don’t want to return there, but you don’t want to stay here either. 

If you’re being completely honest, you would take Astarion, disappear, and never look back. If this Vampire Lord is truly after the contract in an attempt to complete the ritual, then Astarion is in peril staying here. You should be getting him as far away from here as you can.

But you cannot leave your friends, who are now tangled up in this mess. 

“Thank you for your concern, Gale, but I’m fine.” You lie, and you’re rather impressed that you manage to keep your voice steady and strong. “What do you think, Astarion?” 

“I think the more of my siblings we can keep away from them, the better, but I do not relish taking you into a den of vampire spawn who are likely feral.” Astarion rubs his eyes, squeezing them shut hard, creasing the corners. “Perhaps it would be best if I went alone.” 

The thought of Astarion leaving makes your heart thud in your chest, seizing and being crushed under his words. He promised he would never leave you alone again, and now he’s trying to. 

You try to breathe deeply, but the air seems unfathomably thin, and you feel like you’re drowning. Your eyes feel frozen open, just staring at the table but not really looking at it. 

He wants to leave.

He wants to leave.

He wants to leave.  

He wants to leave me alone again.  

Would he ever come back? 

Does he want to come back?

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to gag that voice in your head that tells you to run, to break his heart before he can break yours, and to repress the whirling thoughts of loneliness, abandonment, and dread. 

Is this just his way of trying to get away from me?  

“Kamena?” Astarion touches your shoulder featherlight, but it still makes you jump up. 

Your chair falls backward and clatters to the floor, and you stare the confused faces at the table. You ball your hands into fists at your sides so that they can’t see how badly you’re trembling.

“Excuse me.” 

It takes considerable effort to force yourself to walk down the hallway as nonchalantly as you can, but as soon as you get out of sight, you pick up speed and jog to your room. No matter how hard you try, the panic continues to grow like thorny vines around your nerves, and your breath comes rapidly through parted lips. 

You need a distraction from this downward spiral, so you grab the lock and thieves’ tools Astarion gave you to practice and draw a bath. Sitting in the tub, you listen to the soothing sound of running water, place the lock on a stool, kneel and hunch over the edge, and start trying to replicate what Astarion has shown you. 

Your fingers still tremble fretfully with both tools in hand, and you cannot, for the life of you, find the first pin in this stubborn hunk of metal. Even as your trembling settles and your mind stops its incessant whirling, you cannot get the stupid lock to turn even slightly.  

How many times has Astarion shown me this?  

Would he give you a defective lock you never had any chance of opening? Yes, you think he would. He would find that to be quite humorous once you figured it out. You peer into the keyhole to see if any of the mechanisms look... Well, fuck. You’re unsure what you should even be looking for, and you frown at the lock with spite. 

“You are staring at that lock like it has personally offended you.” Astarion chuckles, leaning his shoulder on the frame of the archway. 

“It has,” you grumble. “It will not fucking open!” 

“May I join you?” Astarion points to the bath. 

You nod, continuing to try to manipulate the lock while he undresses and slips behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and he presses the sculpted planes of his chest into your back, hovering over you to watch your incompetent attempts while he rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“I can veritably hear you scowling at me, you know.” 

“Hells below.” Astarion groans dramatically. “This is truly painful to observe.” 

His arms come around you, and his cool hands grip yours as his expert fingers guide the tools in your hand to demonstrate again. He turns the tools slowly, performing some sort of Rogue devilry, you’re quite sure, until you feel a small pop and hear a metal clink. 

“Feel that?” Astarion glances at you, kissing your cheek. “That’s what you’re looking for.” 

He relinquishes his control and goes back to resting his head on your shoulder with his arms tangled around your waist. He murmurs, “Are you okay?” 

“You told me you wouldn’t leave me alone again,” you say shakily, swallowing the burbling fear. You hate how pathetic you sound. “Where you go, I go. Remember?” 

“The Underdark is dangerous — far more dangerous now than it was when we went gallivanting down here.” 

You hold your scarred arm out for him to see before going back to tending to the lock. The distraction is helpful, allowing you to focus instead of spiralling. “I’m well aware of how dangerous it is down there now.” 

Astarion’s hand glides down your arm, his fingers brushing over each indented blemish gently. “Are you going to tell me what in the Hells happened down there?” 

“I don’t know.” You answer truthfully. “The short version of it is that the spawn down there are feral and starved, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“I suspect there is far more to it than that.” Astarion rubs your back in soothing circles, kissing the back of your shoulder softly. “Alright, fine. Where I go, you go, and vice versa from now on, yes?” 

You glance over your shoulder into crimson eyes. “Promise?” 

He sweeps a lock of your hair back from your cheek and places his hand on his chest, above his heart. “You have my word.” 

You nod with a small smile and return to the lock in your hands before your mind can whisper and pull you under into a riptide of doubt. Astarion brushes his fingers through your hair, untangling any knots as he goes gently. It is entirely distracting, and one of the sharp tools slips from your grasp.

“Focus, darling,” he tuts, picking up the tool off the floor and handing it back to you. 

“I think this lock is faulty,” you huff in annoyance. 

Astarion has always made lockpicking look like child’s play. Most locks take him a matter of seconds to pick; even the ones in the Counting House only took minutes at the most. 

“Do you really think I would do that to you?” Astarion laughs when you quirk an accusatory brow at him over your shoulder. “Fine. Fine. I might for a laugh, but I assure you, this lock is perfectly fine. You’re just too impatient.” 

You groan, rolling your eyes, and take a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. A low growl of frustration rumbles in your chest as the tool catches on something and refuses to budge. 

Astarion chuckles as he takes control once more to correct the position of your fingers. “You cannot just brute force it like some barbarian. You must be patient, focus, listen to it, and tend to its unique needs.” His fingers brush the back of your hand softly. “Much like making love.” 

“For the love of...” you scoff. “Did you really just make that comparison?” 

He helps you rotate the metal rods deftly, pressing his body further into yours. “You’ll find it to be accurate. Every lock is different and requires a personalized approach. You cannot just shove the tools in the hole like an oaf and expect it to open and reveal its secrets.” 

“You’re making it sound intentionally sexual in nature.” 

“I cannot be blamed for the fact that dexterity comes in handy in a variety of situations.” He says, clicking his tongue softly. His lips ghost along the ridge of your ear to the tapered tip, and he whispers, “It is how I make love to you, no? Listen to your body, read your mood, and tend to your needs.” 

Heat rushes to your face, reddening your cheeks, and your heart jolts in your chest, escalating into a quickened pace as his words play your heartstrings like a lyre.  

“My mood?” You rasp with a silvery timbre.

The pop of another pin clinks. Astarion rescinds his control but keeps his hand poised near yours, skimming the back of your hand with his fingertips to encourage you to keep going.  

“Yes, your mood." Astarion drawls, "Sometimes you want it tender and loving, and other times rough and wild. Sometimes you want to control; sometimes you want to be controlled. It all depends on your mood, really.” 

You swallow hard, finding it extremely difficult to concentrate all of a sudden. Shivers spread across your body, prickling your skin as Astarion’s lips ghost along the back of your neck, raining kisses down your spine. 

Your hands jitter in the lock, making the rods ting against the metal housing. 

“You’re awfully distracted.” Astarion coos. 

The heat seems to drain from your face and into your lower abdomen, flaring at the seductive, husky baritone of his taunting. 

You clear your throat. “And what mood would you say I am in today?” 

“Hmm…” Astarion hums lowly. He regards you silently for a moment, as if reading a particularly interesting chapter of a book. “I think today you want to be taken, claimed, fucked. Perhaps, if you’re a very good girl, I will give you what you desire if you can unlock that lock.” 

His knee nudges between your legs, edging them further apart, and his hand cups the curve of your ass, giving it a teasing squeeze. Your mouth drops open as his fingers trail through your folds and settle on the intensely aching flesh. 

Your hips jerk, and your fingers quiver, nearly dropping the tools, but Astarion's other hand steadies your grip. “Focus,” he purrs, starting to rub circles around the throbbing border of your clit. “Keep a firm grip on it now. Try rotating it to the right a little.”

He cannot possibly expect you to keep focused like this, and you let out something between a whimper and a mewl, frustration and desire mixed. With his free hand, Astarion takes control of yours, guiding the tool in your fingers to turn the mechanism as his fingers change the direction of their circling — counterclockwise, clockwise, and back — in whatever way he makes you twist the lock. 

Another metallic pang comes from the opening, but you barely hear it underneath your gasps. “Hear that? You’re nearly there.” He groans, pressing chaste kisses down your neck. “Keep going, love. You’ve got this.” 

You are nearly there, but not in the way he’s implying. “Astarion… I can’t... Gods. Not when you’re-” 

“When I am what?” He increases his pace, making you slump over and moan, closing your eyes against the pleasure. “If you stop, so will I.” 

Good Gods. There is almost nothing you wouldn’t do to get him to continue, so you force your eyes to open, center them on the lock, and try to continue manipulating the godsforsaken device. 

Astarion presses his erection against your lower back with a shaky groan. He drags his finger up and down your seam, teasing your entrance, and then back to circling your demandingly pulsing pearl. The sensation is too overwhelming, making your core spasm involuntarily, and the tools drop from your hands in favour of holding onto the edge of the bathtub for dear life. 

His ministrations pause instantaneously. “The tools do you no good unless you use them, darling.” 

You roll your hips in a vain attempt to get any friction, but Astarion grasps them and forces them to remain still. You lean back into him; his cock pulses against you, and despite his outward poise, the low grunts and growls in his throat tell you that he’s losing his composure. 

“Astarion,” you whimper in disapproval. It takes everything you have not to take matters into your own hands, so to speak. 

“You want more?” He taunts, with a featherlight stroke to entice you. “Go on then. Unlock it.” 

You smile at his choice of words and grin at him mischievously. Before he has time to correct himself, your fingers dance, the incantation rolls off your tongue, and the lock clicks open for you. 

Astarion chuckles — rich and low. He kisses your shoulder, clicks his tongue, and tuts. “That’s cheating, Kamena.” 

“You said unlock it,” you tease. “You didn’t specify how.” 

“You naughty little vixen,” he scolds, kissing up the column of your neck. He whispers, letting his cool breath fan your heated skin. “I have half a mind to withhold your prize.” 

“What does the other half of your mind say?” You press into his arousal, rocking your hips side to side. 

“Fuck it." 

His fingers clutch your chin, turning your head in a possessive hold, and he kisses you ravenously. You only feel the blunt head of Astarion’s cock at your entrance for a moment before he drives himself to the hilt with a swift snap of his hips. 

Your eyes roll back, and Astarion’s hand covers your mouth to smother the loud, rapturous cry. 

“We are not at home any longer,” he grunts as he pulls back slowly, so you can feel every crest of his swollen head exquisitely drag across your ridges. “Are you going to stay quiet, or shall I keep you quiet?” 

There is no hope that when you speak, your words will be intelligible, and you simply put your hand over the one covering your mouth to let him know he should keep it there, lest the entire household know what carnal depravity you’re partaking in. 

“As you wish,” he purrs, nipping at your shoulder and snaking an arm around your waist to hold you steady. 

Your thighs tremble as you ride out the relentless pace Astarion sets. The bath water splashes over the edges of the tub with every one of his powerful thrusts. Every thought shatters into fireworks that burst behind your eyes, and all your doubts are drowned away as he slams into you, hitting a spot so deep that it makes your legs weak. 

“You are mine,” he growls, dark and dominating.

Yes. Yours. Make me forget every month, day, second I spent without you. Make me forget.

I want to forget. 

Astarion’s fangs crawl down your neck and sink into your flesh with a quick snap of his jaw. He doesn’t ask permission, but he knows he doesn’t need to. He plays with your clit, the pads of his fingers rubbing and circling, and the combination of all these sensations borders on overwhelming. 

The world seems to fall away around you, and all that’s left is you, him, and devastatingly intense ecstasy. Your hand drops and grasps Astarion’s thigh, fingers squeezing the taut muscles, feeling them work as he pounds into you unrelentingly. You’re a moaning, whimpering, mindless mess as the pleasure grows and grows until every nerve is humming with blissful tension. A loud moan rumbles in Astarion’s chest, and the tension snaps suddenly like an overwrought elastic band. 

You come, hard and loud, thighs shaking, hips rocking into him, every shockwave clenching upon his thickness so strongly that it draws ragged breaths from his throat. 

He removes his fangs from your neck. “Kiss me,” he orders. 

Even though your spirit feels like it’s just finding its footing back in your body, you turn your head with parted lips, blinking at him slowly. Your blood is smeared across his silken mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are glossy with genuine pleasure as he moulds his lips to yours. 

Astarion’s hand wraps around your throat, and he buries his cock as deep as you can take him thrust after sensational thrust. He entices your lips to part, his tongue eagerly seizing the whimpers and sighs from your throat. 

His hips stutter, eyes squeezing shut, and he cries in your mouth as his cock twitches and pulses, spilling his seed deeply inside you as he unravels in the Eden of his climax.  

You both slump forward as you catch your breath, holding onto the edge of the bathtub for support. Astarion’s hand slips from your throat to just under your breasts, and he keeps you pressed firmly to his chest, supporting your still-trembling body. 

In his arms, you feel safe and secure. 

Yet, there is a voice at the back of your head that warns you not to get too comfortable being this in love because if his life is in danger and being in Waterdeep with you puts him in mortal peril, you will send him away. 

You will break his heart to save his life — even if it breaks you.

The shadows spread out around you, with only the soft bioluminescent glow of crystals, flora, and your small fire providing any illumination to the hopeless dark. You gaze at the fire, absently morphing it into shapes of things you miss from the surface — the sun, trees, birds.  

Astarion.  

How long have you been down here trying to track down his siblings and the 7,000 vampire spawn you set free?  

Days? Weeks? Months?  

Long enough for your skin to start losing the kiss of the sun.  

When the flaming figure looks up from the book in his hands and waves at you, tears start to prick your eyes, and you curse under your breath as you relinquish your control and the fire rolls down into its natural state.  

You know better than to allow your mind to wander. Why you keep doing this to yourself, you’ll never understand.  

You glance around your little, makeshift, one-person camp situated in a spot you remember well. You thought it would bring you comfort to stay where you have happier memories, but the barrenness is only another aching reminder of his absence. Sighing, you grab the edges of your bedroll and start wrapping it up. You left your tent months ago when it became too threadbare and worn to be of much use other than slowing you down. 

Your fingers comb through your knotted hair quickly and tie it back. It’s not been properly washed in some time, and it feels stringy and gritty against your hands. You look briefly around the camp before walking down the little slope, taking particular care to evade the spore clouds from the timmask. 

Picking up where you left off the day before, you follow the path and keep a keen eye on the ground. Without the banter from your friends, an eerie silence spreads in all directions around you.  

But that’s how it’s been for months — just you, the road, and your nightmares.  

You crouch down, studying the tracks in the silt. Pressing your fingers into the dirt, you find it to be dry and dusty this far away from the lake. The ground would not hold impressions for long.  

I’m getting closer. 

Something snaps in the murk, making you jump to your feet and study the surroundings, but the darkness is deep and obscure.  

“Hello?”  

The stillness doesn’t answer. 

My mind is playing tricks on me again. 

After adjusting your pack, you do your best to follow the trail. The Arcane Tower looms in the distance, a spire that seems to blend in with the gloomy atmosphere except for the burning braziers giving off their blue glow. A flurry of pebbles bounces down a nearby cliff, clattering against the stone. Perception heightens all your senses, your skin prickles, and your hair stands on end. 

You’re being watched, tracked, and hunted. 

Casting Misty Step, you vanish and reappear, swiftly descending into a crouch, shrouded in darkness. Frenzied red eyes and dirty, gaunt faces begin to appear with their fangs bared in deranged toothy grins that spell danger. They scent the air, and their eyes snap directly to your position, their fingers poised in front of them, ready to claw their prey.  

They twitch and quiver, snarling and hissing like feral animals. You try to speak to them, but your words fall flat, muted by malnourishment and bloodlust. You search the faces for someone you recognize, but good Gods, they are filthy, cadaverous, and emaciated. 

Hells. Are they suffering because I didn’t have the strength to end it when I could have? 

You do the only thing you can and run. Their pursing footsteps thunder like a stampeding herd of Bulette. You sprint, pushing your body to careen over the uneven terrain faster, faster, faster until your muscles burn and cramp.  

But it is not fast enough.  

You scream for Astarion as your mind blanks momentarily from panic, but he’s not here; he’s never here, and he never will be again.  

You trip.   

Gods.   

You trip on rocks and gnarled roots, scraping your knees and palms. The scent of blood in the air only sends them further into a frenzy, and bony hands grab at you from all sides. You try to pull away, but it’s too late. You are jerked forward, back, and side to side as they contend over you as if you are the last decaying scrap of carrion in all of Faerûn.  

Numerous pairs of pointed fangs pierce into the flesh of your arms, legs, and neck. They are not gentle. Hells, they are not gentle at all, nothing like Astarion. This pain does not ebb into a pleasant, dull throb. It is sharp, with ice and fire rending your skin. They shake their heads, ripping and tearing, and their fangs sink through muscle and hit bone.  

How many of them are there? Hundreds? Thousands? 

Crimson eyes and hollow cheeks fill your vision, blotting out everything else. You thrash, you struggle, and you call for Astarion in high-pitched screams, but none of it is of any use. 

You lash out at them with your magic, allowing the flames to envelop your skin, but they hold your arms and legs, grinding your limbs into the dirt. They burn, but they do not stop; they cannot stop. They are too starved and too crazed. They will drain you dry even as they char and blacken.  

It’s over. 

You will die alone in the dark. 

A sheen of cool sweat dusts your skin, you grow cold, and the pain begins to recede into a cradling senselessness. You resign yourself to death as you walk the edge of it. When the darkness calls, you find that you want to heed it and tumble into the respite of your imminent demise. Your heart beats slower, slower, slower. It palpates in your chest, trying to pump blood that is no longer in your body. 

Your eyelids are heavy, lashes fluttering as they beg to close. Death approaches you, seductive and charming, with outstretched arms. It is attractive and tempting. It whispers relief. Death is all embrace me and never be alone again. It says don’t be afraid. It beckons you to join it in sweet, all-encompassing release. You reach toward it, taking it’s hand, and allow yourself to be led away from the pain, the cold, the loneliness — all of it. 

And you finally feel at peace.  

A voice bellows, agitating the edges of the still serenity you’re sinking into, and fangs begin to rip from your arm and legs.  

A man? 

You blink, trying to clear your clouded vision. The voice urges you to move, to get up and run. You try, but the earth here is unable to swallow your blood quickly enough, and you slip and fall into the pools collecting on the ground. Your eyelashes flutter weakly as you squint to look at the man standing before you, hauling, and throwing the hysterical, blood-mad spawn away.  

Astarion? 

The feeble beat of your heart jolts with hope, and you turn away from death, releasing its hand and resisting its siren song. You turn away from the peaceful nullity it offers, walk out of its dark caress, and back into your body.  

But all hope is expunged as soon as the shroud is removed from your sight. The blurred figure begins to take shape, and previously formless details sharpen.  

No… 

Not Astarion. 

Never Astarion. 

Though you do recognize him, your mind sluggishly tries to connect the familiarity with memories.  

His name. Gods, you know it, but what is it?  

Sebastian. 

The spawn attack, throwing themselves at him, rendered insane by the smell of your blood. You try to push yourself up again, but you only make it to your knees, wavering unsteadily as your head spins and unconsciousness summons. Sebastian starts calling out over his shoulder.  

“Get her out of here,” Sebastian barks to Leon who looks at you with brows furrowed in confusion. “Her blood is only making it worse. Dal and I can keep them busy long enough for you to get her away.”  

Leon nods curtly, sprinting toward you and throwing you over his shoulder. It’s not a comfortable hold, as his bony shoulder juts into your stomach and lungs. The swaying makes your head throb sickeningly, and you fade in and out of consciousness.  

Panicked voices rouse you back from the dark, but you cannot open your eyes. Your senseless fingers twist into your robe as you try to find a way to hold onto your wakefulness.  

“What are we going to do with her?” A woman’s baffled voice quivers. “What in the Hells is she even doing down here?”  

“If we don’t do something quickly, she’s going to die,” Sebastian says.  

“Let her die,” another man’s voice drawls, heartless and cold. “I could use a snack.”  

“Petras!” Leon scolds.  

Your eyes finally begin to open while they debate your fate. You’re slumped against the stone wall of the Arcane Tower. 

“You cannot seriously be suggesting we let her bleed out.” Sebastian mutters from the corner. “She killed Cazador. She saved our lives. She saved Astarion.”  

“She-” Petras stomps with his fists balled at his sides. “ She stood by and watched while Astarion roasted me!”  

Dal scoffs. “Are you still sour about that? Gods. Let it go.”  

“No,” he says, shaking his head and jutting his chin out haughtily. “I don’t think I will, sister.”  

“She means much to Astarion,” Leon sighs, rubbing his forehead. “We owe him to at least try and save her.”  

Your voice is weak, barely even a whisper. “Have you seen or heard from him?”  

All of their heads snap toward you with narrow eyes.  

“Who?” Dal tries to smile, stops pacing, and comes to crouch by your side.  

“Astarion. Have you seen him?”  

Leon frowns. “No. The last time we saw him was at the Black Mass with you.”  

You nod and let your head loll to the side. It takes every ounce of energy you have left, but you cast Detect Thoughts covertly.  

You knew it was a long shot, but they are not lying.  

“Let me die.” You sob. “Have mercy and let me die.”  

When your eyes crack and creep open, darkness so thick that it presses in on you, being drawn into your lungs with every shallow, rapid breath, suffocating you from the inside and out, is there to greet you once more. 

Death had been a mysterious, charming man, holding your hand, and gently walking you into that final repose, and you turned away from him and told him to wait. 

You told Death himself to wait because you thought Astarion was there. 

But he wasn’t. 

He was never there. 

Your eyes cry silent tears of mourning for the loss of the peace that was all but promised to you. Now, you must walk on the precipice of two existences. One in which you exist to hold everyone and everything together — a fearless leader, a lover, a light in the darkness — and the other where you watch yourself continually fall apart, crushed beneath the weight of it all. 

Shutting your eyes so tight it hurts, you clench your teeth, and instead of shying away from the pain, running, as you so often do, you delve into it. You force your heart to ingest your fears, doubts, and suffering until it shatters, you run out of tears, and you let it hurt until that too stops. 

A remarkable numbness circulates through your veins, like a wave cast out from your heart as it burst into fragments of all the things you used to be. There is no happiness or sadness, love or not, just a soft lull into emotionlessness, and you wade ever deeper into the treacle of frigid calm. 

Somewhere, deep inside you, a voice whispers that this is worse, that this is not healing, that this is running. 

You tell that voice to shut the fuck up. 

You manage to slip out of the room without waking Astarion, pad through the silent manor, and go outside into the courtyard. The storm still rages on. Rain splatters against your face, thunder and lightning crack overhead, and the wet strands of your hair whip wildly in the wind. You stay as the rain drenches you to the bone, you’re shivering, and watch the wild orchestra; the chaos of it mirrors the turmoil of your own soul. 

“Sorceress.” The voice comes from behind a locked, wrought-iron gate. 

The voice should make you jump, scream, run, but it does not even spur the shattered remains of your heart to quiver in their grave.  

“Aldous.” 

“My master would like to parlay with you.” He sneers as if it physically pains him to say. “She believes a deal can be struck to avoid fatalities on both sides.” 

“I don’t make deals with Vampire Lords.” You hiss, “You can tell your master I said to fuck off.” 

“Kamena,” Aldous slinks closer to the gate. Can he come through the gate? Is it just houses they can’t walk into uninvited, or is this part of the house? “You did not even ask what her offer was. I assure you that you will want to hear it.” 

Curiosity gets the better of you. “What’s she offering?” 

“Safety, for you and yours, including the blood sucker,” Aldous hisses the last part, and it makes you smirk. It must just be killing him to offer safety to the man who drained him dry and left him to rot. 

“Not interested,” you yawn, and stretch dramatically. “There are other ways to ensure our safety that do not rely on a deal with a Vampire Lord. I much prefer those ways.” 

“What about this?” Aldous holds up a ring. A golden band with a large ruby, but it looks otherwise unremarkable. 

“Jewellery?” You scoff, “Gods. Are you just fucking with me now?” 

“I admit it appears rather unremarkable, but it is the Ring of the Sunwalker. It will allow your lover to walk in the sun again unharmed.” 

Could it be true? Could an enchanted ring be mere feet away from you that will allow Astarion to see and walk in the sun again without fear? 

“What’s to stop me from taking it from you right now?” You stalk toward the gate, fire ablaze in your palms. 

“Ah-ah, Sorceress.” Aldous wags his index finger at you. He holds the ring in his palm, and you realize it’s an illusion. “My master is willing to give up such a unique treasure if you can come to an agreement.” 

“Because she means to complete the Rite of Profane Ascension, the one I stopped Cazador from completing. She will be able to walk in the sun, and she won’t need it anymore. Correct?” 

“Something like that.” Aldous smiles snake-like. “So, what do you say?” 

“Astarion and my friends are guaranteed safety, and we get the ring, but what’s the catch?” 

“We require an exact sketch of his scars to complete the contract as well as the incantation.” 

You could end this. You could take the deal, take Astarion, and run as far from Waterdeep as you can, leaving it to its fate under an Ascended Vampire Lord.  

How far would you go to ensure Astarion’s safety? Would you turn a blind eye to another Vampire Lord ascending and all the thousands of deaths that means? 

Could you live with yourself? 

“I will think about it.”

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

Do we think Kamena is going to take the offer seriously?

I am curious. Would you consider it if it means safety for all your friends and Astarion, and a ring that allows him to walk in the sun unharmed, even if it means turning a blind eye to all that death?

[brain-rot-central]

I basically died all day with a migraine but I got a little more hornt out. 🙃

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Astarion likes missionary sex. Likes being able to see his love’s face and the way their body reacts to his.

He loves being able to lace his fingers with theirs, and press their hands to the mattress. It grounds him just as much as the steady eye contact does. Doesn’t matter if he has to coax them into it, murmuring “eyes on me, darling” as he rolls his hips into theirs.

He loves the way he can hold them close to his chest as he comes with their thighs wrapped around him, completely engulfed in one another.

[riseatlantisss]

Careful, he bites

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader around 900 words.

morning sex. in bed. with the most amazing vampire. that’s it that’s the plot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW : 18+, shameless smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, tiny bit of fang kink

I love him a completely normal amount

You open your eyes slowly, savouring the blissful, heavy fog of sleep that still weighs on your mind. The voice that greets you is one you’re sure you’ll never tire of.

“Good morning, my sweet”, Astarion whispers against your ear. The bed smells of night-blooming flowers and cold winter air, just like him. His body is a comforting spoon, the nice coolness of his powerful chest sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyelids are still heavy and with a smile, you settle back in and bury your head in your soft pillow, eager for just a few more hours of precious sleep before starting a new day in the underdark.

Astarion, of course, has other ideas. He exhales and you can feel the light puff of cold air against the back of your neck. Icy fingers skate down your bare arm, dragging the strap of your night gown with them. He dips his head and nuzzles the junction of your neck and shoulder. He toys with the hem of your night gown before slipping beneath it to caress the curve of your hip. You revel in his low groan of appreciation as he discovers you’re wearing nothing underneath.

“Gods, the things you do to me,” he growls, voice muffled slightly as he breathes your scent. “Let me take care of you.”

Wordlessly, you nod and he wastes no time. He gives you a sloppy, hungry kiss that is all tongues, teeth and fangs, and then slowly lowers himself. His fangs leave burning trails across your skin, and you love every bit of it.

You can feel his erection grow next to your thigh and you raise a hand forward to touch him but he grabs your wrist and stops the motion. 

“No, darling,” he grins, “it is all about you today.”

“But –” your attempt to argue is cut short as Astarion disappears between your thighs, wraps his wet lips around your clit and starts sucking. You let out an unbelievably loud whimper of pleasure and he smirks against your body.

Pinning your thighs apart, he works his tongue in an up-and-down motion on one side of your clit and then the other. You grind into his mouth shamelessly as his tongue continues working its magic. Without interruption, he slips first one finger, then two inside you, and pushes them up against your G-spot. You’re already starting to see stars as you feel his fangs settle in the soft mound of flesh above your clit. He applies just enough pressure for it to deliciously sting without ever hurting. Those tiny pinpricks combined with the sucking of your clit and the impossible rhythm of his fingers inside you made you cry out.

“Astarion – I’m– “ you try to articulate between two heavy breaths.  

“I’m right there with you, my love,” he mutters and presses his fangs slightly deeper into your skin, as to urge you to stop fighting the wave of pleasure trying to make its way through your shivering body.  

His tongue slips across that one spot on the tip of your clit that always sets you off, and suddenly you are coming on his mouth, grasping fistfuls of his silver hair and moaning and moaning and moaning. He pushes his fangs deeper and deeper into your skin as he rides out your orgasm with you, using his free hand to hold your hips steady. Your core spasms longer than a pulsing heart, each beat making you thrash helplessly on the bed as he pushes his fingers deep. ​​He waits until you come down from your high before slowly sliding his two fingers out of you and into his mouth to lick them clean. The rest of the world begins to come back into focus but you do not care for it. You only have eyes for him.  

​​"You are absolutely exquisite when you come," he chuckles in that ridiculously arrogant way he has.

He licks his lips as he rises, expression as lazy and smug as a contented cat. You haul him up and into your arms and kiss him hard. He wraps his strong arms around you protectively and takes a moment to listen to your breathing, still shallow from the love explosion. He finds infinite comfort in the repeated rise and fall of your chest. It proves to him that you are real, safe and here, right next to him. 

Before you, Astarion had never known true bliss. Sex – even when it’s mindblowing – doesn’t fix the part of you that’s broken. Good sex soothes, but doesn’t cure, and Astarion, who’s been using sex as a valium substitute since he’s been free from his former Master’s control, knows it better than anyone. But with you, it’s not just sex. It’s safety. It’s intimacy. It’s respect. And it’s all he’s ever wanted.

[neckromantics]

More creepy and unsettling, creature Astarion please.

I beg of thee. Vampires are meant to be an uncanny valley type of thing. An undead creature of the night that passes itself as just the right amount of living and mortal for you to let your guard down. I need more examples of his vampiric nature showing once he's grown comfortable enough, and I need it now.

~

An Astarion who is so silent in his movements that you often got jump scared by it in the earlier stages of your relationship.

You'd be lounging around on the sofa. Reading a book, lost in thought, all serene and cozy beneath a nice knitted blanket-- just having an all around nice, relaxing time when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You glance up for just a moment, to the space before you that was previously unoccupied, and his entire face is suddenly hovering right in front of you.

Just waiting. Not moving. Pupils blown so huge that there's barely any color left to his eyes. Fangs are peeking out over the bruise-purple skin of his bottom lip. He's pallid. White as a corpse. Definitely in need of a good feeding.

His intentions were entirely innocent. He really only meant to ask you a question, and here you are being all dramatic and jumping several feet into the air and throwing your book off to the side in a panic. Thankfully, you're able to catch yourself before you full on shriek in his face.

(You love him and his ghoulishly handsome face, you really and truly do, but you sincerely thought for a moment that he was a spectre come to take you to the afterlife.)

~

Astarion, who routinely forgets to breathe. Yanno, like it's nothing.

You're well aware of the fact that vampires don't need to breathe. It's more of a force of habit than anything else, really-- something left over from when he was still mortal, he says.

Although, during bouts of intense emotion, or some sort of uh, stimulation, the focus on something so trivial gets put on the backburner for a bit.

The two of you will be sharing a particularly passionate kiss (or worse) when you feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest stop short. It's like all of the air has gotten caught in his lungs, and he ends up making these creaky grudge-like sounds in place of his usual low moaning. A clicking in the back of his throat in place of a sigh. If you play your cards just right, there might even be a rattling from deep within his chest that almost sounds like a purr.

When he finally does breathe, usually due to a well executed nip to his bottom lip, or the gentle brush of your fingers against one of his ears as you play with his hair, it comes out as an animalistic hiss. A sharp, choking gasp that sends goosebumps down the length of your arms.

~

How you catch him watching you sleep.

How you'll wake up in the pitch black of your bedroom in a cold sweat. Your hair is stood on end, a fearful shudder threatening to rattle your frame. A spike in your pulse that has your sleep addled brain doing somersaults in your skull. All of your instinctual alarm bells go off at once, telling you that something must be terribly wrong. Something must be watching you.

You try to blink away the bleariness-- try to shake off the fog of sleep for long enough to get your bearings, and catch a glint in the dark so ominous that for a moment you're scared stock still.

Something is watching you. Someone, rather.

Astarion's eyes gleam back at you in the dark like a wild animal's might. A bobcat, maybe, like the ones you'd often find stalking pray outside the tree line of camp all those nights ago. Pupils that glow a filmy, holographic orange despite there being no light to reflect off of them.

You don't notice until after you've taken a second to calm yourself that he's hovering over you. The bed just barely dips from his weight as he supports himself, and you'd be baffled by it all if you had any braincells left.

"Go back to sleep, darling." His voice is so soft, even over the pounding against your eardrums. Soothing. Tranquilizing. And though your eyes do begin to feel heavy, you're not exactly in the mood for rest anymore.

Especially not when he's pressing cold, feather-light kisses down the length of your throat not a moment later.

~

Please, I beg. Give me more.

[fangswbenefits]

Book

Summary: Astarion comes across an interesting book and decides to share the knowledge with you. Quite literally.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Breeding kink. P in V. Vampire bite. Blood drinking. Creampie. Overestimulation. Cumplay.

Word count: 1.7k

It wasn't unusual for you to find yourself on your back, knees bent and legs spread apart as Astarion's hand worked diligently in between them.

“You know… I came across this book in Rivington."

Two fingers rubbed slow yet measured circles between your slick folds. His dexterity truly shined through in these moments, as he lured you closer and closer to the edge of your sanity.

“A book?” 

“A most interesting book.”

His lips pressed lingering kisses across the exposed side of your neck, and you struggled to keep your eyes fixed on his hand.

He adored it when you watched him deliver unprecedented pleasure, and the sight was positively maddening with your wetness coating both his fingers as lewd sounds echoed in your ears.

The cluster of pillows strategically placed behind you aided you to take in the view more clearly, and you couldn't help but moan softly.

Suddenly, you jolted at the feeling of one fang raking across your sensitive skin. “What of it?”

“Do you really want to know, darling?”

His purring voice alone could edge you so effectively that you had to grip the bedsheets under you, balling your fists and silently praying to the gods above to help you stay grounded.

“Yes…” you moaned, eyes nearly fluttering shut.

Astarion quickly bfound your pulse point and planted an open-mouthed kiss.

Just bite me… 

That would surely be your undoing, but he merely chuckled and you felt him smile.

“It spoke of dhampirs - half-vampires.”

Gods…

The implication that dangled from his silky words wasn't particularly subtle and you found yourself clenching around nothing.

“It is not an easy feat, but with the right amount of dedication and… perseverance,” he punctuated each word with a roll of his fingers, drawing soft whimpers from you. “... I'm quite certain we can explore it.”

You clenched again, and your legs faltered, almost dropping from the chill that ran down your spine.

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “No, no, my sweet. Keep your focus and your legs up high for me.”

Astarion thrived on your pleasure and basked in your praises.

He was good.

He knew he was good.

And he wanted you to show him.

Stroking his ego was a sure way to get his complete devotion.

The throbbing between your legs intensified tenfold and you could see it swollen and peeking through your folds as he dragged his drenched fingers all the way up to your lower abdomen.

“What do you say?” He purred in your ear, massaging you tenderly.

Another agonising clench.

You parted your lips in search of a reply, but the words died in your mouth at the sight of his fingers spreading your wetness across your skin.

“Well? Will you let me breed you?”

His crude words had you gripping the fabric in your hands tighter, and you wondered how much longer until it finally tore.

“Astarion…”

Slowly but surely, you felt something prickling at the skin on the back of your hand.

It was slightly cool and you needn't need to look to know his cock was leaking precum.

Just for you.

The liquid began dribbling down your skin as he began pressing soft kisses along your jawline.

Silently, he grabbed your hand until your fingers instinctively wrapped around his hardening cock.

And then he hissed.

“Tighter,” he urged, placing his hand atop yours to squeeze down hard. “You're tighter than this…” he finished with a sigh.

This time, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut as you rolled your hips in desperation.

He fucked your hand slowly, occasionally bringing your thumb to swipe across his tip, earning delicious and urgent moans from him.

Your breathing quickened and you felt the mattress shift under you as he carefully slid his cock from your grip, positioning himself on top of you.

“Eyes on me.”

You took a deep and shaky breath and your gaze dropped to witness an elegant finger disappear inside you.

A swift gasp escaped your throat and you couldn't stop yourself from clenching around him.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in an approving smile. “So eager…”

You were mesmerised by how he so easily slid a second one, the wet sounds nearly doing it for you.

He shifted until his cool lips were on yours, nipping at the lower one with the razor-like fang, easily drawing blood and gently suckling on the bruised flesh. 

Your back arched when he removed both fingers from you before pressing his cock at your entrance.

By this point, you were too soaked to offer any resistance as he slowly sank into you.

You broke the kiss first, greedily looking in between your bodies just so you could watch his cock slide in and out, bulging veins glistening with your wetness.

“Enjoying the view, darling?”

You bit down on your lip, tasting your own blood as you nodded through half-hooded eyes. 

Countless sweet rolls of his hips pushed you further and further along the inevitable precipice, and the familiar coiling and throbbing had your mouth drop open, unable to rein in your spilling whimpers.

He dipped his head to glide his tongue across your lower lip, both his arms caging you in and allowing him to angle his hips so he could sink fully into you.

You were visibly pulsing, your folds parted slightly, and his gaze soon followed yours.

A guttural grunt rumbled in his throat. “Let go, darling… and let me feel you tightening around me.”

You gripped his arms, bracing yourself for the impending wave of overwhelming bliss that took over your entire body, and through gasps and pants and moans, you plunged down the spiral of bliss.

A distant groan from Astarion was heard as your vision blurred, powerful contractions rippling through your lower half.

He was mumbling something, but you couldn't make out a single word, far too lost in your high to focus on anything else.

You felt his lips on your neck and you threw your head back, offering it fully to him.

As the waves of your contractions finally subsided, you came back to your senses, trying hard to even out your laboured breathing.

He was still buried deep inside you.

Had he come with you?

The answer came when his fangs began prodding the skin along your pulse point, as if barely containing himself.

He had yet to reach his peak.

“Can you give me another one?”

Your eyes widened and you struggled to form coherent words. “I… I don't… know.”

He brought one hand to grip your knee, pushing your leg against your torso, and spreading you further apart for him.

The pace he had set was contained and slow, a constant reminder that he yearned for his own release.

His tongue darted out to swipe across your flushed skin, and you turned your head, granting him easier access.

“Use your words.”

You swallowed, gasping from how oversensitive you suddenly felt from the constant friction in between your legs.

“Please…” you could only bring yourself to plead. 

His fangs taunted the fragile barrier of your skin, but not with enough pressure to draw blood.

“Use. Your. Words.” He rasped impatiently, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips.

You brought your hands to his chest, feeling the taut muscles tense under your touch. 

“Bite me…”

The sharp sting had you grip him hard, his hardened nipples digging into the palms of your hands.

As soon as he got to control the flow of your blood, he quickly matched the rolls of his hips with each mouthful of warm liquid he downed.

Your senses were full of him.

Filled with him.

Dragging on hand to settle on his throat, you moaned as you felt him under your palm, eagerly swallowing your blood.

It didn't take long before his skin began to heat up against yours, and you could almost swear you felt his cock hardening even more inside you.

His pace didn't falter. If anything, he was simply indulging in the newfound vigour that only your blood coursing through his body could provide.

Wanting to further tease him, you circled his nipple with the pad of your thumb, earning an approving grunt.

The crescendo of pleasure began to throb deep within you with each passing moment, and you felt him take one of your hands in his, dragging it down to settle where his body connected with yours.

He slid out just enough for your fingers to trace along the bulging and pulsing veins that slithered around his cock.

He quickly withdrew from your neck with a low, rumbling groan, his handsome face hovering yours, droplets of blood dripping from his lips onto yours, which you quickly swiped clean with your tongue, tasting the metallic aftertaste.

You kept teasing his nipple, feeding your own pleasure from how responsive he was.

Astarion was about to come undone, and you realised that having your blood dripping down his chin and neck, was enough to catapult you steadily yet rapidly into the heights of your own pleasure.

Your eyes watched his face twist beautifully as he reached his peak, mouth dropping agape in a raging growl that made you shudder.

Under the touch of your fingers, you felt the underside of his cock spasm rhythmically as he emptied himself inside you.

It was too much.

You felt some of his cum overflowing and staining your fingers, and you immediately dragged them to the pulsing swell between your folds, coating it in the warm liquid and gasping as the violent wave of bliss had you contracting around him.

Astarion buried his face in the crook of your neck as he cursed and whimpered and pleaded for you to have mercy on him.

You truly wished you could grant him such relief, but you were far too gone to be of any comfort as both of you rode out your peak.

With a final grunt from him and a moan from you, he slumped against you, cock still buried deep.

You pressed a hand to the back of his head, slipping your fingers along his damp and soft curls, cradling him in your embrace.

“Just so we're clear,” you began in between pants. “What are the chances of this actually happening?”

He didn't reply right away, instead pressing his lips to the bite marks on your neck, cleaning up the mess.

“Not that high, I reckon?” You managed to chuckle, raking your fingers along his scalp.

“Not high at all.”

Just as you had suspected.

“But we're so used to turning the impossible into possible, that I can't see why this should be any different.”

Oh.

Oh.

A/N: I'm... sorry.... hahaha

Masterlist

[xemdead]

Astarion probably isn’t used to aftercare with all his trauma regarding sex / intimacy.

So imagine after the first time with you, almost immediately after you both finish, he gets up to re-dress. He expects you to do the same and leave, just like everyone has before you. But instead, you tug him back down into your warm embrace. He’s frozen, unsure what you’re doing but he likes the way you play with his hair. It slows down his erratic post coital heart, as his head relocates to your chest. Astarion comes to the realisation that he’s never actually taken a moment after sex to calm his body down before. It’s nice. You stay like this together for a while, relaxing after all the physical movement from earlier.

‘You okay?’ You mumble to him in a tired haze, ‘Did it feel good? You want some water?’ You begin to sit up, disrupting his position on your chest. For once he doesn’t reply, no flirty quips ready on his tongue. Astarion finds himself half shocked, half in awe that you care how he feels and what he felt like during the act. No one’s ever asked him that before.

You leave the bed briefly to the bathroom and return with a washcloth. You wipe yourself off then gesture towards Astarion, ‘Is it okay for me to clean you?’ You say softly, asking his consent.

He coughs, clearing his throat, ‘Of course,darling,’ he says, clearly covering up his confusion and rising nerves. ‘Are you okay?’ You ask again, repeating the question from earlier.

‘Yes, my love, I’m fine... it’s just no one’s ever done this to me before,’ he states gesturing down to where you carefully wipe his inner thighs. ‘Oh!’ You stutter ‘I can stop if your not comfortable with it—’. ‘I love it.’ he states, cutting you off. Eyes staring warmly into your own.

After this scenario happens I feel like Astarion will make the extra effort to learn proper aftercare for you, he begins to realise how important it is to check in after sex, he never wants you to feel used like he did in the past.

(Notes: sorry this is pure Astarion brainrot. Not proofread/edited. This man has crawled his way into my heart)

[graveyardcuddles]

Astarion/Reader one-shots written by me

Reminder that my blog and my writing is intended for 18+ adults.

Rhapsody - sfw, gender neutral!reader, hurt/comfort

Nectar - nsfw, fem!reader, fluff/smut, pregnancy cw

The Space Between - nsfw, gender neutral!reader, mirror play, vampire smut

[frantic-fiction]

Tease 18+

(Pic: cheekylittlepupp)

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x Tav

Summary: The party is taking the night off. You're convinced to wear a dress, and Astarion just can't control himself.

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Semi-public sex, caught in the act?

Word Count: 3.2k

Mastarlist

Standing in front of the mirror, you pull at the dark green fabric, tugging it down this way and that. You try again to tie the corset but give up quickly. You swing your hips, and the flowy skirt swishes, tickling the skin above your knees. Looking yourself up and down, you zone in on your hips, squirming at the fabric extenuating your curves. So much skin on display makes you want to steal someone's spare cloak to hide in. You weren't one to be self-conscious, but you're used to donning armor and leather, not this scrap of fabric Karlach had convinced you to buy. 

You should just change. Grab some leggings and one of Astarion's shirts, and call it a night. You didn't need a dress to catch his eye; you know how Astarion feels about you; wearing a dress won't change that. Backing away from the mirror, you're just about to rip the dress off when Karlach bursts into the room, Shadowheart following behind her at a much tamer pace. 

"Soldier!" Karlach squeals, stopping suddenly in the middle of the room. She slaps her hands on either side of her face. "You. Are. Gorgeous!" Your face burns as Karlach pounces on you, spinning you around to give her the best view from every angle. Heat creeps up your chest and you giggle awkwardly.

"She's right, you look stunning," Shadowheart smirked and added, "Ten gold Astarion won't be able to keep it in his pants."

"20, he won't make it to a room," Karlach shouts.

"Gods! You both are ridiculous." You squeal, swatting Karlach's hands away and stepping back from her excitement. You huff and fix your skirt. Crossing your hands over your chests, you glare at the girls before timidly looking off to the side. "So, I don't look silly?" The hesitation is evident.

"All joking aside, I assure you, soldier, you are beautiful. And I know for a fact Fangs won't be able to keep his eyes off of you."

You beam under Karlach's compliment, doing a few excited calf raises because you have no idea how else to handle her words. Shadowheart moves towards you and fixes a fallen strand of hair. She gives you a soft smile and moves to finish lacing your corset, patting your arm when she’s done.

"Now we should go. The others are waiting downstairs," Shadowheart motions everyone to the door, letting you take a moment to slip your shoes on. 

After months of endless travels and brutal battles, the party decided to take the evening to drink, relax, and enjoy each other's company. A night to forget the tadpoles and the Absolute. All except Lae'zel, who scoffed at the idea, were joining in on the fun.

Descending the stairs, you slammed with the melody of lively tunes played by a band of minstrels, competing with the animated conversations of patrons. The music, infused with the spirit of celebration, is so loud that it vibrates through the wooden beams of the tavern. The dance floor is alive with energetic movements as couples twirl and spin to the rhythm and the joyous laughter of those lost in the moment.

The bar is surrounded by a sea of drunk patrons clamoring for attention. Tankards slammed onto the worn surface as the bartender poured frothy ale and mead expertly. The dim light of flickering candles and oil lamps casts a warm glow on the diverse crowd. The unmistakable odors of stale ale, greasy food, and the tang of sweat intermingle in the air, creating a distinctive nostalgic and pungent aroma. You're lost in the crowd's movement, overwhelmed with the sounds. You grab onto Shadowheart's elbow like a lifeline.

"Karlach!" Wyll calls and you all snap your head to the side. The party had claimed a booth, and Gale and Wyll were standing up, waving their arms over their heads. They looked like they started early on the drinking; both men's faces were flush, and they each held an easy, dopey grin.

"Wyll!" Karlach linked her arms with yours and Shadowheart's and approached the table. You let her pull you, too busy searching for him. Astarion is slow to stand, but you know the moment he sets his eyes on you. You watch the subtle change in his body language. His hand tightened around the goblet; the exaggerated inhale of air as if someone had kicked him, watching the hunger grow in his eyes.

Now, you feel the confidence bloom in your chest. The dress no longer makes you squirm in discomfort; no, it gives you power and makes you feel desired and sexy. The flame ignites low in your abdomen. Suddenly, you were playing with fire and excited to get burned. A smug smile stretches your lips the closer you get. Pulling away from Karlach, you move and hook your arms around Astarion's neck. You pull him down and place a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi, handsome," you smile up at him, feeling his hand caress the small of your back. Cold fingers playing at the edge of the corset.

"Hello darling, you look breathtaking." He pushes you back gently, giving him space to take in your attire. "Turn for me, my love. Let me look upon the goddess before me."

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness but oblige his request, spinning slowly to allow Astarion to take in every angle. When you come full circle, Astarion captures your lips, and you fall against his chest. His lips meld against yours in a sensual kiss that was entirely inappropriate for the amount of people around, but neither of you seemed to care. Humming against his mouth, you cup his jaw and pull his face away. Astarion chases your lips and lets out a low groan when you deny him what he wants.  

You give Astarion a mischievous grin, patting his chest when you ask. "Do you mind getting me a drink?" 

He gives you a pointed look, visibly dissatisfied with his kiss. With one look and your hand running up his chest and over his shoulder, Astarion caves with a huff. "Yes, of course. Would you like your usual?"

"Yes, please." You say pecking his lips a final time before joining your friends in the booth. 

Wyll was regaling the table with a tale of his early days as the Blade of Frontiers when Astarion slides in beside you. He sets your drink down, and you whisper your thanks before taking a sip and focusing back on Wyll. Gale is quick to call out Wyll's bullshit, Shadowheart pointing out the exaggeration the warlock had blended into his story. It soon devolved into a bickering match as Wyll tried to defend himself. You chuckle between sips of wine, leaning into Astarion, setting your head gently against his shoulder. His hand had found your bare thigh, fingers kneading the supple flesh. 

Suddenly, your friends become background noise as your senses hone in on Astarion. The cheeky smirk that stretches his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing as Astarion inches his smooth hand further under your dress—never crossing the line but far enough to make you clench your legs together in need. You bite your lip, cheeks burning from more than the alcohol, and reach down to take his hand in yours. 

"I know what you're doing,"

"Oh, and what is that, my dear?" Astarion grins, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. He leans to your ear, "Do you not want me to touch you?" His breath cascades over your neck, and a shiver runs up your spine.

"Not when you're trying to tease me in public."

"My sweet girl, I'm not the one being a tease."

"Soldier! Stop making goo-goo eyes at Fangs, and come dance with me!" Karlach yells across the table, breaking whatever spell Astarion had you under. Pulling away, you look up to see Karlach jumping up and down, hand outstretched for you to take. 

"You know I won't say no to dancing." Astarion reluctantly moves to let you out of the booth. Karlach is quick to grab your hand and pull you towards the stage. 

The time is lost in the beat of the drums and the flow of your hips. Karlach twirls you around, and you can't stop giggling. Wyll joins in the fun, and suddenly, the crowd has formed a unified line dance. It's messy, and you don't know the steps, but you watch Wyll and poke fun at Karlach's improvised moves. You dance until your breath is ragged and your feet start hurting. Moving your body until the sea of people starts to drown you. Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through your veins or the excitement of the dancing. Still, the fun quickly turns to overstimulation that blankets you in thick sheets. In an instant, the room is too hot and too loud, and if you don't get out now, you just might scream.

You leave Karlach and move towards the door outside to the back alley. Pushing it open, you stumble over the threshold and inhale the cold night air. It instantly sobers, clearing your mind and easing your panic. You stare up at the starry sky, soaking in the bright moon. Goosebumps spread over your exposed arms and legs, and you shiver. It doesn't stop you from stepping further into the alleyway as you breathe and allow your heart to settle its pounding. You can still hear the muffled music and thumping feet. 

You hear the door open again but pay it no mind until Astarion speaks, "There you are, my sweet."

You turn on your heel and give him a soft smile. He glowed under the moonlight, an ethereal being standing before you, his face partially cast in shadow, staring at you with hunger. "I needed some air."

"I'm sure you did," Astarion smirks, stepping closer toward you. A predator stalks up to its prey. "All that dancing you were doing must have been exhausting."

"It was, but it was so fun." You reach out instinctually, wrapping your arms around his neck. Astarion smoothes his hands down your spine to the swell of your butt, moving to squeeze the soft, plump flesh. "You should join me next time." You squeak at his grip, pressing yourself closer to him.

Then his lips are on yours, and your back is digging into the rough brick of the alleyway. Astarion's tongue is in your mouth, and you're moaning, gripping his shoulders to find purchase. One of his fangs nipped your bottom lip, and your knees practically buckled under you. You would have fallen if Astarion hadn't pressed you against the wall. 

"I think I just might take you dancing tomorrow." His cold hands caress your thigh, pulling it up and over his hip, pushing up the fabric of your dress with it. "I'll buy you a pretty new dress to add to your growing collection, and I'll have you move your body for me like you've been doing all night." 

He rolls his hips into yours, and you cry into his neck, kissing his skin to muffle your noises. "Swaying those hips in this tight little thing. Gods darling, I've been hard all night, and it's entirely your fault, you naughty little minx."

"Astarion," You sigh, relishing the friction of his hard cock against your clothed core. 

"Such a cruel woman, dangling a feast over a starving man. I'll have to punish you for that." Astarion purrs, running his nose along the line of your jaw, stopping to bite at his favorite spot; his fangs puncture the surface just enough to have droplets of your blood trickle out.

His tongue lavishes over your skin, making sure not a drop escapes. The moan that rumbles through his chest is purely animalistic, and a rush of heat gushes between your legs. "But right now, my naughty girl, I'm going to fuck you here against this wall." 

You let out a whimper, hips bucking instinctually, heat coiling in your lower stomach. "Please.." 

Astarion takes no time to push your underwear aside and push two of his fingers into your folds with a lewd, wet sound. Astarion begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, with each stroke curling up just slightly. The rough pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and applying pressure, he circles the nub in time with his fingers. 

"You're already so drenched, always so ready for me." You pull his face in and sigh into his mouth, niping his lip playfully. Threading your hand through his soft curls, you give a soft tug, relishing in the grunt Astarion gives you. 

You're painfully aware of your surroundings and know that someone could step out and catch the two of you any moment. The thought gives you a jolt of excitement you'll have to think about later. There is no room to take your time, so you tug harder on Astarion's hair loss, pulling his lips from the flesh of your neck he was playing with.

"Star," You roll your hips against his hand impatiently. "I need you to fuck me already,"

"So impatient, but you are right. This is not the time to play." Astarion tsk before unceremoniously ripping your underwear off and stuffing them in his pocket. 

"I liked those."

"I'll buy you a new pair, maybe one to match your new dress." Astarion peppers kiss down your neck. Your hands move to pull his pants down, freeing his cock. It's red and looks painfully swollen. Astarion hisses through his teeth when you give the base of his cock a tight squeeze. 

"I want one that matches the new dress and the same ones you just ripped." You countered, giving him a few languid strokes using his precum as a lubricant. 

"Whatever you want, my love." He says mindlessly, taking you into another breathtaking kiss.

Astarion hands leave your cunt, and a whine leaves your lips. He kisses your pout and quickly grabs his cock. Astarion pumps himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. When Astarion sheaths himself fully in your heat, the wind is knocked out of you. A collective groan of ecstasy escapes from both of your mouths. There is no build-up, no room to catch your breath. Astarion quickly pulls out and slams back into you—your back scraps against the bricks, and your foot slips on the cobblestone.

You yelp scrambling to hold on and not fall pathetically onto the dirty alley floor. Astarion, without skipping a beat, scoops you up fully in his arms. All you can do is wrap your legs around his hips and hold on as he pounds into your dripping cunt. 

"Gods, you're perfect," Astarion signs into your neck. He pulls at your dress, moving the corset just enough to expose one of your breasts. He bends his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth. You choke on a gasp; cupping the back of his head, you press him further against you. 

"Astarion," you moan, carding your fingers into his curls. Rolling your hips, you match his thrusts. Your lower stomach tightens, and you will not last much longer. Not with him pulling you apart in the way only he can. You tried to say as much, but you choke on a sob when Astarion's fingers find your clit. 

He grinds your hips into the brick wall and brutalizes your clit with tight circles. His voice is raspy in your ears. "I'm close, love…ngh - gods, you feel so good."

"A-astarion, please!" Tears bead down your cheeks, pleasure overwhelming your senses. Your muscles are tightening. Your legs quake, and you clench tightly around him. 

"That’s it, come for me, beautiful." And that is all you need to see stars, opening your mouth in a silent cry. Ecstasy courses through your veins, and you bite down on his collarbone to ground yourself in your pleasure. His hips stutter, pace faltering as he loses himself in your body, spilling his seed deep into you. 

Neither of you moves; the brick is now uncomfortably digging into your back, but you can't find the energy to care. Astarion peppers kiss up and down your neck. You scratch his scalp softly and catch your breath. It’s nice.

"I guess I should wear more dresses."

"My dear, you could wear a burlap sack, and I would have still taken you against this wall."

"Horny bastard." 

The two of you were too caught up in each other to notice the tavern door opening again. Nor did either of you notice two figures stepping out. At least not until Karlach's loud cackle echoed down the alleyway. You whip your head in her direction, Astarion following suit. Karlach is hunched over and on her knees, shoulders shaking with laughter. Shadowheart stands beside her, arms crossed with disgust and annoyance plastered on her face.

Astarion is quick to turn you away, shielding you with his body. He let’s you go and you scramble to cover yourself. He helps you fix your dress. Great. 

"What did I tell you? Fangs couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to find a room!" Karlach booms, slapping Shadowheart on the arm. "Hand it over," her palm extended in wait. You hide your face in Astarion's neck, face burning in embarrassment. 

Shadowheart mumbled something under her breath, digging in her pocket for her gold pouch. "Here," the gold is slapped into the tieflings palm. She turns to the two of you. "Find a different cleric to cure whatever disease you've contracted in this filthy alley." Shadowheart quickly turns back into the tavern, the door slamming behind her. 

"Well, thanks for the gold," The tiefling beams and skips after Shadowheart, leaving you and Astarion alone once more. 

You refuse to leave the space between Astarion's jaw and collarbone. Thoughts of packing your stuff and running to Candlekeep are crossing your mind. Karlach and Shadowheart are already telling Wyll and Gale about your exploits, and you don't want to handle the smug looks. 

Astarion's chest rumbles with silent laughter, and you're pulled from your escape plans. You emerge from your safe space and glare up at the man. "What's so funny?!" 

He laughs harder, and runs his thumb over your pout, cupping your jaw. You hold firm in your annoyance and turn your head. "Karlach is telling all of our friends that we just fucked in a dirty back alley, why would you be laughing?" You snap.

"You would think at this point Shadowheart would stop betting on our love life. Tsk, all the gold she's lost." You narrow your eyes at him. His playful smirk widens. "She and the other weirdos should know how shamelessly I want you. They were lucky I didn't fuck you on the table." 

Rolling your eyes, you shove him hard, forcing Astarion to stumble back. Moving past you storm towards the door; he's laughing and calling your name. Astarion, only get your middle finger before the tavern door closes behind you.

Astarion is a cheeky shit. I love him.... Let me know what ya thought, i love your feedback.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

God, the intimacy of Astarion feeding from you.

Astarion drinking from your neck as he pulls your body closer to his in bed, his chest up against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist. It's a casual thing, now, his whispered can I? and your answering nod, as much a part of your bedtime routine as your bath or his curl care. You sigh as his fangs pierce your skin and his fingers flex against your stomach. His breath hitches when the taste of you hits his tongue, and that's familiar too, the physicality of it, the noises he makes low in his throat as he drinks, the way he grows warmer against you as your blood begins to flow through his veins. Nothing else makes you feel so heady, so intoxicated- so comforted.

Astarion drinking from your wrist when he’s starving for it and can’t wait to get you more comfortable. Pulling him into an alleyway one night on the way home from the Elfsong because you can see how badly he's craving in the way he can't keep his eyes off of the pulse point in your neck. He seizes your arm with both hands (can I? Yes-), bringing the soft skin on the inside of your wrist to his lips. He has just enough presence of mind to kiss the heel of your hand distractedly before he bites, fangs sliding through your skin and into the vein. The sound he makes can only be described as a growl, something feral and possessive (and you'll never tell him that it turns you on, since he would be insufferable about it- a promise to yourself that lasts exactly as long as the space between the moment and the next time you're tipsy and want him).

(NSFW Below!)

Astarion drinking from your inner thigh, one hand holding your leg steady and the other cupping your cunt. You groan, eyes shut in pleasure, as his thumb comes to rub your clit. The pain of the bite is barely pain this way- it collides with the pleasure in your belly and sends you almost out of your mind, overwhelmed with sensation and heat. He takes you all the way there, takes just enough from you to have you relaxed and pliant and soaring somewhere above your own body, plays you like an instrument with all the knowledge of you he's gathered over the months, the years. He knows when you're close, knows to crook his fingers inside you just so, knows the reaction he's going to get when he pulls away from your thigh for just a moment and looks up at you with dark eyes and tells you to come for him, he wants to see it, you fall apart so beautifully and it's all for him, isn't it, tell him how good he makes you feel and when you climax with his voice in your ear and the scent of blood on the air he has the audacity to laugh at how well he understands you, your body.

He's soft, after, softer than he'll ever be with anyone who isn't you. He licks you clean before he takes you to the bath, carrying you with the strength your lifeblood gives him. It's the least he can do for you, with everything you've given him: not just your body, but your trust, your closeness, and he will never stop being grateful.

[thesolarangel]

Source of pleasure

1.094 words · Rating: Explicit +18 · Halsin x Astarion x reader · AO3

Tags: threesome, unprotected P in V! (remember: wrap it before you tap it!), coming inside, creampie, dirty talk, chubby reader, they/them pronouns for gnc-reader, laughing while fucking, polyamory

(Oh noo, the filthy smut I imagined in my head turned into ✨love making✨as soon as I was writing it down… Whoopsie)

________

“You’re doing amazing, darling.”

Astarion purred, grazing his lips down your neck and sucking into the soft flesh. He was seated behind you on the bed, his chest against your back, whispering sultry things into your ear. His hands were now on your plump tits, kneading them, teasing your nipples mercilessly, making you moan unrestrained. 

Halsin was kneeling in front of you, two fingers working you open, his thumb pressing lightly on your sensitive clit. The druid presented such a gorgeous sight before you, all big and broad and a beautiful hairy chest to die for. His hard cock stood proudly between his legs. The bulbous pink head and thick shaft making your mouth water, you wanted him inside so badly.

“Look how big he is, how he's throbbing for you.” Astarion’s low voice was sending shivers down your spine. 

Halsin watched your face closely for any sign of discomfort, he wanted to make absolutely sure that you were ready for him. You moaned, encouraged by Astarion’s words and eager for Halsin to finally give you what you wanted most…  

Astarion wasn’t unaffected by all of this. You felt his hardness against your lower back. He was straining against his pants. You tried to turn around to get your hands on him, you didn’t want him to be left out, but he stopped you mid way.

“Ah-ah-ah, this is just for you, darling”, he pulled you snug against his chest and continued kissing your neck. “Let us take care of you, hmm?”

Halsin bent down to cup your cheek with his other hand. He captured your mouth in a gentle kiss, grazing over your lips in languid motions. He was always so careful with you as if you’d break under his big hands. You felt so small with him hovering over you.

You loved the way he made love to you. You always felt so secure and protected with him. But right now with Astarion teasing you, finding your sensitive spots and Halsin’s big fingers exploring the depths of your warm, wet cunt, you were close to your limit.

“Please, Halsin…” you whined impatiently. 

“Don’t make them wait any longer”, Astarion chimed in while roaming his hands over your round belly and your alluring tits. 

Halsin smiled, “I hear you.” He stole another heated kiss and then he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, making you gasp. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you desire, sweetheart.”

Fetching and opening the small vial of lubricant, he let a few drops dribble onto your vulva, smearing it into your cunt with the head of his cock. 

You and Astarion both made a lewd noise in unison while watching. Astarion’s hands wandered downwards and spread your labia open to watch Halsin nudge his cock inside. Cautiously, he fed you inch for inch of his hard length, making you gasp at the stretch.

Once Halsin was seated inside you, Astarion spoke up once again, voice heavy with lust. “You take him so well, every inch of him…”

”By the oak father, you feel incredible", Halsin agreed with a low grunt that went straight to your swelling cunt. He caressed your thighs and the soft flesh at your waist as he waited for you to get accustomed to his thick shaft.

“Do you feel generously stuffed, darling? Does he fill you up nicely?” Astarion purred close to your ear while he watched.

“Yes… “ You moaned in response. You closed your eyes and threw your head back onto Astarion’s shoulder.

Halsin bent down to pull Astarion into a filthy kiss. Astarion made a surprised yelp that turned into a needy whimper as Halsin devoured his lips hungrily.

He smirked when he broke the kiss, gazing deeply into Astarion’s eyes. “Let’s make sure they’ll never forget this.”

Astarion stared at him and you could feel his erection growing harder against your back. He adored the druid as much as you did and you felt it. “Sounds like a plan”, he whispered seductively.

Halsin grabbed your waist and started fucking you with slow, languid thrusts while Astarion had one hand on your breast and one on your clit, massaging it just the way you liked it.

Halsin looked gorgeous above you. His tanned skin was glistening with sweat, his stomach flexed as he plowed into you, making your tummy and your tits jiggle with every thrust. 

Being loved by these two beautiful creatures was like something out of a wonderful dream. Watching Halsin’s adoring expression while he was fucking you, feeling Astarion’s gentle, experienced touch on your hot skin, all of it made your heart race and you couldn’t get enough. You whined desperately as Halsin picked up the pace.

“Fuuuuck…” Halsin grunted.

“Listen, darling, you reduced our handsome druid to profanities, well done!” Astarion chuckled.

You let out a hoarse laugh, but Halsin’s hard thrusts stifled your laughter. You watched his length disappear inside you over and over again, while listening to the lewd sounds and moans that filled the room. 

Halsin pounded into you mercilessly, Astarion rubbed your clit harder and suddenly your orgasm hit you with such brutal force and you cried out when deep hot pleasure washed over you and through your body for several seconds. 

“Sweetheart, I’m close, where–” Halsin began, unable to finish his sentence, trying so hard to hold it in.

Astarion noticed you were distracted from your orgasm. “Do you want him to come inside you, baby, hmm?” He asked while he was fondling your tits and grinding against your back, chasing his own release. 

“Yes, please…” You whimpered. 

Halsin was panting above you and with a few more erratic thrusts, he spilled his big load inside you. At the same time, you felt Astarion’s trembling motions coming to a halt as he burst in his pants with a rough grunt.

You made a pleased hum when Halsin pulled out carefully and you watched his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets.

After all three of you had cleaned up, you got back into bed, with you in the middle, Halsin spooning you from behind and Astarion on the other side, facing you. He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and whispered sweetly: “Hmm, thank you, darling, that was wonderful.”

“My heart, you are so loved…” Halsin peppered your cheeks and your neck with little kisses while he snuggled his big body against yours.

“You make me so happy, both of you.” you murmured as you slowly drifted off to sleep, safe and warm between your two lovers.

______

MDNI divider by @cafekitsune here

tag list: not sure who to tag here, since it's my first fanfic for this fandom, so I'm just gonna tag the ones that agreed to be tagged in everything and some others who are in the fandom and read smut...

@starlady66 @fenharel-enaste @queenmeriadoc @elronds-pointy-ears @corrodedbisexual @lady-of-imladris @aiwe-the-little-bird

[dancingbirdie]

Back with another bout of plotless smut. Read at your own discretion and take note of the tags. <333

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

We Have All Night

Rating: MATURE

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader x Halsin

Word Count: 800

Warnings/Tags: Oral sex (fem!Reader receiving), praise kink, hand kink, threesome technically?, mentions of alcohol, pure plotless smut

Summary: You'd been wondering for some time what it would be like to have Halsin and Astarion share you.

*****

You could have easily blamed the events that ensued on the bottles of Blingdenstone Blush you all had passed around camp that evening. But if you were honest with yourself, the position you found yourself in was one you had been fantasizing about for some time. 

“That’s it, darling,” Astarion coaxed as his fingers slipped gently through your hair, teasing and massaging your scalp. Your head was pillowed in his lap, pupils blown wide with lust as you peered up at him. He smiled down at you, a wicked, hedonistic sort of grin.

“You so desperately want to hold still for him, don’t you?”

You whined your assent, trying your best to keep your hips from bucking – an impossible task considering the relentless way Halsin’s tongue was licking and circling that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs. 

“Such a good girl. You’re doing so well” Astarion cooed, while Halsin groaned in agreement. The vibrations it created against your skin felt like electricity surging through your limbs. 

Your mind was a disjointed haze of lust and alcohol. Totally uninhibited, you keened loudly as the druid suddenly gripped the softness of your thighs and plunged his tongue inside you.

“Shh, shh, shh” Astarion hushed, moving a hand to cover your mouth. “We don’t want the rest of the camp to hear our fun, do we?”

You groaned and shook your head slightly. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to join in?” you rasped, your lips moving against his slender fingers.

He gave a mischievous little chuckle. “I’m certain. I’m having a wonderful time just watching,” Astarion returned. 

“The night is still young,” Halsin persuaded, pausing his feasting on you to meet Astarion’s eyes. The absence of his mouth left you wanting, aching for contact once more. “If you change your mind, there’s plenty of fun to be had.” 

“A tempting offer, indeed,” Astarion smirked. “Let’s see where the evening takes us, shall we?”

You moaned against his hand as Halsin dipped his head to begin circling your clit with his tongue once more. You fisted his gorgeous auburn locks in your hands, eliciting a groan from his mouth that felt absolutely delicious against your hypersensitive skin. 

“Our sweet pup has an oh-so-difficult time keeping quiet, doesn’t she?” Astarion crooned, tracing his fingers against the seam of your lips. “You’re trying so hard, darling, I know you are.”

His silken, sinful voice felt almost as euphoric as the deplorable things Halsin was doing between your legs. In a bout of unbridled lust, you opened your mouth to capture Astarion’s index and middle fingers in your mouth. 

You sucked down on them, circled them with your tongue, as you imagined having his hard length sheathed down your throat. Your bawdy move drew a sharp breath from the vampire, followed by a quiet groan. 

You paused your ministrations, lifting a hand to pull his fingers from your mouth before asking, “Is this okay? Is it too much?” 

Astarion chuckled darkly, and you watched as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. 

“You wicked thing,” he purred. “Yes, it’s okay. And it has the added benefit of keeping you quiet.”

You were beyond laughs and jokes. Hearing his consent, you drew his fingers back down to your mouth and resumed your sucking. You moaned your approval as Astarion pistoned his fingers deeper into your mouth at the same time Halsin inserted two fingers inside you. 

You knew you wouldn’t last long. Not with the way the druid was fucking you with his fingers at the same time his tongue was circling your clit. Not with the way Astarion was trailing one hand delicately across your exposed skin while you worshiped the fingers of his other hand with your tongue and lips. 

Every nerve within you was alight and thrumming with barely-restrained energy. You could feel yourself climbing higher and higher, your body preparing for the sweetest freefall that would soon ensue. Your heels dug into Halsin’s muscled back as you tensed, one hand still clenching his hair while the other held desperately onto Astarion’s thigh. 

“Yes, darling, yes,” Astarion kept coaxing as your body drew more and more taut. A bowstring desperate to be released. 

“Let yourself come, you know you want to,” he added in a soft whisper. 

It was too much. 

Those words, and a final flick of Halsin’s tongue, had you shattering into a thousand pieces. Your cries were barely restrained by the fingers still occupying your mouth. You were lost in pleasure, awash in the tingling aftermath of your release. 

Chest heaving, mind reeling, you could barely find words. 

“That… that was…” you wheezed, before letting loose a giggle. “Everything I’d imagined it would be.”

“You’d thought about this before?” Halsin grinned, wiping his mouth clean against his forearm before leaning down to plant a reverent kiss against your lips. You could taste yourself on him. It gave you more satisfaction than perhaps it should have. 

“My, my. What other sort of depraved carnal pleasures are bouncing around in that head of yours, I wonder?” Astarion added, helping you sit up so that you were lounging between the two of them. 

You shared a conspiratorial grin with both elves. “We have all night, if you’d like me to show you.”