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crenarei · 1 year ago

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Blissful Imperfection

Pairing: Astarion x Tav (Entropy)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Length: 2,024

Tags: Blood Drinking, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Named Tav, Warlock Tav, Non-Binary Tav, First Time (Drinking People Blood), Astarion has 10 charisma

“You knew? You knew I was a vampire and you didn’t say anything?”

They shrugged, “I didn’t think it was important.”

“You didn’t think a vampire spawn in your camp was important,” he repeated.

It was typical that, when gifted the joy of feeling the sun on his skin after 200 years of miserable darkness, Astarion’s new companions would see fit to bring him into the Underdark. The dim glow of fungi glistening with luminescent spores was the only break in the darkness that engulfed them.

Well, that and the campfire that had burned itself into gently simmering embers, a blanket of warmth radiating over sleeping bodies. They slept soundly, as if there was no monster within their midst.

Astarion felt the tell-tale ache in his muscles. It was as if he was coming down with a body flu, but instead of flushed cheeks and sweat, it was a cold, dry pain. His teeth ached. It felt like his gums were pulling back, growing his incisors from the gum line up, reminding him he had perfectly good little weapons to ease his affliction.

It turns out the Underdark was not an easy place for a vampire to acquire blood.

There were only great expanses of caves, so tall and wide no creature could ever see the entire vacant mass of them. He had wished for a single, living soul to stumble across their path earlier that day. Then they’d been attacked by Minotaurs made of made of hulking muscle and had barely escaped alive. When had wishing for anything ever worked out in his favour?

Heading out of camp was more likely to leave him grievously wounded than sated. If he was really lucky he might be able to find a rat. Even the thought of them made him stiffen, bile rising in his throat. There was no point in his freedom if he continued to act as if he were in Cazador’s grasp.

The larger beasts on the surface were better than anything he’d had before; he’d almost felt full for the first time in his life gorged on the blood of a pig. Rats were for dungeons. Rats were for suffering. Rats were for barely staying alive.

His eyes darted to the sleeping figures of his campmates. They were the safest they’d been in days after befriending monstrous, mushroom creatures that offered them some security from the depths of the Underdark. The clueless group didn’t realise they’d never be safe with him around.

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.

Cazador had four rules for his vampire spawn, and Astarion had broken all but one. A chill swept across his chest, at the idea of breaking the last rule placed upon him. He’d like to think he was experiencing exhilaration, but even he wasn’t so good of a liar to make that feel truthful.

He had not broken Cazador’s rules, they had been broken for him. He grasped his newfound freedom tightly, as if he might have some claim of it, some claim over his life. Truthfully, his freedom had nothing to do with him. It was a precarious, delicate thing handed over by a disgusting parasite.

Feeding on one of his newfound allies… he could make that choice.

He could claim to be hungry and desperate - he was hungry and desperate. He had been hungrier than this, yet he felt less in control of his urges than he had ever been. He could rip out their throats, gorge on their blood, and they might not even be able to stop him. They could all die before they even awoke.

Of course, he wasn’t a filthy, uncontrolled animal. It was worthwhile keeping these people around while he got his bearings. He could abandon them to their heroism when they had fulfilled their usefulness. He wouldn’t kill anyone yet, but a taste?

Renewed with a sense of purpose Astarion considered who would be the safest choice. Wyll looked positively delicious, but a monster hunter wasn’t likely to show mercy. Karlach was out - he didn’t fancy molten blood. Shadowheart and Lae’zel may well kill him in their sleep. Gale was an interesting option, but who knows what that thing in his chest was doing to the rest of his body. That left their dear leader, Entropy.

Entropy wasn’t an easy target. A strange, dusky purple tiefling, they had a disturbed, supernatural energy to them. Astarion didn't know much about warlock magic, but Wyll seemed normal in comparison. Still, there was kindness in them that could be exploitable.

Astarion was a shadow as he approached, lit only by the fading embers of the fire and the glow of spores far above. The perfect predator.

He could feel saliva flood his mouth as he caught a glance of their soft neck. Crouched above them, mouth open, his fangs on full show, he was so close to the meal of a lifetime.

He brushed against Entropy’s shadow. He could feel it, dense, as if it held weight. Something was wrong with it. It reacted like a frightened animal, darting into Entropy’s skin.

Their eyes snapped open.

“Shit.”

They didn’t move. Instead, their black eyes stared up at him blankly. A small frown creased their eyebrows, and their nose wrinkled up into a picture of disgust.

“No, this wasn’t what it looked like, I swear!”

Of course, the weird warlock would have some strange magic shit up its sleeve. He hadn’t thought Entropy would be paranoid enough to lay traps while sleeping.

If he’d been wrong about this, was he also wrong in thinking they wouldn’t hurt him?

“You weren’t about to bite me?” Their tone was soft, as if speaking to a wild animal about to flee.

“Well, yes, but I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed, well, blood.”

Entropy blinked and slowly sat up to a crossed-leg position in front of him. He was tense, poised to escape if they stood up to attack.

“That would have been easier if you made me aware beforehand.”

“Made you aware?” He replied incredulously. “You wanted me to ask? You don’t just tell people you’re a monster!”

“Not usually, but if you were trying to hide your vampirism, might I suggest being more subtle?” Entropy rose from the ground, stepping towards him. He stepped back.

“I was being subtle before your weird shadow ratted me out. You’d have never known.”

Entropy let out a small snort, tilting their head to the side. His eyes fixated on the unobstructed view of their neck.

“You were never subtle. I’ve been aware of your… affliction since the second blood-drained boor we found near our camp.”

The saliva in his mouth dried up instantly.

“You knew? You knew I was a vampire and you didn’t say anything?”

They shrugged, “I didn’t think it was important.”

“You didn’t think a vampire spawn in your camp was important,” he repeated.

“I have no issues with monsters as long as they aren’t attacking me.” They paused, considering. “Of course, you have tried to attack me.”

They went silent, mulling over their next move. Astarion almost expected them to drive a stake through his heart. No sane person would allow a vampire who tried to bite them to walk away unscathed. Of course, no sane person would allow a vampire to hang around their group of tasty blood bags. Gods, he was hungry.

“I agree.” They finally responded.

“You… agree?”

“Yes, you can drink from me.”

Astarion blinked, narrowly preventing himself from rearing back with more obvious surprise. If they could read him so easily he needed to try harder to keep them out of his head. Smoothing his face into the picture of passivity he briefly wondered what they were getting out of this. A fetish? Some strange warlock thing? Maybe they wanted him to owe them. At this point, he’d pay that price.

“Let’s make ourselves more comfortable, shall we?” His face plastered with a seductive smile.

Entropy sat back down on their bedroll. They tucked their wavy, black hair behind their ear, and tilted their head to the side for easy access to their neck. Astarion had never seen such an appetising gesture. Their face was smooth; the only sense they were even slightly uncomfortable was the release of a tense puff of breath as he moved closer.

Astarion knelt on their bedroll with them. He places his arms on their shoulders, securing them in place. They were softer than he expected, weaker. He leaned his head down, lips barely brushing against their neck. He could feel the warmth rising from their skin, the strong beat of their heart pumping blood just under the surface.

“I’ll be gentle.”

“Lia-” Entropy’s response cut into a startled groan as Astarion sank his teeth into them.

Rich, warm blood hit his tongue. He was a man offered a feast after 200 years of starvation. It was absolute decadence. His awareness shifted dreamily, the dark, the damp, the desperation; it was all replaced with the splendour of blood.

His fingers gripped deeply into Entropy’s shoulders, nails leaving moon-print marks in their purple skin. They were lying on their back now, Astarion’s arms boxing them in as his mouth latched to their throat.

Astarion felt a heartbeat flowing through his body for the first time in 200 years. He was alive.

The fog blanket that typically shrouded his mind melted away, replaced with the overwhelming sensation of joy.

Blood pooled against his tongue as it ran down his throat. Mouthfuls and mouthfuls. More than he could contain. He cursed himself for allowing a small amount to dribble out of the corner of his mouth. What a waste.

He wanted to be immersed in it. To crawl inside their neck, bury himself beneath their skin, and be enveloped in the vitality of their blood forever.

A weak voice entered his consciousness. He couldn’t make out what it was saying against the roaring sound of fresh blood pulsing through his veins. It was an annoyance. He tightened his grip on his prey.

The voice came again, more urgent this time. It cut through like a sharp ray of sunshine. Entropy. They were lying flat on their back, hands balled up in his shirt. He was unsure if they were trying to push him away or pull him closer. Their breath was shallower than it should be.

Releasing Entropy took more effort than Astarion would have liked to admit. Every instinct was insisting he dig his teeth in further, rip their throat out and leave them a dried husk. It would be their fault for allowing a vampire’s bite. However, he was interested to see how far their kind heart could take him. How much would they be willing to give?

He released them.

“That… that was amazing,” slipped from his mouth.

Entropy’s robes were hanging off them, hair dishevelled, eyes dilated, breathing hard. An image of them in a similar state after a different activity flashed into his mind. If this was how they reacted to him now, perhaps there would be an opportunity there.

He noticed then, that he was in a similar state. A reflection of his thoughts echoed in Entropy’s eyes. He could have them right then, he was certain of it. Secure their allegiance.

Not now. Entropy had always had an unsettling presence around them, but at that moment they were mirrors of each other. He didn’t want them to see too much, and there was no need to repay this tonight.

“My mind is finally clear, I feel strong, I feel… happy.” As he said the words he realised them to be true. He was light for the first time he could remember; he was reborn.

Entropy’s eyes crinkled into a weak smile, their back straightened, the longing in their face replaced by a gentle calmness. If he hadn’t watched them do it, he would have thought the intensity he’d seen moments ago never existed.

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

The words sounded genuine. He paused unsure, before uttering a farewell and turning to put some space between them. There was more to their little leader than he’d thought. Something horrifically similar to affection stirred in his chest, but he could easily pass it off as his dead heart beating strongly for the first time.

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