#lord astarion

[lesfir]

I'm very into “What we do in the shadows”. and I looked it up that Devil from CupHead. ХD

Lord Astarion really is such a vibe of this one.

man a cat inside too

[yo-yoringle]

Neil Newbon on Ascended Astarion

Neil: I do love the fact that I got to create kind of two characters in one.

Blue Owl Medic: I was just thinking that. Yeah, you did.

Neil: So now that the game has come out and the whole thing, we can talk a little bit more freely about the game. No real spoilers, folks, because obviously people are still playing through it, which is amazing, including me. But there is an ascended Astarion, which people probably know, as well as an unascended Astarion. I'm not going to go into details of why, although it is all over the internet, but anyway.

But one of the fun things that I got to do with the directors and the writer as well, with Stephen, and also the other writers that contributed towards Astarion, [is that they] wrote this ascended storyline. And so, when I came across that, I realized that 'Oh, his voice probably changes as well, because his whole status changes and his whole situation changes and his power changes.' So I got to do something else, because that would also be an easy way to switch between one and the other.

And so I decided that, well, I've always talked about Astarion being very theatrical. So what if Astarion's unascended spawn is theatrical, and ascended Astarion is operatic, and I use that as a sort of launchpad. So that one is theatre, one is opera. So the two are the same kind of things, but essentially… Do you know what I mean? It's like that kind of thing.

I offered that up to the directors and they really liked it. Kirsty Gilmore was the first person who I tried it with. I think it was Kirsty Gilmore, who is an amazing director. I'm pretty sure it was her session I did the first Lord Astarion and we set the tone there. And that was really cool.

BOM: And I don't know if that was your choice, but he also holds himself differently.

Neil: Yes, he does, he definitely holds himself differently.

BOM: He stands way more upright, his chest is a little more out

Neil: Yes, that's status. That's all Laban work. We're just using completely different status shift changes as well. So whereas he has a lot of flow and all that kind of stuff and it's theatrical and distracting--it's always 'look over here and don't see how I really feel' with spawn Astarion.

With Lord Astarion, we talked a lot about the idea that the cover is now off completely. So that you see him at his most terrible, and it's completely honest and he doesn't have to pretend anymore. So he loses a lot of the flamboyance and the fun of the theatricality, which is all a distraction anyway. That's all distraction so you don't see how he's hurt and damaged and his vulnerability. Lord Astarion doesn't need that anymore. So we just thought, okay, now *mimics taking off a mask* it's off. He doesn't need to pretend, he doesn't need to do too much. It's all about the status and that kind of stuff.

It was a really fun experience to take a character I've been doing for a long time and then flip it. And that was, again, brilliant writing by Larian, brilliant storytelling by them all and brilliant ideas. So yeah, it was really fun.

--from Neil's February 1, 2024 twitch stream

[littlelovelore]

mind empty only asstarion

[pinkberrytea]

Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion.

Memento mori—Remember you must die. Enveloped in memories of her death, the Vampire Ascendant watches his darling consort as she slumbers, lost in dreams of blood and mist. Life is short, and shortly it will end; death comes quickly and respects no one. To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

An exploration of Astarion's character and his relationship with his Dark Consort following the ascension, from a softer perspective.

Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 6.2k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: thank you for reading! this is my first time dabbling in creative writing, and of course my first attempt at smut fiction, but still, I hope it is at least somewhat enjoyable. I would like to dedicate this work to the lovely @locallegume, who was a huge source of inspiration, and also to hismostbelovedspawn over on reddit, for being always so incredibly kind and supportive. I love you guys!

tags: blood drinking; cunnilingus; body worship; light dom/sub; vaginal fingering; mildly dubious consent; creampie; fluff & angst; emotional sex; dry humping; possessive behavior

The beginning of the morning twilight is Astarion’s favorite time of the day, for it feels at once ephemeral and infinite. The wistful silence, broken only by the still timid chirping of the waking birds; the royal blue-colored sky, tinged with specks of the purples and violets of the dawn; the chilly morning breeze, gently rustling the flowers in the garden, pushing the still forming dewdrops off their petals and onto the ground; you, slumbering beside him, pale skin reflecting the dim light of the fading moon, rosy lips slightly parted. Sleeping peacefully like this, you look like a life-sized porcelain doll, he thinks—your unmoving chest betrays your otherwise healthy likeness, as does the unnaturally blanched color of your skin. Your nightgown hangs lazily off your shoulder, exposing one of your breasts, and your undergarments lay discarded on the floor, on the exact same spot where he had tossed them earlier that night. He adores this version of you—so vulnerable, so defenseless, laid open for him, and him only.

Astarion finds it curious, how you seem to completely lose yourself in your dreams, yet he is also greatly perturbed by the notion that there is a part of you that he is still unable to access, to dominate. It feels unnatural, not to be able to control this elusive slice of your essence, but having ever only tranced, it also mystifies him that you’d voluntarily give up your consciousness each night. You were after all ever the trusting fool—from the moment you met, he had lied to you, manipulated you countless times, and each time you fell for it, standing by his side even when the world screamed at you not to. And even now, you give yourself to him, unquestioningly, unconditionally. In all the long years of his existence, there had been none like you, and there never will be again. None as trusting, none as kind, and he both hates and loves you for it. The very notion of you extending your kindness to anyone other than him is infuriating, and makes him want to take it for himself, put it in a glass dome and hide it away in a place where only he can bask in its warmth. He thinks he is owed that, at least; yours was the only hand that ever reached out to him, so he is justified in not wanting to share.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and a lock of your hair that had been trapped underneath one of your arms falls onto your chest. After eyeing it for a moment, Astarion reaches out for the tresses and grasps them between his fingers. Bringing them close to his nose, he takes in your scent, that is now also his. It smells comforting, familiar—it smells like home. The corner of his lips curl into an almost imperceptible smile, and he closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. The hushed shroud of the early hours acts as a cloak, under which he is granted a brief respite, a rare chance to let himself be gentle, be kind. Just as you become entirely vulnerable before him in your slumber, he too exposes the soft underbelly of his feelings for you; that chaotic, intoxicating brew, a messy blend of passion, guilt, hurt, longing, and love, endless and unrelenting love.

He brings his elegant fingers close to your face, and ever so gently glides their soft pads across the cold, velvety smooth skin of your cheek. Your long lashes flutter slightly, tickling the sensitive area under your eyes as he lowers the digits to brush the plump of your lips. He admires you for a short moment, taking in your image—his pretty consort, so beautiful, so frail, so foolishly devoted to him. Oh how lucky he is, to have you who would do anything for him by his side; his most precious treasure, the reason why his long dead heart beats inside his chest once more. He grasps your chin, delicately tilting your head upward to face him, and tenderly presses his lips to yours. His other hand moves to your chest, fingers softly caressing the pebbled peak of your exposed breast, his touch so faint that his skin barely comes into contact with yours. As much as Astarion enjoys asserting his dominance over you, making you kneel before him, seeing the dejected yet submissive expression on your pretty face whenever he decides to make a show of his power, it is these moments he values the most. In your intimacy, he may treat you gently, tenderly, and in your state of unconsciousness, by morning his loving touches will be but a hazy memory, securing your place below, but close beside him, from where you shall never leave for as long as he draws breath—which he can now only do thanks to you.

His fingers on your nipple leave it alone for a moment to close around your breast, giving it a soft, gentle squeeze. Moving quietly so as not to wake you, he slides his right leg under yours and presses it against the back of your knee, creating a space between your thighs as he pushes them apart, where he then nests himself, climbing on top of you.

“Astarion…” when you softly whisper his name, his half-smile widens into a grin; how reassuring it is, to know you belong to him even in your dreams. He lowers his head to plant a kiss on the delicate skin of the curve of your neck, and his lips brush against the two small indentations disrupting the otherwise pristine smoothness of your flesh. Instinctively, he brings his hand to the back of your right shoulder, his long fingers blindly searching for the matching set of bite marks. The last of the three pairs adorns your left wrist, for which reason he will ever so often take your hand in his, only to lovingly kiss it and turn it around so he can admire the evidence of his proudest feat—having sired you.

“Oh my love, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Astarion coos, holding your head gently against his bare chest, fingers tangled in your hair as you writhe and squirm in his arms, empty and glassy eyes lost in a hollow stare, seeing nothing but darkness, endless darkness. The expression on your face is at once delirious and vacant—mouth agape and fists clenched, pupils blown wide, eyelashes wet with tears and a thin string of drool coming out from the corner of your lip and trickling down your chin. At least for tonight, you are lost to him, and as he winces at the still foreign sensation of the loud, vigorous throbbing in his head, your own fading heartbeat softens, dying down into nothingness. And right as it is about to fall perpetually silent, he lets his fangs pierce his own tongue, drawing droplets of now living blood; bringing your face close to his, he presses his thumb to your lower lip, and covers your mouth with his.

He loses himself in the memory for a moment, as he so often does. Your peaceful, serene expression stands in stark contrast to the one that had been etched on your face on that fateful night. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet still he remembers the pain, the agony, the relentless fear building up in his stomach as your body contorted and tears glistened in your vacant eyes. Never had Astarion been more afraid of anything than he’d been of losing you, and by his hand no less. Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion. You only ever questioned him about what had happened on the evening of your turning once, but it mattered not how many times you asked, for he would never fully disclose the raw truth—how he had cradled you in his arms and whispered sweet nothings in your ears, kissing away your tears; how he had picked you up as you lost consciousness and carried you to your bed, where he would then tuck you in so very tenderly, so very gently, softly patting your hair and holding your hand, sharing his warmth with you as you lost your own; how he would patiently wait by your side, watching as the color slowly drained from your face, his stomach sinking at the thought of you never waking again—only for you to then slowly open your eyes, their hue now a rich crimson, much like his own. No, he would never again allow himself to be so weak, for he was supposed to be your warden, your liege. This pathetic side of him was to be ever hidden from you, only rearing its ugly head during the brief, sleepy moments preceding the crack of dawn.

With his lips still pressed against your skin, Astarion starts peppering kisses down your neck, on the hollows of your collarbone and across your sternum, his hand on your breast fondling it gently, the other still tracing the bite marks on your shoulder. His still clothed hips start lazily, almost imperceptibly rocking back and forth, lightly grinding against your naked thighs; thinking back to the night when he made you his almost inevitably causes blood to rush to his groin, and his body starts unconsciously seeking the sweet relief of the friction between his hardening erection and your supple skin. He moves his hand on your breast to grasp your nipple between his fingers, lightly squeezing it. You involuntarily buck your hips in response, which amuses him greatly as he continues playing with the tender nub. A soft moan escapes your lips, encouraging and emboldening his attentions as they drift away from your clavicle towards your chest. He plants gentle kisses on the plump of your bosom, using his teeth to pull at your nightgown and drag it down, exposing your clothed breast to the chilly morning air. You shiver, and he smiles against your skin, pressing his lips to the valleys of your ribs, the softness of your lower belly, and finally to your bare crotch. With his face so close to your swollen sex, the sweet scent of your essence now intoxicates his senses. He stands back for a moment to admire how it glistens in the faint glow of the moonlight, so deliciously inviting, as your juices start building up and collecting in-between your folds.

Feeling his breath caressing the sensitive skin of your core, you finally start to slowly regain consciousness. Once his arousals were returned to him, Astarion would make a habit of waking up during the night at various times to bury his cock in you, so it takes you but a moment to gather your bearings. Either out of mischievousness or curiosity, you play coy at first, pretending to be asleep still. His soft lips briefly come into contact with your engorged bud, sending shock waves through your body, and you are barely able to keep yourself from letting out a yelp, although you can’t prevent your skin from becoming covered with goosebumps. When his tongue pokes out of his mouth to give it a tentative lick, you know you won’t be able to keep up the charade for much longer. He feels your body tense up, and slightly raises his head to look at you from his position between your legs with half-lidded, lascivious eyes, dilated pupils partially covering the ruby hue of his irises. You’re unsure if he has already caught on to your little ruse, so you try staying as still as possible, which proves difficult with his face so close to your cunt.

After what seems like an eternity he decides to continue, lapping at your clit again and then sliding his tongue downwards, burying it between your folds. He presses it against the outer edge of your entrance, squeezing slick out of you, and as he savors your essence, he can’t help but think that while its sweet tanginess does not compare to the coppery, velvety richness of the crimson in your veins—nothing ever will, for his is the blood that courses through them—it may well be the second best thing he has ever tasted. Gliding his tongue upwards once more, he uses it to gently massage the raw bundle of nerves atop your slit, leaving a trail of saliva mixed with your fluids between it and your twitching cunt, which then dribbles down onto your thighs. Placing a hand on each side of your hips, he pulls you closer to him, and the shift causes his fangs to graze the sensitive skin of your folds, in response to which your eyes water and you clutch the silk sheets under you both. Taking no notice of your desperate reaction, he continues swirling his tongue up and down your wetness, gently suckling on the tender skin, eagerly eating you up as if you were a full-course meal served especially for him, just begging to be ravished.

You feel heat pooling in your lower abdomen, and at this rate it won’t be long before you are brought to the edge. Momentarily forgetting the fact that you are supposed to be pretending to be asleep as you lose yourself in the crescendo of your release, you arch your back, leaning on your elbows to support your weight, and as soon as you do, he mercilessly pulls away from you, leaving your dripping core empty and aching. Eyes closed still, you let out a soft mewl in protest, which you regret as soon it leaves your lips, for once Astarion notices your desperation, you are done for.

Still unsure if he has already perceived your awakened state or if he believes your body to be involuntarily reacting to his touch, you dare not produce any further sounds. Having cruelly left your throbbing mound unattended, his tongue now glides its way up your stomach, leaving a glistening wet mess in its wake. Upon reaching your chest, his lips latch onto your left breast, your perked nub fitting perfectly inside his mouth. He sucks on it ever so tenderly, teasing it with a pointed tongue and lightly scraping the squishy surrounding flesh with his fangs. One of his hands leaves its place on your hip and finds its way between your legs, and you let out a sigh of relief when you feel a long, elegant finger ghosting over your clit. The other hand slides further down to the curve of your ass, and his blunt nails dig into your soft skin, giving it a firm squeeze.

The pad of the wandering digit finally presses down onto the engorged flesh of your reddened knot, massaging it leisurely in circular patterns, and another finger suddenly slides between your folds, parting them gently. Unable to contain yourself, you roll your hips into his hand, which you soon learn is a grave mistake as he tightens his grip on your ass, applying such pressure that come morning, bruises are certain to form on the pale skin, which he will then tenderly kiss better while looking apologetically at you from under thick lashes; and you will forgive him, as you always do. Lifting his head up from your now rouged, swollen nipple, he readjusts his position above you, using his body weight to pin you down and hold you in place. He lets go of your ass, firmly grasping at your jaw with his newly freed hand, and even from behind closed eyes you can feel the intensity of his gaze. This does not bode well, and try as you might you cannot ignore the sickening pinch in the pit of your stomach as his eyes scrutinize every inch of your face—has he noticed? Is a punishment in order? Will he deny you your release?

“Open up, darling. Your mouth.” The commanding tone with which Astarion vocalizes the otherwise unassuming words is all it takes to placate your erratic thoughts, and obeying is for you as natural as breathing—or it would be, if you were still alive. Once you do as he says, you feel his thumb pressing on your lower lip, forcing it further down. He slides the digit inside your mouth, gagging you slightly, and your lips instinctively close around it. “Good girl,” he purrs, and encouraged by the tenderness of his praise, you start lightly sucking on it, coating it with saliva. For a short moment, he becomes entranced by the feeling of your wet tongue massaging his skin, and his mind wanders to the thought of your plump lips wrapped tightly around his cock. This prompts him to once again start bucking his hips, rubbing the now obvious bulge underneath his pants against your stomach, but this time his rhythm is much more frantic, more desperate.

Relief washes over you as you feel the fingers still in your slit resume their fondling, the one on your clit now applying greater pressure, handling it much less gently, yet just as skillfully, his knowledge of all the ins and outs of your body having always been something he prided himself on. The other makes its way down from its place between your folds, plunging into you as soon as it reaches your entrance. Your body jerks in response, and your moan is muffled by his thumb in your mouth—when he then plunges another, stretching you open without giving you time to adjust, you involuntarily bite down on the digit gagging you, sinking your fangs into his flesh. He grimaces, and you can tell you have hit an artery, because the flow of the thick, hot blood running down your throat is alarmingly heavy. However, rather than pulling away, he lets you drink, curling his fingers inside you and massaging the tight walls of your cunt with his knuckles. The rich taste of his crimson lingering in your tongue and spreading inside your body, mixing with yours within your veins and making them pulsate with life—pure, raw, vibrating life—works as a powerful aphrodisiac, heightening all your senses, and the feeling of him fucking you with his fingers is all it takes for you to come undone on his hand, muscles spasming and clenching around the digits, coating them in the sweet nectar of your release.

Just as you reach your climax, Astarion’s own teeth sink into the indentations marking the otherwise smooth skin of your neck. You instinctively cock your head to the side to grant him more access, letting him feed on you as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, sucking on his thumb still. His blood flows from him to you and then back to him, and the sheer intimacy of it brings you so close together that it’s as if you have merged into one single being. You can no longer tell where you end and he begins, as your minds touch and mesh and then untangle again, in a sensual, chaotic dance, where you both sway to the rhythm of his heartbeat. And while the connection lasts, his emotions rush through you and yours through him, rendering words meaningless as the everlasting adoration, the inebriating, all-consuming love you share, no matter how tainted, is laid bare before you, in all its wickedness and allure.

“Fear not: you are mine.”

You finally open your eyes, letting go of his thumb, and as the fog from the afterglow subsides you notice his fingers remain inside you still, gliding effortlessly up and down your twitching walls, which are now lubricated with slick and come; your skin tingles from the overstimulation, but the sensation is not unwelcome. With the hand you have just freed, he holds your head in place while he continues to feed, and you both stay like this for a while, his fingers buried inside your cunt and his fangs in your neck, where they rightfully belong. His little grunts as he drinks from you and the feeling of his hardened cock pressed flush against your stomach rekindle the ache between your legs, causing the living blood now coursing through your veins to flow to your tender core.

Having drank to his heart’s content, Astarion pulls away from you, making you wince at the sudden emptiness as both his fangs and fingers leave your body. No longer plagued by the perpetual, agonizing hollowness of vampiric hunger, his only reason for feeding on you still is the invigorating thrill of your taste on his tongue and your blood pulsating in his arteries; you were his first, after all, having offered him the greatest gift of them all when you had no good reason to. Killing you on the evening he first revealed his true nature had never been out of the question, and it puzzles him still why you would willingly surrender this sanguine gift to a vampire stalking you in the night—a pitiful creature, hiding in the shadows, with murderous intent and offering you nothing but pain and misery. He is reminded of your foolishness and naïveté every time he sinks his fangs in your soft flesh, and the familiarity of it is oddly comforting to him.

Not bothering to wipe the red smear on his chin, he brings his hand up to your mouth once more, only this time his digits are covered in your juices. A single look into his crimson eyes, clouded with lust, tells you all you need to know, and you eagerly obey the silent order, wrapping your lips around his fingers.

“Ever so obedient, aren’t you, my sweet?” His honeyed words and impish smile send shivers down your spine, and unable to talk as your tongue flicks and swirls, lapping at your own sticky essence, you look up at him through your lashes with coquettish demureness; his pretty little spawn, always so good to him, so docile, so devoted. The very sight of you makes his cock twitch with desire. “I do find it charming when you play your darling little games. Mostly because you are awful at them. You did know I was aware the entire time, didn’t you?,” although his smile widens, there is a hint of danger in his voice, “That you were awake.”

As his blood within you rushes to your cheeks, spreading to the tips of your ears, Astarion’s expression darkens for a moment, and the lust in his eyes grows wilder, more desperate. There is something endlessly enticing about how bashful and girlish you look when your face is hot and flushed with his crimson, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, and it makes him want to devour you whole. He abruptly slides his fingers out of your mouth, and the glistening string of your fluids that forms between your lips and his digits breaks off as he uses that same hand to grab your neck and bring your face close to his. Once you are mere inches apart, he stops for a moment, locking eyes with you, and the proximity between you is such that you can feel his long lashes brushing against your skin and see the flecks in different shades of red swimming in his irises. The stillness in the air makes you acutely aware of the sound of his heartbeat, and it paradoxically both comforts and torments you. Such is the nature of your relationship; yearning and sorrow, worship and regret, lust and greed. The duality of it is not lost to you, but you’re past the point of coming up with justifications, for it is far too late for redemption. You made your choice, he made his, and now his burden is yours to bear. It matters not if outsiders looking in cannot make sense of it, as the bond between you was never meant to be understood by anyone else—however ugly and twisted it may be perceived by those around you, it is undeniably a bond of love, one you are willing to protect even if it costs you everything.

“Until the world falls down.”

When he finally closes the distance between you and crashes his mouth into yours, your mind is wiped clean of any semblance of coherent thought and your senses are filled with nothing but him—his scent, his warmth, his taste. He hungrily parts your lips with his tongue as soon as your skin touches his, your teeth clicking in his desperation, and his grip on your neck tightens. You feel tears well up in your eyes, some spilling through your lashes and rolling down your cheeks, your repressed emotions overflowing as you lose yourself in the fierce intensity of his kiss. You want him, you need him, you hate him; you love him, oh how dearly you love him, more than life itself. He explores the inside of your mouth, wantonly, passionately, only stopping to suck on your bottom lip, nipping it with his fangs and lapping at the droplets of blood blooming from the punctured flesh. Once he pulls away, gasping for air, you are both a disheveled mess, lips swollen and bruised and red. Not yet letting go of you, his fingers wrapped around your throat still, he guides your head back down, laying it on the soft feather pillow, only to then straighten up his torso, hand on your neck holding you in place and darkened eyes looking down upon you. From your position below him, he looks ethereal, almost godly, as the moon casts a pale halo around his frame, shining its light on the naked skin of his upper body.

He holds this position for a while, silently studying your face, and as he does, his intense gaze seems to gradually soften, mellowing out into almost tenderness. You feel the pressure of his fingers on your skin lessen, and then cease completely as he frees you, raising his hand up to cup your cheek. His thumb traces the trail of dried tears, and you lean into his soothing touch, eyes wettening once more. Taking notice of this, he leans back down and brushes his lips against the teardrops threatening to escape from your lashes, drying them before they fall.

“Shh, my darling, hush.” The softness in Astarion’s voice and the gentleness of his caresses as he runs his fingers through your hair are all you ever yearned for, all you ever needed, and yet with every touch your chest tightens and you feel a pang of loneliness and guilt tugging at your unbeating heart, for this is what you want, but not what you deserve. You have failed him, just as he has failed others, and your regrets bind you together for eternity as the thread of your fate entangles with his in a constricting embrace—so is it too greedy, to let yourself be selfish and indulge in his warmth before the sun rises? Is even someone as broken and wicked as you allowed a moment of reprieve, however brief? You know not the answer to these questions, nor do you think you ever will. All you know is that there’s nowhere else you want to be but in his arms, no matter how much it hurts, for you’ll endure the pain as long as you are by his side.

“Kiss me,” you quietly plead, your supplication barely a whisper, prompting him to pull away slightly to look into your eyes. He takes a moment to try and read your expression, his gaze sharp, inquisitive, stripping you off all your defenses and laying you bare before him. A short time passes, and without saying a word, he lowers his head down again, lips brushing against yours, their pillowy softness and the taste of your blood still lingering on his skin shrouding your mind in a white fog. You raise both of your arms and wrap them around his neck, bringing him closer as your mouth matches his movements, the desperation of before now manifesting more tenderly, more lovingly, but just as intensely. One of his hands remains on your cheek as he kisses you, and with the other, he finally unlaces his pants, freeing his neglected erection, which by now is slick from the precome leaking from its engorged head. The color of the sky outside slowly begins to brighten, now a beautiful blend of periwinkle and cyan, and as the twilight peaks and starts to reach its end, Astarion decides he has waited long enough—he will take you here and now, before the merciless, harsh light of the sun engulfs you both.

Feeling his hardness against your thigh, you readily comply, spreading your legs apart. You need this just as much as he does; to be one with him, carnally, for your souls have long merged, and there is no you without him just as there is no him without you. As he lines up with your entrance, his lips leave yours and he presses your foreheads together, staring into your eyes with reassuring tenderness. You feel the tip of his cockhead flush against your dripping sex—the reddened, puffed up skin feels warm, and thinking of how it is swollen from his blood in your veins is all it takes for him to finally snap and give into his desires. He slides inside of you in a single thrust, the wetness from your juices facilitating his entry as he stretches your walls to accommodate his large size. You try to bite back a whimper, your eyes once again tingling and prickling with the promise of tears as one of your hands finds its way to the back of his head and your fingers become entangled in his silvery curls. Not moving immediately, he waits a while, giving you time to adjust. You revel in the familiar feeling of his cock stuffed inside your core, the pain and warmth of it, and you wonder if he too can find comfort nowhere else but in your flesh, as it is only when filled with him that you are able to hold together the broken pieces of your descended mind.

The hand that had been cupping your cheek now rests on your waist as he moves his head to nuzzle the curve of your neck, taking in your scent. Ever so slowly he starts rolling his hips back and forth, planting gentle kisses on the delicate skin where his fangs had been buried just moments ago, now stained with patches of dried blood. You close your eyes, still trying to hold back the tears, hugging him as tightly as you can, or as tightly as he’ll let you. His pace is at first languid, sensual, allowing you to feel the entirety of him as he massages your aching, tender walls, still sensitive and spasming from your orgasm. He grunts in your ear, prompting you to start undulating your own hips, doing your best to match his rhythm. Emboldened by this, he moves his hands down to grab your ass, tilting your pelvis up and pulling you closer to him. Just as desperate to feel him as deeply as physically possible, you wrap your legs around his midriff, allowing him to reach the innermost parts of your throbbing cunt. When the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy skin of your cervix, your gut tightens and you cry out for him, unable to contain yourself.

“Astarion…”

The sound of his name in your lips, so very eager, so very sweet, is all the encouragement he needs, and the once languid movements give way to more vigorous pounding, the lewd sound of smacking flesh echoing in the otherwise quiet room as he snaps his hips and buries himself deeper inside your aching core. Your body rocks in rhythm with his thrusts, the tears in your eyes finally escaping your lashes and running down your face, a chaotic culmination of all the pleasure, all the hurt, all the desire and all the devotion brewing deep inside your heart as your raging feelings come to a boil. No one can understand, no one will understand—and yet, as he fucks you senseless in the early hours, pumping his cock in and out of you with lascivious abandon, none of it matters. You hold him even closer, pressing your squishy breasts flush against the sweaty, glistening skin of his chest. He moans at the sensation, intensifying his pace and using his hands on your ass to tilt your pelvis higher, pushing your folded legs, which are still wrapped around him, as close to your upper body as your flexibility will allow it. You feel the muscles in your thighs stretching and burning, but this only excites you further, and the soft whimpers leaving your lips escalate in frequency and loudness alike.

As he continues pounding into you, Astarion’s kisses on your neck become more passionate, more heated, going from pecks, to licking, to sucking, until eventually he gives in and once again sinks his fangs in the bruised flesh. You mewl faintly and your grip on his hair tightens, in response to which he bites down on you harder, nails raking across the skin of your ass as his thrusts grow fiercer, more violent. The message immediately gets through to you—the cheeky little spawn must know her place—so you obediently let go of his curls, although your digits remain entangled in them still; yet he does not slow down his pace, ramming into you with such force that you are afraid you will have trouble walking once he is finished. Be that as it may, one of his hands leaves its place on your ass to hover above your swollen clit, which twitches desperately as his cock resurfaces and then disappears again inside your cunt. He grasps it between two deft fingers, massaging the engorged bundle of nerves as a reward for your obedience, and that is all it takes for tension to again start building up in your groin.

“You have given me everything.”

His digits on your tender bud; your blood running down his throat; his cock slamming into you, stretching open your tight walls—you are so very close to climaxing again, and yet you don’t want the moment to end; you don’t want morning to come, breaking the spell and robbing your lover from you, as it always so cruelly does. The tragic inevitability of it is however unaffected by the infinitude of your existence, a gift that was also bequeathed to you by him, and enveloped by the ice-cold embrace of the memories of your death, your body comes alive as you are pushed over the edge, your twitching cunt fluttering and contracting around him, creaming and squirting your sweet juices all over his length.

As you slump back and go limp is his arms, Astarion unlatches his mouth from your neck and props up his torso to marvel at your image as you bask in the glory of your release—so maddeningly beautiful, cheeks and plump lips flushed bright pink with what remains of his lifeblood within you; his consort, his spawn, his to use as he pleases, his and nobody else’s. While he continues fucking you through your orgasm, all you can hear are his low moans and grunts and the squelching sounds of your wetness as he ruts into you with ever increasing furor. You can tell he is also close by the way he holds your hips with both of his hands, pushing his own against them with almost vicious ferocity while you remain slumped on the headboard, tits bouncing cutely with every thrust. The daylight seeping through the curtains now brightens up the room, and as you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, you notice how handsome he looks illuminated by the gentle glow of the rising sun, sweat beading his temple and dripping down his chin and nose.

“Gods…” he groans, voice raspy with lust, and with one final push he empties himself inside you, filling you to the brim with his seed, which feels thick and warm flooding your tender walls. Still panting and sucking in sharp breaths, he falls on top of you, not bothering to pull his cock out of your still spasming cunt, chest flush against yours and head burrowed in the crook of your neck. Spillover runs down your thighs and soaks into the wrinkled sheets, but neither of you bother cleaning it up, the resulting stain surely to give the maids good reason to blush later.

You bring a hand up to his silky curls once more, gently running your fingers through them as you feel the calming thumping of his slowing heartbeat vibrating against your cold skin. As the dawn finally breaks over the still sleeping city, signaling the beginning of a new day in your undead life—for better or for worse—you find comfort in the warmth of his flesh and the sound of his ragged breathing as it gradually steadies. All your suffering, all your pain; if even your death is required to bring him to life, then so be it. He will live for the both of you, and you will love him for it. Forever—for good.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

[faerievampling]

The Life of Astarion's Dark Consort

Summary: These are my random head canons about Ascended Astarion and his vampiric bride, Tav/Durge. What would it be like to actually spend eternity with him?

Warning: 18+, mention of sex.

After the ascension, Astarion is so overwhelmed with all his new abilities that he is a bit distant. (Think Lazslo Cravensworth in that one episode of WWDITS where he barely speaks for two weeks all because he’s trying to make a decision about how he is going to reorganize the library) This lasts for nearly a decade, but once Astarion adjusts to his new body, he is able to come back to himself.

Once you are Astarion’s spawn (bride), he no longer needs to mask when lovemaking. He knows you will never leave him. Your lovemaking goes through many 'phases', from being loving and tender to beastly and rough. But either way, he is raw with you, and only you.

Every night, without fail, your vampire curls up in your arms, holding you tightly as he drifts off into a dreamless sleep or reverie. He can’t fall asleep without being in your arms, or vice versa. 

You, his most prized treasure, are far too vulnerable during your rest, and he insists on being as close to you as possible, with a dagger close by, of course. Over the years, he never relents. If you two are ever apart, which happens so rarely, maybe once a millenia, he spends the night sleepless and aching for you.

One of the first things he does once the tadpole is gone is hunt down Haarlep, if you made a deal with him. He wouldn’t allow his treasure to be violated and used any longer.

Astarion’s possessive love for you only grows as the years creep on. 

Sometime during your third century of marriage, Astarion stabs the eyes out of (and allegedly kills) dozens of men and women who he deigned to have violated you (and thus, disrespected him) by looking at you lustfully. It takes two decades of you begging him to stop before he finally relents.

Ask me anything, and it will be yours. On his own time, of course, which you have so much of. You become a very patient vampire.

Astarion certainly values your life and his, but not others. You have to remind him, lest he lose his humanity completely. And you, as well, have to make sure you have a tight hold on your own humanity. You are a vampire, after all.

Watching your friends pass one by one is difficult, and Astarion supports you through it all, despite him not particularly caring about them himself. He cares about his consort, and he does everything to make you comfortable while you grieve. This is where your humanity starts to slip, when your friends are gone from your life for many years.

If you are able to reverie, you aren’t able to actually look through your memories because of your undeath. The years stretch on so long, you nearly forget how the story began at all. But you always have Astarion, and he does his best to help you both remember.

Astarion never takes another consort or another independent lover. The two of you enjoy threesomes and orgies occasionally, but Astarion prefers it to be just you and him. Astarion did particularly like to watch you get fucked by other men and women. But this changes sometime during your first century of marriage. Astarion demands to have his consort and only his consort in the bedroom. He ultimately doesn’t trust anyone else to be intimate with him. He doesn't want anyone else to touch him. You don’t protest the decision.

Astarion creates regular vampire spawn, more for utility than anything else.  He always asks your permission.

After a thousand years, you and your Lord are inseparable. You are not to leave his sight. 

He is very powerful, and has become a threat and a target. The two of you rarely speak aloud anymore as your mind connection is so strong that your minds are melded together. Your relationship is beyond spoken word. As Bride and Master, you are unsure where you begin and he ends. 

Eternity is a very long time. Astarion agrees, but he never wants to die, and he certainly will never let you go.

In your old vampiric age, the two of you strike fear into every mortal you come across. You can't help it. You are both so hauntingly beautiful and pale, and your intense mind connection makes most mortals believe you to be...absent. Oh, how the sheep forget themselves.

Yet your need for blood is so small now. They needn't fear you, not really. You now only drink from Astarion, which gives you what you need. He loves it, being your life essence. 

He doesn't let you drink too much, of course. During your fifth century of marriage, Astarion wants you to feed on him and only on him, as his contempt for others grows and his possessive love for you begins to cause him his own bout of madness.

This causes you to go mad, and Astarion is entirely distraught until you are healed. He spends an extravagant amount of money and a long time healing you.

With the last of your friends dead, you forget to view the mortals as anything but the puppets of your Master. The ways of the world as you knew it slip by you. There is a war, Astarion tells you, but you have no fear. You know he will protect you.

You often go into a vampiric hibernation as you sit on your throne during court. Astarion is still able to put on the mask, but you cannot. Astarion wishes you would try harder, but he also understands.

Even after so many years, Astarion’s body craves you. You are certain you are addicted to each other. You wonder if it is a result of your vampiric marriage. 

He pleasures you every night, and you pleasure him; you cannot remember what sex was like before your undeath, but you know that nothing feels as good as when Astarion makes you come. 

Halsin is the last of your old friends that you can remember, as he lives to be nearly a thousand. You do your best to remember his face, but it slowly starts to slip away from you. 

You feel sad about these things, at times. Astarion cradles you, both your body and your mind, and tries to assure you of your gift. Eternity.

Part 2!!

Masterlist

[velvolktra]

𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧

[leighistired]

I have one (1) thought about Ascended Astarion vampire spouse theory and don't care if it was Larian's intention or not.

According to the source for the vampire spouse theory, vampire spouses rarely remain sane. It doesn't say why, but I personally speculate it's due to the psychic link. How long can the average person handle being in a hivemind with a powerful and ancient vampire lord, anyway?

Which brings me to Tav/Durge. They get turned by a powerful vampire lord, but critically, Astarion is a new vampire lord. He hasn't had the centuries to build up the will to resist the other half of his vampire marriage. Even better (or worse), he has no reason to resist. What's wrong with feeling his love's feelings and letting them hear his thoughts?

It would start out slow; they finish each other's sentences and pick up a few of each other's mannerisms. Normal cute couple of things. Then, it would escalate. Tav/Durge reaches out their hand, and Astarion grabs. Astarion lifts his leg, and Tav/Durge steps. Someone calls for Lord Astarion and Tav/Durge answers. They move in perfect unison. Occasionally, they speak in eerie unison.

A few centuries pass, and Tav/Durge and Astarion refer to themselves with plural pronouns. (Which they find funny. When Cazador referred to himself with the royal "we" it was pathetic, but when they do it, it is a reminder of all they have given each other.) There is no line where one of them ends and the other begins. Just one mind with two bodies. Any love they felt towards one another is just a mirror facing a mirror.

[lets-go-hurt-someone]

I don’t really want Durge to tell Astarion, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” Astarion doesn’t really want to be protected. He doesn’t want to need protection. Learning that it’s okay to be vulnerable is all well and good, but I want Durge to be able to tell Astarion, “We are going to ruin your enemies together.”

I want a Durge who learns about Cazador, and decides he’s not spouting platitudes about “I’m gonna keep you safe.” Fuck no. He’s penning a detailed epic poem about how they’re going to storm Szarr Palace together and he’s going to watch as Astarion peels every inch of skin off of Cazador’s screaming skeleton so Durge can upholster the throne from which they will rule the world. He’s spooning Astarion back to sleep after a nightmare while whispering sweet nothings about how Astarion is finally going to drink Cazador’s blood from Durge’s lips after he’s licked it off Astarion’s knife.

And maybe that’s more evil Durge/Ascended coded, but even as a spawn — or maybe especially as a spawn — I think Astarion deserves more than to just rely on someone else for protection for the rest of his life. No one can really promise anyone protection with any kind of certainty anyway. He doesn’t need a protector, he needs a partner. And I like to think that Durge can promise him that.

So forget “I’ll protect you” and give me “If burning the world to the ground is what keeps you safe, I’ll do everything in my power to help you do it” instead.

[pursuitseternal]

“Unmask Me:” 🎭 NSFW Masquerade update for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader |E| 4.7K of revealing smut

🎨by @glorious-void 🌹

Summary: Music and masks, dancing and deception. It’s so easy to hide your identity beneath a mask, but for you, as Regent Consort while Lord Astarion is away on his travels, everyone knows you. Everyone wants to be with you, particularly your love and Lord. Once he returns and is unmasked, of course.

CW: Mistaken identities, jealous/aroused Astarion, Dom!Astarion, outdoor sex, playful punishment, spanking, oral sex female receiving, rough fucking and regal engagements afterwards.

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭

Regent Consort. That is your title, at least until your love’s return. You flounce your ebony skirts, that sultry hint of burgundy beneath a little nod to your beloved vampirism. You adjust the many layers of petticoat that fill out your gown. Alone in the ballroom, you pace by the window. Weeks of Astarion away, and he is due to return any hour now.

You know he will be hungry, he will desire you more than anything. He will be feral, wild. Untameable until he’s drunk his fill of your blood and fucked you enough. If he isn’t exhausted from his travels to the far East… alliances and silks from Cormyr and gems and… it was enough of a burden for him to shoulder. You have been left with enough to handle here in the City, his Right Hand to rule in his place, his Regent Consort on his throne. Your tasks have been ceaseless since he left so many tendays ago: Council meetings and trade deals to twist towards your benefit, not to mention cajoling Duke Wyll Ravengaurd enough—enough for him to remain oblivious to the fact that you and your love had far surpassed any authority he thought he held.

You smirk, gazing out into the night’s sparkling darkness. Of course you decided the best course of action was to stroke your old friend’s ego—and nothing touts a symbol of friendship and your own wealth and power like a good masquerade ball.

Of course, it just happened to fall on the same evening as Lord Astarion’s long-expected return. But your heart leaps in your chest, if it could beat faster, that is. Every detail has been carefully laid, and all with his secret knowledge. He approves of this wholeheartedly, those little flashes of his affection quaking down your bond as Master and Bride keeping him informed. You feel his love, his approval and his hunger. Your bond of heart, mind, and blood is enough only to coax his hasty return just a little faster.

His presence had long disappeared from your mind, leaving you without word, his journeys consuming enough of his power to claim his concentration. And so you wait, on baited breath, for his return. Soon, he had said. Tonight.

At long last, your guests arrive in your wide and sprawling drive, carriage after carriage emptying with elegantly clothed couples and painted faces. A parade of colors and paper and decadence. A night in honor of the Duke, a demonstration of the Vampire Ascendant’s immense affluence. The grandest host on the Sword Coast. The most powerful, handsome being in this whole realm.

Yes, you smile, releasing your folded arms to adjust your own demi-mask, Astarion will revel in the extravagance.

Once he finally fucking arrives, of course.

But you force a smile on your face as your guests parade into your presence, all fanfare and pomp and circumstance as befitting a ball for the Duke… as befitting a party hosted by the Vampire Ascendant and his Consort. Couples sweep into the grandeur, each pair, each guest more sumptuously dressed than the one before. You make your way to the head of the dais, your black Demi-mask in place, but you are certain your own scarlet eyes and your fang-toothed smile will surely make certain not a hand is laid on you.

No mistaken identity as to who you are tonight. You are Regent Consort, the Ascendant’s Lady. You are his.

And if your vampiric qualities aren’t enough to drive away would-be admirers, the decadent, gold and bejeweled crown on your head certainly will. A quaint little symbol of the power you tend in his absence. Your eyes scan mask after mask, even as you stand before his throne. Nodding greetings, formally and cordially welcoming guest after guest.

You scrutinize the most gallant looking, the most ostentatious of males. If he were to disguise himself, to play one of his little games with you… surely he would spare no expense on his costume. Even arriving from his travels… it dawns on you now, looking at this primped and preening man. You know why he has gone as silent as his empty grave on his end of your bond.

He’s planning something. A surprise, a seduction. Something that will surely set your slow, undead heart racing and make your folds drench down your thighs.

Once you unmask him of course. There would be… some clue. He wasn’t that clever, never one for details. He prefers to lure you in with honey-sweet words and a grind of his bulge somewhere on your body. Sensual, sweet thing that he is.

Your gaze has grown distant, your pleasant smile fixed on your painted lips. It’s only once the musicians strike up the music that you slowly return to your surroundings.

And it’s only once the drums begin pounding so loudly it shakes in your rib cage that you notice one male lingering at your feet. Richly brocaded damask, deeper crimson than what runs in one’s veins, his costume is breathtaking. Cut so perfectly around his waist and hips, drawing the eye towards that gusset between his thighs.

You quickly raise your gaze, realizing you are licking your lips as you scan this male’s body.

And you’re met with eyes that are so deep set in his golden Bautta mask, you can’t see the color. But you drink in that intensity. That gilded cover hides every sharp, pale feature, even covering his sly and sultry mouth. But all he needs are his eyes boring into you, already undressing you. It’s… delicious.

He would come in regal colors and damask, in a mask that’s inlaid and filigreed with real gold. That feathered cap on his head is a nice touch to hide his telltale silver tousles, as well. Slowly, this man turns towards you, and you can feel it, the way he is drawn to your power, eager to be your thrall.

He wants you, and you know it must be his plan, a master of stirring your body for him alone even in disguise. Feet treading up a stair or two in your direction, he gives an elegant bow, a swish of his scarlet, silken cape as he extends his gloved hand for yours.

Your feet follow him into the mass of people, the center of the dancing as couples begin to form in patterns and forms. Ready to dance.

He doesn’t need to say a word, only giving a deep, muffled laugh beneath that pointed mask as you sweep with your supernatural grace in his hold. A merry dance, one that weaves you around other couples at a clip, one that makes your own silken, gloved hand pass into the palm of every male on that dance floor. Spin after spin, pass after pass, and your flesh practically ignites with each time you cross with your golden-faced lover.

Your mouth salivates, and you wonder why he hasn’t whisked you away to your chambers.

As the music begins to slow, you feel a pinprick at the back of your neck, even as he… the man with the golden mask… your lover pulls you in one last spin. You see nothing in the crowd, but you feel… something. Something hot and sharp, eyes on you from somewhere in the masses.

Then again, all eyes are on you. You and your Lord do tend to turn every head in the room. And you do so as you pull him through the double glass doors and onto the open aired terrace.

Lit by only the moon and stars, you keep your hands on his arm and his waist, leading him as far as possible from the crowds. You don’t even know if the Duke has arrived, nor do you care. You need sating, need to indulge the tension that has flared between you two in that ancient way you always have.

He stops once you both reach the shadows, arms wrapped around your elegant dark dress, its gauze and crinolines dusky burgundy and black as you practically bleed into the shadows yourself. “My lady,” that voice whispers from behind the mask, muted and strange. A trick of his disguise.

“My lord,” you lilt back, taking a single finger to stroke the bare flesh of his neck where it peeks above the bright collar of his jacket. “I need something from you, ever so badly.”

“Then take it, my lady,” he tilts his head, baring more of his pale skin. Your eyes are wide, ravenous. You haven’t fed from living blood since his departure. For his was the only vintage you drank, the only kind that would fill you. Craning your head, standing on the balls of your toes, you lick your lips, barely restrained enough to take a little bit of time.

Your fangs finally bite, and warm, coppery essence fills your mouth… but only after a few swallows does it hit you.

Smack in the face.

Blood strange on the tongue.

And then you feel someone drawing closer behind you, soft footfalls that make your stomach flutter, your bond snapping taught. He’s here at last.

And this man beneath your mouth isn’t him…

“Darling, I’m hurt,” you hear Astarion’s voice, perfectly clear, breath brushing down your shoulders and back, “I thought we had something special…”

You round so quickly, spitting out the stranger's blood from your mouth in utter disgust.

He’s there.

Astarion.

You curse yourself. You should have known… how did you not? He was perfect in his disguise, he was…. Your rogue. Just as he was on those nights in the camp… simple and elegant and mouthwatering. A familiar frilled shirt, ruffles of embroidered silk framing his pale and perfect chest… tightly cinched breeches that hug his every sinew and line of his thighs and bulge. A mask, black as night, gilded with embellishments shaped like the rays of the sun—a little nod to his Ascendant power.

His greatest disguise as the Vampire Ascendant— the Rogue he once was.

But it’s his lips pressed in a hardened smile, his eyes practically glowing with power, swirling with the concoction of jealousy and arousal that makes you tremble before him. Both emotions strike you in your belly, launched at you, a blade from his mind thrust into yours.

You let out a whimper, your mouth fluttering at the sight of him, your elegant rogue, your vampire lover and lord and husband and master. “Astarion,” you gasp, feeling the man’s mortal blood seeping down your lower lip. Gaping in horror at what you have done.

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth, keeping his distance, totally giving no heed to the man who staggers a bit behind you. “Well, darling, it seems you have found your entertainment for the evening already. A pity I wasn’t more forward… more aggressive to catch your… hungering attentions.”

You feel it… knowing he feels it too. Your belly aches to begin feeding once more. “No, no…” you protest, drawing a step closer, wiping your bloodied chin on the back of your sable silken glove.

“Really, my Consort, who am I to deny you your hunger?” he’s hissing. Defensive. Eyes heavily lidded, jaw tweaking as he watches you unravel before him.

“Hungry? Yes,” you pant, a feral need unlocking inside you to be so close to your love, your maker, and yet kept at arm's length. “For you, my love. I thought he was you, Astarion.”

He sniffs, derision seething in that one breath. Disdain turns playfully at his lips and darkens his crimson eyes. “I forget sometimes how new to your vampirism you are, darling,” he chides, none too gently. “You have no idea the pull you have on others… the natural way your charms will command the weakest minds to bend their necks for your teeth. No matter what ignorant fools they are, trying to take what’s mine.”

And with that, he snaps. Uncontrolled aggression embodied, a growl in his throat, Astarion flies at the poor male. His bare hand locks around the other’s bleeding neck. “Get out of my sight, out of my palace… out of my city, if you wish to survive this night, you fool.” His voice is death itself, bone chilling and sharp. And the man waits not one second more before fleeing into the night, back through the crowds.

Turning back to face you ever so slowly, he pulls off his mask, fingers tugging swiftly at the black silken ribbon behind his head. You see it in his face, the darkening of jealousy… but also the arousal in the way his nostrils flare and his pupils dilate so wide. “Well, my treasure, I’ll admit… power never looked so good on another… on anyone that wasn’t me.”

You force yourself to inhale, lungs shaking as you try to breathe. “You’re not… mad?”

“Darling, I am furious,” he hisses, closing in on you swiftly, clenching his grip hard around your throat. “You’ve done remarkably well in my absence in most ways, such a lavish soirée, even I am impressed. But,” he thrust his smirking, snarling face into yours until your noses brush, “you clearly need a swift reminding, darling, of just what you’ve been missing… of what parts of me you’ve missed.”

Grabbing at your hand, he thrusts your palm against his cock, so hard and hot through the well-oiled, skin-tight leather.

“Just like old times,” you rasp under his clutches.

“Tut, tut,” he chides you, all honey in his venom. “Nostalgia for your vampire rogue isn’t going to work on me…”

“Well,” you smirk, rubbing your hand up and down against his twitching erection, “something has…”

His lips crush yours, certainly ruining what was left of your lip paints, licking off the remnant of that poor fool’s blood from your chin, your fangs. And most assuredly, making your lips swell and bruise as he works ravenously in his kiss. He keeps your palm pressed hard on that aching rise between his legs, slow little rolls of his hips against the pressure.

“Watching you touch another… dancing with another… watching your eyes batting at him…” He breaks from his words to dart his tongue inside your mouth, licking again and again until he’s replaced all traces of that offender’s blood with only the flavor of him. “Watching you beckon him into the privacy of your presence… your lips on his skin…” His body seizes, that blend of jealousy and arousal crashing into you again four-fold. “I’ve never wanted to kill and fuck more than I do right now…”

You watch his pale chest heaving, watching every one of his veins beat with his ascendant heart, perfectly perched under his beautiful skin. Head cocking, he grips the ruffled collar of his silken shirt, tugging it wide.

Licking your lips, you feel his command: If you’re starving, daring, then feed.

You don’t need him to offer again, don’t need any other influence on your mind. Your stomach assumes control. Crown tilting askew from the pile of curls atop your head, you bite his warm and tender flesh.

And you bite hard.

Lewd, loud, trembling as if you just came… you moan right under his ear. Your mouthful of his rich, powerful blood almost spills over your lips, but you don’t dare let a drop be wasted. His hand presses harshly against the back of your neck, your curls and pins tugging at your scalp with the force. But you don’t care. Not as one hand grips into his arm to hold him steady, your other bracing on the other side of his neck to feel that raging pulse under your touch. There is nothing now that matters more than his ascendant blood on your tongue and his warm flesh beneath your lips.

“Careful, darling…” he speaks, vibrations from his silken voice shaking your lips. “I can’t be too bloodless to finish satisfying our hunger. Bad form to have the Ascendant unconscious at his own gala.”

One last, long drink and you pull off the wounds from your fangs with a pop. “Yes, my lord, how else do you think I hunger?”

Oh, he catches you by your neck once more, more playfully this time, long fingers wrapping up around your jaw. “What a stupid question for one as clever as you, my pet. You’re going to take my cock so nicely, another nice warm welcome that I know you’re craving too, darling. But first, you’ll pay nicely for your charming little transgression.” He pulls you further from the chaos and din inside your palace, deeper into the shadows. You can smell the gardens below you, the heady scent of blossoms in the air, lilacs and roses and lilies, just over the waist high wall.

And it’s over that wall you feel him spin you, laying you out carefully over its wide edge.

“Bad girl, my consort,” he leans over, his body crushing you from behind slightly to rasp right behind your ear. “Though, it was rather… intoxicating… to watch those lips redden with another’s blood… to scent your arousal so potently at the mere thought of my return. I shall be lenient, my love.”

“You liked it, didn’t you?” you jeer sweetly, a little roll of your ass against where he presses you down into the stone. “Of course, I only indulged thinking it was you playing some cheeky little game…”

He sinks his fangs into your neck, making a sharp cry pierce your words and stutter your voice.

“… should have known your games are much more fun,” you manage to add as he sucks from your veins. One hand grips behind where your crown perches, yanking at the roots of your hair and tugging your neck to a wider angle. And then he drinks quickly and deeply.

“What am I if not fun, hmm?” he purrs beneath your ear, one hand clasped around your wrist, the other begins to lift the pile of your skirts, tulle and silks and crinoline piling high on your back until you feel the night air on the back of your thighs.

Until you feel the breeze on your ass as he slips your undergarments to your knees.

“Feel free to scream, my pet. There is no one out here but us creatures of the night now….”

Smack.

His palm lands sharply on your bare cheek. A gentle rub follows the pain, fingers angling their dexterous touch slightly between your pressed thighs.

Smack.

Harder this time, fully on the other side, he spanks you. And while you grunt, muffled into your bent arms beneath your head, Astarion groans.

Loudly. Full throated.

His hand massages that freshly reddening ass this time. You feel his body bracing along your side, spank after spank making you shake with pain, only to be brush away quickly with his tender touch.

It’s maddening, making your core heat even more than before. Your hips wiggle under his fingers, hoping he might accidentally slip one or two between your folds.

But nothing Astarion does with his skilled hands is accidental or blunt— refined, precise. Perfect. “Feeling sufficiently contrite?” he purrs, moving behind you. One single hand splays on your lower back, the leather of his breeches presses behind you, almost like skin against your bare flesh.

“Yes, sorry,” you mumble into the gauzy sleeve of your dress as you bury your face.

His touch slips just a little between your cheek, your arousal running down your thigh as he spreads you just a little. “What was that, darling? You have been awfully quiet in your penance, you know…”

A single finger, nail first, creeps to where you clit lies. “Yes…. S- sorry,” you groan, lifting your head, turning just enough to see where he crouches behind you. He looks delicious in the moonlight, if you didn’t feel your bond, know your body teemed with undead power, he would look as he did all those nights on the road. That same devious smirk, same glinting, feral gaze that wants to eat you right up….

Say no more… he purrs into your mind, a delicate brush of his power making you shake. Reading your thoughts as you gaze at him.

He slaps your thighs apart, burying his face between them to do just that.

Eat you right up.

That thick tongue of his sweeps from your clit to the end of your seam.

“Scream for me,” he bids you. Your back arches, your head lifting, like a wolf in heat, you howl. Your voice ricochets off the garden wall, followed by another whimpering sound as he keeps that mouth of his sucking on your clit. Fingers spread you wider, thrusting your body back and forth as his tongue slides into your channel, his breath hot each time he breaks to swallow you down. That bliss begins to swell, relief from longing for his body for so long finally within your reach.

Until he stops. And you pant and growl in frustration as that precious wave of orgasm washes out of your reach.

One last, long sweep of his tongue, and he moves out from under you. His hands squeeze hard into your ass, marking your pale, cold flesh with his nails, just a bit. Just enough for him to know you’ll sit with hidden discomfort for the rest of the night.

“You’ve earned my forgiveness, my lovely consort,” he raps, leaning over you, crushing you to kiss against that sensitive spot behind your ear. “And I’ve been wanting to this since the moment I left your bed, my pet…”

Recognition spikes up your spine, you know that warm, blunted head that slowly begins to enter you. Contented. Happy. You sigh and arch to look back, unable to see anything below his chest beyond that ridiculous pile of your skirts over your back. His gaze is fixed on your thighs, watching your folds swallow him up, the little tip of his tongue licking the corner of his mouth.

Sweat gathers under your mask, and you know your tints and kohl and paints are wrecked by now. But you don’t care. No one would notice under your demi-mask. And it was so worth it, to feel him buried deep inside you again.

That paradox of pressure and relief. To be so full and so happy again. A belly sated by his blood, a cunt brimming with his cock. Your delicate fingers grip into the edge of the balustrade, bracing yourself to ride his thrusts. The soft whines of music a merry tempo, one he almost seems to match as he fucks you. You groan, knowing it’s just a taste of the rest of your night, knowing that once your guests have basked in your presence for long enough, you’ll steal away, spending the rest of the night in each other’s arms.

For now he ruts into you, no holding back, no mercy or tenderness now. Just that blind drive to finally join with you after so long apart. If you close your eyes, you might as well be in some clearing near the Emerald Grove, addicted to giving one another your bodies. His sweet words in your ear, little grunts as he fucks with each snap of his hips.

Same cock… same arrogance… same moonlight-bathed faces twisted in pleasure as he takes you from behind. Even the scent of blossoms in your nose… truly just like when you knew nothing more than his charm and his vampirism. And didn’t you come to love all he was… all he became… the same and yet now so much more to you.

“I missed you…” you whisper into his mind, feeling how his body has wound tight through your bond, sensing his cock’s throb, his sensation of how good it feels inside you flooding your own body.

“I know,” he replies, a growl inside your ear, a caress of fangs in your mind. He chuckles into your thoughts, until his laughter turns into real breathless pants as that tension in his body claims its release. He slams into you, once… twice… until all you feel is the twitching head of his cock emptying inside. Leaning over your once more, Astarion places a kiss into your neck one more time. “I missed you too, my love…” he whispers for your ear alone. “Never again, my treasure. It was too long… too many horridly boring, ugly people. Why waste my time with riff raff when I could have just brought you with me.”

“At least you know better now,” you simper, moaning as he pulls from inside you, those skirts brushing over the raw, tender skin of your ass. You hiss, straightening.

“As do you, my naughty consort….” He’s already slipped himself back in his breeches. Bringing you in for a devouring kiss by grabbing your reddened and punished ass. Yelping, you kiss him back, feeling his wicked smirk against your lips. Pain shoots up your spine as he crushes the hard fabrics of your skits against your flesh… nevermind that your undergarments are abandoned on the ground now…You shrug, let them be.

You have no need for them, now that he’s returned.

He pulls you by your hand back towards the gala, retrieving his mask from the terrace, quickly replacing it on his handsome face.

You smile, shaking your head at his antics, his games… his rakish, seductive smirk. Licking your thumb, you clean the lingering streaks of your blood and cum from his chin. “There now, you look presentable, my Lord,” you speak in dulcet tones, regal and refined. “The Vampire Ascendant ready for his festivities, no longer unmasked like some feral, rutting monster.” You wink, a sly smile at him.

Hand braced at the back of your neck, he crushes you once more to his mouth, one more kiss, one more cleaning lick of his own tongue on your lips and chin. “And you, a radiant Regent Consort,” he grins, hands quickly, assuredly straightening your mask and crown. As you turn to enter, he whispers against your temple one more time. “Let’s turn some heads, shall we?” He offers you his arm, a gentlemanly bow at the waist, as if he hadn’t just been ramming into you on the terrace moments ago.

You flash him a smile, head held up high, as you enter the crowd and din and lights. They part like water before you, heads bowing… even the stony-gazed face of Wyll, new Duke Ravenguard, tips slightly in deference. He knows your power, cautious to upend the delicate balance you and he have established.

But Astarion… Lord Astarion… he carries you right past the Duke’s contingent, right up the dais stairs until he’s stopped before your thrones. He stops short, says nothing but a wave to the music to continue the festivities.

They promptly obey, and he sits in his throne… and before you can sidle over to yours, he wraps an arm about your waist and settles you on his lap.

You hiss, the bone of his thigh pressing hard on his bruises and bite marks that riddle your rear.

“Something the matter, my lady?” Wyll’s formal tone hasn’t changed a bit since your days on the road.

You glance up, smiling and demure. He’s grinning politely back, concern in his stone eye. Always that suspicion underlying his gaze, that mistrust of your new… vampirism. You widen your grin and give a little bubbly laugh. Assuaging the monster hunter. “Just so pleased to have Astarion back from his travels. I’ve felt so… empty… without him.” You hide the double entendre with a regal simper and a pat on his chest.

“Not too exhausted to enjoy your evening, I hope,” Wyll asks, pausing a bit too long until he adds, “my Lord?”

“Nothing I can’t manage to savor in spite of it, Wyll,” he jerked his head with a smile, shifting you higher up on his lap, dragging those raw marks to center over his still softening cock. “Now, enjoy your festivities, old friend….” He drags his fangs over the shell of your ear sucking it between his lips, a display of his desire for all to see. “We know we will.”

🌹 thank you to @glorious-void for the fanart, and to my consort coven: @marimosalad and @brabblesblog

[captain039]

The lords servant

Astarion x reader

Warnings: plus size reader, light swearing, vampire things, sexual, first times, eventual smut, self consciousness, anxiety

It was your first day working in this magnificent mansion. One of the many lords of Baldurs gate lived here. Lord Astarion Ancunin, rather quiet and lived in solitude of his mansion, rarely coming out in any occasion, though once a year he held a grand party, the grandest in the city, none of the other lords dared compete. You were one of ten servants who kept the house clean and running. You had servants quarters, rather luxury one at that, the bed was extra comfortable and you had a divider between each of the beds. It was your first offical day, you’d been here for two days settling in and getting shown where everything was and how things worked. You were to start with cleaning the main hall today. You grabbed your supplies and headed to the main hall, the place was clean already, but apparently it needed more attending to, so you did as asked. You were in your head as you cleaned, too busy with your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the lord on the stairs smirking at you till you turned around. You had jumped a mile at his presence and apologised, head bowed.

“I didn’t hear you approach my lord” you said and heard him chuckle lightly as he walked to you.

“Quite alright, you seemed miles away” he said before you felt his finger under your chin to lift your head up. You stared a little shocked as he smiled, his red eyes captivating you instantly.

“You’re new yes?” He asked the smile still gracing his lips.

“Yes my lord, I arrived two days ago” you nodded avoiding his eyes.

“Hm, your name? I’m afraid I don’t oversee our new servant hirings” he said and you told him your name. He repeated it and you swore a shiver ran up your spine.

“Hopefully your stay here is long” he grinned and you flushed looking to the floor.

“I will work as long as I can I hope, lodgings here are quite comfortable” you joked, but it came out nervous making you curse yourself silently.

“Oh? I do intend my servants to be well provided for, an unhappy servant is a useless one” he hummed.

“Thank you sir, it is quite generous of you” you nodded.

“My lord” you heard the butler speak as he rushed down the stairs.

“What is it now Daenan?” The lord sighed.

“We’ve received a letter” the butler said obviously holding some secret, but it wasn’t your business.

“Ah excellent, excuse me darling, i must attend to this” he said, your whole body going warm at the pet name.

“Of course my lord” you nodded.

“I’ll see you again no doubt” he smiled before leaving and you felt a sigh of relief leave you. Gods he was handsome, pale hair oddly red eyes, beautiful features, most elves were beautiful, but he seemed to take the crown almost. You continued your day of cleaning, washing dishes and doing what the head servant said. Strange thing was the lord didn’t have any meals, no dinner was prepared, only the servants ate. You thought nothing of it, perhaps he had meals brought to his room or office for privacy.

The night came rather quickly, only candles lighting the mansion now, not that it mattered, the curtains were heavy and always closed, perhaps he was sensitive to the sun, most elves were more sensitive to things than humans. You had done your last round as asked going down the hall back to the servants room only to be stopped by a noise. You frowned a bit seeing a door slightly open and shallow breathing filling your ears. You froze cheeks ablaze as you went to retreat the other way. This was the only way to the quarters though! Damn the gods were cruel this night. You moved very slowly and quietly hearing soft moans from a woman, you kept your eyes to the ground, for some reason you looked up though, instantly regretting it. The lord had a woman pressed against the wall, his face in her neck, her skirt bunched up at her stomach, his hips moving into hers. You quickly looked away and practically ran back to the quarters noticing one bed empty, Elra’s.

Morn came and you heading to the kitchen to await orders.

“New girl” the head servant Vera cocked her head to you. You went to her as the other servants left.

“Lords asked you to his quarters” she said and left without explanation. Oh gods it’s only been one day and you’ve already messed up. You dreaded the whole walk there before knocking on his office door.

“Come in” he called voice too inviting. You walked in closing the door softly and kept your head down.

“You sent for me, my lord?” You said hands clasped in front of you. You heard him rise from his chair and his footsteps come closer to you, before you saw boots in your view.

“I did” he said finger tilting your chin up again. His eyes looked brighter in the fire lit room, something swirling in him, his skin seemed richer too.

“Have I done something wrong, my lord?” You asked and he shook his head smiling.

“Of course not my dear” he chuckled softly.

“I only want to ask a question” he said turning away from you and going to his desk.

“Did you see anything last night?” He asked and your whole body tensed as you replayed the memory in your mind.

“No my lord, all was quiet” you lied hoping he wouldn’t catch on.

“Excellent, quiet is what we like” he smirked looking to you again.

“That is all, you can breathe and go” he chuckled sitting back down.

“Oh- yes my lord, have a good day” you bowed your head and quickly left, if you had a tail it’d be tucked between your legs. You breathed out a big sigh as you went back to the kitchen to receive new orders.

Your days were normal, mainly cleaning of the mansion, attending to the garden, washing the dishes, making food for yourself and the other servants, but never the lord. Whether he received special food from another cook, you didn’t know. You were always the last one to make rounds around the house, the lord was rather keen on keeping his home in order, gods forbid someone dare try to break in. Problem was one your way back his office door always seemed slightly ajar and you always heard the low breathing and moans of one of the other servants, his head hurried in their necks, hips moving against theirs, pure pleasure on their faces. It made you heat up and dart away, it was hard to avoid, you’d always shield your eyes now and tiptoe by before bolting the rest of the way. During the day the master practically lived in his study, his butler delivering letters and other things in and out.

You had finished your rounds once again, checking everything before heading to your quarters. You kept your head down and eyes shielded as you approached the lords room.

“What are you hiding from?” You jolted in surprise seeing him standing outside the door, arms crossed with a smirk on his face.

“Uh-“ you quickly moved your hand cursing silently.

“Nothing my lord, I was um-“ you thought about a lie and gave up seeing his smirk still plastered on your face.

“You know hearing you tip toe by then bolt is rather amusing” he said and you felt your cheeks go red hot.

“Why not indulge in ourselves why we’re here, have a little fun, I know they certainly enjoy it” He said playfully and you kept your eyes to the ground wishing the ground would swallow you up. Gods this was embarrassing you should’ve just slept in one of the spare rooms, no one would notice if you got back early.

“Why do you keep those pretty eyes down” you froze as his finger lifted your chin up again and you stared at his Ruby eyes.

“Oh I see” he had a grin on his face, what did he see? Your dying embarrassment.

“Has a man never touched you?” He asked voice low and husky making a shiver run up your spine.

“Or woman perhaps?” He added and you shook your head moving your head from his chin and looking to the ground in shame. Why would anyone touch you? Did he not have good eye sight? You were hideous.

“Please excuse me my lord” you said voice shaky.

“Oh, of course” he said as you gave one last glance to his confused face as you left.

You sighed going to the shared bathroom. You stripped your clothes, wrapped a towel around your body and began to run the water. You sighed looking in the mirror and pinching your cheeks. You looked down your body, the towel almost too small for it, you groaned quietly looking away from the mirror quickly not wanting to get lost in that hole. You poured some scented oil in the bath before stopping the water. You laid your towel on the chair by the mirror and stepped into the bath with a sigh. The warm water soothed your muscles as you closed your eyes and leant back. Images flashed through your mind though, your body pressed against a cold wall, a hand pleasuring you, lips marking your neck and a warm body against yours. White hair tickling your nose as he whispered praises in your ear.

You jolted eyes opening and staring, gods what was wrong with you?! This was your lord! The one you served. He wouldn’t see you in that way, not with the way your looks and body were, he was teasing that’s all, you were easy prey.

You washed your body before hoping out the bath and drying. You brushed your hair before putting on a nightgown and going to bed. You wouldn’t be easy prey, not anymore.

Next part ->

[vorestarr]

i love the idea of a vampire tav who, by virtue of being turned as a bride/groom and not a typical spawn, and also being gifted with astarion's ascended immunity from most vampire restrictions, has no real idea of what being a vampire is like for literally every other vampire in existence.

like, astarion and tav host a party and invite the vampires they've been in correspondence with in other cities, and tav finally meets a vampire other than astarion and is like, well damn sucks to be all of you.

like, finding out they can't just stay in any inn because they have to be invited in. they couldn't get to baldur's gate faster because they had to go the long way to avoid routes crossing over running water. the precautions they have to take to block out the sun and make sure not even a sliver touches skin. tav had no idea about any of this because none of it has ever affected them.

infuriating for every other vampire to hear about how they've never needed to worry about any of that, but hilarious for astarion.

[yo-yoringle]

Neil on Ascended Astarion's Laugh

Neil: I didn't ever really improvise anything. I'd improvise how I'd say the line obviously, but I didn't improvise any words really for Astarion. There's hardly anything that I've changed, maybe like one thing, just because it didn't quite work. So largely all the script is as scripted. I did the lines as scripted.

But there was definitely a moment I think I tried to squeeze in muahahas and things like that. *laughs* Like what if I can get away with a cackling laugh that kind of sounds like a muahaha?

Oh, he has a new laugh, I didn't tell you that. Ascended Astarion has a new laugh. Do you want to hear it?

Blue Owl Medic: I feel like it's more true to the character.

Neil: But do you want to hear the actual Ascended Astarion's laugh? I don't know if you picked up on it on your playthrough.

BOM: Yes. No, I haven't actually gotten there.

Neil: I changed the laugh. So, the laugh with Unascended is *high-pitched giggling laugh*. It's all like high and lilting and trill and shrill sort of up and piercing. And then Lord Astarion is *laughs haughtily* Like that. So I dropped it. So he goes, "Oh dear. Well that's not very good, is it. *laughs*" It's all like down here. *points at throat* And low and short as well. So it was really like--it was fun. You'll see it. So there's a difference.

BOM: It's like a wealthy laugh.

Neil: It's a wealthy laugh. It's an of-means laugh.

BOM: Aristocratic, I see somebody say.

Neil: It's a better-than-you laugh. 'I have more money than you. *laughs*'

BOM: 'I have a palace. What do you have? A camp? Fuck you.'

Neil: 'I have a castle. *laughs* Don't you have one? Sorry, that's sad for you.' Yeah, like that.

--from Neil's February 1, 2024 twitch stream

[littlelovelore]

the view from where he's tucked you in bed 🖤

[synapticjive]

HE’S NO LONGER A THRALL

WE WON

[faerievampling]

The Life of Astarion's Dark Consort (Part 2)

Summary: More random hcs about our favorite vampire lord and his pretty consort. Particularly in their ancient years.

Here's the link to part 1

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav

Warnings: 18+. Light smut. Astarion being very possessive of his treasure. Slightly dubious consent.

As Astarion’s dark consort, you are imbued with unimaginable gifts that only evolve and expand as you age into your vampiric strength. You are likely the second strongest vampire in existence by the time you and Astarion celebrate your second millennium together. Astarion is so proud of you, and he thinks your beauty only grows the longer you spend by his side and the more you embrace your vampiric nature.

Astarion loves your fangs, your red eyes, and your pale skin. You are a perfect reflection of him, and he loves seeing himself in you. Knowing that he created the most perfect creature is what drives much of his ego. 

Sometimes, after your husband has made love to you, he will stand the two of you in front of a full body mirror just to admire the two of you. He is so proud to be able to see the reflection of you both. He believes it was all worth it, everything the two of you did to achieve this waking dream. But eternity is so long, my love.

As the ages pass by, Astarion ensures that you are fitted in the most fashionable and stylish clothes of the times. The same goes for his regular spawn, even if Astarion is a little bit disgusted by them. They are merely spawn, after all. Nothing special, unlike him and his sweet consort.

Astarion embroiders cheeky phrases into your underclothes, especially your panties. ‘If you’re seeing this, you will wish you were dead’ one of them reads. Not very creative, but Astarion is quite amused by it. 

You have a soft spot for the spawn. Astarion isn't surprised by this, and he even understands it, but he doesn’t like it. The spawn remind him of the 'before times', that of which you are highly discouraged from ever acknowledging.

Astarion does not share his gifts with anyone but his darling, of course, so his spawn are afflicted with the same curses that Astarion once was. You think of them as beloved pets, and you pamper the spawn, to Astarion’s indignation and dismay.

But Astarion lets you. He’s annoyed that you’ve spoiled them, but at some point, he finds himself feeling a level of kinship with his bride and his other creations. Sometimes, seeing how you handle the spawn makes him fantasize about having a family with you. What if he just chooses the right spawn, maybe ones he and you could try to…love? The thought is lost on you both before it is even completed.

Astarion's love for you was a weakness, in the grand scheme of things. And he wouldn’t allow himself to have any more. You were his one virtue and his favorite vice.

Astarion has bouts of madness, especially during stressful times. He will make extreme decisions in these moments.

A memory that is nearly lost on you is brought back into view when Astarion sequesters you in a deep chamber in your palace. Once, he told you he wished to lock you in the boudoir and be in each other's arms for a decade. You nearly forget about it yourself, but Astarion remembers.

He frightens himself into the decision after an attack on the palace. The attackers had gotten so close to his bride: you were only a room away from the fighting. This sends Astarion into a panic.

You allow him a few days: just the two of you in bed. It’s even quite lovely, at first, being in Astarion’s arms as he makes passionate and desperate love to you. 

But it quickly turns sour once you filter through the frantic web of his mind and find his true intentions. Astarion insists it’s for your own good. You are to stay in the boudoir until the war is over. 

As an ancient, sheltered, pretty consort like yourself, you needn’t bother yourself with unpleasant feelings. Astarion gave you everything you wanted for so long. As you react to Astarion’s decision, he realizes he has entirely spoiled you. 

You dare compare this decision of his to that of which his old master would make.

Astarion reminds you how good you have it by forcing you to drink his blood as he fucks you senseless on silken sheets and a feather mattress. Astarion keeps you in the boudoir for some time. He comes and goes as he pleases, alternating between fucking you, biting you, and feeding you.

But Astarion succumbs to your begging once you finally break down and start to sob. Astarion hasn’t seen you cry in so long, he had forgotten what it looked like. But what he feels is so deeply uncomfortable, even disturbing to him, that he must fix his mistake and do what makes his consort happy. He can’t take it. He can’t stand seeing you anything but content. 

You gave him everything, and he will return the favor. And now, you two are forever bound, connected in body and blood. 

Masterlist

[vampiric-hunger]

𝕙𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤

pair: Ascended!Astarion x female! spawn !reader

tags: no y/n is used, rating - E, kneeling, fingering, teasing, semi-public sex, creampie, praise kink, vampires being vampires

summary: why Astarion woke you this early you don't know and he doesn't seem in a mood to give you answers, not right away at least. so you walk with him through the streets of Lower City, wandering what is so important. the Elder Brain is still a threat, everything else can wait, surely? but it looks like Astarion has a goal in mind today and it might not be all that serious in the end.

word count: 6,624

a/n: a little late but happy patch 6! kisses, kisses, kisses! writing about them is just as fun as seeing them in game! enjoy <3

for @mist1e <3

The day was almost disgustingly bright. Despite attack plans being prepared by rest of your companions, today it seems that you have a free day. Saving Faerun can wait, can it not? But why in hells Astarion decided to wake you so early and drag you out of bed to accompany him – you have no idea. You tried asking but it’s like he has something on his mind that is more important than answering your questions. Such you walk by his side, wondering if you should try taking his hand in yours. Neither of you are big into holding hands, but things change. He changed. And so have you. Not so long ago you had warm blood in your veins, but you submitted that to Astarion freely, exchanging the warmth of your flesh for the heat of his touch.

“We’re going to the Counting House, dear.” he speaks up and your eyes snap to him. You have to squint just a little, the early morning sun is bright and his hair is reflecting it in a way it’s almost difficult to look at, like a halo of icy fire.

“What’s in the Counting House?” you ask, forced to turn your eyes away from his face in favor of watching where you step and you hear an annoyed sigh by your side which makes you frown. He was the one to drag you out of bed, now he’s annoyed you’re asking him what was the reason?

“Cazador’s vault. That’s why we’re going there.” Astarion’s tone feels snippy and now you start becoming annoyed in turn.

“Any specific reason we’re going to check it today?” you know your voice betrays your emotion and there’s a brief moment of silence while you two weave among the people hurrying with their own lives.

“I want to know if he had any more secrets I should know about. After all, if Cazador hid the entire dungeon from me and rest of his wretched spawn, what else he could’ve kept from me?” annoyance in his tone again, but this time you realize it’s not about you. Your shoulders relax, you nearly started picking a fight with him.

“Why now? Can this not wait?” you give him a short glance, noticing how his face is as serious as tadpoles in your heads, his crimson eyes focused, his eyebrows slightly furrowed – a man on a mission.

“I see you don’t understand.” Astarion looks at you for a moment, your eyes meet, then you both look ahead once more, avoiding bumping into people or stepping on wayward children.

“No, I don’t, care to enlighten me, oh lord almighty?” you tease him and you can sense rather than feel his smile at your words.

“Anything else I should care doing while I explain the grand plan of mine?” you feel a gentle smack on your rear and you break into a smile of your own, giving him another short look. Yes, indeed he seems more relaxed now, happier.

“Just tell me why you’re dragging me to the Counting House this early in the morning, hm?” you ask and realize his palm remains perched on your rear, then he pulls you a little closer to his side. It doesn’t hinder walking and Astarion’s touch is warm, even through the clothes you wear. Little gestures like that, you know what he’s doing – announcing to the world you’re his.

“You’re such an impatient little brat.” Astarion says and with a corner of your eye you notice his smirk. “But fine. You ask why now? Because I don’t want any nasty surprises after the Brain is gone. Once that is done, I want to proceed claiming my rightful place. Replacing Cazador is not going to be simple, there will be questions, I want to have answers. Mostly I want documents of Palace’s ownership and all other valuables he ever had. They are mine now, after all, by right.” a small chuckle escapes his lips. By right of murder, he meant and you smile at that.

Not like you can argue about that either, it’s just the thought that what was Cazador’s will now be his is a little bit daunting, because it means it will be yours too, but you haven’t even thought about this until now. Yet Astarion did.

“We don’t even know if we’re going to survive the fight.” your voice is hushed when you say that but also glummer and Astarion catches onto that.

Suddenly he stops, stopping you too with a quick grab of your waist and you turn to him, meeting his eyes with yours. You don’t know what you said to make him stop so abruptly and you look at him with a puzzled expression.

“Darling.” your Vampire Lord begins with a self-assured smirk, his hand is still on your hip. “Together united we can beat any obstacle. And I suppose we have those… friends of ours too, to give us a boost if we need it.” Astarion sounds so confident in what he’s saying and you try your best to believe him but the anxiety is still there. What if he is wrong? What if neither of you survive?

You are sure he can see doubt in your eyes so you don’t hesitate.

“A kiss might make me feel better, don’t you think?” you ask almost sheepishly, but you feel like you need it right now - a comfort of his lips, of his arms, of his presence, of him in his entirety.

Astarion pauses, then his confident smile widens.

“But of course, darling, I can’t deny you anything.”

You step towards him with a smile appearing on your face because you’re relieved to have been granted comfort but then his hand leaves your hips and stops you. Palm flat, right in front of your face. Confused you look at him, then his fingers curl and point to the ground.

What?

The look on his face clearly tells you he has something on his mind but surely he is not asking you to kneel in the middle of the city with all these people around you? Right?

Yet his hand does not move and you glance to the ground, uncertain about what to do but you feel your knees bending already. They bend because you trust him just like you trusted him with your life and you know can put that same trust in him right now too. So you kneel and his pointed finger follows your journey down. Before you can ask why he’s making you do this, he suddenly grabs your throat and you gasp. Your eyes widen in shock, you forget everything around you – the people, the noises, the street, the city itself. Astarion’s expression is a mischievous smirk, but your rising panic stemming from your confusion makes you blind to this, and your earlier anxiety only makes you scared.

For just a split second.

Then Astarion leans over you and his lips connect with yours, making the irrational fear melt away as if it was never there to begin with. You respond to his passion with yours, feeling that fire in your stomach burn hotter than the kiss itself. You remember how he made you kneel on the night of your becoming. It tied you to him for eternity, and many nights since then you felt this same familiar grip on your throat as he fucked you silently but relentlessly in that small tavern bed while others were asleep.

And then it’s over.

Astarion pulls back, a smirk on his face but you just look at him with disappointment. That’s all? You wanted more. Then his grip leaves your throat and you feel a push on your chest, making you sit on your heels. This time you frown instead, annoyed that he’s playing bedroom games with you with no intention of continuing them. Not that he should, at least not here.

When you rise to your feet and dust your pants Astarion looks triumphant, his grin wide enough to show his fangs.

“You always taste so sweet.” he exclaims with pride but you’re not as joyous as him. He got you worked up and for what?

“You made me kneel in a middle of this shitty street for this?” you complain and Astarion’s expression changes subtly, now he doesn’t look so sure that you enjoyed what just happened.

“Darling, I just wanted to remind you of your familiar position. On your knees in front of me.” he teases and you would blush if you could. Instead of that you pout.

“So that was your goal? To turn me on only to disappoint me?” you cross your arms on your chest but Astarion steps closer and sneaks an arm around your waist. His confident smile tells you he’s happy with himself after all.

“Distracted you from the worries of the Brain, didn’t it?”

This smug little shit.

“You better make up for this or else.” you grumble again and Astarion laughs loudly, unapologetically.

“Don’t I always make up to you, love?”

You give him a pointed look but Astarion either ignores it or does not see it as he resumes walking, making you walk with him. Out of curiosity you glance around, discretely of course, and notice quite a few residents of Baldur’s Gate watching you. Some of them are even whispering to each other.

“Did you just make me do that so that others see I’m yours?” you whisper to Astarion while still painfully aware of all the eyes on both of you. Astarion just laughs at your words.

“No, little love, I did it because this whole city is mine now. Or will be, once we are done with the trifling matter of the Brain. Why should I hide from the eyes of the masses? I can finally exist without fear. And they will witness me.”

You can’t help it. You laugh.

“Calm down there, big scary Lord.” you glance at him and Astarion smiles at you.

“You like it when I’m a big scary Lord. And that I’m yours only.” he teases and you roll your eyes but can’t help your smile widening at his words.

“So this vault. We have a key for it?” you try to distract yourself, if not him, from what just happened and how it made you feel. And the truth is it made you feel aroused, that’s for sure. Even if it was for a fleeting moment in that small yet confusing play he put on, you still find your underwear clinging to your folds with uncomfortable wetness.

Damn him.

“Yes. We found it in Cazador’s coffin, remember?” yes, you remember and Astarion scrunches his nose at the memory of the blood, the bodies but most likely the smell that was left after the Ritual of Profane Ascension. You can almost read it in his mind - he plans to clear that area the moment he seizes legal ownership of the palace.

You simply nod in response and having nothing else to add you just walk by his side, feeling the reassuring grip of his hand on your waist, watching Counting House getting closer. You wonder if you will find the documents he needs in the vault or not, but above all you are just enjoying the walk with Astarion, letting your mind drift with his words of ruling this city alongside him. It makes you smile. After all, now it makes all the more sense to save Baldur’s Gate – why would you let something rightfully belonging to you be destroyed.

With your hands clasped in front of you, you let Astarion guide you through the streets, enjoying the little display of pride he’s performing right now while you smile to yourself that seemingly such simple things make him happy. And he does look happy. That’s all that matters to you. Better yet, you get to share that happiness with him forever. No - you get to be the source of his happiness forever. He told you as much and you’re not going to doubt his words.

“Ugh, do we really have to stand in line?” you hear Astarion say and that snaps you out of your thoughts. You haven’t even noticed that you’re at the Counting House now, being led over the stone bridge to the open main door. You see many people inside and you sigh.

“We better not. I’m not in the mood for this.” you complain and Astarion gives your side a playful squeeze.

“What are you in the mood for then?” he smirks and you give him a warning glare.

“Don’t start it now, you know very well what you did back there.” you say in a tone that was meant to warn him but instead only makes him chuckle.

“Maybe I do. But if you’re going to be a good girl, maybe I will reward your patience. Just pout a little less, it does not suit you, darling.”

You give him another glare but say nothing else as you both pass the guards at the door and enter the building. The sounds of shuffled papers and people chatting echo off the walls, making you want to leave. This feels like a rat nest and you realize that this is exactly how Astarion feels about the Counting House too. You can sense his tension and annoyance. This place is below him, below you both.

Finally he lets go of your waist and steps forwards, cutting the line of at least six people and walking towards the dwarf manning one of the counters.

“Sir, you cannot-“ the man begins but Astarion just leans on the counter with a single elbow and smiles.

“I need to enter the vaults. You wouldn’t want a man like me kept waiting, would you?”

Something is not right. It’s more than just his regular charm. Your brows knit while you try to comprehend what’s going on. The dwarf relaxes, his shoulders slump and it looks like he cannot peel his eyes off your lover.

Ah, he got Charmed.

Wait, when did Astarion learn to do that? Your eyebrows rise with your surprise while you watch the scene unfold. Astarion telling the clerk that he lost the bank pass and the dwarf giving him a brand new one, behaving as if he’s in a beautiful dream. Other patrons seem not to appreciate being cut off but nobody raises their voices to complain. You can’t help but chuckle and try to silence yourself with your palm over your mouth.

When at last Astarion returns, he looks satisfied with the result and takes your hand, walking you the short distance towards the entrance to the vaults. Showing the guards standing there his freshly inked paper, the vampire opens the door and you both start descending the stairs.

“What was that?” you chuckle while glancing back at the guards like you’re waiting for them to rush after you and stop you but Astarion just smiles.

“Did you really think that it will take me forever to learn some new tricks?” he glances in your direction and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips.

“Don’t have to show off like this, you know.”

“My treasure, if it were you in these vaults I’d wait even less than what I did just now. Now hush, let’s find where this key fits.” Astarion says, producing the key out of his coat pocket and handing it to you. You take it and inspect it only briefly because it does not stand out in any way.

Stairs and more stairs, more guards, you barely pay them any mind, you just feel your hand in Astarion’s and follow his lead until you’re there, among the rows of vaults. Now you begin paying attention. Some guards are there who look bored out of their minds and another dwarf, standing by the desk and scribbling away with a lengthy quill.

Once more Astarion approaches the clerk and they chat in hushed voices, then you watch the shorter man point at the vault to his right and Astarion returns to you with a smile.

“Lead the way, little love.” he gestures for you to walk in front of him and with only a moment of hesitation you do as he wishes, walking up to the vault door and inserting the key you kept thumbing all the way down here.

The lock is oiled and turns with ease, echoing a satisfying click when the mechanism moves to allow access. You glance at Astarion over your shoulder who’s standing just behind you, suddenly feeling nervous. What if the documents aren’t here? But your lover just nods in encouragement and you pull the door open.

You peer inside, unsure what to expect. At first glance it looks half empty, a bottle of wine or two and rolled up gazettes. Your doubt overtakes you and you look back at Astarion with questions in your eyes.

“Just look inside, maybe it’s somewhere at the back.” he gives you a shrug as if unsure too and you shrug back then get closer, leaning into the maw of the iron cage. It’s dark in there and the candlelight doesn’t reach deep enough to illuminate the back of the vault. You reach with your hand, feeling around with your fingers and then stop immediately.

“Astarion, what are you doing?” you ask because suddenly you feel his hand begin to rub lazy circles on your ass. A subdued chuckle is heard behind you.

“You just keep looking for the documents, dear. I’m sure they’re there.”

You bite your lower lip, trying to decide what to do: maybe you should stop him after all, but the ache you felt in that moment when he made you kneel returns and you just lean even deeper into the vault, your shoulders now passing the frame and you use your palms to search for papers of any sort.

“That’s a good girl, I am confident they are there.” you hear Astarion’s soothing voice that makes your desire rise its head like a snake preparing to strike and you feel his warm fingers trail up to the waistband of your pants, then pull at it.

“Astarion!” you hiss at him and nearly bump your head against the ceiling of the vault but he just smacks your rear with his other hand.

“Quiet now.” he curtly hushes you and you stifle a frustrated moan.

“Really?” you whisper and hear him chuckle, but you can’t even look back at him because vault walls are restricting you.

“Shh.” another soft command and you finally relent, staying as you are, bent over and partially leaning into the mouth of iron. If he wants to tease you this way, well why in the hells not, you deserve a little treat, do you not.

Astarion’s hand slips past your waistband onto your bare skin, getting lower, feeling the curve of your ass and when he pauses for a moment you hear footsteps, but then they echo away and his hand dips even lower, nearly pulling your pants down with it. And then-

“Astarion!” you hiss louder this time but then have to stifle a moan immediately after because his finger dips inside of you.

“Oh you were not lying, my sweet. You truly got in the mood back there, didn’t you?”

“Shut up.” you shoot back, making your lover chuckle. His digit leaves your entrance and you feel it sneak lower again, beginning to rub your clit in almost lazy circles while his finger is still slick with your arousal. “People will see.” your last protest is responded to with a push on your swelling nub that’s growing increasingly more sensitive.

“Do you really want me to stop?” you hear Astarion’s voice closer to you, bent over you like a shadow and you notice the edges of his cloak in your peripheral vision. At least there’s a bit of privacy.

“No, but-“ his finger makes you moan into the vault chamber before you can stop yourself and you hear him chuckle once more, he’s enjoying this maybe a little too much.

“Then try to be quiet, little love. We don’t want people interrupting our fun, do we?” a whisper disarms any other argument you could’ve had because he’s right, the thrill is intoxicating and his finger working in pleasurable rubs makes you want, no – need for him to continue.

You press your palms to the bottom of the vault and close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the feeling that is starting to send shivers down your spine. Astarion’s warm fingers continue rubbing in a pattern he already knows makes your knees weak and you press your lips into a tight line, not wanting to make a single sound.

“Finding those documents in there, darling?” Astarion asks in a louder voice - of course he’s keeping up the charade of nothing suspicious happening and it makes you break into a smile.

“Not yet, but there’s so much in here.” you respond while trying to keep your voice steady and have to immediately swallow another moan when Astarion leaves your throbbing clit alone for the moment and moves his hand slightly up, only to carefully insert two fingers into your cunt. “Fuck…” you exhale to yourself in a whisper, finally letting your head drop in an attempt to make your panting sound not as loud.

“Oh I’m sure there’s a lot in there.” your Vampire Lord teases and you hear a grin in his tone. That cheeky bastard, you’d hate him if you didn’t love him so much.

Your thighs tremble as you press them together but nothing saves you from the feeling of pleasure beginning to wash over you when Astarion begins moving his fingers. Your pants restrict his movements quite a bit but he compensates by gently exploring your core with his fingertips, looking for that sweet spot that makes you shout and your toes curl.

No, he can’t do it here, you don’t know if you can keep silent, not when he’s doing such sweet things to you.

“There’s a good girl, stay just like this…” you hear Astarion croon behind you and you bite down on your lip, trying to keep your voice inside your chest, trying not to move.

It’s difficult and then it becomes impossible. You moan when Astarion finally finds what he’s seeking and it makes your knees buckle, yet miraculously you remain standing. Quickly you clasp a palm over your mouth and tremble at his touch, almost forgetting where you are, nearly succumbing to the pleasure that is now increasing by the moment.

“Are you finding everything you need?” suddenly you hear an unfamiliar voice and your eyes snap open but you are too afraid to move.

“But of course!” you hear Astarion reply with an easy, casual chuckle all the while his fingers don’t miss a beat. You would be impressed if you weren’t trying your best not to react in any way.

Near impossible. His fingers curl and tease, press and slightly circle, not relenting, not giving you a break and you close your eyes again, bowing your head low enough so that your forehead rests against the cool iron. With your palm still on your mouth, you fight with everything within you to not make a sound.

But what a thrill it gives.

You barely hear the rest of this short conversation because you stop paying attention. You are too far gone to care in this moment, your only focus being just on keeping silent and letting the sensations overtake you.

“You did so well, darling. Now for the grand finale.” you hear Astarion whisper again, you can feel his presence bent over you once more and you whine ever so slightly.

His fingers inside of you curl again and you feel the palm of his other hand press between your shoulder-blades, keeping you in place while he works you towards your bliss. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to keep your legs straight but even this is becoming harder by the moment. Suddenly Astarion pulls out his fingers out of your drenched cunt and returns them to your clit, rubbing faster and faster with each small circle. You can’t help it, you mewl louder and bite into the flesh of your thumb, sinking your fangs just to keep yourself quiet. You’re so close, so so close, you can feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

And next moment your world explodes. Your orgasm overtakes you and you shudder, your body trembling with pleasure and you squeeze your thighs together even harder. Your nails scrape the iron of the vault while you try to keep yourself up and you bite down even harder, tasting your own blood now, pain giving equal measure of satisfaction to your bliss. Oh it shouldn’t feel so good.

Your body spasms once, twice and after few more seconds your mind returns to you, but not before Astarion’s fingers give one last touch to your overstimulated nub, making your body respond with a jerk. Finally, with a satisfied chuckle he removes his hand from your pants but you remain still for a moment longer, trying to recover and to catch your breath, then finally release your hand from your bite. It throbs with aching sensation.

“Come here, love.” Astarion coos softly and you move to do just that before you realize that you are gripping a cylinder in your other hand. You must’ve grabbed onto it during your rapturing delirium and you hold onto it as you step a shaky step back, then another.

“Ow.” you murmur while rubbing your lower back. Being bent over in this kind of position and for this long made you sore.

Astarion helps you stand straight and you hope that once the tadpole is gone your full vampiric powers will eliminate such mortal pains as this. Finally you turn to him and look your lover in the eyes. You see pride, satisfaction and mischief in them. Oh he is happy with himself about what happened, of that you are sure.

“I think I fou-“

“Hm?” Astarion interrupts and makes a show of holding eye contact with you while raising the same two fingers he used as beautiful weapons against you. They are still slick with your arousal and he puts them in his mouth, sucking them slowly, then pulling them out with a loud pop and a satisfied sigh loud enough to echo through entire chamber. “You were saying?”

You glance at him, feeling slightly embarrassed but say nothing. Instead you show him the cylinder you found in the safe and Astarion’s eyes widen slightly.

“May I?” he extends the same hand he just licked your juices off, his fingers still glistening from his own saliva and you place the metal tube into his waiting palm.

Quickly Astarion opens one end of the cylinder and pulls out a rolled up thin parchment. He tucks the tube under his arm and unrolls the document beginning to read it. You step to his side with curiosity, feeling calmer now after what happened just earlier and eye the text yourself.

“Kozakuran?” you raise your eyebrows and Astarion frowns.

“Of course. What a bastard.” he grumbles but then closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a deep sigh. After he calms his sudden annoyance, Astarion rolls up the parchment and stuffs it back into the cylinder, closing it. “Does not matter. We have the dictionary, we can translate it later. But I’m sure it’s what I wanted.”

Vampire Lord shoves the cylinder in his pocket and finally looks at you, his unhappy expression immediately changes into a smile.

“Look at you, precious thing. Even with all of that being done to you, you still manage to do your task beautifully. I’m lucky to have you as my consort.” Astarion’s eyes sweep down your face and your breath catches in your throat. A feeling of anticipation takes a hold of you. And then he suddenly grabs your jaw with a familiar grip.

“Astarion…” you whisper softly. You’re not scared of him, but you don’t want to cause a scene when you just barely avoided getting caught with his fingers in your pussy.

However, Astarion doesn’t seem to be in a mood to listen to your gentle protests. He turns your face to the left, his eyes greedily devour the eternal bite marks he left on your neck on that faithful night, after a moment he makes you face him again, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Then he presses his lips against yours, deeply and passionately. You grab onto the front of his coat, leaning into the kiss eagerly. This alone is enough to rouse your passions again and you slightly open your mouth, touching his lips with the tip of your tongue, wanting to make the kiss deeper. Yet your Vampire Lord has another idea. Suddenly you feel him bite your lower lip and your eyes snap open in surprise, then you feel his fang break the skin and you begin tasting your own blood. Of course.

You relax again and close your eyes, then with a small smile you kiss him again. He’s done this before, this isn’t new. It’s like he’s addicted to you, to your blood, and when Astarion’s desire arises to taste it – he does so no matter where you two are. Seems this time it simply happens to be the underground vault of the Counting House that becomes the stage for his display of love.

You feel your lover pull back and you look at him, immediately noticing the blood trickle on his chin and begin feeling the stirrings of desire even stronger, you are sure your feelings are reflected in your eyes and maybe that’s why Astarion now playfully shoves your face away with a grin.

“Naughty. I see how you look at me. You want more, don’t you?” Vampire Lord quickly wipes away the blood trickle from his chin with a finger and licks it, his eyes not leaving yours. “You think you deserve it?” his tone of voice is suggestive and you don’t need to feel him up to know that he’s hard for you already. Most likely have been hard before he even slid his hand down your pants.

“I found what you were looking for, didn’t I?” you smile to him and gently tug at his coat. “Come on, didn’t you just say you’re lucky to have me? How about making me feel lucky to have you?” you tease and Astarion raises an eyebrow at you.

“Perhaps I will. But not here.” he smiles and raises his hand, this time wiping blood from your bottom lip too, making sure you’re presentable before the eyes of strangers can find you, then he offers you a lick.

You don’t look away from his eyes when instead of giving his thumb a lick you take it into your mouth and suck on it, slowly moving your tongue around it. You feel pride when you see a moment of surprise on Astarion’s face but it quickly gets replaced by a smug smile.

“Ah, I see how it is.” he pulls out his thumb from your mouth and you let him, enjoying the sensation of him rubbing your bottom lip with the same digit. “Let’s go. I think a reward is in order after all.” Vampire says calmly but you recognize the look in his eyes – passion and need. And that need is for you only.

Quickly now Astarion closes the vault, locking it and pocketing the key. He takes your hand and begins walking towards the massive steel door leading outside of the chamber. As you walk by you notice the clerk eyeing you both, and some guards seem to give curious looks as well but that only makes you want to giggle before you realize Astarion’s steps are becoming faster, yet you easily keep up with him.

Your footsteps echo off the walls as you both hurriedly get up at the stairs and you can’t help but break into a smile. Here’s that feeling of anticipation again and you feel the fire burn hotter inside of you. You need him, want him, as soon as possible and from how Astarion nearly drags you after him, rushing to the massive steel door, you know he feels the same.

He pushes the door open, just enough for you both to get outside and you pause, letting him push it closed, then turn and keep going but only for one step. You feel Astarion tug at your hand and with a graceful twirl you are spun around, forced against the door and being kissed passionately.

Your response is immediate. You kiss him back with everything you have, pushing your fingers into his silver locks, tasting his tongue on yours, feeling your body heat up from the sheer idea of having his cock inside of you. When Astarion pulls back he can see your dazed eyes and the lustful craving etched in your face like a beautiful picture. It makes him swear under his breath.

“Fuck. I can’t wait any longer.” he whispers before his fingers trail down your stomach to the laces of your pants.

“Here?” once more you are not sure if you two should be this intimate when you can get caught any moment but Astarion doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Here. Or else you’ll be responsible if I stain my pants, darling.” Lord’s eyes are focused on his fingers that are hurriedly pulling at your laces and you can only slowly exhale in response. He wants you this badly. It turns you on more than anything else could in this moment.

So you follow his lead, glancing down to find the laces of his breeches and you swallow hardly because you can see his erection stretching the fabric so tightly it must make him uncomfortable.

“Less staring, little love.” Astarion’s words are snippy, he’s impatient and already done with his task. He pulls your pants down your hips and with two fingers he reaches between your thighs to rub your cunt, exhaling. “You’re so ready for me. Delicious.”

“So are you.” you whisper back with a smile after your put your hand down his pants and pull out his already weeping erection. You give it a few slow strokes and Astarion’s eyes rise to meet yours.

“Turn around.” he commands and you smile wider, not moving just yet but he gives you no choice when Vampire Lord’s hands move to your waist and turn you around with ease.

He presses you chest-first against the door and with your cheek you feel the steel. Astarion pulls at your hips just enough to get your body at an angle he desires.

“You’re so bratty. If I didn’t need to fuck you right now I would keep you wanting until you’re silly with lust.” you hear Astarion mumble behind you and feel the heat against your inner thigh where the tip of his length presses for a brief moment, then gets aimed at your drenched core, nudging your folds. “Now be a good pet and take my cock like I taught you.”

You smile and with your palms pressed against the cold door you remain still for him, just like he wants you to. You let out a small gasp when you feel his dick slide into you with ease and you can’t help but moan loudly when he thrusts himself into you completely, claiming his rightful place.

“You’re going to alert everyone.” Astarion snaps at you with frustration and he pauses, rummages in his coat’s pocket then takes out the cylinder out of it. It comes into your vision when he presents it for you. “Bite onto this and don’t let go.” he instructs and you don’t argue, opening your mouth and letting him place the tube between your teeth horizontally. You bite down.

Without another word your Vampire Lord begins thrusting, his fingers gripping your waist to keep you steady while his hips snap against you relentlessly, already powered by his desire to cum quickly, before anyone interrupts. You close your eyes and try not to moan. You thought you had enough practice already by secretly doing this same thing during all those nights at Elfsong, but it doesn’t seem to get easier for you. Yet you try, not letting your moans leave your throat while Astarion grunts behind you, his cock easily filling you with every push, stretching your walls in a way that makes you dizzy. He’s perfect.

Then you feel a bite on your ear that makes you gasp and nearly release the cylinder from your lips. Astarion nibbles for a bit, his pumps not slowing even for a moment and you hear him panting heavily.

“I’m so close already, fuck, you feel too good, my love.” his whisper is strained as if he’s trying not to moan himself and you mewl silently because he’s driving you crazy. Your pleasure is building fast too, what he did earlier was not enough for you. You hunger for this sensation of fullness that only he can give you.

As soon as Astarion leans back from your ear you hear him let out a muffled groan and his thrusts change from controlled to increasingly erratic as he chases his orgasm and you’re not far behind him. You try to breathe through your nose and it’s becoming more difficult by the second since your own bliss begins to quickly overtake you.

Few more pumps, deep and driven by passion, are what it takes to make Astarion bite down a moan that you hear so clearly. That’s enough to make your body spasm in response to your orgasm. Couple more thrusts while your cunt clenches around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth and you feel Astarion’s fingers dig deep into your soft waist until he finally stops.

For a moment you both remain like this, trying to recover but you feel the cylinder being tugged from your mouth and you let go with relief, finally being able to breathe through your mouth, although for a moment you forgot you were even biting onto it.

“We should go.” Astarion mutters and pulls out of you, then gives your bare ass a playful smack. “Come on now, little treasure, I can’t let anyone see you like this. You’re mine to enjoy.” Vampire’s voice is playful and you smile, gathering yourself from against the door and you pull up your pants. With him filling you so thoroughly as he did just now the walk back to Elfsong is not going to be the most comfortable one, but oh was it worth it.

You spend only a short time to make yourselves look presentable and when you lift your face to him Astarion surprises you with a kiss. You smile against his lips and he pulls back with a smile of his own.

“Let’s not idle.” he gently brushes a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead and you give him a short peck on the lips then nod.

“I’m sure you’re eager to see what’s in that document.” you say and Astarion offers you his hand. When you take it he begins to lead you out of the vaults.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll allow you to distract me again.” a short glance from him is all what it takes for you to want to be his biggest distraction.

“We’ll see.” you smile while walking with him and Astarion sighs loudly, happily.

“Maybe I don’t dislike Counting House after all.” he says and you both laugh in unison.