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Snippet Sunday Tuesday?

Thank you for the tags, @roguishcat and @kalmiaphlox! I loved your WIPs!

I’m never on time, so here’s a little bit of Chapter 12 of Indelible Imprints now instead of Sunday lol.

Chapters 1-11 on AO3 and the pinned post on my blog!

Flare adjusts to new levels of intimacy

Read on AO3

Astarion lingered more with the tiefling youths, able to show them where their tails should move to help with balance, how to tilt their heads to duck beneath their opponents arms without catching their horns on a sleeve. In her weeks at the school, Flare had observed that Astarion remained one of the few adults the tiefling youths showed open admiration for, Dame Aylin and Halsin being the other two. Not that they were troublesome with others, but the awe in their expressions was so apparent with the three. Flare expected she was no better at times. 

The class ended and Astarion shooed away the kids to get their midday meal as he walked over to Flare. She snapped her journal closed before Astarion could peek at the blank pages. He smirked at her anyway, probably noticing that her pen had never moved while she sat looking. “Enjoy watching me, darling?” Astarion teased.

WIP whenever~

thanks so much for the tag, @roguishcat!

finished another prompt for kinktober. 🤭

i'm late for the week, so apologies for any duplicate tags! @nerdallwritey, @shewhowas39, @elinorbard, @vividiana, @xxnashiraxx

I've never played FFT and I love this fic so much! Read it at least twice and oh oops looks like it'll be threetimes in a minute. :D

alright, I’m doing it. the “Argath Thadalfus Did Nothing Wrong” fic (also known as Sadgath). Title: On A Bed of Rusted Narcissus Fandom: Final Fantasy Tactics (War of the Lions) Warnings: Canonical Character Death Tags: Post-Canon, full list of tags in the link Wordcount: 10,578 Summary:  Ramza returns to Fort Ziekden and finds that not all wounds are mended by time. Excerpt:  A shade, then, Ramza thought as he used his teeth to pull the cork of the waterskin. A ghast the same as those that haunted Lake Poescas, waiting to suck the life from unwary travelers. The calabash dangling from a brass ring on the saddle held a potent mixture of herbs and fermented fruit juice that the desertmen used to deaden the pain of old injuries both of the body and the mind. He’d come to rely on it after too many years of chemist-brewed potions during the war had made the mere smell of one turn his stomach and set his heart pounding. But he wasn’t a fool: tucked away in one of his saddlebags, well wrapped with cotton for protection, was a glass bottle of the finest elixir money could buy, kept in reserve for a dire emergency. Only a few drops of it would cause all that remained of Argath Thadalfus to cease to be.

WIP Whenever

Thanks for tagging me, @xxnashiraxx! This is from the same fic that I shared from earlier this week, a flashback to pre-BG3 events to not spoil too much of the plot. Post-coronation angst for ya:

Henri was shaking, one of her hands anxiously swirling a glass of wine that had yet to touch her lips, the other anxiously tapping away at her kneecap. Astarion covered her frantic tapping hand with both of his own, picking it up and cradling it much like he had the night he confessed he had feelings for her. “Sensed my dislike of this Gortash figure, did you?” Astarion softly teased, slowly rubbing her hand between his two, trying to summon warmth from his dead flesh to gift to her living that desperately needed it in the chilled evening air. “For all his talk about missing you he certainly didn’t look for you all that hard.” “I was down the hallway being sliced apart and put back together by that necromancer. Whatever it was that Gortash and I had...it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t...” Henri didn’t finish the sentence, her gaze intensely focused on the deep purple of her drink spiraling inside her glass as Astaron wrapped an arm around her, drawing her in closer, “With hair like that, Gortash did not strike me as a man who makes wise decisions.” That earned him a small snort of laughter from her. “Did you see his shoes?” “Good gods, those shoes. I suppose the circus he got them from is close by.”

No pressure tags: @tealfling, @roguishcat, @inkymoonbunny, @bardic-inspo, @bhaalsdeepbat

A Little Prayer (f!Dark Urge/Enver Gortash)

Enver Gortash's work is interrupted when Ta'av, the Dark Urge, seeks out his help with a new kind of uncontrollable urge. (Rating: Explicit. Word count: 5.8k)

series: sex and violence, one is just the other

“You'll have to wait your turn, my dear. I'm afraid your desires cannot take precedence today.” He felt her nimble fingers beginning to undo the laces of his trousers, and he caught her wrist. With a sardonic smile, he maneuvered her hand to rest against the apex of her legs, his larger hand pressing hers into her leather leggings. “I have the utmost faith in your ability to entertain yourself.” Ta’av was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “No. No. That's not enough; it has to be you,” she insisted. She managed to slip her hand out of his grasp, and Enver inhaled sharply as she grinded down against his hand.  She looked at him with an expression of pure want and frustration that made his pulse quicken.

to eden | chapter 8

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “You spoil me darling, really. But I am simple man—” Rin stops him off with a look of admonishment, cutting off his sentence to start her own.

“A simple show for a simple man, then.”She hopes her emphasis on the words will speak loudly enough for him to understand the meaning of them as she mockingly bows towards him.

“I take offense to that assessment, you know.” Astarion huffs with a frown, casting his head aside to instead take a sip of his errant goblet of wine, already forgotten beside him.

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F!Tav

𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E, 18+

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 14.8k 😮‍💨

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: mentions of torture/abuse, mild descriptions of blood/gore, striptease (?), fingering, cunnilingus, vampire bites (duh), handjobs, piv sex, multiple orgasms, Soft Dom Astarion returns 😌

𝒶/𝓃: hellooooo, sorry it's taken so long for me to get this written and posted! but it's here now and I very much hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts about the chapter, too!

ao3

masterlist

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

The air is quiet, the ever-present darkness lingering around them like a stagnant weight. Rin finds that she quite hates it, no matter how lovely the promise the warmth of Last Light Inn and its alcohol is to be. 

Her fingers are poised on one of the delicate strings of her lyre as she strums it lightly, a low hum reverberating out from the instrument that fills the air with what she hopes will be something that sounds effortless, beautiful, ethereal.

She frowns at the sound of it from where she leans against a conveniently placed rock near the fire, the note falling flat as it dies in the silence of the dark night.

“You’re off.” A familiar voice echoes out from above, the sound of it supercilious and downright annoying, as she huffs out a breath in minute agitation.

With a turn of her head, Rin sends Astarion a withering look from where he lounges, imperious, on the rock right above her; a book held in his hand as he reads by the light of the roaring fire. 

“And so is your stitching, but you don’t hear me calling you out on it, now do you?”

His stitching wasn’t, of course. It was always practiced, perfect, and near precise—Astarion as good with a needle as he was with a knife or an arrow. 

But, as always, he didn’t have to know that. He has enough of an ego as it is and Rin has no intentions of adding to it unnecessarily.

Astarion flips the page with unnecessary force, his obvious agitation dragging a secret smile to her lips that she hides into the strings of her lyre. 

He really made it far too easy to tease him, sometimes.

Astarion hmphs into the nighttime air, looking astutely back down at the book in his lap in an attempt to ignore her as she bites back a laugh that threatens to break free.

Rin turns her attention back to the instrument in her hands, fingers running down the carved edge of it as her mind wanders aimlessly in the silence and she stares out at the utterly boring landscape. 

It was pretty, she supposes, if one cared for a setting devoid of most kinds of life. Ultimately, there was just not terribly much for her to look at, leaving her with nothing but the amusement of her own thoughts, much to her frustration. 

There wasn’t much left for her to do but think, it seemed.

Rin had already eaten dinner while conversing with Gale; engaged in some gossip over a glass of wine with Shadowheart; discussed the merits of carnivorous fauna with Halsin; indulged Lae’zel in a practice sparring session (which she lost quite terribly, much to Astarion’s joy and Lae’zel’s disappointment at Rin’s apparent lack of skill); shared a nice pint from the inn with Karlach; and then watched on as Astarion drained poor Wyll dry of some gold in a game of cards (she’ll have to try to figure out how to get him his money back, one way or another).

She would probably have to beg Astarion to do it—something she was not eager to do, but would for the sake of Wyll and all his noble, princely goodness. 

Perhaps she should try to steal it off of him, instead. It certainly would make for a good challenge, at the very least, provided she didn’t get caught doing it. Rin has no doubt the cost for that particular crime would be steep, one that she doesn’t know if she can afford to pay for.

Astarion already spent enough time in her thoughts as it was, the price nothing more than that of her precious yet dwindling sanity. She already feels as though she is slowly losing her mind every time she replays the events of the other night over in her head, no longer than a mere week ago.

She and Astarion had both quite politely ignored the events of that night, the memory of the closeness of their lips and the things she had said settling into the recesses of her mind as if they were nothing more than a dream, one that haunts her when she lays down her head onto her sad excuse for a pillow. 

It was a lapse in judgment, at the very least. The klauthgrass had clearly addled her mind more than she thought when she looks back on it. It’s the only logical reason she would ever had said the things she did—whether spoken from her lips or written down in a letter never to be sent. 

She also still needed to burn the damn letter, but that was neither here nor there.

What mattered was that they had settled back into their usual camaraderie, trading cutting words and sly smiles back and forth with one another as they had always done despite a brand new, gently simmering tension that now lay just underneath the surface.

But it was fine. 

Rin was nothing if not an expert at ignoring the things that were bothering her, was she not? Their little…situation was simply that. 

A situation. 

One that was easily forgettable once she set her mind to actually forgetting about it.

Rin trades that particular line of thinking out with a deep exhale, shoving it back into a conveniently placed box in a corner of her mind and instead sets to retuning the instrument in her hands, worn pine both familiar and comforting as its weight rests against her.

Her wonderful, familiar lyre that had been with her for years now, through both thick and thin. It hadn’t helped her make terribly much gold, but it had been a better friend to her than any person had over the years.

She turns the pegs on the back of it little by little, tiny twists of her fingers adjusting the strings in a way she hopes will make her next attempt at song better and not worse. 

The night flows by as she sits in the warmth of the fire, the soft crackles of the logs soothing as Rin retunes the instrument until she’s finally happy with what she hopes will be a drastic improvement to the earlier noise it had made.

With a satisfied sigh, Rin moves to strum at her lyre, fingers just about to touch the strings when a biting voice interrupts her.

“I do hope you didn’t make it worse. My poor ears can’t take much more abuse.”

Rin ignores the jab with a serene blink before deigning not to answer as her raised hand closes into a fist, nails biting into her palm as she prays to anyone listening for an ounce of patience.

In lieu of violence—despite him deserving it—she sees a perfect opportunity to turn the conversation from another of her apparent failures onto one of his instead.  

She turns to look at him with a sly look, fixing him with clever eyes alight with mischief. 

“You know, Astarion, I happened to read something quite interesting in one of the books I found at The Waning Moon.”

Astarion turns another page in his book as he feigns disinterest, but his eyes don’t scan the rows of elvish decorating the page in neatly printed rows. “Oh? Do tell, then. Was it something violent? Gory? Scandalous?” 

“Scandalous, certainly. I seem to have come across a small little volume that contained a list,” Rin’s brows waggle conspiratorially. “A list of banned patrons.”

Astarion’s interest is firmly piqued as soon as she says the words, finally looking up from the tome in his lap to focus on her, indifference giving way to a fiendish gleam in his eye.

“You should have said so from the start. Tell me more, darling, what are the offenses? Give me all the sordid details.” 

He leans in closer from his seat above her, Astarion and his flair for the dramatic never failing to amuse her and she can’t help the equally wicked smile that spreads across her lips in response.

“Most of them were ordinary—you know, the standard. Bar fights, skipping the bill, unnecessary wanton activity with a pickle. But there was one that really stuck out to me, quite a striking description frankly. I think it said something along the lines of ‘a pale elf with a snide mouth’ that apparently insulted someone of particular importance. Sound familiar?”

“Well, whoever they are sounds like they had a fantastic time to me.” His smile is devious as he smirks. “In fact, I’d say that whoever it was deserved such words.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt. I’m sure the insults thrown were of the highest calibre, as well.” 

Astarion grin is a roguish one that looks terribly handsome on his features but something heavy intercedes over the amusement in his eyes as the deeper meaning behind that seemingly small and unimportant notation sinks in.

The smirk falls slowly from Astarion’s lips, a slight darkness settling across the features of his face as the corners of his mouth turn down ever so slightly.

Ah. Of course. 

“You have no memory of ever coming here, do you?” She softens her voice, only slightly, but she has no doubt Astarion notices the change regardless.

“No. I’ve already told you I don’t have many memories from my life before Cazador,” He snaps. “But clearly I’ve here before. Obviously.”

Rin had given some thought to the presumed Astarion of before in the rare moments of peace that were few and far in between, when her mind was free to wander before sleep overtook her. 

The Astarion that existed before the tadpole, before Cazador. Back when his heart still beat and his skin was flushed with life. Astarion, with not-red eyes, wearing finely tailored silks and wools, drinking the richest of wines; for he was sure to have been wealthy. 

She had spent many years watching the upper echelons of Baldur’s Gate from her place on the streets, staring up into their windows at twilight to watch them swoon and twirl in their finery, and Astarion moved like the best of them—graceful and elegant, proud and arrogant.

He had been a magistrate, or so he had said. 

She could only trust so many of the words that come from his lips, but somehow the image of Astarion in ostentatious robes handing down whatever judgement he deemed worthy is far too easy for her to envision for her to entirely disbelieve the notion.

But he must have had a family, surely. 

Parents, siblings, friends—perhaps even a lover or two. Or three, knowing him. 

Gods forbid he had sired any children.

But the implication remains all the same. So many questions, almost all of which he may never know the answers to. 

“You should be proud, Astarion.” Rin attempts a tiny bit of levity, though it doesn’t seem to help. “An annoyance both alive and undead. Not many could ever hope to achieve such a thing.”

“Well,” he sniffs with an air of put-on pride, smile weak. “It’s nice to know I’m consistent, at least.”

“You did get thrown out of a tavern last time you were here. Perhaps this trip to sweet, little Reithwin is faring much better than the one prior. Your last visit didn’t have me present, after all.”

“My last visit was probably still more peaceful, I’d wager. I doubt I was busy being vexed by a senseless blonde bard all the while having a worm buried in my head.” His voice raises a few octaves as he narrows his eyes at her. 

She would rather have his ire than his sorrow, it’s a much better sight than the mournful look beginning to creep over his features.

“Presumably weren’t being vexed by a senseless blonde bard.” Rin shoots Astarion a small smile. “Maybe you have a type.”

He only gives a mirthless laugh in response. 

“I am sorry, Astarion. I wish you were able to remember more.”

Astarion sighs, uncharacteristically defeated and the sound of it has her chest tightening. 

“Yet another thing I can add to the unending list of things that Cazador took from me. From us.”

“Us?” Rin muses over the word, the answer to a question she had long considered but never managed to ask, not amongst the seemingly never-ending amount of things that popped up on their list to be taken care of. “So, you aren’t the only one, then? Of Cazador’s spawn, I mean.”

She briefly worries she’s overstepped an invisible boundary, that Astarion will shut her down and storm away without another word, leaving her with no answer to the question.

Her curiosity about him grows with every passing day and she simply wants to know more about him. 

Not the charming, surface level vanity he would normally put forward for her, but the real Astarion. 

The one who tells her and only her small stories about himself and his life, the one who responds to her silly little letters, the one who had thanked her, with actual gratitude, drawing of his scars in hand.

The Astarion who—for some unfathomable reason—no matter how much he may complain or insult her, still chooses her above all others to spend his time with.

Rin turns to look up at him, the straightening of his spine obvious even in the darkness of the camp. Astarion, for his part, takes her question in stride, though there’s a telltale tightness around his mouth that signals his ever-present bitterness at Cazador’s mention.

He nods, the motion stiff as Rin’s brows draw together into a frown.

“There were seven of us, in all. Brothers and sisters, as he liked to call us. Quite the family.” Astarion lets out a derisive laugh, words acrimonious as he spits them out.

Ruby red eyes look ahead, his gaze catching on nothing in particular as he stares at the barren world on the other side of the water, the landscape as bleak as his expression.

“But I was one of his first. He was a monster to us all. Tortured us. Carved the same thing into my back as he did into all of theirs. But Cazador took a special pleasure in my pain. In my screams. He said my screams sounded sweetest.”

And oh, how her heart twists to hear the fragile timbre of his voice as his breath hitches, an undercurrent of agony flowing so readily and truthful from him. 

Rin averts her eyes as his voice breaks on the last few words, settling her vision on one of the red ferns flowing in the ever-present breeze in an attempt to let him keep some of his suffering to himself, to leave some of his dignity in tact.

It’s the least she can do. 

“And now that I’m gone…I don’t know. I pity the other six.” Astarion takes a deep, bracing breath, his sorrow palpable, and Rin’s chest aches again.

She doesn’t have anything to say, and how could she?

Oh, terribly sorry you spent two centuries being tortured unendingly. That must have been awful. You didn’t deserve it, Astarion.

No, any words of consolation she has only seem to fall flat in the face of his misery. He doesn’t need her to tell him about how horrible it is, how neither he nor his siblings deserved the pain, the anguish, the endless torture that Cazador dished out on a whim to bend and break them all to his will.

The only thing Rin can think to give him is her own paltry attempt at comfort as she leans in towards him slowly until her head rests just against the side of his leg in silent consolation. 

He doesn’t like to be touched at the best of times, but somehow she knows he would hate the inevitable pity he would choose to find in her words much worse. 

Astarion freezes, muscles tensing as if in wait for something, sending a sharp look down at the messily braided head now resting against his knee. But when nothing other than the presence of her subtle weight leaning against him ever comes, the only movement she makes the easy in and out of her breathing, he relaxes slightly.

Rin doesn’t dare to look up at him, instead returning her attention back to the lyre still in her arms. With a careful hand, her fingers come up to strum at a string, followed by another and another and another; music flowing out from the instrument in a slow, soft melody.

It’s nothing in particular that the plays; no well-known song or tune, only a series of notes and chords she pieces together with minimal thought that somehow manages to sound more lovely than anything she’s had luck playing the past week.

Eventually, she hears the soft rustle of a page being flipped once more as Astarion returns to his book, no words spoken to break the silence between them as Rin keeps her head resting just against him, playing her song just for him.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧ 

She should know better, by now, than to ever be surprised by the horrors they come across—and yet, as she had walked into the operating theatre of the so-called House of Healing, her footsteps quiet over the dark, ornate, and rotting woodwork, she still managed to be shocked by what she beheld as she had peeked over the railing.

She had noticed the man first. It was impossible to not have when his blood, a bright red incarnadine, was splattered across the walls and dripping onto the floors in sickly streams. She followed the trail of it to the source, taking in the carnage of his body; eyes no more than bloodied pits and mouth opened in silent scream as he writhes on the table, somehow still alive despite the butchering of his body. 

A moment later, her eyes drifted over to Doctor Malus Thorm in all his horror; elbow deep in his victim’s innards with hands that were no longer quite hands, digits turned instead into some sort of mechanical claws as he lectures aloud to the sightless nurses who stood uselessly around the body.

She had stepped into that theatre expecting a battle, her own blood to be added to all that had already been spilled and soaked into the grooves in the wood over the many years. 

Instead, she managed something quite different. Something possibly worse.

She hadn’t assumed that she would be able to kill him with only her words, not when the menace of him spelled violence and promised pain, a Shar devotee to the bitter end. 

And yet, it was with words that she had convinced him to sacrifice himself to his nurses, a dark turn of events that somehow seemed to fit the narrative of this terrible place all too well. 

She blames the power she feels when his body finally gives its last, miserable breath on the shadow curse, on the innate darkness of this place, on the tadpole. 

Any excuse works, so long as it covers up the fact that she had liked it.

It was the very same power she had felt when the other two Thorms fell; silvered words falling off her tongue to bend them to her will and end them both without her having to lift a single, gloved finger.

It had only been a small inconvenience to finish off the remaining Sisters of Mercy after they had done Rin’s dirty work for her, their trepans and bonesaws no match for her rapier, Karlach’s axe, Shadowheart’s spells, and Astarion’s blood thirst.

Her heart still beats too quick, the sound of it loud in her ears as she stands stock still on a bated breath—in fear, in anxiety, in a strange and twisted excitement.

It’s both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. 

Rin wants nothing to do with it.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.” Shadowheart remarks quietly with a laugh from beside her, breaking the silence of the aftermath. There’s a new awe present in the cleric’s voice that Rin hates the sound of.

Rin looks at her friend with a small smile. “So long as you don’t get in the way of me and a good time, we’ll be dandy.”

“I wouldn’t dare after that performance.” Shadowheart laughs, a twinkling little sound, and it breaks up a bit of the nerves that had settled in her chest.

“Well. That was positively sickening. Who knew there would be so much fun to be found here?” Astarion sheathes his dagger with a twist of his wrist, the added flourish elegant as blood flicks off the blade and splatters onto the ground. “Though I do wish for a more satisfying kill. I’m in desperate need of a snack.”

Karlach claps a hand on Astarion’s shoulder with enough force that he only just manages to keep his footing. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find something else alive for you to sink your fangs into.”

“Does all that blood not quite do it for you, Astarion?” Shadowheart gestures with a raised brow to the drops of blood still dripping off of the surgical table, a nauseating mixture of both the man's and Thorm’s blending together.

“Hardly.” Astarion crinkles his nose at the thick, dark ichor. “I’ve had worse, but it smells terrible and I can’t imagine it tastes much better.”

Rin glances up at Astarion beside her, taking in his somehow paler than normal complexion and a thought hits her, her brow furrowing in consideration.

When was the last time he had fed? 

And what on? 

He had been subsisting on a diet of—well, mostly her, honestly; along with the occasional forest creature.

Astarion certainly hadn’t tasted her since their last night on the Mountain Pass, longer than he’s ever gone without her blood since his first feed from her all those moons ago.

Rin had become so used to his little visits, popping into her tent during the evening to have his fill of her—blood and more. The absence of them since has felt surprisingly stark, a loss she didn’t realize she would mourn in the wake of the palpable tension that had settled between them no matter how hard they each attempted to ignore it.

For just as surely as he hadn’t drank from her neck, he had not come to taste the rest of her either; their nights spent instead trading remarks back and forth by the fire.

Not that she was complaining. 

Quite the contrary. 

She had found herself growing quite fond of this new aspect of their relationship that they had eased into; trading stories and anecdotes with each other over a bottle of wine or a game of cards, he reading his books while she plays her music, Astarion working on his stitching as she looks on and inevitably bothers him with her presence. 

It was…nice. Normal, almost. 

Or whatever their version of nice and normal was.

Rin snaps herself out of her thoughts with a blink and turns to her companions with a nod, hoping the daze she was in doesn’t show on her face. “Right then. Let’s loot, shall we?”

They meander their way about the rest of the room, navigating their way around the bodies and books scattered about the floor, some of the thin pages now soaked with the blood of the fallen. They don’t find terribly much, some gold here or an interesting text there. 

But mostly, it’s all useless.

Rin thinks that at one time, the quatrefoil tiles lining the floors of this place must have been beautiful—crisp, clean white contrasting against vibrant blue. 

Now, though, they are covered in long streaks of dark, sticky blood, the ichor long staining tile and grout alike; the corners of them chipping as they step over them on their way out of the long hallway at the entry of the building. 

Rin falls back beside Astarion as they make their way onto the uneven cobblestones of Reithwin, gnarled roots threatening to trip her as they grow up in between the grooves. With a small smile and nod, she gestures for Shadowheart to take the lead, the cleric walking ahead as her long braid bounces behind her.

She falls into step with him easily, matching his pace as she keeps her eyes ahead, always on the lookout for what the next danger to jump out at them will be.

“Have you been hunting recently?” It’s a casual question, no accusation in her tone as she stretches her arms behind her back.   

Astarion casts a surreptitious glance her way, eyes wandering across her profile as she stays looking ahead. “There’s precious little living here, my dear.”

“Then why haven’t you come to me? You’ve never cared about bothering me before when you would pop into my tent unannounced.” 

“I-” Astarion looks away from her for a moment before returning his gaze to her. “I assumed you needed a break to…replenish your sources."

His non-answer has one of Rin’s brows drawing up in skepticism, which he readily ignores. However, the thought of him perhaps not coming to her for her own health is almost sweet, if believable.

If. 

She’s not so sure that it’s the truth, but she will take it at face value, for now.

“Astarion,” she leans towards him to give him a slight nudge with her elbow, the touch light. “I think my ‘sources’ have been thoroughly replenished. You can feed on me tonight, if you’d like.” 

It would be careless of her, as a leader, to let him continue to starve himself. She’s only doing the most responsible thing by offering herself up to him again. It’s for the better of their entire party and Faerûn at large, wasn’t it? The Absolute wasn’t going to just disappear into thin air, after all. 

And if it happened to mean she got to spend a little extra time with him—well, that would be nothing more than luck on her part. 

“Well, if you’re offering, sweet thing,” His lips curl up in a smirk, eyes alight with a predator’s gleam at the promise of her blood. “Come find me in my tent tonight, darling, and we shall feast.”

“Feast? Shall there be something there for me then, as well?” Rin releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and glances up at him with a small, secret smile that has a corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk.

“Only the best for my favorite little treat.”

“Careful, you’ll spoil me.” If only, she thinks, and the thought is terribly traitorous as she bites down on a corner of her lip in hopes of stopping the pink that threatens to rise to her cheeks. 

But from the answering smirk on Astarion’s face as they venture further into the into the crushing darkness of Reithwin’s destroyed streets she thinks he must able to glean the thought on his own. 

“We can’t have that, now can we?”

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

Rin steels herself outside the flap of Astarion’s tent, readying herself for whatever waits for her inside. She isn’t sure why she’s so nervous. It wasn’t like he hadn’t fed from her before.

Or slept with her, for that matter.

There’s no flickering flame to be seen from the outside of his tent, nothing to give her any sort of hint of what possibly awaits her inside aside from him, his silhouette undecipherable in the darkness.

With a deep breath, she pulls the flap to the side and steps forward, a familiar scent—rich brandy curling together with earthy rosemary and fresh bergamot—swirling in the air as her eyes land on the vampire in question.

“Well,” Astarion lounges casually against his bedroll as his eyes find her own, leaning back on his elbows with enviable ease as a silver goblet rests beside him. “Hello there, darling.”

Her eyes are drawn to the exposed skin of his chest, the sight of him waiting for her shirtless so reminiscent to that first night together that she pulls up short.

It felt like eons ago, now; her traipsing through the forest outside of the Emerald Grove to find him waiting in a picturesque clearing for her and her alone. While there was no soft grass with charming little flowers to decorate the ground and no glittering moonlight to beam down upon them and highlight their skin as they moved together—she feels just as out of her depth now as she did then, when she had discovered him with his shirt already off and honeyed words just waiting to fall from his lips.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long again.” Rin snatches her eyes up from his chest to meet his own, a smirk already decorating his lips at her momentary distraction.

“Oh, I’ll always wait for you, beautiful.” Her eyes roll despite herself as she lets out a huff at such trite words.

“Did you need a nibble or should I see myself out?” She points behind herself to the exit of his tent for emphasis, brow arched.

“Let’s not be hasty, shall we?” Astarion answers a touch too quickly as he sits up a little higher, body tensing as if ready to jump up in the event she were to actually leave. “I would so hate to see you go.”

He must be hungry, then, if he’s so desperate for her presence.

Rin smiles at him as she looks around the tent expectantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she spies not a single treat aside from an empty goblet she presumes to be for her. “You know, I recall you promising me a feast.”

Astarion has the audacity to not look even the tiniest bit sheepish as her eyes narrow and her bottom lip juts out into a pout, a noise of frustration escaping from her lips. She should have known better than to trust a vampire when it came to procuring treats.

“I’m short on baked goods, pet, but I can promise you something else delicious instead.” His intent is obvious as he sends her a decidedly suggestive look. “Won’t you give me a show first, though?”

“I didn’t realize you were in need of entertainment, Astarion. I could always bring Volo in to recite some poetry while you dine, if you’d like.” 

“A charming idea, to be sure.” Astarion rolls his eyes. “But I was thinking of something a little more…intimate.”

Astarion eyes her form tip to toe as she stands in front of him, but it lacks the casual closeness she’s come to expect from him, something in the forced insincerity of the gesture grating.

“Make yourself comfortable. Stay awhile,” He gestures passively with a wave of his hand through the air towards where she stands as he continues. “Get yourself out of those wretched clothes, for example. You look much prettier without them on, anyways.”

Irritation sparks along the line of her mouth, emerald eyes sharpening as she stares at him. Weeks ago, the words would have had her blushing and the beginnings of desire kindling in her belly; but now they fall lifeless upon her ears, none of the ease and familiarity she has come to enjoy during their little interludes present in them. 

The words are merely mechanic—as calculated and practiced as they were on that very first night.

Worse, it doesn’t even seem like he enjoys saying the words, the sound of them hollow as they leave his mouth and the smirk pasted on his lips halfhearted.

It feels utterly obvious once she realizes what he’s trying to do and she can see through his ill-prepared idea with ease, this little power play of his nothing more than a paltry attempt to control their situation, some sort of damage control after the other night. 

They’ve both given too much of themselves now to return to the shallow, impersonal relationship they once had whether he likes it or not, and Rin will be damned if she lets him call the shots and force them back to the beginning.

But, if Astarion wants to play a game—well, she’s never been one to turn down an opportunity to win.

Rin looks down at her clothes with a pointed look and while they were perhaps nothing fancy—the oversized linen and worn leather may be simple but they were far from wretched. 

“Well. I’d hate to offend your delicate sensibilities.” Her smile is an inch too wide to be believable, betraying her irritation. “Shall I do a twirl for you as well? Or perhaps you would like a little trick?”

Rin holds up her hand, ready to ignis the damned tent if necessary to illustrate her point. Nothing that a few gold and a trip to dear Withers couldn’t fix if she accidentally managed to char him in the process.

“You spoil me darling, really. But I am simple man—” Rin stops him off with a look of admonishment, cutting off his sentence to start her own.

“A simple show for a simple man, then.” She hopes her emphasis on the words will speak loudly enough for him to understand the meaning of them as she mockingly bows towards him. 

“I take offense to that assessment, you know.” Astarion huffs with a frown, casting his head aside to instead take a sip of his errant goblet of wine, already forgotten beside him. 

His eyes are drawn quickly back to the center of his tent when he hears the soft rustle of fabric, returning to Rin just in time to catch a glimpse of her hands running down the front of her blouse. “It’s a perfectly reasonable one, if you ask me.”

Astarion frowns, opening his mouth to protest before quickly shutting it as her hands reach the waistband of her pants, fingers dipping just beneath the worn leather. Rin raises her brow, a teasing smile forming on her lips now that she has his attention.

Any irritation she feels is tempered by the thrill of Astarion’s gaze so set on her, his complete focus hers and hers alone as honest interest finally sparks to life in those red eyes of his.

With little flourish she begins to pull her leggings down her legs, peeling the pants away from her skin with less grace than she would prefer, but it would have to do. She kicks them to the side once she frees herself from them, uncaring where they land as she adjusts to the cool air of the night against newly bared skin that Astarion’s eyes rove.

“Do you think I should take this off next?” She thumbs at the hem of her shirt, examining the fraying stitching at the hem in desperate need of a mend. She’d have to ask Astarion to do it for her, damn it. “Since you find it so offensive and all that.”

“Be my guest, darling.” He gestures with a hand towards the garment, a corner of his mouth lifting. “I’ll even do you a favor and burn it for you for later.”

“How kind of you to go through all the trouble.” 

Rin’s smile is wry as she grabs the hem of her plain tunic and deftly lifts it over her head before dropping it. 

It drifts to the ground, fluttering down softly to fall in a graceless heap beside her bare legs, Astarion’s eyes darkening ever so slightly at the sight of her in nothing more than an unadorned corset and plain underwear, upping her confidence tenfold as she lets a corner of her mouth lift. 

“I suppose you’ll want to burn this too?” She runs her fingers teasingly across the top edge of the corset, her touch light as she brushes against the cotton and the plush of her breasts where they spill out above the garment.  

She hadn’t worn it with the intent of being admired, but when Astarion’s eyes follow every brush of her fingers against her breasts she’s suddenly quite grateful that she had chosen to wear it tonight instead of opting to go without as she normally would have, if only for it to act as a different kind of armor—one last layer to bolster her defenses in a battle she will surely lose. 

Astarion swallows, legs shifting slightly as his eyes caress over her curves. “We can negotiate the corset.”

“Your kindness truly knows no bounds.” Her fingers hover over the looped bow that sits at her breasts, tied in a hurry earlier after she had changed out of her armor.

The corset itself was nothing more than a plain ivory cotton—no expensive satin or fine boning—but when she pulls at the laces keeping the pretty little bow tied at the center of her cleavage, the tiniest bit of her full breasts exposed with the motion, the look in Astarion’s eyes could fool her into thinking it was the finest thing he had ever seen. 

Little by little, she pulls every cross of the laces, freeing more and more of herself with every delicate yank of her fingers as Astarion’s eyes obediently follow every inch of skin exposed until she reaches the last one, tugging it gently to loosen the final cross. 

It hangs loose around her form, the curve of her breasts just visible with the line of skin exposed down her chest. Rin wills her hands to steady under Astarion’s study as she brings them up to the straps on her shoulders, pushing each one off so she can shrug out of the garment. 

With one last push, the corset falls to the ground at her feet and she steps out of the circle of it before sending it aside with a soft kick.

Rin’s breasts pebble in the cool air, heat beginning to curl deep in her stomach under Astarion’s watchful gaze. She keeps her limbs loose, relaxed; her face at ease as she meets his eyes.

“You aren’t quite finished yet, my sweet.” Astarion’s voice is tight as he gestures with a brief nod towards her nearly naked form, gaze moving from her bare breasts and down lower to linger on her still-clothed center.

“You know, I think I’ve grown tired of being your entertainment,” She cocks her head to the side, unbound waves of darkened wheat—the color barely discernible in the darkness of his tent—cascading with the movement. “If you want them off so badly, do it yourself.” 

He raises a brow in question but obliges her nonetheless, moving from where he had been so indolently reclined against his bedroll as he watches her with keen eyes. 

With slow, careful steps Astarion makes his way towards where she stands before him and she is helpless but to admire the way his muscles shift on his lithe form, the grace with which he moves as he stalks closer to her that of a predator on the hunt for his prey.

And what was she, she supposes, if not his prey? It was why she had come here tonight, after all—to let him drink his fill of her blood with his lips at her neck, sucking down her life’s essence to his heart’s content.

She certainly feels like his prey, at least. How could she feel anything but when he moves around her in a slow circle, eyes brushing over her bared skin like a lover’s caress, knowing and intimate.

Astarion moves around her in another perfect circle before he finishes his perusal, stopping to stand behind her close enough to touch, his bare chest almost brushing against her spine. Familiar hands come to her waist as his head lowers to rest upon her shoulder, thumbs rubbing light circles into the skin. 

His lips press a featherlight kiss to her jaw that has her catching a breath. “Who said you were in charge here, my dear?”

His touch is electric against her skin, and Rin resists the urge to lean back into him, to press against the coolness of his chest and relish the feeling of his skin on hers. His mouth is terribly distracting where he adorns her with little kisses across the curve of her jaw and down the line of her neck, and she briefly wonders if he means to bite her just like this, held tight in the circle of his arms.

“Whoever said that you were?” Rin counters back with a glance out of the corner of her eye to where his cheek rests against her shoulder, ignoring the wetness that has begun to pool between her thighs. 

She has no intention of giving into his every want and demand, or at least not yet.

The hands bracketing her waist begin to move despite his protests, sliding down over her hips with frustrating slowness until he reaches the hem of her embarrassingly simple underwear. 

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Astarion sighs dramatically against the column of her throat. “Must you be so difficult?"

There’s an unexpected fondness in his voice, an affection that she can’t remember if she’s ever heard so openly from him before that has the air around them changing; shifting from something practiced and performative to familiar and lovely and absolutely perfect.

The sound of it has a shred of something warm blossoming in Rin’s chest—unknown but not entirely unwelcome, she decides. 

He plays at the edge of her panties, fingers toying with the thin cotton where it rests against her skin on either hip, his touch sending another wave of heat straight to her core as she bites back a sigh at the sensation. 

“You should be aware by now that listening has never been one of my strong suits.”

“Yes, well,” Astarion’s fingers hook into both sides of her underwear before beginning to pull, the garment sliding down over her hips and bottom as Astarion sinks down with it. “You seem to remember how to follow my instructions when it counts, dearest.”

He drops silently to his knees behind Rin, dragging her underwear down her legs as he goes, each slide of the fabric against her skin only serving to heighten the heat kindling inside her. She gingerly steps out of each leg, desperately wishing she could see what he must look like lowered behind her in such a manner—the sight of him on his knees surely one that she has seen in her dreams of him. 

But before she can make up her mind to steal a glance or even just turn, Astarion is gliding back up her body, hands glancing against her skin as he goes, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

“You know, I thought I came here for you to feed on.” It’s an effort to keep her voice steady as his arms wrap back around her waist, touch cool against her skin.

His head lowers back to her ear, lips brushing against the shell as a shiver of anticipation runs down her spine. “Oh, you did. But I don’t see why we can’t have a little fun as well. It’s been awhile, darling, and I’ve missed you.” 

A hand traces down her stomach in a teasing touch; long, sweeping lines of his fingertips back and forth across her skin brushing down until he reaches the apex of her thighs. 

Astarion moves at a glacial pace as his fingers dip lower and lower until they find their way to her center, swiping through her folds to spread her essence on the tips of them as Rin’s head falls back onto his shoulder, a sigh escaping her lips as he explores. 

“Miss my blood or miss me?” Rin’s lashes flutter shut as he runs his fingers up and down her, careful to avoid the two places she wants him to touch most as she flushes at the evidence of her arousal he finds.

“Can’t it be both?” His fingers finally find her entrance, tracing around the edge in slow circles as she sharply inhales. 

She’s not ready to admit how much she wants to believe him that he had missed her, had missed this—the easy intimacy they had been building together bit by bit. It’s a dizzying thought, one that has her heart skipping a beat that he surely can hear this close. 

“With you? Unlikely.”

“Why, you think so little of me, darling.” Astarion punctuates his words with the press of a finger slowly in; and were it any other time, the mock outrage coloring his voice would draw a laugh from her. 

This time, however, he draws a moan from her instead as he pushes deeper, seating his finger inside her before slowly withdrawing.

“Give me more to think about, then.” Rin sighs, lips opened as she tries to still her hips.

“Only if you ask nicely.” He smiles into her skin, lips brushing against the column of her throat as he pushes back in, sliding home to the knuckle.

Her mind ceases to a halt on whatever clever words she had been preparing when a hand draws up to her breast and cups it, Astarion’s touch a balm against her over-warm skin as he runs his thumb over the hardened peak.

Astarion’s finger moves only barely inside her, but it’s enough for Rin to feel it, friction building in her core with the simple motion. She should be embarrassed by how quickly he has worked her up, her ire so easily forgotten when wrapped in his arms and at the mercy of his skilled hands.

He’s lucky that she likes him, for she would never allow anyone else such lenience. Though, she would never allow anyone else the opportunity to get quite so close to her, either—a thought that borders on terrifying if she thinks too long about it.

A second finger joins the first, and she welcomes the slight stretch as he finally begins to pump them while he mouths at her neck, moving in a steady rhythm that has a fire burning deep in her core as she moans in relief.

Astarion’s pace is easy and unconcerned as he thrusts in and out lazily, slowly building her up higher and higher with every press forward. Her curls pillow against his pale skin as she sighs at the pleasure coursing through her, that welcome heat billowing deep inside her. His thumb finds her clit and rolls against it in soft circles as her lips open in a low moan, limbs tightening at the added touch. 

The hand cupping her breast runs back down to her waist to wrap around the circle of it, fingertips stroking her skin as he secures her closer to him and the outline of his cock presses hard against her ass.

Rin can feel the grin he hides in her neck as he breathes in the scent of her and his fingers curl, searching for the place to make her fall apart under his hands. He moves them just right, finding that one spot, and she cries out as her hips buck into his palm. 

“Ah, Astarion!” 

“Yes, darling?” He curls his fingers again and she practically melts in his hold, the arm he has wrapped around her waist squeezing tighter to keep her upright. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

He could finish her off so easily, the bastard; only a few more presses of his fingers and she would be done for, but Rin doubts that Astarion has plans to let her off so easily. 

Astarion has never outright denied her the release she craves, but he certainly likes to make her work for it.

“Only that I don’t want you to stop.” The words come out sounding more wanting than she would prefer, but she’s beyond the point of summoning up a care.

Astarion tsks, and as if on cue his fingers slow to a stop before pulling them from her body. Rin whines in protest as she lifts her head to glare at him, narrowed eyes meeting amused ones as he simply smirks back at her.

“Sorry, dear, I didn’t catch that.”

Astarion spins her around in his hold, her breasts pressing against his own bare chest as his hands run up and down her waist. A quick glance down and she can see the evidence of his own arousal, his cock pushing urgently against her stomach, still hidden by pants that she needs to rid him of preferably sooner rather than later.

“Liar. You heard me just fine.” Rin’s arms wrap around his shoulders as she leans in closer to him.

“It’s neither here nor there.” Astarion begins to walk her back, the two of them stepping together as he leads her towards his bedroll. “There’s no need to rush. Now, lay down.”

Rin arches her brow at his bossiness, but doesn’t argue as she lowers herself to the ground and spreads herself out on his bedroll. She frowns when she sits, the surface not nearly as soft as it should be, an unfamiliar hardness beneath her.

“Astarion, what in the hells is it that I am sitting on?” She shifts to peek underneath the blankets, spying some sort of wooden thing underneath her.

“Are you really going to ruin the mood to ask me about something so stupid? You are truly impossible.” Astarion looks down on her with a pointed scowl as he moves to kneel down before her, his lithe muscles shifting as he crawls over to her in smooth movements. 

“I’m not the one sleeping on a plank of wood every night. Have you no standards for good night’s trance? No wonder you’re so touchy all the time.”

He’s upon her in mere moments, an elegant hand finding the space just below her collar bone as he only answers her with a stern look. This thumb runs along the line of it, brushing against the skin as his eyes follow the motion. 

Rin looks down at the hand poised on her chest, so pale against the sun-warmed gold of her own, and brings her own up to run fingertips down the back of his. She swears she can see him shiver at the touch, a barely noticeable intake of his breath as her hand rests on top of his.

Astarion’s eyes cut up to hers, and with a raise of his brow, he pushes her backwards.

Rin lets him do it, lowering herself back with the help of his little push until her head hits his pillow, a rush of his scent surrounding her as she lays. His hand still rests on the skin of her chest, the weight of it like a scorching brand as she stares up at Astarion as he cages himself above her.

She doesn’t know what he sees when he looks down upon her, hair most likely curling in an unruly halo around her head and cheeks undoubtedly colored an unbecoming shade of pink, but his eyes run over what feels like every inch of her face before his hand begins to move, tracing a featherlight line down her skin. 

Her stomach jumps underneath the drag of his fingertips as his touch stops low, their eyes meeting together in a heated glance as Rin waits with bated breath.

Astarion’s head lowers towards her, and her heart beats a little faster at the thought of his lips meeting hers, the want she has been blatantly ignoring the past week begging to break free from its confines safe in the corner of her mind.

But instead, Astarion’s lips find her neck, placing a kiss on the two pinprick scars that decorate the column of it before running them across her skin—kissing over her collar, upon the peak of her breast, down her ribs one by one.

She gasps at the feeling as he drags his lips down her body, her skin flushed with desire.

He’s kissing the sensitive skin just below her stomach with teasing presses of his lips when she speaks, breathless and wanting. “Astarion, don’t you want to feed?”

Cool hands travel down the curve of her waist and over her hips before reaching her soft skin of her thighs, palms running over the tops of them as he settles himself in between her legs.

“Oh, I do.” Astarion makes to spread her thighs further, pushing them wide. “Don’t you worry, my dear, I’ll get my fill.”

Rin’s cheeks fill with heat as he moves his gaze to her bare center, running claret eyes over her as she sucks in a breath. With little ceremony, his head moves forward and his tongue glides along her center, lapping at her wetness. 

Her hips buck up into Astarion’s face as she reaches down to grab at his soft, downy curls as he circles the pearl at the top of her sex, the tip of his tongue light as he traces shapes along it.

He laps at her clit as she tries to quiet her mouth, holding back her moans and cries as best she can as he works her up ever higher. With a last circle, Astarion’s tongue ventures further down, abandoning her clit to instead run through her folds, groaning at the taste of her before exploring the wetness that has collected at her entrance. 

“Asta—” Rin gasps sharply as his tongue traces around the edge of her, so like he had with his finger earlier—ever teasing. He dips in her entrance, the tip of it whorling against her before pushing deeper. 

Her hands scrabble for purchase in his hair as he licks inside her, eating her out in earnest as her thighs tremble around his head. She swears that she can feel him chuckle against her as he tastes, tongue curling inside her as she grasps his soft curls harder between her fingers.

He thrusts his tongue deep and she keens, back arching off the bedroll as her hips roll against his mouth, chasing the heat coiling deep inside her with every press of his tongue. It’s a different sensation than that of his fingers, but no less welcome or wonderful as the feeling in her belly tightens more and more. 

She’s terribly close when his mouth leaves her, and she mourns the loss of his tongue for mere seconds before he fills her with fingers that press urgently, curling just right as his lips kiss their way to her thigh.

“Do it.” She spreads wider for him, and she can hear his satisfied hum against her skin before he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth in the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

The familiar ice of his bite hurts far too good, the frosty pain warring against the heat surging through her limbs as he drinks from her, blood running in scarlet rivulets down her thigh to stain the worn blanket beneath her.

Astarion’s messy as he drinks, her hips writhing in time with the fingers still artfully working inside her. Her back arches as she tries to quiet her cry, a fist curling into the threadbare blanket below her.

The metallic scent of iron tinges the air of the tent as he drinks and Rin can’t help the moan that falls from her open mouth at the feeling of his lips on her skin, sucking and licking and—gods, kissing. 

“There, please.” His fingers hit perfectly, over and over again, and her thighs tremble. “Please don’t stop.”

Astarion sucks hard at the bite as she begs, fingers keeping pace with the movement of her hips as he drinks down another surge of her blood. With only a few more presses of his fingers, curving just right to hit exactly where she needs him, Rin comes.

A hand unclenches from the blanket to cover her mouth as she muffles her moan into her palm, back arching as precious heat courses through her limbs and her hips writhe. 

Pleasure whites out her thoughts as Astarion fucks her through her orgasm with his fingers; lips and mouth still pullings sips of her blood from her thigh all the while.

She comes back to herself as his fingers slow and he peppers kisses to her leg, lapping up any stray drops as they fall from the wound. Astarion pulls his fingers from her gently, another hum of satisfaction breaking free as he brings them to his mouth and sucks, tongue licking her come clean from the digits.  

She’s still floating in a euphoric haze when Astarion finally rises from between her thighs, appetite sated and pale skin flushed with the slightest hint of pink from the blood that once belonged to her now flowing through his veins.

His mouth is glistening with her—her blood, her arousal, her scent. She’s entranced by the sight of it as Astarion licks his rouged lips, tongue swiping at a small drop of blood at the corner of his mouth that threatens to roll down his chin.

“Did I taste as good as you had hoped?” Rin’s chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath in the aftermath, the words no more than a whisper.

A corner of Astarion’s mouth lifts upward as he runs his eyes over her; from his mark on her thigh, over her sex, and up her flushed form beneath him until he meets her eyes. “Better.”

Rin’s breath hitches as he kisses his way back up her body with warmed lips, leaving a trail of red upon her skin with every touch of his lips, small blooms of her crimson blood like stains of watercolor.

He kisses up the valley between her breasts before turning his head, lips running over the plump curve of one before capturing her nipple, sucking at it before flicking his tongue against the bud. Rin’s back arches at the unexpected touch, more heat already kindling as he gives it a hard suck.

Astarion pops off her breast to kiss towards its twin, her hands burying back in his hair as he sucks at her other nipple, laving it with his tongue as a whine breaks free from her lips before she urges him higher, fingertips running through his curls. 

He obliges, placing one last kiss upon the tip of her breast before moving to bury his head in her neck, licking a line up the column of her throat, the very tip of his tongue tracing a thrumming vein.

Rin wraps her arms around his shoulders, hands running over the corded muscle as he slots himself between her legs, his still-clothed erection brushing against the too-sensitive skin of her thighs.

It simply wouldn’t do, she decides. 

“Let me touch you. Please,” she runs her hands down his chest to dance over his skin until she reaches the waistband of his pants, his cock painfully hard as it strains against the fabric. “I want to touch you, Astarion.”

She’s taking a chance by asking, but it’s one she’s willing to try her luck for.

Despite how many times she’s enjoyed the feeling of him inside her or how well he’s come to learn her body, he’s never quite allowed her the same opportunity to touch or taste him.

She knows enough of his past—he’s told her plenty of the many different people he had taken for Cazador against his will and under duress, his body used without the ability and choice to say no.  

“I want to make you feel good too, Astarion.” Rin peers up into his eyes, fingers no longer trailing along him as she pauses, waiting patiently for a real answer. “Do you trust me?”

His gaze is intense as it meets her own, the heated desire in his eyes tempering for a moment to give way to a tentative vulnerability that crosses over them as he considers her words. 

“I-” Astarion speaks softer than she had expected as he breaks off, gaze intent on hers as the weight of the implication that he has a choice—one that is his and his only to make—bears down on him. “—I do.”

“Only if you want me to. You have to promise me that you want it.” She urges, hands flattening on his abdomen as excitement stirs in her chest.

“Fine. I promise that I want it.” Astarion snaps, but his words lack any real bite as a corner of his lips quirk up into a crooked smile. “Show me what you’ve got, then, if you’re so eager.”

Rin moves slow as her hand slides back down his pants and over the curve of his hardened length, caressing him over the fabric as she feels him, cupping his length softly before flitting back up to join the other still at the waist of his pants.

Astarion’s breath catches at her touch before on his own hands comes down to help as she pushes the barrier down, freeing his length from the confines of his clothes. In a smooth motion, his pants and underwear are down his legs and off, baring his erection.

Precome shines at the tip of his cock as she runs her fingers down him in a barely there caress from top to bottom, his length twitching with the motion as Astarion draws in a harsh breath.

Her eyes stay on his as she grazes the soft skin again, watching for any sign she should stop as she runs her fingers along a prominent vein that runs along the side of him. 

He’s velvet soft under her palm as she wraps her fingers around his shaft, giving him an experimental pump of her hand, touch gentle as she revels in the feel of him.

“Is this alright?” Rin looks up at him from under lowered lashes.

Her hand glides up, brushing over the head of him as she collects the precome leaking from his slit, running her fingers over it before caressing down to the base once more. 

“By all means, please continue.” Rin knows he means for the words to be casual and unaffected, but there’s already a telling breathiness to Astarion’s words that has her smirking.

The weight of him in her hand is nothing short of perfect as she gently wraps her fist around him, stroking him. Astarion moans and it’s the easily one of the most beautiful things Rin’s ever heard, the sound of it sending a spike of heat to her core.

She brings her other hand to her mouth, running her tongue over her palm before it joins the other around his cock and the added bit of glide has Astarion gasping as his hips jump. 

His head falls heavy onto her shoulder as she works him, careful pumps of his length bringing him closer to the edge far faster than she ever thought possible with only her touch. 

His cock weeps as Rin glides her fingers over the crown of him again, collecting more of the precome that glistens at the tip. Her hands move together, one carefully massaging the head of his cock while the other strokes at the base, the breathy moans leaving Astarion’s lips only serving to spur her on further as she works him closer to the edge. 

“Does this feel good, Astarion?”

“Gods, yes.” He shudders in response, lips open against her skin as he presses a messy kiss into her shoulder.

Her palms move faster, intent on his undoing, his pleasure at her hands nothing short of exhilarating. 

Gods, she would let him come wherever he wanted. Onto her stomach, across her breasts, down her throat—the thought is enough to send another spark of electricity to her empty core.

“Ah, darling,” Astarion’s voice is tight as he buries his face deeper into her neck, hips bucking into her hand as she works him from the crown of his cock to the base, his breathing getting harder with every stroke. “Much more and you’ll spoil the main event.”

“I’ll stop, if that’s what you want.” Rin slows her motions as he catches his breath against the column of her throat, so close to his own completion she can practically feel it in the way his body shakes above her own, muscles quivering with the want of release. “But would it be so awful if you were to come like this? On my hands, all over my skin?”

Astarion raises his head from her neck, pupils blown wide and hair thoroughly disheveled as he pants. “Decidedly not, but I think I want to fill that sweet cunt of yours tonight instead.”

“If you say so.” She brings one of the hands that had been stroking him to her mouth, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her lips to lap at a shining string of precome still sticking to her skin, savoring the flavor of him for the very first time.

Astarion swallows hard, eyes fixated on the pink of her tongue as she wraps her mouth around the tip, sucking lightly. She smiles sweetly around it, lips pink and plush, as she sends him a wink.

With a soft pop, she pulls her finger out of her mouth before moving to twine her arms around his neck, running through the soft curls at his nape. “I wouldn’t mind getting to taste more of you, either, if you’d let me.”

“Salacious girl. Whatever am I supposed to do with you?” That same fondness from earlier sneaks back into his words as she gazes up at him with as much innocence as she can muster.

“Hmm,” Rin muses, pretending to think through her answer as her fingers toy with his hair. “Whatever you want, I suppose.” 

“Whatever I want?” Astarion’s brows raise in mock surprise. “You might come to regret those words, darling.”

“I find that sometimes I don’t mind being at your mercy.”

“Your self-preservation instincts need some reevaluating, my dear.”

“Is that what you think?” She laughs as her fingertips abandon his wild curls to dance absentmindedly across the lines of his shoulders.

“What I think is that these wandering hands of yours are trouble.” Astarion leans down to whisper into her ear, a smirk decorating his lips as they brush against the point of them. “It’s a pity I don’t have any pretty ribbon at my disposal to tie them up with.”

Nimble fingers move to find and circle her wrists with surprising delicacy as he removes them from around his neck to instead guide her arms up to rest around her head. 

Desire pools deep in her belly at the mere mention and she doesn’t even try to fight against Astarion’s hold, not when there’s nothing she wants more than to be at the mercy of his hands. 

“So, you’ll just have to be a good girl and keep these up here for me.” His hands encircle her wrists so very easily as he applies the slightest bit of pressure on them to illustrate his point. “Can you do that? I know you have a very hard time following directions.” 

“I’ll try my hardest, but I make no promises.”

His hands slide down from her own where he left them resting above her head as he rises back to his knees, running over her breasts to anchor at her waist before he takes in the sight of her—warm skin and eyes bright and utterly alive. 

He fits perfectly between her thighs as he moves his hips to slide his length through her folds, her slick coating him with every pass.

“No touching,” Astarion tuts. “Don’t forget.”

“Like I said, no promises. But I’ll give it a fair shot.” Rin grinds her hips against his erection, still gliding up and down her slit.

Astarion’s only response is a raise of his brow as he positions himself at her entrance, the head of his cock barely pressing against her as he smirks, moving his hips away every time she tries to move hers forward.

Teasing. Always, always teasing.

Rin rolls her hips against his own as Astarion finally pushes forward, hilting himself inside her warmth in a smooth thrust, twin moans escaping from their lips at the feeling as he fills her completely.

His hands caress down to her thighs where they open for him, thumbs running up and down soft skin marred only by the red of his own bite, the marks smeared with still drying blood.

Astarion’s hips finally move, pulling away from hers only to push forward again until he bottoms out, burying himself deep. Rin relishes the feel of him moving inside her with a soft moan as she throws her head back against his pillow, back arching as he settles his hands on her hips to pull her deeper onto his cock.

His thumbs grip into her skin as he thrusts into her, hips meeting her own with long, deep strokes that have her trying and failing to hold back the little noises of pleasure that loose from her lips.

She yearns to move her hands from where they still rest above her head—yearns to drag her fingers across his skin or wrap her arms around his neck to draw him closer to her—but she resists the temptation, settling on moving her hips instead.

Rin grinds against his cock buried deep inside her as she moves her hips to match his own, thrust for thrust, the slide of him achingly flawless as they move together.  

“Gods, you’re absolutely perfect.” The words slip out of Astarion’s lips, murmured low on a hard thrust. She tightens around him as the praise washes over her, lips opened on a barely restrained whimper as her lashes lower.

He’s more than beautiful in the darkness as he throws his head back on a moan, the drag of his cock smooth as he hits deep and she craves more—more closeness, more of his touch, more of his lips. 

“Kiss me,” she gasps and instantly regrets the words and the desperation of them as her hands still lay obediently above her head, her back arching with every thrust.

Astarion’s hips stutter, losing their rhythm as he looks down at her, fixating on the petal pink of her lips, and Rin’s heart practically stops at what she sees when he looks at her.

A hand traces its way up from her hip to grab hold of her chin, touch firm as Astarion’s eyes move away from her lips to stare into her own, searching for something in the verdant depths of them. His gaze is alight with a precious heat that threatens to burn every inch of her—the fire she’s secretly dreamed of seeing there in his eyes when he looks at her.

His lips crash into hers with no words or preamble, meeting her half way as she surges her head up and their lips press together. Her arms lift, leaving their resting place above her head to wrap around his neck as Astarion’s tongue runs against the seam of her lips in askance, her own parting eagerly for him.

She can taste the remnants of herself on his lips, both the richness of her cunt and the metallic tang of her blood; and it’s heady, it’s divine as his lips chase after her own as they kiss and kiss and kiss, his hips still joined with hers all the while.

The hand that had been poised on her chin strokes upward, running over the plane of her cheek in a barely there touch that has her heart stuttering as their lips move.

Gods, she’d been wishing for the feeling of his lips on hers, and if the only way she can get it is when he fucks her, then so be it. 

It’s not the only kind of kiss she wants from him but it’s the kiss she will take, desperate despite her every wish otherwise.

She’s gasping when Astarion finally breaks the kiss, taking in precious breaths of air as his lips lift only just away from hers. His hips slow and Rin looks questioningly up at Astarion, arms still twined tightly around his neck.

A small burst of panic bubbles up in her chest as she feels him slide out her, hips pulling away from hers to leave her empty; and worry that she had perhaps done something wrong or said something she shouldn’t have fills her mind. 

“Astarion? Is everything alright? Did I—” she cuts herself off as the hand at her cheek brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear while its twin travels up her thigh to curve around her waist, urging her body upwards with a gentle pull.

“Let’s try something a little different, hm? Now, up.”

His hold is tight—secure—as they both shift to sitting, Astarion helping her along the way until she is upright in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs as she hovers.

“Now, tell me, sweet thing. Have you ever been fucked like this before?” His eyes pierce into her own as a hand curls around the back of her head, fingers tangling in her curls.

“No.” Rin shakes her head from side to side, biting her lip as his length finds her entrance once more, pushing with the barest hint of pressure against her.

“Good.” 

With a swift thrust, Astarion sheathes himself inside of her as his lips capture hers, swallowing her answering moan as Rin arches against his chest. The hand wrapped around her waist travels down, fingertips squeezing into the flesh of her ass to help guide her hips up and down his cock.

They’re on equal footing like this, noses brushing against each other’s as their bodies work, Rin’s hips meeting Astarion’s own in a smooth cadence. The closeness—the intimacy of it—is intoxicating as their lips meet again and again, arms wrapped around each other as their fingertips dig into each other’s skin.

It’s not as fast or as hard as she’s used to, but somehow it’s better—the lack of quick thrusts is made up for instead by hard rolls of their hips, Astarion reaching the deepest part of her core as they hold each other close, not an bit of space between them.

His length brushes against what feels like every inch of her walls, sending sparks through her body as the heat coiling in her stomach rises higher with every move they make.

Rin is only mildly aware of the marks he left on her thigh breaking open once more, tiny drops of her blood leaving ruby red smears against both her and Astarion’s flesh as her hands map the planes of his face and their lips press.

Any other time, she would be blushing at the noise of their bodies moving together, the wet glide of his length driving in and out of her and the sound of skin on skin audible in the confines of Astarion’s tent; but instead she’s unabashed as she moves up and down his cock and he thrusts up to meet her, moans falling freely from both of their mouths as their kiss breaks.

She’s getting closer and she can tell he is too, the intensity of his thrusts only getting harder and deeper as every roll of his hips has his length brushing against her sweet spot as she loses her rhythm against him as her body begins to quake.

“Eyes on me.” Astarion’s forehead presses into hers as her lashes flutter, the height of her pleasure curling around her, ephemeral and just out of reach.

The heat burning inside her reaches a crescendo, his name whispered from her lips on a broken gasp as her hold on him tightens, fingertips digging into his skin.

She’s tremulous as she tightens around him and he kisses her moans from her, quieting the sound of them as her hands grasp for purchase around his shoulders and he pumps his cock, hitting the very same spot that never fails to have her falling apart in his arms. 

Rin sees stars behind her eyes as she tumbles over the edge of the crest, constricting hard on him as she comes on a near silent cry. Her hips writhe as Astarion holds her steady despite the ragged moan that falls from his lips as he watches her fall apart with half-lidded eyes.

She’s clinging to him as she rides out the rest of her orgasm on the hardened length still thrusting inside her, Astarion working her through the waves of pleasure that suffuse through her limbs.

A dreamy, hazy euphoria descends over her like a fog as she finally comes back to herself, her first thought to press another kiss to the pair of lips that still brush against hers. 

Rin takes a lungful of air on a deep breath, beginning to move her hips against his once more despite the contented exhaustion blanketing her as she speaks with a soft, teasing lilt. “I thought you were going to come in my sweet cunt, Astarion.”

“Still the plan, darling.” Astarion’s lost in his own pleasure as he speaks, eyes fixated on her own as his hips snap hard into hers.

The hand on her ass tightens, fingertips near bruising as Astarion’s thrusts begin lose their rhythm in the wake her orgasm, the feeling of her cunt spasming around his length as she had come only serving to drive him closer to his own completion.

Her fingertips run down his cheek as he looks at her, his control breaking on every push of his hips that she meets readily.

“Then do it,” She whispers. “Please come for me, Astarion.” 

Rin presses her mouth to his in a hard kiss, gasping as he changes the angle of his thrusts to hit the very end of her cunt.

At her words, Astarion follows her over the edge, moaning his ecstasy into her lips as he comes. His hips rut frantically against hers, spilling himself inside her with unrestrained thrusts. 

Rin grasps him tighter as his orgasm rushes through him, taking each and every sound that falls from him as he works through the waves of pleasure coursing through his limbs. 

Finally, Astarion’s hips slow to a halt as their chests heave, still locked in their embrace, the haze of the aftermath floating around them. His lips press against hers one last time before he ducks his head to fit against her neck, breathing in the scent of her.  

Rin’s not sure how long they stay like that, both catching their breath as her arms hang loose around him, Astarion’s face still buried in her neck as his fingers grip around waist. 

Eventually, it’s Astarion who moves first, gently pulling his softened cock from her as he lifts his head and leans back towards his bedroll, taking her down with him. 

They lay next to each other on the ruined blanket, a light sheen of sweat sticking to their skin.

“That was—” Astarion starts, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to push it out of his face.

Rin finishes the sentence for him, her heart still beating in a staccato rhythm. “Amazing? Fantastic? The best sex you’ve ever had?”

“Well, you think quite highly of yourself, don’t you?” Astarion turns his head to face her, brow raised.

Rin leans in, bumping their foreheads together in a light touch before whispering her reply on a smile. “That wasn’t a no.”

Astarion rolls her eyes and she laughs, and she swears she can see the slightest hint of pink coloring his cheeks, no doubt from the help of her blood still running through him.

He sits up, stretching his arms above his head, the muscles in his back shifting and Rin lets out an appreciative hum at the sight. 

“Oh, and Astarion.” Rin smiles as she rolls her shoulders, settling further into the blanket. “If you burn my shirt, I will be forced to take action. Possibly with a knife. Just so we’re clear.”

His head whips back to glance at her, a wicked look in his eye. “Flirting again already? Give me a moment to recover, dearest.” 

Astarion’s eyes skate down her naked form, still lying in a boneless heap upon his bedroll. 

“Gods, look at you. You’re an absolute mess.” She can feel the blood drying on her thighs and on the spots where he had left bloodied kisses up her body, his come threatening to spill out of her with even the slightest movement. “Get ahold of yourself, darling.”

“An absolute mess that you made.” Rin peeks down to look at herself, skin still flushed and dotted with red marks in the vague shape of his lips.

“I’d gladly make it again, too.” Astarion turns back to the side, reaching for a spare decanter of presumably water and grabbing a piece of soft cloth.

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.” 

She takes in the bloodied blanket beneath her as she hazards a stretch, reaching her arms above her head as her feet point, back arching as she comes up to her elbows. 

“Has anyone ever told you that your bedroll is absolutely awful? How you manage to sleep on something so hard is beyond my ability to imagine. We should steal you a new one.”

Even with the awful plank beneath her, it would be so easy to stay on a night like tonight. Too easy to imagine settling into his side, the now familiar contours of his body beside her own as they rested together, limbs tangling. She’s never slept in anyone’s arms before that she can remember, and she wonders how it must feel to spend hours simply wrapped in Astarion’s embrace and then to wake up next to him at first light.

Please ask me to stay. 

The words come from a deep, dark part of her mind unbidden; but the wanting they bring with them threatens to ruin her as her heart beats harder.

“Or you could always come share mine, I guess. I promise I’ll keep you nice and warm.” It’s a risk speaking those kind of words, Rin crossing a line they’ve never dared to before.

Astarion’s body tenses slightly, the line of his shoulders stiffening.

He dips the mouth of the decanter over onto a spare cloth to wet it before turning back to her, expression strangely blank. The sight of it puts her ill at ease, as if the warm intimacy they had shared had been snuffed out like a candle’s flame. 

Astarion runs the cloth over her form, erasing any evidence of him from her skin. His spend, the blood on her thighs, the messy kisses up her chest—all of it gone with a simple brush of water on cloth.

She nods her thanks, her heart sinking as regret burns in her throat. 

“Well, it’s been lovely. You’re always such a treat.” Astarion summons a veil across his eyes, an empty smirk on his lips as he sets the cloth to the side. “You should go get some sleep, darling. Who knows who else you’ll need to convince to kill themselves tomorrow.”

It’s like a slap to the cheek—cold water to wake her from the warm embrace of a dream. It wasn’t the first time he had said such words to her, but this is the first time she realizes that she hates them with every fibre of her being.

“Oh.” She bites her lip, hoping she hides her disappointment well enough; but from the way Astarion averts his gaze to focus on an invisible point on other side of the tent, she doesn’t need to worry much. “I suppose you do need your beauty sleep, don’t you? Far be it from me to get in the way.”

Rin doesn’t want to hear what he has to say, she decides, as she pulls herself up to sitting beside him. She’s not certain she can look at him either, not at the cool and aloof expression that seems to have taken residence across his features. 

He hadn’t looked like that when he kissed her. 

No, he had looked the exact opposite, his expression mirroring the longing she knows had been etched onto her own as their lips had met.

Without a word, Rin stands and walks over the blankets heaped along the floor to where her clothes lay discarded in a heap, her footsteps soft against the ground. 

Silently, she redresses, not bothering with the corset as she leaves it unlaced at her feet and pulls the rest of her clothes back on with perfunctory ease. Her tunic is partially over her head when she dares a look back at Astarion, the collar floating down to rest against her skin as she turns her head.

His face is imperceptible as he watches her, sitting still as stone. She forces a small smile, hoping that the dejection she feels doesn’t come across as she speaks to him one last time for the evening.

“Sleep well, Astarion.”

Astarion nods his head, a clear dismissal if she’s ever seen one. “Until the morning, darling.”

Until the morning, indeed. 

Until the morning, where they’ll pretend everything is fine and nothing has changed as they play around each other in some sort of tiring, endless game.

And maybe Astarion can. Maybe, for him, nothing ever did change.

Rin doesn’t know quite what it is that they are building towards; but between the little bits of their lives shared with one another, the tiny little secrets that bare ragged pieces of their souls, the long evenings spent by the side of the fire laughing and talking and playing games, between the kisses and caresses and the meeting of their eyes—it feels like something.

Something more than simply being bedmates.

With a single, deep breath she reaches down to grab her corset, collecting it in hand as she turns and walks out the front flap of his tent without another look back, unable to promise she can keep her expression even in the face of his seemingly cold indifference. 

Rin keeps her eyes ahead as she walks by the campfire, Gale politely looking the other way, not commenting on how she must look or what he must have heard—her hair is undoubtedly a mess, corset rumpled in hand, lips still too swollen to be confused with being anything other than readily kissed.

She withholds the sigh that threatens to break free as she makes her way towards her tent, and she’s grateful that at least there is no one else by the fire to witness the utterly pathetic sight of her as she keeps her eyes straight forward. 

“I hope you know what you are doing.” Gale’s voice stops her before she can step into her tent, and she freezes, shifting the corset in hand in hopes of hiding it better, though she knows it’s useless. “I say this with the utmost respect, you understand. As your friend.”

Rin can hear the slightest bit of judgment in the words despite the kindness of them but she shakes it off. She probably deserves his judgment, in the end.

She pastes a weak smile on her face, squeezing the corset tighter in her hand as she turns to look at the wizard where he sits by the fire, a familiar spell book in hand. 

“It’s all good Gale, nothing to worry about. I promise.”

“I trust your judgement, then. Sleep well, my friend.” Gale gives her a polite nod, but the look on his face says that he’s thoroughly unconvinced by her words.

Such aspiring confidence her companions have in her, it seems.

Rin certainly doesn’t blame him for it.

She can barely convince herself of the fact, after all.

With one last sigh she walks through the flap of her tent, letting it flutter shut behind her as she steps inside the familiar surroundings she now calls home.

It smells like it always does, jasmine and honey hanging in the air, and not a one of her possessions is out of place—however few of them she has. 

But as she drops the corset on the ground, she can’t help but feel that something is missing.

Hands come up to cover her eyes as she presses the heel of her palms into them, hoping to rid her mind of such thoughts, however there’s no comfort to be found as shapes swirl on the back of her eyelids.

If she had any sense at all, she would quit while she was still ahead and could leave somewhat unscathed from whatever this thing growing between them is.

But she knows herself better than that.

She knows that, instead of stopping this and sparing herself the almost inevitable promise of pain that their little affair will bring, she will pull herself back together just in time to face the darkness of the morning and pretend that everything is just fine—all the while knowing deep down that she will keep making the same mistake over and over again and relish it every single time.

snippet sunday wip wednesday wip whenever ✨

thank you to everyone who has tagged me to post over the past week! I had my head down so I could finish chapter 8 of to eden and so I missed my chance to post.

but I am here now, with a little treat for kinktober 🎃 I'm not sure if there's any official prompt list for kinktober or not, but either way. I'm sure you all can guess the prompts for this one 😈 please enjoy

no pressure tags @khywren @elinorbard @xxnashiraxx @inkymoonbunny @ladyduellist @preciouslittlebhaalbae @justabiteofspite

For chapter 10 of Indelible Imprints, I really loved the scene I wrote for the hag fight and have been really proud of it since I posted it.

I wanted to do something special for it, so I finally got my first commission ever from @bby-bel and I am so beyond happy with it!! They're such an incredible artist and you should definitely reach out if you've been wanting a commission! 💖💖💖

Look at my baby Erin, all possessed and evil 🥰

WIP Wednesday!

Thank you @xxnashiraxx for tagging me (your WIP was so good - I'm so excited!) and everyone who has tagged me over the past Snippet Sunday and WIP Wednesday! I love getting to see all of your WIPs and I'm always excited to actually have something to share on the actual day lol.

Here is part of a WIP for chapter 13 of my bg3 isekai, Indelible Imprints! 💖

You can read chapters 1-12 on Ao3 or through the pinned post on my blog!

Tagging 💖: @justabiteofspite @elinorbard @ladyduellist @bhaalsdeepbat @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @sashitf @roguishcat @kalmiaphlox @chaoticbardlady99 @celaenamyers if you all have something to share! 💖

WIP wednesday ~

happy wednesday, folks! big shoutout to @honeybee-bard, @nyx-knox, @xxnashiraxx, @verbenaa, @pinkberrytea for the tags; you all are wonderful and ily! ❤️❤️

no-pressure tags: @ladyduellist, @elinorbard, @shewhowas39, @kalmiaphlox, @atsadi-shenanigans

WIP Whenever

Tagged by so many amazing folks this week: @khywren @xxnashiraxx @roguishcat @verbenaa @preciouslittlebhaalbae

Been too sick to focus on writing as much as I would have liked this week so Branded Blood update will be postponed to next Friday. In the meantime, here's a WIP:

Astarion woke with sunlight and warmth flooding his senses. He had curled around Flare while they slept, burying his nose in the nape of her neck. He held still, not wanting to wake her and let her go. Her arms lay over his wrapped over her middle. She radiated a gentle heat that Astarion couldn’t help but be drawn to. He sat up carefully, still holding her, so that he could drink in the vision of her. 

Flare’s golden curls were getting long enough that she started brushing them out of her face constantly. Astarion contemplated what color ribbon would look best in her hair, imagining a strand of crimson chiffon spilling across her clavicle. He swallowed, eyes moving back up to her sleeping face in an attempt to dispel temptation. His plan failed because now he thought of how soft the skin of her cheek would feel under his fingertips. 

So innocent, Astarion thought. To kindness, gentleness, love-- Damn him if he didn’t have a weakness for the sweet ones.

No pressure tags: @elinorbard @ladyduellist @pinkberrytea @kalmiaphlox @justabiteofspite @half-poison-and-half-hope

HOLY SHIT

Hard to read? Nah. Hard while reading? 👍🏼 Correct.

This is amazing!!!!!! Friend, you have an otherworldly talent, and I am going to shout this from the rooftops for many years to come!

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 sending you a whole bouquet because i can (if you have anything left to share with us!)

❤️❤️❤️ thank you, sweet friend 🥹

I've got TONS left to share heh heh heh 😈 here's a little something for youuuuuuuu

Dots of crystalline tears settle on her lashes as his cock brushes against the back of her throat, but the ragged moan he releases is more than worth it, another bolt of heat surging down to the place between her legs. She’s lucky she cares nothing for her reputation, because being found on her knees in front of her most dubious companion with his cock shoved deep down her throat would certainly ruin it.  The hands in her hair tighten as she hollows her cheeks and sucks at the head of his cock, savoring the saltiness of his precome as she runs her tongue over the slit to collect more. She takes him back into her mouth on another breath, deep again as he slides against her tongue. “Fuck, Rin—” She breaths through her nose as his thighs quiver, moving her mouth back and forth on his cock. “Don’t stop. Darling, sweetheart, I’m going to—” 

Snip/WIP Day

thanks to @xxnashiraxx for the tag!

I am a believer that Astarion likes every part of his partner's body, but also

Titties

Astarion breaks away, planting some tender kisses along the crook of her shoulder, hooking his arms under hers and cupping her breasts once again as he does, swaying them from palm to the tips of his fingers to feel their weight. Delightful. Oh, to sink his fangs into the soft flesh of one, draining every last drop of blood until she's just a lifeless corpse... Not the best or most wanted idea, but fuck if it doesn't make him hard. Hircine looks down at his ministrations in puzzlement, finding his current actions underwhelming. Astarion grins against her shoulder blade, playfully jiggling her breasts in his hands so they ripple and bounce. An unamused glare is flashed his way, but all it does is make him laugh and nuzzle against her cheek. “I’m just letting Belbol and Iiyola breathe, pet, it’s no surprise you were feeling so poorly today…” And finding himself merciful, Astarion decides she deserves what she asked for. ‘Harder.’ Taking her pert nipples between his thumb and forefinger, he twists and pulls. The sweet cry that erupts from Hircine is cut short when she claps her hand over her mouth, falling limply back against his chest. Well, that just won’t do. He drops his hold on her to force Hircine to stand on her own, moving away with hands on hips, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “Hircine, darling, I won’t tolerate any quietness tonight. If I’m touching you, I had better hear it.” “But—” She starts to say and Astarion wags a finger in her face. “No ‘buts’! We both know the servant’s won’t step foot out here. I want to hear you, and you will be heard. Understood?” She chews on her lip and nods. “Yes, Husband.”

And yes, he has named her tits.

tagging @shewhowas39, @khywren, @partmathpartmagic, @selunesdreams, @busy-baker

@zozoparsnips, @davenswitcher

Kinktober 2024 Day 1: Mirror Sex

pairing: Astarion/f! Tav | Astarion/f!OC (Ysera) rating: 18+ MDNI word count: 4.3k tags/warnings: piv sex, fingering, established relationship, porn with feelings, soft Astarion ──────── summary: Astarion watches the way her face lights up as she speaks about him, affection for her warring with the disappointment he feels that she doesn't extend that same kindness to herself, that she either cannot or does not see herself the way he does. It's a feeling he's all too familiar with. He knows the way those kind of thoughts can fester. If he does nothing else tonight, it will be to ensure that she never has cause to doubt herself like this again. AO3 ┊ kinktober 2024 masterlist

Ysera's never been to a fancy ball before. Wyll himself had dropped by their home the week prior at the behest of his father, inviting both her and Astarion to the High Hall to celebrate the one year anniversary of the fall of the Netherbrain. “A most regal affair,” he had called it, a night full of celebration, dancing, and feasting.

Ysera had gladly accepted Wyll’s invitation, realizing only after she had taken a cursory glance at her wardrobe that she had nothing appropriate to wear to the celebration. Astarion had balked when she'd suggested they pay a visit to Figaro to commission something, insisting that he would much rather do it himself (by which he meant properly) than pay the haughty dwarf even a single copper for his services. 

With less than a week before the ball, Astarion had already finished his own ensemble. The jacket alone featured a damask motif embossed into the fabric and hand-embroidered embellishments of gold and silver, both of which would be sure to turn more than a few heads.

Her own gown would be its twin, and although Ysera would have been just as happy in something far less ostentatious, the thought of playing the part of a wealthy noblewoman for the evening did fill her with at least a little excitement. As a child, she'd often daydreamed about what it might be like to live in a fancy palace and spend her days entertaining various lords and ladies, and this was perhaps the closest she'd ever come to fulfilling that childhood dream.

Presently, Astarion kneels before Ysera and busies himself with her gown, measuring and marking as he goes. His brows are knit in concentration, mouth pressed into a thin, taut line. Ysera feels almost swallowed by the amount of lace, tulle, and other fabrics, struggling to see Astarion at all over the voluminous skirts that flow down to her ankles. Her feet hurt from standing for so long, but Astarion had insisted it would be easier for him to properly hem and make adjustments to the garment if she was actually wearing it rather than fussing with it on a mannequin.

Ysera glances sidelong at the mirror beside her, golden eyes tracing the outline of her gown and the intricate details Astarion has embroidered across the bodice, made of the same embroidered fabric as his jacket. The gold and silver thread he's used to accent the dark fabric glimmers in the candlelight, a sea of shimmering stars across a sky of midnight black. The bodice displays just enough of her chest to be tasteful and tapers at her waist, accentuating her curves. The skirts allow her plenty of movement – the only request she had made – almost too full but certainly appropriate for such a high-class celebration.

She should be pleased to wear something so lovely, and yet…

As her eyes drift from the gown to her reflection, her expression sours. Lovely as it is, it only serves to highlight her own imperfections: her face, plain by comparison, the scars that mar her cheek and neck, as well as the other various blemishes that are suddenly glaringly apparent. Her waist and hips have filled in somewhat during the past few months, and her body has lost much of the lean, toned muscle she had acquired while traveling across Faerûn with Astarion and the rest of her companions. The skirts of her gown thankfully conceal most of her lower half, but that doesn't stop her from feeling self-conscious.

The thought occurs to her that maybe Astarion had styled it that way on purpose, to draw attention away from the less appealing parts of her body, but she refuses to entertain such an absurd thought for any longer than necessary.

And it is an absurd thought, isn't it?

The more she looks at herself, the less she likes what she sees. With a soft sigh, she turns her head away, but she can't help but frown. Her own appearance had never been anything of much importance for most of her life. Some of her previous partners had been rather attractive, but none of them had been nearly as handsome as Astarion. And at any rate, most of them had been nothing more than a one-night affair, where looks were largely irrelevant once the lights were out.

Astarion is the only man who's ever made her want to feel pretty. A shame that she hasn't lived up to her own expectations. What must he think when he looks at her? Is he disappointed?

As if he's read her thoughts, Astarion glances up at her, and their eyes meet briefly before she looks away. She prays he hasn't noticed something is off, but to her dismay he clears his throat to get her attention.

“What's the matter, darling?” Astarion asks. His expression softens when her face falls. “Do you not like the gown?”

Ysera shakes her head quietly.

“No,” she replies, her own voice sounding foreign as it comes out small and timid. She tries to smile at him but she can tell by his reaction her face is anything but happy.

“I love it. It's just…” She hesitates out of embarrassment. Finally, she admits to him, “I feel like it might be wasted on someone like me.”

A frown furrows Astarion's brow. He gets to his feet and sets his tools aside, turning his full attention to her. The troubled way he looks at her makes Ysera feel guilty, and she chews absently on her bottom lip.

“What do you mean?” he presses. Astarion's voice is heavy, not with anger or disappointment, but with concern. He takes her hands in his own, leveling a glance at her that she's reluctant to return. She doesn't want to look into his eyes, to see the pain she knows she'll find there. He waits patiently, smoothing his thumbs over the back of her hands.

Talk to me.

“It's beautiful,” Ysera concedes glancing down at his handiwork. Astarion's talents have grown significantly in the past months, and this gown in particular may be his best work yet. But then again, he pays no expense when it comes to her. It's obvious he intends her to make a statement at the ball, one way or another.

“It’s a gown fit for a patriar’s daughter.” She expects him to preen beneath her praise, but his expression remains troubled. Ysera sighs again.

 “And I'm just… well, me.”

Plain. Ordinary. Certainly not worthy of such splendor, even if she is one of the famed heroes who saved the city. She hadn't chosen any of it, of course; she was simply a random victim plucked off of the streets who happened to luck her way into survival.

Astarion tenses and tugs her off the stepstool she's been standing on for the past hour, and her bare feet brush against the floor as she tumbles into his arms, where he catches her. He still hasn't finished fitting her bodice, and the fabric almost slips off her body before Ysera gathers it up and holds her arms around herself to preserve her modesty.

Astarion's eyes widen slightly as if in surprise before narrowing again. She knows he isn't pleased with her assessment.

“When have I ever given you the impression that you were anything short of perfect?”

Ysera's chest tightens at the strained tone in his voice; it's clear he blames himself for her lack of confidence, and she hates the way that makes her feel more than anything. 

“Never,” she assures him. He's been nothing but supportive since the night he first confessed his feelings for her – longer than that, if she really thinks about it. “But you're obligated to –”

Astarion cuts her off with a vehement shake of his head, his frown deepening. She lets him spin her around so they're both facing the mirror, but her attention is trained on Astarion as he stands behind her. 

“I am not obligated to do anything, Ysera.” She can't see his face, but it's easy enough to make a guess about how stern he must look by the sound of his voice. It's a tone that brokers no room for rebuttal.

“Do you remember the night I asked you to be my mirror?”

“Of course,” Ysera says. It's one of her fondest memories, one of the first times he trusted her enough to let the mask slip, if only for a moment. The way he had asked her opinion of him so earnestly, the sadness and longing in his eyes making her second guess everything she thought she knew about him.

Recalling what she'd said to him is effortless. “I remember telling you how much I loved your eyes,” Ysera says. “Your smile. The way you laugh when you tell a particularly awful joke.” Her reflection smiles back at her, beaming as she thinks about everything she loves about him. The list is much longer now then it had been back then, and she takes the time to properly admire every entry she's mentally catalogued during their time together.

Astarion watches the way her face lights up as she speaks about him, affection for her warring with the disappointment he feels that she doesn't extend that same kindness to herself, that she either cannot or does not see herself the way he does.

It's a feeling he's all too familiar with. He knows the way those kind of thoughts can fester. If he does nothing else tonight, it will be to ensure that she never has cause to doubt herself like this again.

With a resigned sigh, Astarion admits to her, “Did you know that at the time, I was convinced that you were simply telling me what I wanted to hear? You wouldn't have been the first person to do so, after all.”

Ysera's mouth opens to refute his words, but a firm squeeze on her shoulder convinces her to listen to whatever else he has to say.

“But the first time I saw myself through your eyes – truly saw myself – I knew then that I had been wrong.”

She had done more than simply tell Astarion what she thought of him that night. With his permission, she had used their tadpoles to let him look through her eyes, to see himself for the first time in two hundred years. Once he had processed exactly what it was he was looking at, had studied every inch of his face and nearly turned away in revulsion, he had felt it: Ysera's affection for him, undeniable and so sincere that he hadn't known what to do with it at the time. He was a monster, and yet she had looked at him without a trace of fear or hatred in her heart.

“Of course you were,” Ysera says in protest. “You're –”

Astarion clicks his tongue in disapproval and shakes his head.

“Shh,” he scolds her, not unkindly. His arms wrap around her waist from behind as he molds his body to hers, chest flat against her back. He rests his chin on her shoulder. The fabric of her gown bunches beneath his arms, but without his reflection she can't see the tender way he holds her as she stares at herself in the mirror.

“This isn't about me, love,” he murmurs, sensing her distress. It's not the first time he's wished they were still tadpoled, this time so he could show her just how perfectly she fits in his embrace.

Astarion presses a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“Now… would you like to know what I see when I look at you?”

Ysera’s breath hitches, and she considers his offer.

“Yes,” she breathes, after a time, voice hardly above a whisper. She cranes her head to look at him, but he gently guides her attention back to her reflection, insistent that she does not look away. It pains him that she still thinks so little of herself after all this time.

“I see a woman who is kind and resilient,” he tells her, “who isn't afraid to throw herself head first into danger to protect the people she cares about.” The ribbon holding back her hair comes free with a quick tug, and her pink tresses spill over her shoulders and frame her face.

Astarion continues: “I see someone who was dealt an extraordinarily bad hand but kept fighting, despite the odds against her. And most importantly… I see someone who is loved.”

There are tears welling in her eyes when Ysera turns in his arms. She lets go of the dress, and without the additional support the loose fabric falls gracefully to her feet in a pool of inky black, leaving her in nothing but her underthings as she takes Astarion's face in her hands and kisses him. His mouth yields effortlessly to her, opening enough so that she can sweep her tongue between his lips and show him just how grateful she is for his kindness. He kisses her back, slow and soft.

“Don't sell yourself short, darling,” Astarion says, capturing her chin between his thumb and forefinger when they part for breath. His eyes are a deep, dazzling red, half-lidded and full of longing. “I won't hear another word of it.”

Ysera blinks away her tears and looks up at him. She can't help the grin that spreads across her face, the way her heart seizes in her chest as his words finally begin to sink in. Oh, how she loves him.

“Thank you, Astarion.”

“Oh,” Astarion says with a huff of laughter, fangs gleaming as he throws her a playful smile. He scoops her into his arms and sets her on the edge of his work table amongst the array of sketches and bolts of fabric scattered across the polished surface. “You thought I was finished?”

Ysera's face grows hot beneath his scrutiny. She should be cold, dressed in so little clothing, but the way Astarion looks at her makes her whole body feel warm and tingly. 

“I haven't even told you about those striking golden eyes of yours,” Astarion murmurs, “and the way they blaze more brightly than the sun.” He cups her face with his hand, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the jagged scar beneath her eye. “Or your scars that remind me of how strong you are.” He can see the effect that particular compliment has on her almost immediately. Ysera leans into his gentle touch, the coolness of his skin, and sighs.

“And here…” He presses his fingertip between her covered breasts, dragging it slowly down her stays. Ysera flushes a deep red and squirms in embarrassment.

Astarion laughs in amusement. “Your heart , love,” he says, rolling his eyes dramatically. “What did you think I meant?”

She pouts at him, but it's all for show. He loves to tease her, and she makes it so easy for him. After a moment, Astarion places his broad hands on either side of her ribcage and slowly drags them down her body. Ysera shivers as gooseflesh blooms in their wake. His eyes have darkened slightly, and when the candlelight catches them she sees shades of black interspersed between ruby reds.

Astarion's fingers sink into the soft swell of her hips, tender but possessive. She bites back a noise but can't completely conceal the soft moan that escapes her lips.

“Those gorgeous hips of yours,” Astarion says now, “so perfect for digging my hands into when I kiss you.” To substantiate his claims, he dips his head to capture her mouth in a searing kiss, tongue pressing against the seam of her lips before she opens for him. He hums in approval, kissing her with a slow, purposeful intensity as his tongue explores her mouth, savoring the taste of her.

He pulls away just as Ysera's eyes flutter closed, leaving her breathless and panting slightly. Astarion's gaze lingers on her face a moment longer before trailing downward, admiring every inch of her body before halting between her legs. Ysera follows his line of sight and flushes again when she realizes where he's looking.

Astarion's voice is low and playful when he says, “And don't even get me started on your –”

Ysera swats at him before he can finish, too embarrassed to hear him say the words. “Astarion!”

The corner of his mouth quirks upwards, brows raised. She laughs softly and gives him an apologetic glance. 

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Her tail twirls happily, not a trace of her earlier uncertainty still present in her expression. Like a wilting flower exposed to sunlight after languishing in the darkness, Astarion's affirmations have breathed new life into her.

She really is beautiful. And he would very much like to kiss her again.

So he does. This time there is more passion in his movements, and she slips a hand into his hair as her ankles lock behind the small of his back to pull him closer. 

With one hand still anchored on her hip, Astarion takes her other hand and guides it between his legs. Her breath catches when she feels his hardening erection, the outline of it stiff beneath his trousers. He breaks the kiss and keeps his face close to hers, close enough for her to hear the growl in his voice.

“Do you see what you do to me, Ysera?” he says to her. “How badly I want you? How much I need you?” She brushes her hand over his clothed cock and exhales another sigh. Her golden eyes are wide, pupils blown as she looks up at him and nods quietly. 

“My beautiful girl,” Astarion says, and it's somehow this above all his other praises that makes her heart flutter. Her hands lift to the buttons on his waistcoat at the same time he reaches behind her back to unbind her breasts, and in only a few short moments they've undressed each other completely. Ysera's eyes are everywhere: his sculpted torso, his nimble hands; the perfect angles of his face, and of course his cock, now fully hard and eager for her.

The way her eyes rove hungrily over his body stirs something deep inside him. He wants her – gods, does he ever want her – but he can be patient. For her, he can do anything, will do anything.

Ysera's legs part with only a little coaxing as Astarion slips between them, their bodies flush together as he positions himself in such a way that her head rests comfortably on his shoulder. When her vision focuses, Ysera sees he's purposely positioned her to watch herself in the mirror she had been so hesitant to look into before – to see how she looks at the peak of her pleasure.

Without Astarion’s reflection to interfere, her full body is on display, and she stares anxiously at herself as Astarion commands, “Don't look away, my love.”

She swallows and nods, composure broken the moment Astarion's hand works its way between her thighs and his fingers part her folds. A sharp gasp tears itself from her throat when he brushes past her entrance, gathering her arousal and spreading it along the path he traces to her clit. As his fingers spread her open, Ysera struggles not to squeeze her eyes shut, whimpering when he teases the bundle of nerves with gentle passes of his dexterous fingers. He is gentle and patient, pleasuring her for the sake of her own enjoyment over his own.

Ysera's hands settle around his back and she clings tightly to him. Astarion has her moaning incoherently before long, but she keeps her eyes trained ahead, even though her vision swims. The hand not currently occupied between her legs traces the curve of her spine, his blunt nails dragging a path down her back as she arches into him.

“Are you watching, Ysera?”

Ysera murmurs the closest thing she can to a “yes,” fascinated by the way her body accommodates the two fingers he begins to press into her dripping cunt. Her thighs tremble as he sheathes them inside her and caresses the spot inside her that ignites every nerve ending in her body with pleasure. The sounds she makes are music to his ears.

Ysera watches as Astarion pumps his fingers inside her, dragging soft whimpers from her throat each time he pulls out before pressing in deep once again. He is silent but for the occasional groan when her walls clench around his fingers, careful not to distract her from her reflection. Each time he spreads her open she can see the arousal gathered between her thighs, how eager her body is for more of him.

Only someone as intimately familiar with her body and its needs as Astarion is could bring her this much pleasure. He remembers what she likes because he loves her, because she is important. Because he wants her to enjoy every second of their time together.

“I am not obligated to do anything,” he had said.

Ysera's heart constricts in her chest before fluttering beneath her ribs like a caged bird. He knows she's finally beginning to understand.

“That’s my girl,” Astarion purrs. “Are you ready for me? I want you to see how stunning you look when I'm inside you.”

“Uh-huh.”

As soon as she gives her consent, Astarion pulls away from her, just enough to line his cock up with her entrance as he spreads her arousal over his length. Her mouth falls open as he slips his fingers over her tongue, letting her taste herself before he kisses her again. Ysera's eyes fly open as he pushes himself inside. Her body barely has to adjust to the intrusion, the combination of her wetness and his earlier efforts more than enough to make it easy for him to sink himself to the hilt.

Astarion meets her gaze briefly before she looks over his shoulder once more. Her body rocks in time with his thrusts as he fucks into her and messages her breasts in his hands. It's much easier for her to abandon her intrusive thoughts when he's lavishing so much enthusiastic attention on her, reassuring her that his praises are far more than just empty words.

His cock stretches her wide each time his hips roll forward, burying himself inside her inviting heat. There is no urgency to his rhythm, and she can feel every inch of his cock that much more precisely as he makes love to her – and that's what it is, for there are no other words to describe how gently he holds her, how focused he is on pouring his passion into every thrust of his hips, every open-mouthed kiss he places across her neck.

“Look how well you take me, Ysera,” he groans into her ear. “We were made for this – for each other.”

How could it be anything but true? She can see the evidence of it herself, there in the mirror, how her body molds to him, his precome and her own slick glistening between her parted thighs as he makes her feel so complete. Her face is contorted in pleasure, slicked with sweat, hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. 

When Astarion releases her to place one hand on her hip, her breasts bounce freely between their bodies. His other hand grips her chin, averting her gaze back to his face. 

“Do you understand now?” he pants. Astarion looks at her with a strange sort of reverence, his gaze soft and intense all at once. 

“Yes,” Ysera breathes. “Yes, Astarion.” Flawed though she may be, that is why he loves and admires her – not in spite of her imperfections but because of them. There is no one else like her, no one who even comes close. And if ever she should doubt herself again, this night will be the only reminder she needs that her fears are completely unfounded.

“I'm sorry,” she apologizes, throwing her legs around his back and tightening the grip of her arms around him. Astarion sighs and offers her an affectionate smile before shaking his head.

“Hush, darling,” he says. “You've nothing to apologize for. I've lived long enough without a reflection that I know how easy it can be to lose sight of yourself. My only regret is that I didn't notice sooner.”

Astarion slots his mouth against hers as they share a tender kiss, and Ysera's hands rise to cup Astarion's face as he begins to move faster, their soft moans muffled in the infinitesimally small space between them. His cock rubs against that sensitive spot inside her, building her pleasure to a blissful crescendo. Each of her moans is swallowed by Astarion's hungry kisses, the hand on her chin sliding into her hair to keep her close.

Their eyes lock in the final moments before she comes undone, hands threading through Astarion's soft white curls as she gasps his name like a prayer. He follows her with a groan, emptying himself inside her as they both ride out their orgasms together.

In the silence that follows, Astarion rests his forehead against hers, reveling in their closeness and the familiar sound of her heart as it calms its wild pace.

“I love you,” she says.

Astarion smirks at her through his fangs.

“I know.”

Ysera exhales loudly, and Astarion can feel the crease in her brow as she pouts at him. Her tail slips behind his back, and she gives him a good whack. “Stubborn man. Wonderful. Terribly handsome. But still stubborn.”

Astarion laughs to himself in satisfaction and presses an apologetic kiss to the tip of her nose.

“I love you too, darling.”

Indelible Imprints

Chapter 13

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary:

-Astarion is jealous and a lil angsty for half a second

-Astarion, Gale, and Erin do some stuff in the Blighted Village

-Erin agrees to let Astarion try feeding from her directly again

-Erin is confused (so is Astarion tbh)

-SPOILER: A tiny bit of smut. As a treat.

As always, comments & reblogs are very appreciated! If you like this chapter, PLEASE for the love of GOD tell me because I AM SO NERVOUS about it. Have pity on my poor soul. 😭 (It’s my first time posting smut).

Ao3

Previous Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

Tag list: @roguishcat @thisisew @chaoticbardlady99

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GORGEOUS COMMISSION DONE BY @bby-bel OF A SCENE FROM THIS CHAPTER AT THE BOTTOM!!!

Astarion

Astarion stared at the ceiling of his tent. After watching Erin and Shadowheart lying together for however long he’d stood in their doorway, there hadn’t been much else for him to do but go back to his own tent and brood. He couldn’t stand to look at them any longer anyway. 

This was stupid. What even was there to brood about? He’d been foolish to let himself get swept up in some fantasy simply because he’d spent one night in her tent with her. She’d been upset, in need of comfort, and he was just a warm body. Well. A body, at least. It could have been anyone. There was no reason to think that night had been anything more than that. Nothing had even happened. 

Maybe this was for the better. He had been so uncertain about his plans to seduce her, and with her freely giving him her blood and protection, there was really no need. The cleric was even the one who had been helping her draw blood for her little donations. He glanced at the bottles of blood Erin had left for him the other day, unopened in the corner of his tent. Shadowheart would probably agree to help her protect him, if she asked. Probably.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the pang of disappointment. Now he’d never get to replace the memories of when she’d put her mouth on his against her will with a moment where she was herself, and willing. 

Not just willing. Wanting. He realized with a sting in his chest that he wanted her to want him. To want to kiss him. To touch and hold him like she had last night, when she’d been too emotional to care about being embarrassed. He didn’t know why, but he did. He wanted her to seek comfort in him, just like she had in that moment. 

Now that she was with the cleric, she probably never would again.

Sitting up, he looked back at the blood jars. He should drink at least one of them. The animals he’d been feeding on the past few nights hadn’t filled him much, and he could feel an emptiness gnawing at his stomach. Still, something within him twisted even more than his hunger at the thought of taking any more of her blood from those bottles. They only reminded him of why she wouldn’t let him drink directly from her in the first place, and he didn’t want to think about that.

But then what was the point of all this, if she was giving him exactly what he wanted and he couldn’t bring himself to take it?

This is what you wanted. Why can’t you just drink it??

Lying back down against his bedroll, he tried to ignore his hunger. He’d just save the jars for an emergency. He didn’t want them yet. If he focused on that thought long enough, maybe he’d believe it.

***

Once everyone had finished breakfast the next morning, it was decided that some of the group would go on ahead to scout the goblin camp before they all went in together. The rest would stay behind to thoroughly loot the village for anything useful in the fight ahead. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart would go ahead, while Erin, Gale, and Astarion stayed behind. 

Astarion was relieved to see Erin agree readily to the split, with no attempts to keep the cleric close. It did make sense for Shadowheart to leave with the scouting group. She was the healer, after all, and they’d need her there more than they would at camp if the group ran into any trouble. Still, he watched them closely to see if they were disappointed to be separated. They didn’t seem affected at all. Had the night before not gone as well for them as he’d thought? They certainly weren’t acting like lovers who had just consummated their relationship. What had he seen last night, then?

He couldn’t help himself. Just as the scouting group had gotten out of earshot, he leaned toward Erin and spoke low in her ear.

“What? No goodbye kiss for your new lover?”

She jumped, clearly startled by his sudden appearance behind her. She was far too easy to sneak up on.

“Shit!” When she caught him smirking, she smacked his chest, but there was no real effort in it. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that. I’ll have a heart attack.”

He chuckled at her overreaction. “We can’t have that, can we?” 

Settling from the shock, she asked, “Sorry, what were you saying before I jumped out of my skin just now?”

“I was asking about your new lover. I thought the two of you might have been more inclined to stay together after your tryst last night.”

She looked confused. Her brows shot up, creasing her forehead when she asked, “My… what?”

His expression dropped. Was she purposely being obtuse? “Really, darling. It’s not as though the entire camp didn’t see you leaving the same place this morning for breakfast.”

Realization finally set in her eyes, but instead of blushing she made an annoyed snorting sound.“Oh my god. You’re just as bad as she is.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“About?” he prompted her, attempting to mask his frustration.

“Making assumptions about my sex life, apparently. Nothing like that happened last night.”

His heart lightened. “Oh? Did you want something to happen?” he asked, hoping she’d say no.

She rolled her eyes. “Again, you’re just as bad as she is. No. She’s my friend and I don’t see her that way. You guys act like we don’t have anything else to worry about,” she added, sounding a bit incredulous. “Sex has kind of been the last thing on my mind with these worms in our brains, and all.”

 “You poor thing,” he teased, grinning wide. “So repressed you can’t even distract yourself with the simplest of pleasures?”

A small offended noise escaped her mouth and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m not repressed,” she protested, “I’ve had plenty of se-“ she stopped herself and glared at him. “You know what? I’m not talking about this with you.”

He grinned even harder, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so much. “Oh no, do go on!” 

She crossed her arms and turned, walking away from him. “I’m leaving. Bye.”

He chuckled to himself as he watched her go. The thought of her being with others wasn’t exactly his favorite, but he was in too good a mood to dwell on it. Besides, he liked seeing her flustered. The blush that spread to her face was adorable, and reminded him of the blood coursing underneath. 

She and Shadowheart didn’t have sex. He was more relieved than he should have been.

Erin

Erin was watching Gale stir ingredients into a pot, trying very hard to listen to him as he narrated the steps he took to brew the healing potion he was making. It turned out that one of the houses in the village had belonged to an apothecary, and most of their stores seemed untouched. Gale had been delighted, immediately noting they had enough to make potions to last them a while. Erin had asked him if a person needed magic to make potions, and when he said it wasn’t necessary, she asked him to teach her. Since she was the least capable of the group in a fight, she figured the least she could do was learn to make a few potions so she could help keep them stocked. Besides, she was more prone to injury than the others and it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra healing potion or two on hand so they wouldn’t have to worry about her.

She also needed a distraction. After her chat with Shadowheart last night, she couldn’t stop thinking about Astarion. She’d dreamt of him again, and she tried to convince herself it was only because Shadowheart had kept teasing her about her attachment to him. All the talk about sleeping with him just put it in her head. It wasn’t her fault that he ended up in her dreams. Again. 

But she couldn’t stop thinking about the things Shadowheart had said. Did he really look at her so differently than the others? Was it so obvious?

Of course he does, you let him drink your blood. Shadowheart even said it, he looks at you like he wants to devour you. You’re just a meal.

She blushed, embarrassed for letting Shadowheart get to her head. He was her friend. Just because he teased a bit didn’t mean there was anything else there. He’d even spent the night in her tent without anything happening. Surely someone as flirty as him would have actually made a move then, if he’d been interested. 

No, he was just being a good friend, comforting her while she was sad. Guilt tugged at her chest, convinced that she’d made him feel trapped into doing so, unintentional as that was. Being close to people didn’t seem like something he was actually comfortable with, but there she was, constantly forcing proximity. He didn’t seem to begrudge her for it though.

It wasn’t fair, that stupid hag had put all of this into her head. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him in ways she shouldn’t since that day in her den. They felt like nightmares at first, flashes of her licking his lips in her dreams in the aftermath. But, that night he held her in her arms, her dreams were softer, sweeter. Their hands were in each other’s hair as they sighed into each other’s mouths. Those dreams played out more like fantasies, and the way he touched her in them made her chest feel warm. It felt good. She tried to ignore it.

But then Shadowheart had to insist on talking about them like they were a couple last night, stoking the fires of Erin’s dreams no matter how much she denied them while awake. She’d had a genuinely nice time with Shadowheart that night, comforted to be close to a friend, but as she drifted into sleep, the arms holding her became his again and she didn’t mind it at all. 

When Shadowheart woke her this morning, she panicked for a second, as though she would somehow know what she’d been dreaming about and judge her harshly for the unbidden fantasies that came to her while she slept. 

Everybody has sex dreams. They don’t mean anything. Shadowheart was talking about sex last night so of course that’s what you dreamed about.

Astarion wasn’t helping. The way he’d lowered his voice when he spoke into her ear this morning had shocked her, and sent a spark of heat into her belly. And all to suggest she was sleeping with Shadowheart? If this was the way he teased her over things that didn’t even happen she was grateful he couldn’t see the things she dreamed about. She’d probably die.

“Erin, are you listening?”

“Hmm?” She looked up to see Gale watching her, waiting for an answer. “Oh, I’m sorry Gale. What was the question?”

“What ingredients do you need for this potion?”

“Oh, that’s easy, she answered. “Rogue’s morsel, which is the weird phallic-looking mushroom, and salt.” 

Gale blushed. “Ah, close, but no. Firstly, it’s salt of Rogue’s morsel, and second, you need to add it to a suspension.” He paused, turning a slightly deeper shade of red. “Um, and the mushroom you were describing was actually Bonecap. Rogue’s morsel has a cap that looks more like a pointed hat. It’s not as, ahem, phallic… as the Bonecap.”

“Ha!” Her eyes lit up. “Not subtle with naming your plants here, huh? BONE-cap?” she cackled. 

Gale rolled his eyes at her immaturity and gave her a lighthearted shove. “All right, that’s quite enough. At least until I have better knowledge of your own world to tease you with.”

“Ask me anything,” she gave him a mischievous grin. “We have mushrooms shaped like dicks over there, too.”

“Duly noted,” he chuckled.

“By the way,” she started. “Have you figured anything out with my phone yet?” She didn’t want to seem impatient, but she was hopeful that he might get it to work again soon.

“Ah, not quite yet,” he gave her a sympathetic smile. “Given that I’ve only got a couple of chances, I’m taking my time with finding a solution. As you said, I don’t want to just ‘shoot’ lightning at it.”

“Oh,” she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Still, she was grateful he was being careful. “No worries, Gale. Take your time.”

Astarion burst out of the apothecary’s house, excitedly hurrying to where they stood over their potion at the campfire.

“I found a secret cellar. Someone come with me so we can raid it for good wine and dirty secrets.” He said, downright giddy.

“What makes you think there are dirty secrets to find?” Erin asked him.

“Please. A hidden cellar is hidden for a reason. It’s probably positively depraved.”

“Let Erin go with you, then,” Gale said, winking at her. “After our little discussion, she’d probably love it.”

“Don’t be a Bonecap, Gale.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Astarion looked back and forth between the two of them. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

“You never tell me anything,” he scrunched his nose at her. “You’re no fun.”

***

The cellar turned out to not be particularly depraved, but it did seem to contain a few secrets. While Astarion raided the stores of wine and dug through various notes, Erin looked through the shelf of books and desk nearby. She found a key in a drawer and slipped it into her pocket, in case they found a locked door later. There was suddenly a ‘click’ and the sound of stone dragging. She looked up to see the wall ahead of her sliding open and called out to Astarion.

“Astarion? Was that you?”

He appeared out of the corner he’d been digging in. “Yes, I found a lever behind those crates, and what do you know? A secret cellar within the secret cellar.” he laughed that high-pitched, airy laugh that Erin was growing fond of.

“It’s cute, the way your fangs peek out like that when you laugh,” she blurted out before she could think better of it.

He stopped laughing, eyes widening just a little as he looked at her. He didn’t look unhappy, but she was a little sad to see his smile gone so quickly.

“Anyway…” Pivoting from the awkwardness she’d just created, she nodded to the room the hidden door had just revealed. “Shall we?”

He cleared his throat before answering, and his expression looked normal again as he gestured ahead of them. “After you, darling.”

Erin immediately noticed a small grate that looked like an old prison door and walked up to see what was inside. It was a small room, with nothing but a book sitting on a dusty stone table. She looked down at the padlock on the door and pulled out the key she’d found earlier, ready to unlock it.

“Before you do that, mind if I check for traps?” Astarion asked from behind her. “Something about it being the only locked door in this house makes me think we should err on the side of caution.”

“Oh,” Erin felt a little stupid. “Yeah, that makes sense. Go ahead.” 

He knelt down before her, inspecting the door and the floor below it. “Aha. Go ahead and step back a moment, darling. Just to be safe.”

She did as he said as he pulled his tools out of his back pocket. She tried not to watch his hands too closely as he worked.

“There we go,” he said after a moment, standing. “You can go ahead and use that key now.”

She slipped the key in the lock and opened the door. She looked down at the book. It was disgusting. The cover looked like it had been bound in the skin of someone’s face and she really hoped it was just a really gross, albeit detailed, leatherwork design. She tugged her sleeve down to cover her hand so she wouldn’t have to touch too much of it and pulled the book from the table. Sitting on the floor, she set it down and looked at it, wondering why it had been locked away and guarded with a trap. 

Astarion leaned in close, looking at the book over her shoulder.

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

She smirked at how obvious he made it that he wanted the book. “Here,” she handed it to him. “It’s yours. A gift for finding that trap and saving my life… again.”

“Of course,” he took the book from her and slipped it in his bag. “I’m happy to save your life if it means I keep getting books and favors.”

“And not my company? I’m hurt.”

“Well that goes without saying.”

“Does it?” She looked at him, surprised.

He met her gaze and then looked away.

“Well I suppose it does now.”

His expression almost seemed shy, despite that being one of the last adjectives she’d use to describe him. 

*** 

After they’d cleared out what they could from the basement, Erin and Astarion walked back to put it all in the center of camp for organizing. After spending a bit of time going through it all, they decided to take a short break so Erin could eat and take care of the rest later. Gale had been taking inventory of everything, scribbling what they had and how much of it there was in a small book. He told Erin he’d write some recipes for a few basic potions that she could follow later in it as well as they ate. Astarion had gone to his tent, and she remembered she had found something she wanted to give him yesterday.

She excused herself from lunch with Gale and went back to where she and Shadowheart had slept last night. After finding her duffel bag, she reached in and dug around for the headband she’d found on one of the ogres they’d fought when they got to the village yesterday. Pulling it out, she gave it a quick look for any blemishes she could wipe clean. It looked alright. More than alright, it was extremely pretty. It was made of silver, with small branches sticking out and surrounding a cracked blue stone. The crack didn’t take away from its beauty, and after she’d cleaned it yesterday, she couldn’t help but think how nice it would look on Astarion. She hoped he would like it.

Approaching his tent with the headband in hand, she called his name. 

“Hey, Astarion? Can I come in for a second?”

There was a pause, and then he answered. “Sure, darling.”

She ducked under the flap and crawled inside his tent. He was sitting with a small chest in front of him. He picked the chest up and set it aside. She looked around, a little shocked at the mess inside. He had empty bottles everywhere, and rags stained with blood scattered around the floor. Instead of a bedroll, there was a wooden plank in the corner of the tent with a single dirty blanket that didn’t look big enough to even cover him comfortably. Her heart suddenly ached to think he was living like this. Why did he keep all of his nice things outside of his tent? Surely he could have brought a few of the pillows in here and at least thrown out some of the trash to make it a little cozier in here.

“Did you need something, dear?” he asked, sounding slightly anxious as she stared at the plank of wood on the floor.

“Oh, no,” she said, looking back to him. “I just wanted to give you this.” She handed him the headband she’d been holding. 

He took it, then squinted at her. “Why?”

She sighed. “Aren’t you the one who told me I should just take the gifts you’ve given me? I just thought you might like it.”

“You don’t want it?” 

“To be honest, I think it would look much nicer on you.”

He smirked, “Yes, well most things do.”

She rolled her eyes, ready to tease him for being so full of himself, but her eyes landed on the bottles of blood she’d given him, still full.

“Hey, isn’t that the blood I gave you? That was a few days ago, why didn’t you drink them? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, no, everything’s fine.”

“But, you said animal blood wasn’t enough? Is there something wrong with what I gave you?”

“No, nothing! I just… It’s a bit odd to drink it this way, honestly.”

“From a bottle?”

“Yes… I suppose it just feels a bit unnatural. I’ll drink it when I need to.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” She paused. “Do you want to try drinking from me again?”

“What?”

“From me. Like you did the first time. Well, hopefully not exactly like the first time.”

“You trust me enough to try it that way again?”

“Astarion, you’ve saved my life enough now that I can’t imagine not trusting you. I mean, you were starving the first time. I can understand how you ended up going overboard. But you’re not starving anymore. We can try again.” 

“Really?”

“Yes. Just… eat something beforehand. Probably best for you not to try this again on an empty stomach.”

“Of course, darling. I can go hunt now if you wont mind trying once I get back.”

“Sure. Just meet me in my tent when you’re back.”

Astarion

He stood outside her tent, almost unable to believe she’d invited him there. That she was allowing him to drink from her again. After what he’d done the first time, he was sure he’d never get to do it again. Now that he was about to, his fangs ached at the thought of sinking into her skin. As soon as she’d left his tent, he downed the bottles she’d given him as quickly as he could, wiping the drips that had spilled past his lips with a stray rag before he left to drain the first animal he could find. 

Now he was here, outside her tent, waiting for her to meet him. She’d gone off to grab a snack when he’d come back and met her by the campfire. When she came back, she had a banana in her hand and a book under her arm. She held the tent flap open for him and followed him inside.

“Good book?” he asked.

“It’s pretty fun, actually. Gale loaned it to me. ‘The True and Impossible Adventures of Tenebrux Morrow.’ She’s had some very interesting adventures so far.”

“Oh, yes, that’s a good one. She applies the word ‘true’ to her tales a bit liberally, though.”

“Don’t ruin the illusion for me. She was on her way to being my new hero.”

Astarion laughed and she smiled.

“Alright, so how do you want to do this?” she asked, setting the book and the banana down for later. 

He hesitated. “I… I want to try something, if you’ll let me. I think it might prepare the flow of your blood better and make the initial sting less painful for you.”

“I mean, if you’re worried about blood flow, I could always take a quick jog? Or do some jumping jacks.”

“Oh no, I believe this will be quicker, and a little less inconvenient for you.”

“If you say so. So what is it you want to try?”

“Would you allow me?”

“Um, sure. Should I move?”

“No, no. You’re perfect right where you are.”

He crawled to sit behind her, crossing his legs rather than spreading them around her and pulling her into his lap like he’d like to do. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pulled her closer, so he could access her neck. She was awkward and tense, clearly trying to avoid leaning against his chest or touching him in any way. 

Gods, but he wanted her to. He ignored the thought and carefully pulled her hair away from her neck as she tilted her head to the side for him, caressing her skin with the tips of his fingers under the guise of brushing the hairs away. As he watched the trail of goosebumps follow in the wake of his touch and heard her heart skip a beat, he couldn’t help but think how much he wanted to caress her skin with no pretense at all. He didn’t want to need a reason to touch her. He wanted to be able to do it simply for the fact that he wanted to. 

“So what now?” She asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hm,” he started, unsure of how he’d explain it to her. “Well, it may be easier for me to just show you. You can stop me at any time, of course.”

She tilted her head further in assent, so he leaned forward and pulled her a little closer. His lips hovered above her neck, and he longed to drag his tongue up and down the length of her throat, just to hear the way it might make her gasp. Instead, he gently placed his mouth over the juncture between her neck and shoulder and gently started to suck the skin without biting, keeping his tongue respectfully still.

Her heart skipped another beat, and at the sound of her breath hitching, he sucked a little harder, willing his tongue to stay still against her skin. 

Suddenly, she pushed herself forward, breaking the contact. She whipped her head around to look at him and he tried to hide his disappointment when he asked, “Something wrong, darling?”

“That was your idea? Giving me a hickey?” She reached up to rub her fingers over where his mouth had just been and he noted the way they lingered over the small bruise instead of wiping away the moistness he’d left there. 

“Well,” he fidgeted with his hands a bit. “I thought it would be a quick way to warm the area up a bit and increase the blood flow…”

“You could have at least told me you planned on leaving a mark. I’d have had you do it to the side of my neck you’ve already bitten. How am I supposed to explain a random hickey if someone asked?”

“Why do you care?” he asked.

“People might get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea is that?”

“That we’re… you know what it would look like.”

“So what? What’s so bad about that?”

“Besides the fact that it isn’t true??”

“Would it be so horrible if it was?”

“What?”

He leaned closer. “Would it embarrass you so much? To have been with me?” He whispered, nose nearly touching hers.

“No, I,” she swallowed hard, and he could hear the way her heart was thundering in her chest now. She turned to look away from him and her eyes landed on something behind him and she squinted at it.

“Wait,” she said, and he watched her crawl toward the stack of clothes he’d left in her tent last night. She pulled the shirt lying on top into her hands and looked at him questioningly. “What’s this?”

“That would be a shirt. Blouse, if you prefer. A more general term might be garment.”

“No, I know what it is…” she tenderly brushed her fingers over the embroidery that had been added.

“Did you do this?” she asked him.

“Yes, well. I told you I’d wash it for you the other night.”

“And this?” she pointed to the embroidery.

“It’s nothing, really. You had holes that needed patching up. Really, darling, you’re terrible about picking at fabric. Don’t you dare pull on that embroidery.”

“Oh, I guess I am… I’ll take care of it… Thank you.”

“See that you do.”

There was a pause, and while she stared at his embroidery, he cleared his throat to break the silence.

She looked up from the shirt and met his gaze. “Oh, right,” she set the shirt down and moved to sit in front of him again. “Where were we?”

“You were chastising me for leaving an extra mark on your skin. Would you like me to try over the bite mark instead?”

“Yes, that would be better,” she breathed.

He held her gaze as she nodded, then dipped his head to the other side of her neck, pressing his tongue against his old bite mark and taking her skin in his mouth again. He sucked harder than before, and when a small gasp escaped her lips, he swirled his tongue around the tender flesh of her neck as he sucked, throwing aside the restraint from before. He groaned in spite of himself and leaned further into her, pushing her lower and caging her beneath him with his arms on either side of her. Hoping to hide behind his hunger, he pulled back to bare his teeth, preparing to bite, but she stopped him.

“Wait, Astarion.” she said. 

He was disappointed, but not surprised. Of course this was too much, something she didn’t want. Slowly, he lifted his head from her neck to meet her gaze, but she didn’t say anything. She reached out to touch his cheek and guided him closer, his face hovered above hers. She brought her other hand up to cup his cheek, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones, and looked at him in a way that made him shiver, despite the warmth of her hands. 

Everything went quiet, and all he could hear was her slow breaths as she looked into his eyes, her brows canted slightly upward, a cute little crease forming between them. She’d never looked at him like that before. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want this closeness to stop. So he lowered his face toward hers, searching for a sign that she didn’t want it to stop either as he brought his lips just above her own. Their noses brushed ever so slightly and they were so close that when her heart skipped a beat, it felt like his did too.

Suddenly, she brought her hands to the nape of his neck and pulled him down to her, closing the gap. Her lips were soft and warm against his as they pressed together slowly. 

She was kissing him and he was kissing her back and it felt so good. What had started soft and slow grew quickly heated and urgent, as she threaded her hands in his curls, pulling him impossibly closer and gently scraping his scalp and he nearly moaned at the sensation. He grabbed her waist, needing to touch her, and let his hands roam up and down her sides. 

He swept his tongue against her lower lip before pulling it into his mouth and gently nipping at it, careful not to cut her on his fangs. She let out a soft little “mm” and he gave her lip one last suck before slipping his tongue into her mouth. She let him in and circled her tongue over his in a way that made him want so much more. She was running her hands down his sides and as they settled on his lower back he brought his own up to cup her cheek.

He started leaving a wet trail of kisses from her mouth down her neck, and she gasped, but before he could go any further she pushed against his chest, stopping him. Her heart was racing and she was out of breath. He looked at her mouth, pink and shiny from their kissing, and wanted desperately to keep kissing her. 

Why did she stop?

Confused, he looked down at her and saw only shock in her expression. 

“Darling?” he asked, “Is everything alright?”

She pushed herself up but turned away from his face, as though she were suddenly unable to look at him. 

“Yes, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“What?” He didn’t understand what could have changed in such a short moment. Couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong.

“We should not have…” she paused, still looking anywhere but at him. “I shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t do this,” she said again, then voice trembling, “I’m sorry.”

He was too stunned to say anything as she got up to leave, so he watched her go and sat in her tent alone. 

Erin

What the fuck were you thinking?? That was so stupid. You’re so stupid.

She ran back to the room she and Shadowheart had shared the night before, hoping Astarion would eventually leave her tent on his own. She couldn’t think of what possessed her to kiss him like that. What was wrong with her?

And he kissed her back. Somehow that made it worse. 

What she’d said to Shadowheart the night before had been true. She couldn’t do this. Eventually, she was going to get home, and she couldn’t start something that she knew would only end. And she definitely didn’t want anything casual. With someone as beautiful as Astarion, that would only end up with her getting hurt. 

She liked Astarion. He was rude, but he was also funny and just fun to be around. He was the only one in their group of companions that she truly felt she could talk to. Besides maybe Shadowheart, but he’d shared far more about himself with her than she had so far. She could fight with him, because he’d fight back. He challenged her, and because of that she felt like she could be honest with him. He’d saved her life multiple times and she hasn’t known another person she’d been more grateful to have in her life. He never held what had happened with the hag against her, even though it would have been so easy. 

He was her friend. She didn’t want to fuck that up.

She brought her fingers up to her lips, and she could still feel his kisses there. She dragged her fingertips down where he’d left a trail of kissed along her neck and shivered.

He had kissed her back. 

***

Astarion had left her tent at some point while she was gone, and she was grateful she didn’t have to face him when she came back for dinner. She had a nice chat with Gale about the book he’d given her and he quizzed her on some of the more basic potion recipes he’d given her earlier that day. It was fairly quiet without the others back yet. After dinner, she said goodnight to Gale and went back to her tent to sleep. With only three of them in camp, it didn’t feel safe for her to spend her night too far away, so the bed was out of the question.

Unfortunately, being in the tent where she’d kissed Astarion only hours ago made it very difficult for her to stop thinking about that kiss. The way he’d been so careful with her, even when he nipped at her lips, sent a shiver through her body. And then the way he pushed his mouth harder into hers, as though he were hungry to kiss her, more than he was for her blood, grabbing her waist so firmly it made her ache inside.

She was becoming flustered all over again. 

It’s just because it’s been a while. You’re stressed and pent up. 

Closing her eyes, she reassured herself that that’s all this was. She just needed to do something to relieve the stress a bit. She told herself that maybe this would help her sleep. She pushed all thoughts about him out of her mind and repeated these things to herself over and over again as she slowly slid her hand beneath the waistband of her pants.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she whispered to herself as she lightly scraped her nails against her underwear.

She tried eliciting something, a tingle, a shiver, anything. But her ministrations along with her repeated mantra was too clinical. She couldn’t do it like this.

Maybe she could drop the mantra to allow space in her head for something a little sexier…

White curls and pale skin came to mind.

No! Think of a celebrity or a character from a movie like a normal person!

She continued her touching while she tried to summon an adequate fantasy.

Why couldn’t she think of anything? It was like every man and woman she had ever found attractive had been wiped from her mind. Fine. She’d focus on the actions, the feelings, instead of the face.

She dragged the hand that wasn’t in her pants up, skimming past her stomach and up to her breast, pushing her shirt up and out of the way. Without a blanket covering her exposed skin she felt a chill, and suddenly imagined cool hands spreading across her body.

She dipped a finger into her folds and the coldness of it was a relief, finally sending a thrill through her as the nipple under her hand pebbled at the sensation. She sighed and slid the finger up and down to spread the slick that was growing with her arousal, undulating her hips slightly into the rhythm. she rocked into her hand until she ached so much she couldn’t stand it and dipped her finger deep inside.

It was at that moment she’d realized who the cold hands she’d been imagining belonged to, as an image of Astarion above her, his hands touching her bare skin, came rushing into her head. 

“Ughn,” she whined into her shoulder.

No! Not right now!

She closed her eyes, but that only made the image clearer. She felt the pressure rising inside her core and didn’t want to stop and lose that feeling.

Keeping her pace, she searched for something to replace him in her mind. Nothing would come. Frustrated, she whined, and when she did, an image of him smiling down at her, amused by her pathetic sounds came to mind.

Fuck it.

She stopped fighting the fantasy.

Astarion

He’d heard her whine from inside her tent.

It was the middle of the night and he could hear Gale snoring from his tent. She was alone tonight.

Worried, he came closer. When he was just outside of her tent, he heard her again. Not a whine. A moan. A muffled moan. 

He stood there dumbly as he realized what she was doing. Now that he was closer, it was obvious. He could hear her heart starting to race and the slick sounds of her fingers working.

Oh gods.

He heard her sigh and he felt an ache deep in his core.

He should not be here. He should go. Leave her to her own business. He could ignore the growing tightness in his pants, or take care of it in his tent, but he should go.

But then he heard it. The slightest whisper released into a sigh, barely perceptible, but he heard it.

“Astarion…”

He didn’t ignore the throb in his cock this time. He palmed himself and inhaled quietly, thankful that his lack of need for air gave him incredible breath control for involuntary responses like this. He crept behind her tent, fully out of view of the camp and softly lowered himself into the grass beside it.

“Ahhh,” she whined.

She sounded muffled and he imagined her moaning into her shoulder, bared and naked, as he loosened the ties of his trousers. He thought of her undressing, slipping out of her pants and pulling off her shirt before she touched herself. 

While she thought of him. He had to fight the moan that threatened to escape him at the idea that she was thinking of him while she fucked herself. 

Oh gods, he wanted to lick every inch of her skin. He wondered what her blood would taste like mixed with her sweat and slick as he freed himself from his pants. Taking himself in his hand and pumping slowly, he listened to the rhythm she set for herself and tried to match it. Closing his eyes, he leaned onto the ground and let his head roll back as he thrusted into his hand. 

Why was she doing this to him? If she wanted him like this, why did she stop their kiss? He could have done so much more to her than she could achieve with those little fingers. 

The thought of her hands slippery and wet from touching herself, wrapped around his cock as she kissed him soft and slow like she did earlier in her tent sent his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

He imagined skimming his fingers down her sides, making her shiver while she sat on his cock and he rolled her hips into her. 

She was working herself faster now and he could her her heartbeat speeding up in response. In the fantasy playing out in his head, she was riding him fast and hard, chasing her release as he felt every part of her he could touch and lick and kiss. 

Quickening his own pace to match hers, imagining it was him thrusting into her instead of her fingers, he felt himself getting closer. Then, she gasped, her breath stopping for a moment even while her fingers kept going. Just imagining the feeling of her walls clenching around him was enough to push him into his own climax. He forced himself to stay quiet, riding it out while he listened to her shuddering exhales in the aftermath of her own release. 

He wiped his hands on the grass beside him and lied there beside her tent, listening to her breathing. After a while, he heard the tell-tale sounds of her slow breath and steady heartbeat, letting him know she'd fallen asleep. Lying there a little while longer, he wondered if she looked flushed and pink in the aftermath while she slept, and wished she sleeping in his arms again. 

Why isn't she? he wondered, as he put himself together and got up to start walking, not quite ready to go back to his tent.

She could have been sleeping in his arms now. She could have kept kissing him earlier today in her tent, and he would have let her, kissing her back until both their lips were raw. He couldn't think of a time when kissing someone had felt so good. He didn't want it to stop.

But then it did. She did. He was sure he'd fucked things up somehow, replaying it all in his head, looking for where he went wrong. For a moment, sitting there in her tent, he'd wondered if he'd forced her into it, caging her beneath him and getting close like that.

It was her that closed the gap, though. She kissed him.

So why did she stop?

In that moment, he'd have kissed every inch of her skin if she'd have let him. Let him. He nearly laughed at the thought.

He'd spent so many years wishing for a day he'd never have to touch or be touched by another person again. Done so many things to bring others pleasure while he wallowed in disgust and self-loathing. And here he was, wanting to do so many of those things to her. She'd just brought him pleasure he didn't think he was capable of experiencing anymore and she didn't even know it. She hadn't even touched him to get him there.

What in the hells was wrong with him?

His aimless wandering brought him standing in the room where he'd found her lying with Shadowheart the night before. Although he knew now that they weren't romantically involved, his insides still twisted into knots as he thought about the closeness they'd shared. He wondered if she'd let him get that close to her again.

Sitting on the bed, he realized it still smelled like her. He crawled to the side where her scent was the strongest and laid down, pressing his face into the mattress. Staying like that, inhaling her, he let himself drift into sleep, hoping he'd dream of her.

Behold! The art I commissioned from the incredible @bby-bel of Astarion and Erin after their first kiss!! Behold it!!

WIP

Thanks to everyone that’s been tagging me recently. You know who you are! I’ll try to be more diligent about tagging people and responding soon.

Sneak peek at my Chapter 1 rewrite for Epistles of Saints & Sinners.

WIP wednesday!

thanks to the lovely @xxnashiraxx, @verbenaa, and @roguishcat for the tags!

here's a sneak peak at tomorrow's prompt: bath.

tagging: @ladyduellist, @nyx-knox, @nerdallwritey

Kiss scene from Chapter 13 of Indelible Imprints accompanied with commissions from @bby-bel of the scene!

You can read the full chapter on Ao3 or through the pinned post in my blog! 💖

Deadly Ambition (a Dark Urge x Enver Gortash AU)

U.S. Congressman Enver Gortash eagerly accepts the opportunity Governor Richard Bhaal’s presidential campaign as his vice presidential running-mate. In the process, he discovers the true mastermind behind the Bhaal campaign: Bhaal's daughter, Elegy, who is as ruthless as she is charming. Together, Enver and Elegy forge a partnership and plot their path to power. They will do anything it takes to win the election… but will their web of deals and deception fall apart when they find themselves relentlessly drawn to each other?

Chapter 5: National Conventions (Rating: Explicit; Word count: 6k)

While Astarion looked back at the TV, Elegy gained a faraway look in her eye. It was an expression that Enver recognized by now: she was piecing together a plan, most likely something that was wonderfully vicious. “Plotting something?” he murmured. She blinked and refocused on him. “Maybe. For whenever these damn conventions are over.” On the screen, the Stelmane and Ravengard families continued to smile and wave as confetti and balloons rained down on them.