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faerievampling · 6 days

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Killing Time

Chapter 12: Beholden

Word Count: 4.4k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Tav (female reader)

Warnings: 18+. (light) Sub!Astarion. Symptoms of resulting trauma described, mention of past SA and abuse.

A/N: KT now updates every Sunday :)

Killing Time Masterlist

Link to AO3

When you fly out into the cool night air, the blackness of the night consumes you. Every flap of your wings, every chatter coming from behind you as Astarion flies at your heels, you feel that void of darkness. It makes you wince, and you’re back on your feet shortly after you’ve breached the palace walls. Being closer to the city lights helps ease that strange fear. When you land, you stumble forward, the pads of your bare feet slapping on stone.

You find yourself in the middle of the street, taking in the eerie emptiness of your surroundings. Astarion’s arm is around you before you can react further, pulling you behind a building as you both sense the thumping of a heart. But the curious thing here is that the city is quiet, far more than it should be.

“Star?” You whisper, but Astarion merely hushes you in reply. He holds you closely in the darkness, and you try to drown out the drum of Astarion’s own heart to focus on another: the mortal, a guard, walks rather close to the two of you, briefly inspecting the area. A quick look into his mind reveals the guard is thinking of his latest fuck and mug of ale, believing himself lucky he wasn’t put on the front lines. Those men on the front never see the women or the booze.

“The front lines?” Your words come out, blurted, reminding your doting husband that being sneaky was never your specialty.

“Hey!” The man shouts in your direction, running toward the sound of your voice. Breaking away from Astarion, you step out from the corner. The street is brightly lit, and you can see both the fear and amusement in the man’s eyes: he thinks you are a pretty thing, in your little panties, and he can see your nipples through your shirt. But your scars tell a dark story, one that frightens him: not to mention you jumped from around a bend, which would startle any mortal, especially in the dead of night.

The guard starts to scramble away, but you outstretch your hand to him, beckoning him to you.

“Be still, gentleman.” Your words of charm pierce through whatever layer of protection his weak mind ever had. He was yours, now. His heart thumps wildly in his chest, nearly stopping when Astarion turns the corner. But under your control, he continues to walk toward you.

Astarion’s taking off his own shirt, tying it around your waist to hide your pretty panties from this stranger.

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice harsh and snippy. You’re clearly testing his patience, but he can’t hide the curiosity: he’s letting you act out, you know.

“Listening,” You speak slowly. “Come here to me, Liam.”

The guard, Liam, eagerly approaches you. Seeing you close up, he’s even more frightened of you, thinking your gaze harsh and cold. He’s noticed your lack of breath, your lack of natural movement. Liam nearly loses control of his bowels as he comes to understand you are a creature of the night. But the pig of a man is still thinking about your nipples, despite this. You push those thoughts away, digging through his mind until you find the information you seek.

You’re thinking about asking Astarion if you could eat the man, or maybe you would do so without asking, just to see how he’d react – but Astarion grabs you by the arm before you can decide. “That’s enough, Tav. We’re going.”

In one quick motion, Astarion scoops you up in his arms, teleporting the two of you back into the foyer of the palace. After adjusting the both of you back in bed, Astarion’s questions begin.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Astarion’s voice hides nothing of his frustration.

“Yes,” You reply, trying to keep your voice even.”Was there a draft of mortal soldiers or something? Is the political situation in Faerun really so fragile?”

“It’s been that way for many years,” Astarion explains. “And has now come to a boiling point. But I don’t want you to worry about that.” Astarion’s habit -or staunch faith- of telling you only selective information based on the level of stress it may cause you hasn’t changed.

Seeing the concern on your face, Astarion softens, his irritation with you visibly waning by the second. “Please trust me on this, love.”

You nod involuntarily, because you are used to trusting Astarion’s judgment on what you should and shouldn’t worry about; you are still injured, after all. But you feel hesitant with your agreement, and Astarion must sense it too, because his face twists, the look so foreign to you it causes your gut to turn. He looks like he’s in pain.

He’s at a loss for words, and you are too. You feel yourself already wrapped up in Astarion’s tumultuous emotions, ones you can’t know anymore. Ones that you have to guess based on his body language, his words: and right now, you know there is something on the tip of his tongue that he cannot bring himself to say aloud.

You sit up in bed, crossing your legs as you peer down at him. You bring your hand to cup his cheek, softly run a fingertip down the length of his elegant ear, trailing little circles on his jaw and neck.

Astarion shudders, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. Your touch immediately soothes him, and when your fingers tickle against his chest, he holds your palm there, bringing it flat: resting it atop his ever-beating heart.

You don’t study his face for much long before deciding that you need to be closer to one another.

“Come here. Let me hold you,” You offer as you nudge him towards you. Astarion doesn’t hesitate: having widened your legs so that his larger form would fit comfortably, your arms snake around his body, your lips resting at the crown of his head. You can’t help but take a deep breath. “You smell so good...”

He chuckles in reply, nuzzling himself closer to you.

Your husband was taller than the average elven male, his shoulders broad and well shaped. It was only a little awkward to be holding him in this way, but Astarion is practically purring. You place kisses on the tip of his ear, causing an audible sigh of relief to escape his handsome lips.

His whimpers cause a stir between your legs. The way your cunt is clenching, little spasms of arousal overtaking your core, is impossible to ignore, and you can’t help but sweep your eyes over his perfect body, every part you could see. You want to worship it the way it deserves: the way Astarion wants you to.

You both are desperate for release in each other.

Suddenly, Astarion turns his head, shifting to your shoulder as he gazes up at you. You have to use your strength to hold him, but this feels good to you, for some reason. Cradling his warm body, feeling his muscles and his weight in your arms; he feels so good.

“I never meant to scare you so badly. I just wanted to touch you,” His expression and his words are almost boyish, bringing a youth to him that you haven’t seen in a very long time. He is so pretty; his ruby eyes are so soft, wet with gentle tears, lashes long and inviting. “I want you, my treasure. I need you…”

The two of you continuously search in each other's eyes, as if you’re expecting your minds to become one.

“Darling,” Astarion says, dragging your hand down his abdomen, resting it on the waistband of his underclothes. He doesn’t know how else to ask.

The moment your fingers slip beneath his underclothes, Astarion devolves into a fit of desperation: he moans, his hand grabbing your cheek to pull you into a passionate, fervent kiss. His tongue slips between your lips, the soft warmth of his muscle dancing along your own. He tastes so good, and he’s so warm. His kisses are needy, desperate; you feel the wetness of his cheeks as your lips transcend his, because you can’t hold yourself back anymore. You kiss him wherever you can, and Astarion can only soak it in.

Think of Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. He’s your husband, and you’re safe with him! So why are you thinking of that soulless drow and his evil master?

“Touch me,” Astarion says as he guides your hand to his cock, which you take in your palm, wrapping your fingers around his length. Astarion shudders as you begin to stroke him. You’re gentle, almost tentative, because you were hardly in control over Astarion’s body like this. But there is a look in his eyes: he wants this.

Two of your fingers and your thumb rubs at Astarion’s sensitive tip. It’s so pink, so swollen, pre-come already leaking from him. You pull back his foreskin, tenderly working the sensitive skin, making him writhe in your arms. Astarion can’t help but thrust into you, encouraging your motions.

Teasing him, you try to pull away, but Astarion doesn’t let you. He’s crying your name, desperate for your touch. In one swift movement, you take your finger, gathering his clear liquid seeping from the tip of his swollen cock. Astarion looks surprised when you bring your finger to his pretty lips, which he takes in his mouth. Tasting your skin and his own fluids, his gaze never leaves yours and eyes only grow hungrier.

You only take your finger from his mouth when you’re ready, kitten licking his tongue as you gently press down on it with a thumb, making him give you access to his mouth. Astarion’s entirely lost in his pleasure, his eyes hazy. The only words your poor husband can utter are pleadings, declarations of love, and your name.

“My love,” Astarion’s words come out rugged, rough, his voice cutting through his lust. “Please – I need you…”

Astarion grabs your wrist, guiding your hand back down to his throbbing cock. He wraps his hand around yours, guiding your hand so your strokes are quicker, faster, as his tongue plunges into your mouth, his fang catching your lip as he devours you.

The moment your crimson hits Astarion’s tongue, he goes mad. He really can’t get enough of you, and he nips at your lip again before bringing his mouth to your neck. He’s planted his hand behind you now, turned towards your body so you have better access to his cock, and he has better access to your neck. You know he’s about to bite through your sensitive flesh.

A snippet of a memory flashes before your eyes: red out of the corner of your eye. your limbs are numb. you push, but the red object does not relent, only further molesting you. his fangs feel like knives in your skin, flesh ripping. that searing pain– you’re able to push these thoughts away, shoving them into the recesses of your mind.

Before Astarion can bite down, your hand flies to his chin, pulling his attention back to your gaze. The way he looks at you is curious; you’ve caught him off guard, his face pulled into a gentle bewilderment, his pupils dilated in deep sexual desire.

“No,” You breathe, your lips almost brushing against his.

“No?” Astarion’s voice comes out quiet, breathless. His eyes are wide, desperate. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, and you know your deviation is greatly exciting him.

“No.” You confirm.“I bite you,” You say, your words sultry and smooth, causing your husband to let out a little moan. “Because you are mine.”

Your words come with an involuntary growl; the scent of Astarion’s arousal was thick in the air, the tension between you two becoming hotter by the second.

“I-“ He searches his words and your eyes, as if he would find them in you. “I’m yours?”

You release his jaw, moving to tease his sensitive tip with your fingers, spreading his slick down his shaft. “Yes. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

You feel Astarion go slack in your arms; you’re holding his full upper body weight in your arm now, the other still stroking and toying with his cock.

“Y-yes, I’m yours, I’m yours…” He moans, your lips crashing into his. His cock is even more plump than before, the skin so tight and throbbing beneath your touch; your bodies are wet with sweat and pre-cum, which has pooled at his tip, spilling over the edge as it trails down his shaft.

“P-please, don’t stop,” He struggles to get his words out, his head filled only with pleasure and devotion.

You ease Astarion on his back, hovering above him as you continue your ministrations, every stroke causing him to tremble beneath you. His sticky, clear fluids coat your hand and his cock, only making your touch more slick.

“My pretty girl…“ Astarion begs, but before he can continue his whimpers and desperate pleadings, you straddle him, turning his head with your other hand before sinking your fangs into his flesh.

The sensation of his blood, the scent of his arousal in the air, the feeling of his cock in your hand: gods above. You pull yourself away from his neck in just enough time to watch Astarion squirm beneath you, his hands tangling in the ends of your hair. He’s holding onto you as if his life depends on it, his silver curls pushed back, lazily falling behind him on the silken covered pillow. He’s so beautiful, practically drooling beneath you, fangs peeking beneath his parted lips.

After just a few moments of gazing into your eyes, his sight trails down to your blood stained lips, then to your partially covered breasts. Then, you feel the twitch of his member in your hand as his sex convulses, spasms of pleasure erupting through his body.

Astarion’s shooting thick spurts of come, trailing down your hand as you keep stroking him, riding out his orgasm as you take his moans in your mouth, enveloping his tongue with yours, tasting the mix of his blood and saliva, languidly enjoying the taste of your husband. The smell of his seed is delicious to you, and you fight the urge to lap at his juices with an eager tongue.

You don’t stop your ministrations until he’s breathless, almost begging you to stop, but you continue to work your hand around the tip of his cock, squeezing out every last drop of his come. You don’t let him come up for air, because he doesn’t need it: he only needs you.

“I’m here now,” You whisper to him between languid kisses.

“Don’t make me beg for you anymore, I can’t take it,” Astarion’s words are filled with desperation. His soft moans continue throughout the night, the two of you unable to part until dawn.

****

Lae’zel closely studies the head of Geldon Moth. It was rather large, she thinks, larger than a regular dragonborn’s head. Other than its remarkable size, the sight is rather gruesome, more so than awesome.

“I expected nothing less from our Sarth,” Chae says from behind Lae’zel, where she stands with the other soldiers. “She was fearsome the day of the hunt.”

“I had expected you to say insane, but fearsome works.” Ziir’o adds, causing Chae and the others to giggle.

“Not just the day of the hunt. She’s ruthless even in training,” Joss says uneasily. “I don’t know how many times she’s knocked me out during a spar. Or encouraged someone else to knock me out.”

Lae’zel nearly laughs, but nothing could thwart her serious mood, deeply in thought as she ponders your kill. She thought it was a fitting trophy for the training quarters of the primary Ancunín estate, but again – the sight is more terrible than anything else.

“She literally smashed his fucking head in,” Ziir’o comments with a pride filled smirk. “Where's the rest of him?”

“Mere ash and bone, left in the dirt with his slaves.” Lae’zel’s voice is snippy, but it doesn’t deter the young gith.

“How many did she kill again before Astarion came and dashingly took his bride back to the safety of their gorgeous palace?” Marg’o asks, practically cooing over the thought of Astarion’s pure love for his wife. It was admirable to many, and the number of those who believed love makes the Ancuníns weak is rapidly declining, so maybe there was something to this romantic idea of Astarion, Lae’zel thinks.

Tsk, surely not. Still just a blood sucker. No different than a mosquito. But Lae’zel thinks you’re a rather pretty mosquito. Sometimes she wonders what you would think of her blood, of her taste. She remembers how your tongue felt gliding over her flesh, that soft velvet heat between her legs, and she wondered if you would be gentle with her as you slide fangs beneath her skin. She likes to think you would, just for her…

“A thousand,” Quinel states in a serious tone, but their sarcasm isn’t lost. The younger gith laugh as they way away, continuing on with their day, leaving Lae’zel to brood alone.

“Hmm.” Lae’zel wasn’t sure if this was the right decision. The night of your rescue, after Astarion sent her and the others through the portal, Lae’zel had found the man’s head in the woods; this would only be one of the many other things Lae’zel would come to find quite interesting on this day.

The museum was certainly not safe for anyone to go in, but that hadn’t stopped Lae’zel, who carefully slid through the rubble. She needed to see everything again. Finding so many well preserved old relics dumbfounded her, and she had quickly made her way back to Astarion’s office with whatever she could recover.

She sat at Astarion’s desk shortly after retreating from the broken estate. She had done this many times before your victory, having set up in the Ancunín palace more often than not since she arrived.

Lae’zel can’t look at the dragonborn’s head anymore; she’d rather bury herself in her work, which happened to be on Astarion’s desk.

Now, as Lae’zel eases her way into the luxurious, comfortable chair, she finds that hidden compartment locked away in Astarion’s desk. The same one she found the day of the estate scouting. Her discovery hadn’t really surprised her: it was merely a stack of old letters, ones from Halsin, Gale, Wyll, Shadowheart…many from names she didn’t recognize, all addressed to you. Some of them were so old the pages were yellow, nearly crumbling in Lae’zel’s hands; it was clear they had once been sheltered, at least for a time, before hidden in the depths of Astarion’s desk.

Every single one is unopened.

****

You know you’re dreaming before you even take in the whole scene: your body is floaty, weightless and numb. You can feel the aura of light surrounding you, uplifting your body as you open your eyes and look up, meeting Angel’s gaze.

You’re on your back, grass tickling your exposed skin. Angel is propped on his elbow, peering down at you. One of his wings is wrapped around the two of you, shielding you from the sun.

“It was, like, way too difficult for me to share your dream with you,” Angel’s voice is softer than usual. “I think I deserve a bit of compensation for my efforts~”

Angel’s looking at your lips, his handsome smile cutting into you only a bit. “You’re so pretty, Mrs. Ancunín.” There’s a dreamy look in his eyes as he meets your gaze.

“What do you want?” You demand, ignoring his flirting.

“I could ask you the same thing. You ultimately did let me in here, after all. And trust me, I’ve tried every time you’ve gone to sleep!” Angel explains. “Which has been a lot, so I imagine you want to ask me about that silver. I wondered when you would.”

“I think you were offering.”

“I was. And I still am!” Angel says, rolling over on his back before he swings himself to a seat, crossing his legs as his fingers pull at the grass. You follow suit, sitting up to face him. Looking around, you notice you are close to a sandy beach, one just ways off from the grass.

“I smelled it on you. The grass and the ocean.”

“Yeah, duh. I wanted you to so you’d like me.” Angel looks down. He almost looks uncertain. “There are things I want from you. But…”

Angel pauses. His gold and ruby eyes meet yours.

“The red doesn’t suit you, you know.” You cross your arms. You have a sense of strong dejavu coming over you, thinking of your ex-githyanki lover, who wholly disapproved not only of your newfound warlockracy but of your red eyes. Red eye, now. Just one. But Lae’zel probably doesn’t like the gold, either.

Angel laughs, bringing his muscled arms above him in a stretch before placing his palms to the ground behind him. His abs tighten, and you see his cock growing, thick and pulsating between his thighs.

Why the hells does he always have to be naked!?

“Stare all you want, girl. Say the word and it’s yours,” Angel purrs with lust filled eyes, hooded and wanting.

You roll your eyes. “Just tell me what you want.”

Angel sighs. “I have to think about it. For now, I can create a sealant,” He explains. “It will help with the pain and fatigue, at the very least. I can feel it in your body, you know.”

You shake your head, ignoring that last part. You can also sense his wellness, but you don’t want him to know that, because you know he’ll be weird about it. “They’ve already tried that.”

“None of them are me, Mrs. Ancunín! And I’ll do it for free…if you kiss me and accept your boon~”

You give him a deadly stare. You are trying to decide: you fought with the silver on, so it’s certainly possible to get this vague ‘task’ done with it, but Angel said you needed the boon for the task. Of course, he won’t say what the boon is or precisely why you need it; but the silver is rather bothersome. It was a constant ache, a chronic pain and reminder of the suffering you experienced. You want the damn thing off.

You’re surprised when Angel’s face drops, his smile devolving to a smirk. You stare at each other like this for some time. Angel is the one to break the silence, his eyes still locked into yours.“You’re like…a yellow watermelon, you know. Ever had one of those?”

You shake your head. “I only really like to -”

“Drink blood, yeah, I got it,” Angel looks away for a moment, that smirk briefly leaving his face. “Yellow watermelons are sweeter, lighter on the tongue. Something about your nature…you're a vampire, the very definition of temptation and desire. But you walk in the sun, you have a reflection. Your soul isn’t as tainted as you would think.”

Angel pauses as if in deep thought. “It’s almost as if you didn’t sacrifice seven thousand souls to Mephistopheles.”

You don’t know what to say. The seven thousand hardly mattered to you now, and you aren’t sure they ever did. Probably not, you think, because you were here and not six-feet under. You would have died long ago had it not been for Astarion’s gift of eternal life, and you would have left him to walk this earth alone: just the thought makes you feel nauseous.

“Anyways, your sexual energy is amazing. The lust and love you feel for Astarion is absolutely delicious, so refined,” Angel’s face is, suddenly, suspiciously close to yours, and you wonder how he got so close. “I could taste your desperation for him when we kissed. I want to kiss you more, now.”

Angel's face moves even closer to yours, but you bring your fingers to his lips, stopping him. Angel grabs your wrist, pressing your hand to his lips more firmly, kissing your fingertips.

“Mmm,” Angel moans into you before you bring your hand away. His smile is back. “Your skin is so soft…but that doesn’t really count, you know. I want your lips to touch mine, you cute little daywalker!”

Angel’s lips are plump, so soft looking and pink. It would be easy to kiss him again: he’s a beautiful man. But Astarion’s earlier words echo in your mind: “Please don’t, Tav.”

You take a deep breath. Closing your eyes, blocking out all other thoughts, you tell Angel to do it.

“Finally! C’mere, girl.” Angel grabs you, your body already trembling as you’re in the hands of this large, foreign man. Angel’s wings surround you, and he grabs your chin, lifting your head to his. You feel manhandled, despite Angel’s gentle touch. He wasn’t forceful or aggressive, but firm: but it’s like your brain doesn’t know the difference.

“Open your eyes, beautiful. I wanna gaze into them, make you want me,” Angel is amused and aroused; his voice is laced with a lust filled huskiness, one he intends for you to know.

Your teeth chatter, your body deciding to freeze rather than run or fight. You’re sucking air into your undead lungs. “I don’t want to…just do it, alright?” Truthfully, you don’t think you can stop shaking even if you tried.

There is a long pause. Angel’s hold on you relaxes, but he makes no motion to let you go. “Why are you afraid?”

You don’t answer, because you don’t really know what to say, but you feel a level of relief once Angel’s put you back on your feet, freeing you from his wings and his grasp. His hand is still gently resting on your chin. For just a moment, you feel the brush of his warm, soft lips on your cheek.

“Until next time, girl~”

Angel’s world fades to black, and you slip back into your unconscious mind before waking with a jolt. You immediately notice your lack of pain, the burning sensation having subsided entirely. You feel strong, glorious, powerful; when Astarion jumps beside you, in motion at the first sign of your consciousness, and you wonder if he ever went to sleep at all.

You bring yourself to a straddle above him, a smile spread across your face. You see wisps of pink around Astarion; they dance around his face, his chest, becoming a deeper hue at the center of his chest. His eyes practically gleam, even making their crimson appear lighter. Love.

“Ha! Oh shit. I love you too, my sweet husband.”

tag list: @viowolf

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #ascended astarion #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #soft ascended astarion #ascended astarion x female reader #ascended astarion x you #lord astarion #spawn tav #vampire tav #Killing Time

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