#astarion baldur's gate 3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

helloporcelain · 8 months

Text

Doux

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Astarion/fem!Tav Rating: explicit (18+) Tags: oral sex (involving period blood), piv sex, blood drinking, mutual pining, slow burn, orgasm denial, mentions of Astarion's trauma (but not graphic), there's also like the TINIEST mention of rimming & breathplay but i promise it's so mild, oneshot Summary: Tav seemed perfectly normal in their day to day, but Astarion knew that she was avoiding him. It had been that way since the last time he had fed on her. Read on AO3 if you prefer

Tav couldn't help but celebrate.

The last couple of days had been grueling. Gods, it had felt so good to finally get back to camp. A dip in the cool river, followed by a change into the lovely dress Alfira had gifted her, had Tav feeling like a brand new person for the night. She had stuffed herself so full on a feast of cheese pies and grilled pork belly that she nearly threw up, and then after, she dramatically retold the story of the goblin slaying to the group of wide-eyed children. It felt like a massive weight was lifted off her shoulders – she and her companions had been awarded a win, one they really needed.

Grateful tieflings swarmed Tav the entire night, showering her with wine-fueled hugs of gratitude. She waved off their praises, insisting that it had been a team effort and encouraged the others to accept their share of recognition as well, because there was no way she could’ve done it all by herself. Eventually, Tav found herself sandwiched between Shadowheart and Karlach on a log. The two women were drunk and engaged in unabashed flirtatious banter with each other. Tav, however, kept her wits about her. She took a swig from a tepid mug of ale, her eyes locked onto Astarion across the camp. He was visibly annoyed by the children surrounding him, all clamoring to catch a glimpse of the bow he used to slay goblins.

In the midst of all the chaos, he caught her staring at him through the dancing tieflings. Astarion tipped his head sideways, as if asking a question. Startled, she choked on her drink, inadvertently spilling some on Karlach.

“Oops,” Tav said, as Shadowheart leaned over her lap to wipe off the ale from Karlach’s pants before the sizzle of the burning liquid caused her to yelp and quickly withdraw her hand.

“We really need to fix that, don’t we?” Shadowheart muttered sarcastically, fanning her injured hand, attempting to cool it down.

“Maybe lay off the wine,” Tav suggested sarcastically. “I’m going to go make my rounds. The people need their gracious host.”

She set off to mingle with the others, and felt the stare radiating through her as she joined the nearby chatter. Lia and Cal, to be exact, were begging for Rolan to present some fireworks. Rolan conjured a rather underwhelming prestidigitation spell, prompting Tav to tuck her mug under her armpit and offer a polite clap after an awkward pause. Round and round, Tav meandered through the camp as she talked to everyone, hells, even Withers, avoiding Astarion as if her life depended on it. With each new person, they topped her mug off with fresh ale.

As the night wore on and the ale warmed her cheeks, Tav found herself growing increasingly uninhibited. By the time she reached Halsin, she couldn’t resist flirting with him. Who could blame her? Halsin’s gigantic muscles had called out to her, and he was nothing if not good natured. The mountain of an elf laughed off her inebriated advances gently – his head was elsewhere, not that she blamed him.

“There are many grateful people here who would want to spend time with you,” Halsin said, a glint in his eye. Tav wanted to follow the look, but chose not to, knowing where it trailed behind her. “I must not keep you all to myself. As enjoyable as that may be.”

She offered something of an agreement before she wandered off to the nearby river, seeking solace and a moment to contemplate on her thoughts, away from the songs and dancing.

The first time Astarion fed on her, Tav had accidentally fallen into a trance one night outside her tent. She had insisted the rest of her companions get some sleep while she cleaned up from the mess they made at supper. After washing the cauldron out in the river, she lugged it back to the fire and had meant to sit down for just a second of rest. Before she knew it, she had drifted off, only to awaken with Astarion hovering over her, teeth bared, wearing an expression she had never seen before. With a dagger pressed to his chest, the look was gone, replaced by a frantic attempt to explain why he had loomed over her so ominously. She couldn't fathom why he was scared; he knew her knife skills were almost as poor as Gale's.

When he confessed the truth, Tav's heart grew heavy – heavy for the way he asked for her trust, no, insisted that she could trust him. Every instinct in her screamed she would be foolish to, but she did.

But she was firm; he could feed on her this one time. After that, it was enemies only, or else. Companions weren’t food, they needed their strength just as he did, and he would not become accustomed to using her – or any of them, for that matter – to satisfy his needs.

Not that any of the others lined up to be his bloodwell... though the group tolerated Astarion, there’d been a sense of uneasiness among the others about the truth.

Tav braced herself for discomfort at best (and suffering, at worst), but she was completely thrown when all she felt was desire. The unexpected pleasure took her by surprise, though it made sense in hindsight. If it were nothing but pain, vampires wouldn't have gained their notorious reputation for seduction. It felt as though Astarion had plunged his fingers into the depths of her chest and held her heart in a vice-like grip. The more blood he drew from her, the more she wanted for Astarion to take everything he needed, even at the cost of her own life. In the briefest second, Tav felt herself fading away to the gentle chill of her lifesource dwindling, her neck so numb she couldn’t parse out where his fangs were. In the end, she barely pushed him off her, doubting his self control. Tav noticed the change in Astarion immediately – his face looked brighter, his eyes less dull. Before he left, he promised he wouldn’t forget the gift that she had given him.

Two weeks later, Tav surprised herself by offering her blood to him a second time.

The camp was quieter than usual. It had been a long day and it had taken its toll on them all. Auntie Ethel turned out to be much more than they had anticipated – offering no cure, only trouble. Shadowheart had gone to her tent for her evening prayers. Gale blew his candles out early, claiming eight hours of sleep was necessary for his mind, body, and complexion. The rest sat by the fire, settling for a bit of relaxation before they retired for the night. Lae’zel, Wyll and Karlach were engaged in a very competitive game of cards while Astarion lounged nearby, engrossed in a book he had stolen from the hag’s teahouse.

Tav had been writing furiously in her journal next to him, when she reached down to her satchel, rummaging through to find an apple for dessert. She couldn’t help but peek at him through the corner of her eye. Astarion had been unusually silent since their return to camp. She had a feeling he was tense from their run in with the monster hunter earlier that day. During the exchange, she noticed a second of panic run across his face as Gandrel revealed who he was searching to capture. The monster hunter never did end up accomplishing his job – courtesy of Astarion and his dagger.

“If you have something to say, Tav, darling,” he said, his eyes fixed on his book. “You should just say it. It’s ill-mannered to stare.”

Tav turned the apple over in her lap, contemplating if it was smart to broach the subject, then began nonchalantly, “I don’t suppose you want to address what happened earlier.”

“You want to hear about Cazador,” Astarion said with a tired disdain. “My old master. Before the mind flayers took me from him. Before this strange, twisted freedom.” He slammed the book shut with one hand, and Tav listened intently as he painted a picture of Cazador. A cruel, paranoid master who tortured Astarion for two centuries. A monster obsessed with power, a monster of which it was very clear that Astarion would go to great lengths to never return to.

It was so much worse than Astarion had let on.

“Why do you think he wants you alive?” she asked.

Astarion pursed his lips. “Maybe he wants to make an example of me. To show what happens to runaways.” He cast his eyes aside before giving her a solemn look. “Or, maybe, he thinks death is too good for me.”

Tav had always known that Astarion wore a mask, but she had never realized just how often it was in place. It was a remarkably well crafted one, but every mask was bound to slip off at some point. From the very first day they crossed paths, she had found something about him to be perplexing, though she couldn't put her finger on it. She had thought of him as arrogant, a little malicious, and selfish. Yet, in that moment, as his gaze drifted far away into the embers of the fire, she saw something else—a hint of fear.

“I’m sorry, Astarion,” she said with sincerity. There wasn’t much else for her to say, and she doubted he wanted empty platitudes.

Astarion nodded appreciatively. “Thank you, but – this isn’t about sympathy. It’s about knowing what we might be up against. The mind flayers aren’t the only monsters out there, hunting us. All I’m asking is that you keep your eyes open, and watch out for anything lurking in the shadows.”

Her hand inched closer to his fingers, an inhumane chill radiating from them. Tav thought about putting her hand over his in comfort, but thought it too intimate of a gesture for them. “As long as I’m around, I’ll watch your back,” she promised. “You will never go back to him. I won’t let it happen.”

Astarion’s posture relaxed as he pulled his hand away from the warmth of hers, and gave her a smile – the one that never reached his eyes. “What more could I ask for? Now, is that all?”

His fingers tapped a restless beat on his book, as though they might start flipping the pages on their own. Tav studied his face. He had deep mauve bags under his eyes, and his gaze had darkened to the color of oxblood. She wondered how many animals he must have voraciously consumed to still remain so far from the vibrant state he had been in after she had shared her blood with him. Tav weighed the decision to offer him her blood again. She pictured Astarion feeding on rats as if daintily sipping tea from a tiny cup and it was somewhat amusing, but mostly it just made her pity him.

“I was thinking…” she paused, looking down to the apple in her lap. She brought it up to her face and peered at it, checking it for worms.

“Oh no. That’s never a good sign.”

Rolling her eyes, she continued, "...that you looked more weary than usual. Perhaps you might fancy a bite?" His fingers slowed their tapping as his eyes fixated on her mouth. Tav crunched into the apple and cocked her head at him.

"Well," Astarion replied, a hint of pleasant surprise in his tone. "I suppose if you're offering a treat, then who am I to turn you down?"

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Tav said, expression stern as she emphasized her words. “We won’t make a habit of this. But… we do need you strong for when we reach the goblin camp.”

Astarion’s smile changed into the nefarious smirk that she was familiar with. “If you say so,” he purred, leaning closer to whisper in her ear. “Come to my tent after the others have fallen asleep.”

Two hours later, she cursed herself for picking the furthest possible area from him to lay down her tent. Tav quietly crept across the camp to Astarion, pausing every couple of steps just to listen for snores. She just didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea; as the unofficial leader of the group, feeding Astarion was a purely strategic move.

Sneaking past Karlach was nerve-wracking – she had an open tent, explaining that she ran too hot in an enclosed space. Luckily, the barbarian slept still like a boulder. It was Scratch, who dozed at her feet, that made Tav pause. She brought her finger to her lips and gestured for the dog to stay quiet, his sleepy eyes following her until she reached Astarion's tent. She crouched and leaned against the closed fabric.

Not knowing what to say, Tav whispered, “Dinner’s here.”

“Cute. Come in, darling.”

Tav poked into the tent and found him reclining on his bedroll, propped up by an excessive number of pillows, more than anyone else had. He had stolen them in Waukeen’s Rest, grumbling about missing the comfort of a proper bed like a civilized person. It was her first time seeing the inside of his tent, and she couldn't resist taking it all in. The inside was dimly lit by a single candle atop a stack of looted books, and next to him was a tray hosting an array of colorful rings and necklaces he collected from both unsuspecting innocents and dead bodies. Even out in the wilderness, Astarion was opulent. He had changed into his fine nightclothes and looked at her with a raised eyebrow – she was still wearing her muddy, fight-stained cloak.

“Ah, right.” She looked down at herself. “I washed up, promise. Just didn’t want to traipse around at this hour in my nightshirt.” She shrugged the coat off onto the ground, revealing a plain night outfit. “I don’t plan on being in here long.”

"Well, make yourself comfortable nonetheless," Astarion beckoned, sitting up and gesturing towards the snug space they now shared. “Just be very quiet and our little midnight rendezvous will stay a secret.” He shuffled on his pillows, inviting her closer.

“I should’ve hoarded some pillows like you,” Tav remarked. “You’re resting like a little princess.”

Astarion chuckled. "Oh, my dear, you'll be sleeping quite soundly after I'm finished here. Come, sit on my lap." She hesitated, making a reluctant face.

"Now, don't be difficult," he continued with a playful grin. "It'll be far more comfortable for you this way. I wouldn't want to accidentally suffocate you again, as I nearly did last time." Tav inched towards him, careful to not touch anywhere but the bedroll. She knelt down and followed his request, straddling him while placing a hand on his shoulder for support. A sudden shiver ran down her spine as she felt just how icy he was, catching her off guard.

"Sorry," Tav broke the silence, "You’re so cold. I grew up with the chill, but you’re different."

“I have bad circulation,” Astarion replied dryly.

Tav shifted her body on him, hoping he didn’t realize how mortified she was. "Are you comfortable?"

He responded with an earnest chuckle and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. "You're rather adorable, aren't you?" He gently pushed her face to the side, positioning her neck at the perfect angle for him. "I knew you liked this more than you let on."

“Don’t speak nonsense,” she spluttered, her head snapping back to look at him. “I am doing you a favor.”

Astarion adjusted her face to the side again, his hand now more firmly gripping her chin. “Don’t be coy,” he murmured, low and seductive. “Your body has already given you away.”

He leaned into her neck, taking in her smell, lips hovering over her bare skin. “I could feel it, you know, as I was getting lost in your neck. Your little shakes of excitement.” Tav’s back stiffened and she felt the urge to leap and run out the tent, but his other arm tightened its grasp around her hip. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Her body betrayed her when she gasped as his mouth pressed against her skin, goosebumps prickling her arms and the back of her neck.

“You don’t have to say a thing. I already know how you feel. I feel it too.”

And then he sunk his fangs into the pulse of Tav’s neck, her fingers digging into his arm. Her stinging skin parted under his sharp teeth with frightening ease. Tav never thought of herself as delicate, but she felt as vulnerable as a little rabbit torn apart by a hound.

She jerked suddenly when Astarion bit down harder, willing her frantically beating heart to pump more blood faster into his mouth. He made a small noise, something resembling relief, as each droplet surged past his lips. Sucking away and lapping at the wound at the base of her neck, as if he were merely cleaning up a small mess he made, caused an electric sensation to shoot through her spine and then down to her groin. His hands dug a tighter grip into the sides of her body as he sucked and sucked and sucked. Black dots slowly speckled her vision as if distant stars were blinking into existence. She let out a choked whimper, her body quivering beyond her control. Blissed out crimson eyes met hers as he pulled away briefly, his lips glistening with her life's essence. His gaze burned into her, the hunger swirling in his eyes.

“That’s a strange definition of quiet.”

Before she could reply, Astarion placed a firm palm over her mouth. With his lips away from her neck, she felt her blood flow down her collarbones, dripping into the hollow of her chest. He tongued at the trail at the top of her shoulders, lapping up the burgundy rivulets. She shuddered as he went lower to her ruffled nightshirt, and he gently pulled down at it just enough to lazily clean up the remaining droplets at the top of her breasts.

Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to control her breathing, and that was when Tav noticed the hardness pressed underneath her. “Just a little more, darling,” Astarion panted.

His tongue scorched on her skin as he licked up the trail, fangs grazing her skin on his way back to the puncture marks. His hand fell from Tav’s mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head as another gush of warm blood hit his tongue, coating every crevice of his mouth.

“Astarion.”

His name tumbled out from her in a moan, as she was painfully aware in equal parts both of the erection against her and the wetness soaking through her undergarment. He didn’t respond, but he did stop suckling at her neck. “You can stop now.”

Then with a degree of reluctance, he removed his lips from her, mouth and chin so completely covered in her blood that it looked morbidly lewd. Tav looked up at him with wide eyes, heart pounding.

“We could get some privacy,” Astarion murmured after a few seconds passed. His fingers traced down her back, sending a tickle through her backbone. She stiffened, keeping her eyes fixed on his, a reply trapped in her throat. “To enjoy ourselves more. I know somewhere quiet, not far from here.” He shifted his lap and pressed himself against her, to show her what he meant, if he wasn’t clear enough.

Tav’s resolve wavered for a moment, but she quickly composed herself and moved to push herself off him, though his arms behind her back kept her in place. “That– that's enough, actually,” she responded, her ragged breath catching up to an even pace. She wasn’t going to respond to his suggestion. Tav knew he was toying with her, that he thought her naive.

“You’re looking better already, for a dead man,” Tav said coolly. He huffed in annoyance and leaned back, granting her space to stand up from his lap. “Your eyes,” she observed. “They glow when you feed on me. A person’s blood does wonders for you."

Astarion lifted his hand up to his mouth, swiping off the wet, shining blood. He coated his fingers with what remained and languidly sucked, keeping a fixed gaze on her that made her want to run for the hills.

“That is the understatement of the century, my dear.”

Tav tried to hide the way her fingers trembled as she attempted to button up her cloak, haphazardly connecting the wrong ones. He watched her intently as she covered up his bite with the garment. She opened the flap halfway and, before she left, turned to face Astarion, her voice firm. “Don’t expect this again.”

Astarion offered a wry smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Astarion didn't fancy himself a connoisseur of puzzles and riddles. He loathed prolonged attempts at figuring things out. Patience was a virtue he seldom possessed, especially if figuring out something – or someone – took too long. He supposed he'd grown accustomed to resolving things rather quickly, a skill honed during centuries of servitude to his demanding master, Cazador.

Well… former master. But Astarion didn't want to regard Cazador in past terms, not just yet. He didn’t feel he had the luxury. Not while the wicked vampire lord was actively searching for him. Astarion was skilled at deception, but he refused to lie to himself; fear gnawed at him relentlessly and he found himself barely able to meditate in peace most of the time. He was plagued by nightmares of Cazador finding him and dragging him back into his clutches. So, he conceived of backup plan upon backup plan. He didn’t entirely rule out Raphael – the devil potentially had the power to free him from Cazador, but it would undoubtedly come with strings attached. Would the worm wriggling behind his eye be key to his freedom? Perhaps, if he didn’t turn into a mindflayer first.

Ironically, all of those possibilities just meant merely shifting him from one master’s control to another.

Astarion sighed, keeping a watchful eye on Mol. She thought she was being quite sneaky, attempting to pickpocket him. He flicked the child in the forehead as punishment, and sent her scampering away with a handful of rings he had deliberately allowed her to take.

Why had he been granted a second, well, technically third chance at life, only to be confronted with one grim option after another? What had he done in his previous life to deserve this? He had been so young when he turned, Astarion couldn't quite recall the details anymore. He remembered working for the government—and probably was not the most benevolent magistrate back then—but surely, he couldn't have been any worse than any other charlatan. It’s not like he kicked children or orchestrated an illicit gnome trafficking ring, right?

His chain of thoughts broke at the sight of Tav’s bright eyes locked on him from across the camp. She averted her gaze when he returned the look. After that, all he could see was the curtain of her hair veiling her face as she maneuvered around the camp, chatting with everybody else.

Tav seemed perfectly normal in their day to day, but Astarion knew that she was avoiding him. It had been that way since the last time he had fed on her. And she was right to avoid him; it was a foolish thing she had done, trusting Astarion like that. She just couldn’t help herself, could she? Anyone who batted an eyelash at her and cried a sob story got a helping hand from her, it didn’t matter who. She didn’t stop to think that it wasn’t how the world worked – some people weren’t destined to be helped, no matter how often they prayed to the gods.

Tav was good and it sickened him.

Without her, Astarion thought, he would’ve been content to let the tieflings meet their fate, either slaughtered on the road or at the hands of the druids – it didn’t make a difference to him. In fact, he doubted the others really cared to resolve the whole Druids vs Tieflings dispute in the midst of their tadpole predicament. But Tav rallied them just the right amount that none of them could ever say no to her.

The others genuinely valued her opinion, and often looked to her for guidance, whether they realized it or not. Being on Tav’s good side was the intelligent thing to do, Astarion had quickly gathered. She had vouched for him when the others recoiled at his true nature – most would have stabbed a stake through his heart for what he stupidly attempted to do that night. He needed her on his side. Astarion wasn’t sure what would end up happening after reaching Moonrise Towers, and he was ashamed to admit he didn’t want to go at it alone. He didn’t know how to be alone. The entire concept of solitude unsettled him.

The men and women he was accustomed to manipulating for Cazador crumbled before him with little effort. Seduction had been his modus operandi for over two centuries. Honeyed words and enticing caresses were second nature to Astarion, always serving as a sinister means to a grim end – delivering innocent victims into the clutches of Cazador for torture, death, or worse.

This was precisely what made Tav simultaneously so magnetic and so frustrating. She hadn't succumbed to his charms as expected. Astarion had even briefly entertained the possibility that maybe she just wasn’t interested in men, but that idea was dismissed when he overheard a late-night conversation between her and Lae’zel, who had made quite an aggressive advance – one she promptly rebuffed. So, what would it take to make her more receptive to his advances?

“Sulking will ruin your pretty face, Astarion.” Shadowheart’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I thought you, of all people, would know how to have a little fun tonight.”

He scoffed at her, dramatically eyeing her figure up and down. “If that were possible, then you would be the ugliest one here, my dear.”

Shadowheart stared at him for a moment and then broke out into an uncharacteristic giggle. “We have a long road ahead – be happy that we are all still in one piece, and celebrate for just one night. I know I am,” she said, waving a bottle of wine towards him.

“Is that Marsember Blush?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, recognizing the fine vintage wine. “Where did you unearth that? I know that didn’t come from the tiefling’s sorry supplies.”

“You’re not the only one with sticky fingers,” Shadowheart replied, a sly smile on her lips. “And no, I’m not offering any to you. I already have someone to share it with.” With that, she made her way back to the fire near Karlach, who was engrossed in showing the tiefling children her burning Hellion heart.

He scanned the area for Tav and he found her staring at Halsin with an adoring look. Astarion couldn’t help but feel envious that he wasn’t the recipient of the smile, so gentle that it betrayed the notorious reputation that followed dark elves. He frowned, thinking of Shadowheart's words – she was right. He would have a little fun tonight, and he would get Tav to adore him so thoroughly that she wouldn't ever entertain the thought of betraying him.

Astarion impatiently tapped his foot, waiting for Tav to approach him, but she continued on, disappearing around a corner and heading toward a waterfall beyond the camp. Deciding to follow, he snagged a bottle of wine from a passed-out bard and made his way to her. Astarion found her sitting against a boulder, her head tilted back as she gazed at the stars above.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Astarion said. “Done basking in the limelight, Tav? Got tired of having high praises sung to you?”

She fiddled with the collar of the lovely dress that she wore for the occasion. “I needed a moment to myself. I don’t get them often lately.” Tav looked up at him, her slate gray skin glowing in the moonlight. Despite the mismatched eyes (thanks to her trusting Volo a little too much), she was beautiful, he noted, and he did have a fondness for beautiful things. Bedding her wouldn't be torture; it could have been worse.

“I’m glad I was able to help them, to show that we’re not all Lolth’s servants. It’s usually a little funny, but sometimes being looked at like a monster is tiring,” Tav confessed.

He blinked, taken aback by Tav’s unexpectedly sincere admission, wondering if he had picked a bad moment to approach her. However, she patted the ground next to her, inviting him to sit, and then she chuckled. "Sorry. Did I ruin the mood?"

Astarion settled down against the rock, bumping his shoulder against hers. Tav watched him intently as he worked on removing the corkscrew from the wine. When he tilted the bottle in her direction as an offer, she declined with a shake of her head, prompting Astarion to take a sip himself. He grimaced from the acrid taste.

“Well, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one people would toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” he paused, taking another mouthful. “I hate it. It’s awful.”

“It’s not that bad. Think of all the nasty little goblins you got to kill.”

“True…” Astarion smiled impishly, thinking fondly on the many different ways to murder. Regular arrows dipped in poison or set ablaze with fiery magic, the thrust of a dagger into vulnerable flesh. The memories were invigorating.

“That was fun," he mused. "Still, I would've liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine. All I want is a little excitement tonight, is that so much to ask? The good kind – not the 'we might turn into hideous mind flayers at any moment' excitement." He sighed dramatically and raised the bottle for another sip.

Suddenly, she swiped the bottle from him, and took a long swig. When she lowered the bottle, he watched as her face juggled through a few emotions, ultimately landing on disgust. “See what I mean? Awful.”

“Absolutely dreadful," she remarked before bursting into laughter.

This close, her scent was intense, sending a thrill through his body. She had a distinct aroma, one that he could uniquely parse out from everyone else’s. Tav smelled of amber and spiced honey and pink pepper, even through the grime and chaos of their adventures.

“Well, you’ve heard the saying? Beggars can’t be choosers,” she slurred slightly, playfully hiding the bottle behind her back.

“Look at you… my treat with her cheeks all flushed,” he tutted. Astarion peered into her eyes with practiced adoration. “I’m amazed you managed to keep your mind clear enough to fight. I’ve been thinking about our last night together ceaselessly, you know.”

Astarion wasn’t lying. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of the last time she visited his tent.

He recalled vividly how she had melted under his teeth, the way her body went limp like a puppet cut from their strings. He had felt profoundly powerful, and she had tasted exquisite, nothing like the rats he had been forced to sustain himself on for centuries. An excitement he had never felt before coursed through his bones at the first droplet. Astarion told himself afterwards it was only because she was his first. He had hoped to have her then, to get the chase done with, as he could smell her arousal clear as day. She had obviously wanted more. And yet, she ran from him. Playing hard to get, he surmised.

“You could just ask for more blood,” Tav responded bitterly. “I knew the goblins weren’t for your refined palate.” The bottle was pushed back into his lap. “You don’t have to woo me with your—” She made a wild gesture with her hands. “—vampiric charms.”

He had hoped a wine-addled Tav would be easier to seduce.

“Darling, you wound me.” Astarion put a hand to his heart dramatically. “I saw you earlier, with Halsin. Well, everybody did. Subtlety is clearly not your forte. The way you looked at him had me positively green with envy. Well, I guess I can’t fault your taste, he is a fine specimen.”

Tav’s ears flushed with embarrassment and she looked away, fixating intently at the fish nearby. They swam down the stream and it reminded Astarion of her, eager to get away from him.

“That was nothing. Just laughter between friends,” she downplayed.

“Is it so hard to believe that hearing that brings me relief?”

Another truth. She would be considerably easier to have if she wasn’t attached to someone else.

"Is it so hard to believe…" He extended his hand to caress her cheek, his touch gentle and tender. “That I want you? That there’s not a single soul tonight, here or otherwise, who I’d rather be with.” When she met his gaze again, Astarion thought he might have caught his little fish by the hook after all.

“Such bewitching lies,” Tav marveled. “I almost believe them. Oh, you’re good.”

“You don’t have to believe what I say, darling. You just need to believe how I feel .”

He inched towards her, allowing the wine bottle to roll away from his lap and into the river. Astarion pressed a feather light kiss to her jaw, then her cheek. His fingers held her chin, guiding her to him. When their lips finally met, a sigh escaped her, and Astarion couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as her mouth willingly parted to welcome him. Despite the foul wine, she tasted sweet. And he found that he didn’t mind it, not at all.

Tav grew more enthusiastic, deepening the kiss. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue in, and clamped his teeth onto her bottom lip, drawing the flesh into his mouth. She moaned, muffled against him. He had drawn blood. He broke the kiss to lap the blood from her lips, and he felt his cock twitch. A natural reaction for any vampire, he told himself. Blood was simply too exciting.

Tav drew away from him, breathless, her lip bruised. “Are you…hungry, Astarion?” she asked.

Astarion considered her question. He could tell her yes. He could answer that he was always hungry, that he could drink and drink and there'd still be something missing, gnawing away in his chest. It was an insatiable yearning, an emptiness that no amount of blood would ever fill—a bleak hunger that defined his existence, a constant reminder of the curse that haunted him.

Or he could choose to play pretend instead. That would be easier to swallow.

He put on a mischievous smile. “In what way?”

"Don’t be cheeky," she said, a blush gracing her cheeks as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I had a feeling you might be. It’s been some time... and you always seem so much stronger and happier when you've had your fill."

"And your point is?" Astarion asked, though he already had a sense where this was going. He just wanted to hear her say it.

“That I can help you. That you might as well continue to use me.” She winced at her phrasing. “I don’t have to be a vampire to understand that animals aren’t the same. I suppose if we come to an agreement about it, the others will have to mind their business. Just tell me when you need it. That is – if you want to, anyway.”

His eyes darkened at the proposition. “How delightfully pragmatic of you,” he purred in response.

Tav had given him a refreshing game of cat and mouse, but she succumbed to his beauty, just like everyone else before her. Astarion wished he could say he was surprised, but it’d be a lie. This was how it always worked. You want something, you need to give something. He would shut his brain off, bed her and give her a night of earth shattering pleasure; in return he was not only basically guaranteed protection from Cazador, but was also given a reliable source of blood. Two birds, one stone.

There was nothing else he needed to hear, so Astarion swiftly pulled her into his lap, a surprised squeak escaping her lips. “Hey–”

He pressed a finger to her lips and kissed behind her ear, then her neck. Tav let out a sigh of defeat and leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. Astarion’s curled fingers traced at the healing puncture marks with admiration, thumbs pressing half-moons into her skin. He dragged the tip of a fang over her skin, slicing a neat line. Small beads of blood began to well up along the thin cut, and he closed his mouth over it and sank in. His third time, and yet it was just as exciting as the first – Astarion was well aware that anyone would be appetizing in contrast to his dismal vegetarian diet, but still wondered if others would be better, compared to her.

If that was possible. He wasn’t sure at that moment.

Astarion lost himself in an instant as he buried his senses in her neck, a haze of sensation enveloping him like an intoxicating fog. He had understood then Cazador's obsession—how could one not want to ensnare a person, to chain them in perpetual captivity, to render them an unwilling pet, when they tasted like this?

“Not too much,” Tav breathed heavily, her voice trembling. “I might –” She shuddered against him, and he groaned in response, but his hunger drove him forward. Astarion was starving, didn’t she understand? After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, he deserved something better. He was never going to return to the days of deprivation; he would do anything to ensure that pathetic version of himself was gone for good.

Tav’s fingers grasped around his curls, trying to pull him away from the shadow of her neck, but in her weakened state, it was no use. If anything, it spurred Astarion on. Euphoria clouded his judgement, eyes glazed over with sanguine lust as his fangs disappeared deeper into her tender flesh, blood bursting around him. He tugged at Tav’s hips, pressing her down against him, eliciting a whimper from her. His cock had swelled with arousal and Astarion tried to recall the last time he had gotten so hard of his own volition. He couldn’t.

You are still a slave, an unwelcome voice from the depths of his consciousness sneered. A slave to your innate desire. Why deny your true nature?

It took every ounce of willpower in his body to not drain her completely, to disregard the sinister suggestions. Astarion found the strength to pull away, his nose nuzzling against Tav’s jaw as he regained his composure.

"There's a clearing in the forest," he spoke with a steady voice, his fingers gently stroking her hair as she struggled to catch her breath. “I have been waiting to have you. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.”

Tav snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t you?” He looked at her with steeled eyes, masking the irritation that simmered in him. He kept the thorniness out of his tone. “I think you want to be known. To be tasted.”

“And what do you want?”

Astarion’s voice hushed in a sensual murmur, the kind he found most weak willed people were prey to. “What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me.”

“You act like you know everything,” Tav replied, finally looking at him. Her expression was inscrutable, but the smell of desire radiating off her was unmistakable.

“A pretty man and his prettier words.” She cupped his face, as if she were to lean in and kiss him. But she didn’t. “I’m tired. I hope I was able to help you.”

Astarion watched dumbfounded as she pushed up from his cradle and his arms fell limp to his side. She rejected him again, he thought incredulously. He didn’t look away until she had turned and disappeared back into camp. Then he wiped the remaining blood off his face with his fingers, fully intending to savor what was left. But then something stole his attention—a motionless fish floating in the stream. Without thinking, he plunged his hands into the water to catch it. Astarion had it for a second, until it wriggled its way out and plopped back into the water, swimming away in a swirl of crimson.

They had been venturing through the labyrinth of the Underdark for countless days. It was a quiet familiarity that Tav was thankful for, despite the fact that she had left for the world above many years ago. After everything that she’d gone through recently, she welcomed something that still made sense to her. She understood it – tricky paths to avoid, what poisonous plants you shouldn’t go near, the right grounds to make camp on. Due to the nature of the journey she was on with her companions, however, she grew to anticipate unwelcome surprises.

Still, it hadn’t made it any easier to accept that her cycle had started – Tav had completely forgotten all about amidst the chaos of their tadpole predicament. Drow females only bled every three months and their cycles were extremely heavy and painful. It hit her one day as they were on the trail towards Grymforge, crossing paths with Filro the Forgotten and his hook horrors. The man hadn’t even let her utter a greeting before he attempted to murder them.

“What happened to hello? How are you? My name is?” Gale had complained, jumping out of the way.

Tav was in the middle of casting a fire spell when she felt a heavy gush in her underwear. She stuttered, registering the feeling, and attempted the spell again. This time, her aim was off, narrowly missing the wizard and instead scorching the hair on the top of his head.

"My friend, have you lost your mind?" Gale shouted at her. "We discussed the value of my own life at length! To kill me is counterproductive!"

Her hand went to her abdomen instinctively as the cramps lurched through her. “My bad,” she stammered. She took a few steps back, watching Karlach charge ahead with a hammer to whack the vulture-like monstrosity just a hair's breadth away from the wizard’s face.

"To be sure, I am also averse to being bludgeoned!" he yelled at Karlach. A dripping, acid-coated arrow flew overhead from behind him and pierced the Filro’s right eyeball. Gale threw his hands up in the air with exasperation and quickly teleported himself away to higher, safer ground, muttering something about the stars not being in his favor.

Lae’zel probed at Filro’s lifeless body with her foot. “The elf is dead,” she confirmed, sounding disappointed.

Astarion stepped up beside Tav, tucking his arrows away. “Did one of those wretched creatures manage to swipe at you?” His tone displayed concern, but his face betrayed a hint of intrigue.

Shadowheart whipped her head around at his question. “Are you hurt?” she asked, scanning Tav’s body for noticeable wounds. “I’ll tend to you when we’ve set up camp for the night.”

“No!” Tav blustered, causing Shadowheart to raise her eyebrows in confusion. She quickly clarified: “I’m fine . Astarion is mistaken. I think you might do well to take a look at Gale, though. I may have caused a bald spot.”

In the hours that followed, Tav maintained her distance from Astarion – as he had made it abundantly clear that he could smell her – while they all continued their search for a spot to set up camp. Eventually, they stumbled on an area with access to freshwater, a true blessing. By this point, Tav was simply relieved to have her long cloak, otherwise the others would’ve known for sure that she was bleeding through her trousers like a youngling. She diligently set up her tent, choosing a spot far away from Astarion and close to the lake.

Astarion had not asked to feed on her since they left for the Underdark, and Tav had no intention of offering, especially considering the situation unfolding between her thighs.

Their interactions had remained normal as can be, largely because Tav had bigger matters to occupy her mind than pondering her feelings for him, as if she were a little girl with a crush. Time was a valuable commodity lately and she wouldn’t use her precious free moments dwelling on a man who almost certainly didn’t give her a second thought, unless it was to take something from her. Tav scolded herself every time she found herself looking at him too long or when she thought she saw something softer underneath the shield of malevolence he wore. It was all just a game to him, she told herself, like it was to most vampires.

After everyone had gone to bed, Tav finally snuck out to wash her clothes at the lake and go for a dip in the water. She wasn’t a prude – she had bathed many times with the women, but sometimes she just desperately needed a moment to herself. Even for something as silly as scrubbing the stains of her cycle out from her pants. She finished cleaning up and made her way back to her tent, dismayed that her fresh cloth was already getting ruined. Tav nearly jumped out her skin when she walked into her bunk and saw Astarion lying nonchalantly on her bedroll.

“Are you mad?” she hissed at him. “You’re lucky I’m not human, or I would’ve had half a mind to stab you in the darkness.”

“We both know you wouldn’t have been quick enough to,” Astarion drawled, sitting up. “You sorcerers leave much to be desired when it comes to your hand-eye coordination.”

They looked at each other for a beat, both listening for any stirring sounds from the others.

“Why are you here?” Tav demanded.

Astarion replied with a sly grin. “I happen to recall a certain somebody making the generous offer that if I ever got hungry, I could come to them.”

Tav’s fingers combed through her damp hair as she reflected back on an offer she did indeed make.

“I did say that, yes,” she admitted. “But we can’t tonight. Not until I–”

She halted, a painful cramp pulsing through her.

“…Until I’m done with my bleeding. I’ve lost too much already, I’ll be too weak for you to feed on and Gods know if you end up draining me, you’ll have to wake a very cranky Shadowheart up.”

Tav opened her tent and held her arm out, signaling for him to get out. “We can revisit this in a few days. I’ll let you know when.”

“Revisit? What, like we’re discussing tactical advances?” Astarion bristled with frustration as he stood up.

"My dear, I don't believe you grasp the... gravity of the situation. Your scent–“ He accused, his tone growing more intense. "–has been tormenting me for hours. It has taken every ounce of restraint in my being to resist the urge to drag you away from the others and drink until I’ve drowned in your blood. I am utterly and maddeningly ravenous.”

Her hand faltered from the tent flap, closing them in the obscurity of her tent again.

“It won’t have to hurt like usual.” His pupils dilated wildly as he inched closer. Astarion looked feral. “No biting required. I’d hate to waste precious resources.”

Tav’s face paled when she realized what he was suggesting. She didn’t think she was comfortable with the idea, and yet a warmth started blooming through her.

“And it might provide a distraction from the pain in your belly,” he hummed, latching her tent shut. “I’d say this benefits the both of us.”

“Who’s the pragmatic one now?” Tav answered, her toes tingling. It was a very bad idea, she told herself, way too intimate for what she originally offered.

But when Astarion kneeled down, his fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns up her thighs before he pressed a gentle kiss against her abdomen, and whispered, "Please, darling," she made up her mind.

It was the sensible thing to do. In fact, she reasoned with herself, if she gave Astarion perfectly acceptable, readily available blood now, she wouldn't have to put herself through any more bites for a while. His intense gaze met hers as he looked up, his eyes filled with a potent mix of hunger and desire. His nails gently scraped against the back of her knees, willing her to answer him.

“Be quick about it,” she finally relented.

Astarion wasted no time. He turned her around and pushed her onto her bedroll, tugging at the waistband of her pants, shimmying them over her knees. He fingered at the sides of her underwear, leaning down to kiss the top of her navel. Tav’s insides fluttered from the sensation of him peppering her from top to bottom. His nose pressed against the dampness of the fabric and she nearly blacked out of embarrassment from the deep inhale he took.

“You smell intoxicating,” Astarion groaned. “Like the very essence of temptation.” He nearly ripped her bottoms off, throwing them to the ground thoughtlessly along with her soiled rag. His cold breath tickled against her. "It's like I'm a moth drawn to a burning flame. I didn't know it was possible for you to smell even more enticing," he said, genuine bewilderment coloring his tone.

“No need to provide commentary…” Tav mumbled, averting her gaze.

Astarion pushed her legs up over his shoulders, spreading her thighs apart to reveal her slick mound. She started to drip with arousal, a stark contrast to the inky blood that painted her folds.

“Like honeyed fire, so rich and delicious it ensnared me. I felt it – tasted it – in my throat before I came anywhere near you.”

He dipped the tips of his index and middle fingers to spread her apart, dragging his tongue in one icey, long lick. The chill, a shock to her core, made her twitch as he licked her agonizingly slow from clit to tailbone. He lapped around her inner thighs, nipping at the flesh, forcing a shiver up her spine. Astarion let out a noise when she involuntarily jerked her body against his face, thighs clenching around his head. He swirled his tongue all around, his nose grazing her nub.

“Oh,” Tav moaned. Her eyes widened in alarm at the unapproved noise, as if it was an admission of weakness, but it only seemed to encourage him to tongue her faster. Biting down on her knuckle was the only way for Tav to suppress the noise that threatened to spill from her mouth as he ate her like a savage animal having its final meal. The sounds of him lapping up and down at her cunt was obscenely erotic, and she felt herself dripping another gush of blood and arousal into his mouth. He slid his tongue as far as he could inside her slit, attempting to clean her inner walls from the nonstop trickle of blood. She felt his thumb move to her clit to stroke it in slow circles and another whine fell from her mouth.

Why didn’t he just get his fill and leave? What was the point of toying with her? Tav needed Astarion to stop, she thought foggily.

He slurped up as much as he could of her blood, then shifted his attention on her swollen clit. Her legs shook against him, threatening to drop, but he kept her up like she weighed nothing. Tav finally mustered up the courage to look down at Astarion, and he must’ve sensed it, as his blown out eyes met hers. She gasped at the sight, her slickness painting his face so beautifully her cunt practically purred in response.

“Please.”

Her desire and uncertainty tangled in that one word. She wasn’t sure what she was pleading for. For him to go? To continue?

Astarion responded with a muffled, guttural groan. Her heels dug into his shoulder blades, urging him on, while his lips locked around her clit with a hunger that left her gasping. He suckled her so desperately that his teeth brushed against her, causing her legs to unconsciously spread further, surrendering to the feeling. Tav didn’t know how long they stayed like that; with Astarion dragging his tongue through her slick folds, alternating between frenzied licks and focused suctions on her clit. Before she knew it, an intense orgasm washed over her, prompting a bite on her own fingers to stop her from keening. She yelped when she broke skin and her fingers shot to his curls as her sex throbbed. But Astarion didn’t stop – he had gone back to tasting her in lazy, drawn out strokes.

“It’s sinful,” he muttered against her flushed skin. “It's divine.”

Tav pulled at his hair, hoping he would come off from her, hoping he would leave then. “You’ve not had your fill?” she croaked.

“I would lay here drinking from you all night until I fell asleep, if I had my way. ”

She watched him lick the inner corners of her thighs, fangs grazing against her flesh, threatening to bite down. Astarion moved up, trailing kisses under her belly button, then maneuvered her legs around his hips. His hands slid up her sides, scrunching Tav’s top up to show just a hint of her breasts, nipples hardened against the sheer fabric. He pulled away, baring a sharp smile, hair disheveled, teeth smeared with her blood, then pressed his clothed cock against her. “You can stop your little charade now.”

Before Tav could reply, he caught her lips in a deep kiss, rutting against her in his strained pants. The comedown from her orgasm had caught her with dull inhibitions as she couldn’t help but return the kiss, tasting her fluids on her tongue, coppery and vaguely salty. Tav couldn’t say she shared his sentiment regarding her blood, but she didn’t pull away, brain spiked with his tongue in her mouth.

“Let me love you,” Astarion whispered tenderly.

Tav suddenly jolted, breaking out of her spell. She pushed at his chest, her body straightening like a lance. She seethed with frustration. “Get off.”

He stiffened, pulling away to meet her glare. “Did I do something wrong, my sweet?”

“Enough with the fucking pet names,” she practically spat. “You don’t owe me. You don’t have to pretend to want me. I didn’t lie when I said I wanted to help you, so don’t lie to me and recite sonnets and play pretend lover. ”

He peeled himself from her, and for once, Astarion didn't respond with a quip or a sly remark.

“I… see. I didn't mean to upset you.”

Her expression softened, though she couldn't help but feel that if Astarion had wanted to pursue it, he would make a great actor. But Tav didn’t want to put herself through a show, no matter how much she had wanted to watch it.

Tav sighed, her throat feeling parched as she spoke. "It's alright," she murmured, avoiding his gaze while she reached for her pants. “You know, sometimes, people just want to help you. Because they care about you, and they don’t expect anything back.”

“Everybody wants something.” Astarion remarked.

“You’re right,” Tav acknowledged quietly, nestling herself in her bedroll and turning over. “I want to get some sleep. Good night, Astarion.”

Halsin's warning about the Shadow Cursed Lands had been clear: it would be a wasteland where even the animals would be too ghoulish for Astarion to feed on.

So for the rest of their journey towards Gymforge and beyond, Astarion gorged himself on as many creatures as he could. Bats, cave goats, owls, giant lizards – everything was fair game. He even contemplated the bulette at one point, but it smelled awful. He drank from anything and everything that moved, all in an effort to stave off the need to ask Tav for her blood. He didn't want to risk upsetting her again. Astarion was still a wanted man, and as long as she tolerated him, he was safe from Cazador.

Though he was satiated on animal blood, it was like eating plain porridge multiple times a day—nourishment, yes, but completely devoid of pleasure. But that was fine; Astarion didn’t want to grow used to Tav, he was disturbed by the way his body reacted everytime he fed on her.

After the last feeding, he left for his tent with an aching cock. He had tried to will it away, but Astarion had felt too drunk on delirious bloodlust. Back in his bed, he tugged at himself feverishly, in need of the release that was denied to him. Her smell, taste, body – everything, everything about Tav made him throb with desire. It was only logical, a primal urge, nothing more than that. He had, after all, succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh in the past, no matter how unwilling.

He understood all too well that the body could respond even when the mind wasn't fully present.

And yet, Astarion remained restless at night. When they all retired to their beds, his mind inevitably turned to think of her. He couldn’t shake the memory of how she ran hot against his bone cold body, hugging him like a furnace. His longing for her went beyond the hunger for her blood, and that realization left him uneasy, causing him to distance himself even more from her. However, he stole glances at her from time to time. Sometimes it happened when they gathered around the campfire for supper, sharing plans and stories. Astarion was particularly drawn to her smile, so sweet that her eyes wrinkled at the corners. He couldn't ignore the knot that twisted in his stomach when he saw her smile for anyone else.

"What will everyone do when this is all over?" Tav asked on one of the rare evenings when everyone remained awake.

“Whatever Lady Shar calls for me to do,” Shadowheart answered with determination.

Lae’zel scoffed dismissively. “Chk. It’s a waste of time to ponder.”

“Well, I miss my Tara terribly,” Gale confessed sadly. “First thing I do, I would like to see her immediately.”

Karlach leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. “Aw man… at least you have someone to return to!”

Wyll flashed a grin at her. "You could always join me, Karlach. We could be the Blades of the Frontiers together, dispensing justice across the land of Faerûn." He dramatically extended his arms to illustrate the vision. Karlach smiled in response. "I'll hold you to that, soldier."

"I'm afraid the grove needs a fresh start without me," Halsin admitted. "I have a feeling I'll be required elsewhere, though I'm not entirely certain where."

Tav flicked her eyes to Astarion and then looked away while she spoke. “I should hope that no matter where we end up, that we all see each other every once in a while.” She rubbed at her arms and then laughed. “Gods, I know I sound so sentimental. But I’ve grown to truly like you crazy fuckers. And it’s going to be really hard to relate to people after this.”

“You can say that again,” Wyll agreed.

Astarion hummed, raising his wine goblet with a flourish. "Don’t fret, my dear friends. I’ll host the most extravagant of parties each season in my grand, opulent palace, and you’ll all be my honored guests. I'll personally hunt you down if you fail to attend or neglect the dress code."

“Hear hear!” Karlach cheered. They clinked their glasses together and Astarion’s breath caught when he saw the corners of Tav’s lips curling up. She was smiling at him. And his cold, dead, unbeating heart felt like it had swelled up so large he thought it might burst out of his chest.

Fuck, Astarion thought.

The Last Light Inn was a welcome respite for their weary bodies. Each of them had their own rooms with real beds, and they had all ran to claim their rooms.

However, as usual, trouble had a knack for finding them. Barely an hour into their stay, they were attacked, though they did manage to defend the inn and its people. Tav sat down hours later on a barstool in the tavern, tossing a coin to a tiefling child who was doubling as the barkeep. The little one handed her a mug, only filled halfway, and she chuckled to herself.

"Guess I won't be drowning my sorrows tonight.”

She took out her journal and went over her notes. There was so much to keep in mind, so much to go over. Tav scribbled away for an hour or two, and as the common area gradually emptied with everyone retiring to their rooms, she remained absorbed in her journal until a familiar voice broke the silence. “You’re up late.” Tav looked up, finding Astarion standing at the edge of the dimly lit hallway. It had been a while since they had been in the same vicinity as each other alone, and she couldn’t help but feel nervous at the sight of him. He made strides to move towards her, stopping only to stoop down and give His Majesty a little scratch behind its ears.

"Says you," she replied. "Though... well, vampires are nocturnal, aren't they?"

"Well actually, I’ve grown to quite enjoy watching the sunrise." Astarion said as he grabbed a cup from behind the counter. “Can’t wait to get out of this wretched place. I’m afraid the real reason I’m still up is a bit more mundane—I'm feeling a bit on edge."

He dipped the mug into a barrel of wine and raised an eyebrow at her disapproving look. "What? Free ale is the least we deserve for saving this sorry little inn from destruction."

Tav couldn't argue with that. She scooted over on her stool to make room for Astarion, and he joined her without a word. Astarion drank and she wrote in her book and they didn’t say anything to each other; it was a comfortable silence, one they both needed. After a while, Tav couldn't stifle a yawn, her eyes bleary from exhaustion.

"If you yawn any more, I'm going to have to toss you into your room," Astarion remarked dryly, his fingers curled around his fourth glass of wine. "You should get some rest."

She looked at him and noticed his cheeks were gaunt. There was no luster to his appearance, and he appeared more tired than she felt on the inside, likely due to a lack of nourishment. Tav had been waiting for him to ask to feed ever since they stepped foot into these cursed lands, but he never sought her out. There were no animals out in these lands, and most of the people they killed were tainted. Unless one of the others felt like offering, he was short on fuel. Astarion was probably starving, and that’s why he was restless.

Maybe she had been too harsh with him. Tav had been the one to offer blood in the first place, and then she had to go and make things awkward with her outburst. A pang of guilt washed over her.

“You too,” Tav replied. “You honestly look a little awful.” He tensed at the comment and she hurried to add: “You’re hungry. When was the last time you ate?”

With a subtle lick of his lips, Astarion brushed off her concern. “I'm perfectly fine. I'll feast on some True Souls once we reach Moonrise, and you'll see, I'll be right as rain.”

"You're obviously not fine, Astarion," Tav insisted. "I'm not a stranger. I know you."

His eyes searched hers like he was looking for something, a certain melancholy to them that she couldn’t parse out. Then the look vanished, replaced by an empty expression.

“I don’t think you do.”

She almost believed a few times he cared for her, in his own way. But it was clear now that her original instinct had been correct: it really had been a game for him, and now Astarion was so bored of her, he’d rather starve. Tav knew that if she were smart, she would feel relieved that he no longer wanted to use her, that he had backed off. But all she felt was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Astarion still grieved for his past life, but any memories of family, lovers, or friends remained lost to him. At times, he preferred it that way. Ignorance, after all, had its virtues. Caring for others meant extending a piece of yourself to them, one you often couldn’t get back, and that was a risk he didn’t want to take. Not when he so desperately needed to care for himself. What was so bad about being selfish, he wondered. Astarion couldn't afford to put himself second, not after everything he had been through.

He had come into this world alone, suffered alone, and he would depart this earthly realm alone.

The second night at the inn, Halsin had gone to find Thaniel, leaving the rest of them to defend his portal while they awaited his return. They hadn't expected the overwhelming forces drawn to destroy it. Wave after wave of undead assailants descended upon them, and they found themselves severely outnumbered.

Tav, determined to protect the portal, was casting a wall of stone when a wraith suddenly teleported and slashed at her, breaking her concentration. Her cry pierced the chaotic battle, and Astarion whipped around at the sound. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her stomach in agony.

"No, no, Tav! Get up, damn you!" Astarion shouted. Without hesitation, he lunged forward with his daggers and tore into the wraith until it dissipated into a shadow of smoke.

"The portal—" Tav choked out, blood spluttering from her throat. He knelt down and pulled her up against him.

“Fuck the portal,” Astarion grit his teeth. “Shadowheart!”

Shadowheart, engrossed in protecting Karlach and Lae'zel from cursed Harpers trying to break through, couldn't hear him. He yelled for Shadowheart again, but her attention remained focused on the women. Tav had made a promise to Halsin to keep the portal open, and the others were determined to honor that promise. Astarion cursed them all.

As he looked down at Tav, he saw her eyes dimming, her hand outstretched towards the portal.

She mouthed, "Halsin."

The druid had come back with the child.

Astarion would’ve turned back time and seen Halsin dead and the Shadow-Cursed lands forever damned if it meant that he would never again have to feel the fear that struck his heart when Tav went slack in his arms.

“She’ll be alright,” Shadowheart assured, the back of her palm against Tav’s forehead, feeling for her temperature. “She just needs some rest.”

Astarion had been pacing at the end of Tav's bed, unable to leave her side since their return to the inn. "How long?”

“Can’t say. Maybe a few hours.” Shadowheart put the rest of her scrolls and potions away into her bag. “She’s tougher than she looks, Astarion. Don’t worry too much.”

“I’m not worried,” Astarion huffed, fixing his face to a smooth nonchalance. “But… I’ll stay here with her. Just in case. You should get to bed. You know, vampire and all, we're creatures of the night and whatnot.”

Shadowheart gave him a knowing look before she left. “Let me know if she still feels poorly.”

Astarion quietly pulled a chair closer to Tav's bedside, taking care not to stir her. As he sat there, he wondered what he would say when she woke up. He hadn't planned beyond his initial rush into her room. Hours passed, marked by the gentle rise and fall of her breathing and he never got up from his seat. The exhaustion of the day slowly overcame him and though he tried to fight it, Astarion drifted off into a trance.

Tav woke up after some time, groggy and disoriented. After she checked her body and found nothing out of place, she blinked a few times, surprised to find Astarion sitting nearby.

“No,” Astarion mumbled, his fingers gripping the armrest of his chair. “No. I'll never come back.”

In his nightmares, Cazador taunted him — to his master, he was akin to a mere child who had simply gotten carried away with the infantile joys of freedom. His relentless pursuit haunted him through the forest, and no matter how far into the void Astarion ran, he could still hear him. Oh, how foolish of him to dream of a life that was his own — he would never escape. No matter how far he fled, Cazador would inevitably find him...

"Please, no, Master —" he cried out.

Tav reached her hand out to gently cover one of his. "Astarion," she said, her voice soft and soothing, despite her sore throat.

His eyes fluttered open, the rims around them inflamed, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Cazador," he sputtered, still caught in the grip of his night terrors.

"You're safe. He's not here," she reassured him, trying to withdraw her hand, but he held it firmly. "You were having a bad dream."

Astarion nodded. “Yes.” His eyes closed as took a deep inhale, calming himself from the remnants of his nightmare. “I didn’t intend to wake you.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I woke up on my own.” Tav replied, her expression equally laced with concern and suspicion. “Um. Is something wrong? What are you doing here?”

Astarion was quick with his answer. He didn’t want to tell her that, no, actually, he had gone sick with worry and had practically barked at everyone to clear the way as he rushed into the inn with her injured body. “Everything is fine. We just wanted to make sure you were alright. Everyone else is asleep right now.”

“I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings,” Tav frowned apologetically. “I didn’t mean to worry you all. But Halsin came back with Thaniel, didn’t he?”

He scowled, recalling how his forehead vein nearly burst when Halsin confirmed that Thaniel was of no use until they located his missing half. "I could've strangled Halsin for taking as long as he did. All for some comatose child."

Her eyes bore into him. “I would’ve gone through the pain a thousand more times to help Halsin cure this land. You can’t blame him for anything.”

Tav was light and goodness and hope and everything Astarion was not and he wanted to throttle her and tell her that this miserable, revolting world didn’t deserve her.

“I can, and I will. But thankfully, you’re okay. No need for anyone’s head to roll.”

“Ugh. You are so dramatic,” she laughed, her hand splaying under him. His finger rubbed a circle on the back of her palm. Then she paused, and they stared at each other, and Astarion almost shrank from the intensity of her gaze. “I appreciate you watching over me. I’m good, really. I can take it from here. You can go now.”

“If that’s what you want,” he replied.

”I…” She hesitated, her eyes shifting slowly between his, searching for something in them. "What do you want?"

Tav had asked Astarion this question once before, and he had delivered his answer, every word rehearsed and refined countless times with various people.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he confessed. His eyebrows furrowed as he pushed himself to continue. "I… want to free myself from my constant thoughts of you.”

An unfamiliar tightness gripped his throat. Astarion had always thought of her softness as a horrible weakness, but now, with Tav before him, he understood that to be soft was a terribly difficult thing to do.

“I want…” he continued, voice barely above a whisper. “... to kiss you.”

Tav echoed his previous response.

"Well, if that's what you want."

He was careful, the way he rose to caress her cheek, and agonizingly slow as her lips parted and his cold thumb brushed against them. Astarion closed the gap and pressed a kiss on her, so gentle he thought he only imagined doing it. He tilted her head up, the kiss deepening with a swift graduation of intensity that made Tav cling to him as if he were the only solid thing in her dizzying world.

This was different, Astarion marveled — this felt like undeniable need.

“I can’t summon up any clever words,” Astarion breathed against her lips. “Just that I want you.”

“Then shut up for once and have me.” She twined her arms around his neck and his tongue glided past her lips to taste her, eliciting a sound from her that redirected all the blood in Astarion’s body in a sweet rush. Every movement of her lips sent a jolt through his body, fanning the blaze that was shared back and forth between them.

How maddening was it, that one second Astarion was afraid to falter, and the next she reduced him to desperation.

He devoured her with tongue and teeth, pushing her back into the mattress, only stopping when it felt like they would die from lack of oxygen. Astarion broke away from her embrace, peeled his shirt off and hurled it to the ground, then tugged at her pants; she clumsily arched herself up to help him strip her clothes off. Next was her top, then her underwear; his eyes swept over her, committing every detail and every curve to memory.

“You, my little dove, truly are a vision.”

Tav laughed with embarrassment, but her laughter dissolved into a moan as Astarion's lips met hers. She kissed him like she was untangling him, and he kissed her like he wanted to own her from the inside out. Then she gasped, the sound shooting straight to his cock. “I’ve wanted you. Everytime. But I was scared.”

He groaned and released her from his mouth, then captured her lips in his again. Astarion had never wanted so hopelessly to see someone come undone under him.

“I know darling. I’m always right,” he chuckled against her lips, the arrogance hiding the relief he felt. She tsked at him and his fingers gently wrapped over her throat, as the other hand thumbed at her lips. “I’m jealous of your neck,” he mused. “It gets to hold your lovely head up, when it could be my hands instead.”

It was sickening, Astarion thought, how unbelievably, excruciatingly hard he was, and he had barely even touched her. Tav watched him curiously, her eyes raking over his body with lust. “I want to taste you,” she pleaded breathlessly. “Let me.”

“Not tonight,” he said simply, wanting nothing more than to see her pretty lips wrap around his cock and to see her struggle for air. But he’d be lying if the simple act of denying her didn’t turn him on. Astarion prodded at her lips with his fingers, knocking at her teeth, slipping two into her mouth. “You can work for that.”

She opened her mouth without further complaint. He pressed down on her tongue and she sucked as he slowly twisted his fingers around. Astarion lowered a trail of kisses down her face, peppering her jaw, neck, collarbones, the dip between her breasts. Then, he took his spit slicked fingers out with a plop, saliva trailing out from her lips, before moving down to spread open her wet folds. Tav was dripping with arousal, eyes fluttering in anticipation of pleasure, and Astarion thought he’d like to keep her like this forever. He pinched at her clit then rubbed firm and slow; her hips twitched against him, silently asking for him to go faster, harder, anything, to make her cum.

But Astarion wasn’t going to let her, he had never intended to let her cum – at least not yet, it was too soon, not when he wanted to unravel her more.

“Get on your knees for me, darling.”

Tav had no choice but to roll over and prop herself up on her elbows. She looked back at him, her eyes glassy with frustration. He could barely hold himself together to whisper sweet nothings into her back, something that had been so vile to do before and so easy to do now. Astarion ached to have her: anywhere, in every position, in every possible way, to mark her and make it so that everyone would know that Tav was his to have.

He tried to shake away the obsessive thought but it burned through him so deeply that it nearly pushed Astarion to rage. His kisses dragged lower and lower until his hands squeezed at the undersides of her ass. Astarion spread her thighs apart and opened her up like ripe fruit with his thumbs, watching her drool drip down her folds. He lapped his tongue up from her glistening folds to her rim and Tav’s knees buckled under the sensation.

Astarion wasn’t just eating her out, he was tonguefucking her; he delved deeper, groaning against her as she pushed back into his face and her musk clouded his mind. The taste of her constant, dripping wetness was intoxicating, second only to her life-giving blood. It threatened to drown Astarion, like a violent wave crashing at the shore of his senses.

He snaked in and out of her puckered hole, back to her cunt, everything growing slick and sloppy and sensitive, wet sounds mixing with moans spilling from both of them. The contrast of the cold of his tongue and the hotness of her cunt was exquisite, and he thought Tav deserved the gift of his fingers again. His index and middle fingers slid through to part the lips of her sticky cunt, then disappeared, quickly thrusting in and out of her.

“I need–” She made a strangled sound before she buried her face into her pillow, not wanting to make any more noise should the rooms next door hear. Then, she nearly sobbed at the sudden loss of his lips against her, though his fingers were still deep at her base. He reached forward to tug at her hair abruptly, bringing her head up from the bed.

“You need what?” Astarion feigned ignorance, not slowing down the pace of his fingers fucking in and out of her. Tav reached down with her hand to press against her clit, grinding her palm flat against her pubic bone. She humped against her hand and back into his fingers, again and again until he released her hair and snatched her hand and held it against her back as he buried a third finger into her cunt.

“Fuck, Astarion.”

The way Tav cried out his name made Astarion want to drag this out, to deny her the way she had done to him for so many weeks. Until she was a sobbing, pleading, pathetic mess. He pressed a wet kiss against her cunt and barely held back a wicked smile when she shook as his fingers curled, pulling and pushing in her.

“Sorry pet, I can’t hear you.”

“Fucking...“ Tav grit her teeth, her temper rising when she realized he was playing with her. “All this time you've been accosting me and now you want to tease?"

"Little known fact about me, I'm actually hard of hearing in one ear," he lied, pushing a fourth finger into her squelching cunt. Tav pushed her face into the pillow and groaned in frustration, before picking her head back up, choking out the words.

"Astarion, I need you to fuck me."

“Oh,” he replied, like the answer hadn’t been so obvious. “All you had to do was use your words.”

He withdrew his fingers from her. Tav strained her head to see him tugging his pants down, cock springing out, beautiful and veiny, precum leaking and turned on to the point of agony. Astarion gave himself one firm stroke from root to tip and back. She bumped against him, but he pushed her back down and dragged the tip through her cunt.

“So wet.” He slid the head between her slick folds, rubbing up to her clit, and back down. Again and again, each time dipping closer to where she needed him most in a torturously unhurried pace. “You’re always so wet for me, aren’t you, my sweet?”

She moaned an agreement into the bed and ground herself against him, hard enough that Astarion felt relief all around his painfully erect cock. It was truly difficult to stop himself from fucking her deep into the mattress, but the novelty of how much he enjoyed seeing her squirm under him was too new, too enthralling.

“Looks like you enjoy the pet names after all.”

“Astarion,” Tav cried, rutting desperately on his cock. She looked like she would either break down in tears or hit him. He thought he would enjoy either option.

Astarion flipped her over on her back and summoned the best of his self control to kick off his pants. Then he kissed her deeply and pushed in, slowly, stretching her out; mesmerized by the needy look on her face and the way her lips parted in a gasp. He wanted to savor this, to paint a picture in his mind to look back on in case it never happened again, but it only lasted a few seconds before Tav wrapped her legs around his waist, willing more of him into her.

“Tav,” Astarion stuttered, grabbing hold of her hips roughly. “Cheeky little pup — so desperate.”

He slowly dragged out of her until only the tip of his cock was left, holding her legs apart so he could admire the view of her taking the entirety of his length as he pushed back in leisurely.

“Astarion, fuck me, please, I can’t breathe until you do.”

Would he ever tire of his name being used like a prayer? Astarion growled in response, pulling and burying himself at the hilt of her cunt. Then he fucked her faster - the pace brutal and unrelenting - and her walls clenched so tight around him that it hurt, a smooth and velvety pain along his cock. When Tav’s eyes rolled back he freed a hand to grab her throat, forcing her to look at him.

“I would tear myself open limb from limb if you could only see the mess you’ve made of me,” he panted.

Tav choked around his fingers, unable to reply, eyes wide in disbelief; Astarion released her throat to grip the back of her thighs and pin her knees to her chest with bruising strength. He lost himself, he didn’t stop moving, didn’t let up. Fucking her felt both sacred and like sacrilege, like being eviscerated by divine rapture, like something he simply didn’t deserve. He would have chained himself down at her altar and would've ripped through his own ribcage with his bare hands to offer his lungs as sacrifice if that's what she demanded.

“Yes, it’s so good, Astarion—” Tav babbled incoherently under him, her breasts jiggling with each thrust. “You’re so good. So fucking good.”

Astarion lurched forward with a groan and buried his face into her juncture between her neck and shoulder, inhaling sharply as his nose nudged at her fading wound. It was wholly unnatural to resist biting her, but he did. He wasn’t good, he had probably never been good in any lifetime. But he wanted to be – would try to be – if that’s what she wanted. Astarion fucked her to the ragged rhythm of his name, hard and deep and devastating, hissing everytime her walls flexed and gripped around him.

“Bite me,” Tav begged, her arms sliding around him, one slipping into his hair and the other clawing at the scarred skin of his back. “You don’t have to ask. Never.”

Astarion wavered, but only for a second. His teeth dragged over her skin like the point of a knife and she leaned into it, the pounding of her heart echoing in Astarion’s ears. Tav let out a needy pant of encouragement when he sank in, nothing careful or gentle about his bite. Hot pulsing blood rushed into his mouth; it poured into every vein in his body, exploding everywhere at once.

Tav thrashed under him, threading her fingers through his curls and holding him in place. He drank and sucked until the skin underneath him spurted so much blood that it spilled out past the corners of his mouth, drenching their chests as they rocked against each other. He dragged a finger through the rain of blood and when it was coated he smeared it on her swollen clit, working frenzied, clumsy circles on it. His arm grew tense with the speed and intensity of it but he didn’t stop. Tav’s sopping wet cunt sucked him in messily in the silence and a dark satisfaction curled through Astarion’s gut, knowing that it was impossible to not hear them throughout the inn.

“You’ll be my undoing,” he told her, less of a statement and more of a promise. Astarion kissed her through the film of blood that coated the inside of his mouth, wet and metallic and sweet. He groaned when she licked the taste of her off his lips and he fucked into her like an animal, spurred on by the cries she tried and failed to stifle. When Tav came, she clamped down so blindingly tight on Astarion’s cock that an orgasm ripped from his body forcefully, shooting through him and spilling into her as deeply as her cunt would allow.

"You'll stay here?" Tav's words were a barely audible request, masked as a question. The persistent voice that had carved out an unwelcome home in his brain urged him to get up and leave. But Tav curled around him like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he couldn’t find the strength to listen.

Maybe she would ruin him. Maybe they’d consume each other. Maybe he’d wake up in the morning and pretend tonight never happened. Or maybe some things just burned brighter in the wake of destruction. Astarion was drawn to the fire now, even if it meant risking his wings.

Astarion pressed a gentle kiss to her damp forehead and drew her closer to his chest. Tav hummed a satisfied sigh, the heat from her body radiating and wrapping him like the thickest blanket in the dead of winter. In that fleeting moment, he wondered if there was a way to bottle her warmth and tuck it away for his loneliest hours.

He chose to settle for a simple truth.

“Yes.”

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ishaslife · 7 months

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if you leave Astarion alone in Cazador's dungeon before the cutscene that decides his fate, Astarion chooses to make the right choice and kill Cazador as well as freeing the spawn (This choice is still quite debatable imo, there isn't a right or wrong choice here but astarion seems to think it's the best thing to do.) Afterwards, when he is reprimanded by the Gur leader, he says "they were innocents. To kill them would've been an even greater crime."

Yes, it makes sense he'd choose the good ending because he doesn't have you there to show him the rune to begin with but he doesn't even think about it or comment on it. Still, it shows that he doesn't want to kill innocents and he won't sacrifice the people he lured to meet his own ends unless of course you encourage him to. I read a comment today saying "your true self is who you are when no one is watching." and I think that's pretty accurate with Astarion.

conclusion

astarion = best boy.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion baldur's gate #pat the astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance

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lex-the-flex · 7 months

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Astarion finding out reader is ticklish

Ticklish

Oh, Astarion would love this.

He wouldn't stop teasing you. No matter how hard he tried. The day he discovered that you were ticklish was a fun one in fact. It happened when it was time for the two of you to take patrol in hunting for the day. The group's rations and water was running low, so Gale suggested that you and Astarion should track down some deer.

"Why the two of us?" You asked Gale, tying the laces of your boots.

"Because you are an excellent shot, Y/N. And that Astarion can track anything from miles away." Gale responds, crossing his arms.

"Not to mention that he's fast. Incredibly fast." You scoff, trying to shake the shudder from creeping up your spine.

Sure, you liked Astartion. You were still getting used to him and you couldn't deny the new and surprising feelings you had for him. But you weren't sure if he felt the same.

"Come on, Y/N. He's good to have around and I know he enjoys your companionship. Besides, the two of you work good together." Gale replies, helping you from your spot on the ground.

"Alright, fine." You answer, before heading to get your gear ready.

The woods peacefulness felt wonderful amongst all the fighting and missions your crew had to go on. Filling up the few canteens with fresh water from the river, Astarion caught you off guard. Grabbing your sides in hoping to scare you, he tickled you feverishly.

"Astarion, stop! As-- Star!!" You begged through giggles, wanting him to stop.

"Oh why, it's so precious when you giggle for me!" He teases, finally letting go of your waist.

Standing from the river's edge, you both were ready to go back to camp when suddenly, Astarion got an idea. An funny, yet a naughty idea. When the two of you reached the camp's boarder, Astarion set down the supplies that you both had gathered and then proceeded to reach for your waist.

Gently tickling your sides, you're unable to break free from his grasp, and he carefully backs you against a tree. Grabbing his shoulders, Astarion pauses as the two of you silently gaze at one another. Slowly leaning forward, Astarion hesitantly presses his lips to yours, capturing you in a passionate kiss.

Wrapping his arms around your form, he pulls you closer to him, wanting to feel your body against his own. Tangling your fingers in his white curls, he breaks for a moment, relishing in the taste of your lips. Gliding his lips down to your neck, a gasp leaves your mouth just as he makes contact with the sensitive skin.

Parting your legs with his knee, Astarion secretly; desperately wants nothing more than to feel you around him. To have you scream his name while he fucks you so smoothly, and he wanted to be your first. He wanted to be all yours in a clogging wave of lust and love and you wanted it too. You trusted him with everything, so much that you were willing to let Astarion introduce you to a whole new side of him.

Biting your lip, a quiet moan escaped your lips, and Astarion's ears perked up.

"Sshh, not now, love. We'll get to enjoy each other soon enough." He whispers before kissing you once more.

tagging ~

@dreamliners

@violetthecreator

@bitten-by-astarion

@loveandfictionforall

@tripleyeeet

@macabre-mangled

@demigoddessqueens

@sweatandwoe

@oooriana

@local-trans-witch

@kittenkiryu

@shions-new-blog-of-stuff

@squashfics

@notrattus

@mishwanders

@worryknotdear

#astarion #astarion fic #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion romance #astarion x y/n #astarion x you #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #neil newbon

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astarion-approves · 7 months

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Astarion & Tav taking a bath together? Something gentle and intimate but non-sexual? ♥️

Astarion x Gender Neutral Reader (Tav)

Tag: 1.6k+ words, SFW, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Confessions, Bathing/Washing, bathhouse, No Smut, Drabble, Short & Sweet

“I had no idea that there even was a bathhouse in Baldur’s Gate.” Tav mumbles as they followed behind Astarion, leaving their camp behind in search of a place for a fresh bath. They both carried their own bags, Tav carrying a change of clothes and a bar of soap. Looking at Astarion’s bag, it looked much heavier.

Astarion glanced back to Tav with a boyish grin. “There’s more than one, of course. I wouldn’t be caught dead in any of the free ones though. No, for us, we’re going to take a bath in luxury.”

Read below or on Ao3

Please like and reblog ~

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

“Luxury…,” Tav said with a wince. “How much is this going to cost me?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head. It’s on me.”

“Wow, Astarion, it’s almost like a date.”

“Hah!” Astarion barked a laugh. “You wish.”

The bathhouse was huge, the outside painted a bright, flawless white with an emerald trim accenting the pillars and fencing that surrounded it. Two large gold doors signified the entrance, the level of elegance screamed ‘high class.’

Once inside, Astarion strode ahead, already reaching for his coin bag and requesting a private room for himself and Tav to share. Tav watched as the woman working the front desk counted the coin, a ridiculous total of 75 coins for a single bath.

With a room key in hand, Astarion clicked his tongue for Tav to follow, apparently not even phased by the amount of coin he willingly spent for the night. This is the same man who haggled over the cost a black dye with a child two months ago.

Tav supposed it was fine to splurge every once in a while, but they couldn’t justify this. “I could have split the cost with you,” Tav said.

Astarion fiddled with the key, inserting it into their room and twisting his wrist to open it. “Nonsense. Besides, part of the reason I brought you here is to protect me while my head's under water.”

“Right…” Tav nodded. Something that Astarion had admitted months ago.. nearly a year now. During a night of passion, their lips locked together in a heated embrace. But it didn’t feel right. The shock in Astarion’s eyes when they pulled away still pains them. Instead of moving forward and having one another… they talked. They’ve been close friends ever since, giving Astarion the freedom to be open with his fears, to admit why he attempted to seduce Tav in the first place.

Protection.

And even now, as Astarion stripped down to nothing, Tav smiled knowing that he felt safe with them.

The room wasn’t massive, but still larger than any shower room Tav had ever seen. The walls were painted into a beautiful scene, one to trick your mind into thinking you were bathing in nature, surrounded by trees and a waterfall nearby. Tav swore they even saw the leaves move as a subtle breeze rolled through them and through the room.

There was a single shower and a very very large bath. Steam filled the room, the bath already filled to the brim with hot water, which flowed over the sides and into the drains on the floor beside it.

Tav sighed happily as they undressed along with Astarion and stepped up to where the shower waited for them. The floor was hot beneath their feet. The air, although steamy, felt as refreshing as standing at the top of a mountain.

Astarion began unpacking his bag, removing item after item and placing it beside the shower.

After six different items were removed Tav just had to ask, “Wait, just how many products do you use for your hair?”

“Products?” Astarion put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Tav, these are just shampoos, conditioners, hair masks, oil, and a hydrating leave in gloss… do you not take these steps with your hair?”

Tav runs their hand through their hair, shrugging. “No?”

“What? Gods, you’re an absolute savage. Come here.” Astarion grabbed a large bucket that was resting off on the side, turning it upside down and making a temporary chair. “Sit.”

“I can wash my own hair—“

“Sit, Tav. I won’t say it again.”

Tav knew better than to argue and, with a sigh, they plopped down onto the bucket. Soon after, Astarion was turning on the water. It was hot and relaxing, pouring down the top of their head and running down their body.

“Okay,” Tav whispered. “I understand the luxury bath now.”

“Oh, darling. We’re just getting started.”

Astarion poured shampoo into his hands, rubbing his palms together before sliding them into Tav’s hair.

“Oh—“ Tav gasped, their head falling back and into Astarion’s chest.

He chuckled, his finger’s massaging and scratching at their scalp as they worked the shampoo into their hair. “Do I dare ask how you’ve been washing your hair all this time?”

“Cold water and a bar of soap.”

“Like I said, an absolute savage. What ever would you do without me?”

“Uh… Continue bathing with cold water and a bar of soap?”

Astarion tugged on their hair, laughing. “Smart ass.”

Soon he was pushing their head back under the flow of water, rinsing out the shampoo and then continuing with the conditioner.

Tav breathed in deeply, their eyes closing as they allowed Astarion to take care of them. And Astarion held them so gently, his finger’s threading through their hair, his nails pressing against their scalp and moving to the back of their neck. Each stroke sending shivers down Tav’s body as Astarion massaged the conditioner deep into their roots.

“Feel good?”

“Mh.” Tav hummed, shifting their head and resting the side of their face into his chest.

“Ah, no falling asleep. Not yet. Rinse this out and jump in the bath.” Astarion pushed Tav forward, back into the water and let the conditioner wash out.

“What about the other stuff?” Tav asked. They looked to the pile of other products, not wanting Astarion to stop yet.

“Cute,” Astarion said with a small smile. “That comes after the bath. Now hurry up.”

Tav pouted as they stood, giving Astarion the space to sit down. “Do you want me to wash your hair—“

“Bahah! Absolutely not.” Astarion laughed and reached for his shampoo, one of many. “I have a very strict regiment.”

“Oh…”

Astarion sighed and looked back to Tav. “Maybe next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“By the Hells, Tav, just get in the damn bath.”

Turning away from Astarion, Tav did as they were told. Hissing as their toe touched the water, it was even hotter than the shower. Soon they were sinking into it completely, moving to one edge of the bath where there was a bench under the water to sit and rest. They let their head lean back on the edge, their eyes closing as they allowed themselves to relax.

They don’t know how much time passed before Astarion joined them in the water. The vampire sitting next to them and joking about how it looked like he was the one doing the protecting here. Tav simply reached for Astarion and pulled him into their arms, snuggling against him and pressing a single kiss to his shoulder.

“Sleepy, are you?” Astarion slouched in the water, allowing Tav to cuddle him however he wanted, but he still felt a little stiff. “Looking for a cuddle?”

Which they’ve never done before. Not since that night.

Tav cracked open one eye, looking up and into Astarion’s deep blood red eyes that gazed back at them. “What are we?”

Suddenly the tension in the room grew thick, Astarion saying nothing and only continuing to look back at Tav.

Then he hummed, finally ripping his gaze from Tav. “Two friends, sitting in a bathtub, and they’re not in love.”

“We’re not?”

“Well..” Astrarion cleared his throat and continued, “I can’t speak for your lovely little self but—“ He paused, lifting a single hand from the water to cup Tav’s cheek. “Maybe I am? Honestly, Tav, I have no idea.

“We’ve been friends for so long… but I know that I would die for you. I wouldn’t die for the others. I would fight for them, but I wouldn’t die for them. And I miss you when you’re not around me. When you leave camp to go to Gods knows what— washing your hair with fucking sewer water—“

“—I use water from a lake.”

“Or buying me avocados because I ask you too—“

“—What do you even use them for?”

“My hair.”

“Really? Avocados?”

“Yes, it’s very good for your hair, Tav. Can I continue?”

Tav laughed. “Sorry, yes.”

“I don’t know what love is… For so many years, sex, lust.. any sprinkling of romance all ended in disaster… What I feel with you is different. It’s so much more than anything I’ve ever experienced, and we’ve never even fucked! It’s all so strange to me.”

“You don’t have to have sex to be in love with someone, Astarion.”

“Yes, I know that now, but… for the longest time— I didn’t. I want to explore this with you.” Astarion sat up, pulling Tav along with him. “Whatever this is.” He placed his hand against Tav’s chest, breathing in deeply and closing his eyes. “I want your heart to beat like this, only for me. I want to finally know what falling in love is truly like…With you.”

Tav took Astation’s hand, gently pulling it away from their chest and bringing it to their lips, pressing a small kiss on the back of his knuckles. “I love you, exactly as you are, and I’ll never need anything else from you. We’ll take this as slow as you need to.”

Astarion smiled, lowering his head and resting his forehead against Tav’s. “Thank you..”

“Of course,” Tav replied and sank back into the hot water, taking Astarion into their arms once more. This time, Astarion let himself mold into their arms, closing his eyes, relaxing, and enjoying the protection and understanding that Tav offered.

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that-regural-girl · 5 months

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Seems like the whole family tree has a thing for blood

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elvhendis · 7 months

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Uh yup it's yet another Astarion portrait guys ahaha I am well

#listen I don't even know what to say I wanted to practice figure drawing NOT SPEND HOURS ON A FRONT FACING PORTRAIT THE MOST BASIC SHIT EVER #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 #astarion fanart #myart #elvhendis

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spacesquidlings · 7 months

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Hold Me, Carry Me Slowly; My Sunlight

Description: With the warmth of the afterglow fading, Tav manages to coax Astarion into a bath, to show him all the ways she loves him and to hold him close until the water grows cold.

Warnings: Suggestive content, implied sex, mentions of blood, mentions of other bodily fluids

Notes: Hello!!! This is my very first attempt at writing Astarion. Saw him once, fell in love, went insane, now i'm writing fic about him and I cannot stop. I want to just squish his cheeks and tell him how lovely he is. This is set post-everything that happens in game, and he's unascended

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Heavy curtains drawn across the windows stifled any hope of light sneaking in between the threads. It did not even bleed through the leaden fabric, staining the room in a strange glow the way wispy, gossamer curtains often did. But she did not need the curtains drawn to know that night had descended. The hazy burn of dusk across the sky had long since faded, a chill hanging in the air that bit at her bare skin that could only belong to the fathomless night.

Pulling blankets tighter around herself did little to stave off the sting of the air, siphoning away the last of the heat from her skin. And nestling closer to the body beside her was not the improvement she’d been looking for, the press of her skin against his bringing discomfort from everything that had spilled onto her skin into stark awareness.

There was blood; her blood, dried and caked on the inside of her thighs and her throat from where she’d let his fangs sink into her flesh. There was sweat of course, still drying on her skin, making her feel itchy, like a second, ill-fitting skin had been plastered across her. And she could feel where his release leaked out of her, where it had been smeared on the inside of her thighs, where it was congealing on the sheets beneath her.

So not only was she cold, but she felt very gross. And very much in need of a bath.

But she was wrapped up in her lover’s arms, and he seemed intent on holding her close, his soft breaths ghosting across her collarbone.

“Astarion,” she whispered, running a hand through his hair. It was softer than silk, and still cool to the touch despite how she had run her fingers through it, twisted them into his curls at every chance she got. He sighed against her, his lashes fluttering as he shifted.

“Astarion.” She slid her hand down to the nape of his neck, playing with the wispy baby hairs that curled there. “I know you’re awake.”

“So what if I am?” His response was muffled, rumbling through her bones from where he pressed his face against her bare chest.

She traced her finger over the curve of his ear, biting the inside of her cheek as he shivered. “I want to take a bath.”

His only response was a groan, clutching her tighter.

“I feel sticky.”

“I’m far too comfortable to move, love.”

She huffed, resting her cheek on the top of his head. “I’m covered in dried blood! And other things.”

Now he did lift his head, his crimson eyes bright in the shadows of the room. She caught the glimmer of his teeth as he smiled, his canines looking especially deadly in the dark. “You could know I could help if there’s something you’d like inside of you.”

A few hours ago his words might have made her blush, might have made her flustered enough to try and look away before he inevitably caught her to tease her some more. But his voice was heavy with sleep, his words more of a quiet murmur than anything seductive. It just sounded a little silly, and she snorted, a smile spreading across her lips.

“You could help by letting me go and letting me bathe.”

Now he was the one huffing, shifting until they were eye-to-eye, his arms never leaving her sides. “And why would I want to do that when I’m so comfortable right here?”

“Because you love me?” She cupped his face in her hands, squishing his cheeks just the tiniest bit. He was always giving her odd looks when she did it, squishing his face or showering his head in kisses or hugging him as tight as she dared. But even if one brow was arched in question, he always smiled softly, his eyes warm with contentment. As if perhaps he liked the sudden onslaught of affection, even if it seemed a little strange.

He chuckled, idly stroking her side. “I do love you. More than anything.”

She leaned closer, until their noses practically bumped together. “So you’ll come bathe with me?”

His brows rose, one arm releasing her as he trailed his hand up her arm. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?”

She didn’t bother to respond with words this time, simply whining, putting on her best pout and hoping it would be enough to sway him.

A snort. “Nice try, darling. But I like having you here in my arms.”

Not nice enough, clearly. She whined again, louder this time, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Please, my love?” She went so far as to whimper, peeking up at him through her lashes, fingers still toying with his hair. “Please? You could come with me and then it would be so much nicer.”

He hummed, smirking as she wiggled closer, ignoring the stickiness between her thighs and the dull ache radiating through her nerves.

“Please?”

His eyes closed, and she knew she had won before he even started to sigh. But he did sigh, long and dramatic and very drawn out.

“Fine,” he finally conceded, fixing a glare on her that was entirely undercut by the smile still playing at his lips. “If you must. But you had better make sure to use those new oils I bought us. I don’t want to be smelling like cheap bar soap you found at a farmer’s market.”

“That’s not fair! It had smelled so pretty when I’d bought it.” She frowned, ducking her head. “I don’t know what happened that made it so plain.”

He tucked her hair back behind her ear, slowly dragging his knuckles down the side of her neck, his eyes softening. “It was probably enchanted to smell that way until it had been purchased. Or perhaps they simply tricked you and only the display one was perfumed.” He smirked. “Which is why you need me to help select the best perfumes and soaps.”

Rolling her eyes, she nuzzled her nose against his neck. “What would I do without you, my love?”

“You would be lost.”

“And I’d smell bad.” She smiled as he laughed, warmth blooming like a new flower in the spring.

“Thank goodness you do have me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And you’ll have me forever.”

If not for the chill in the air and the discomfort clinging to her skin, she probably could have stayed there for an eternity. He’d teased her mercilessly for how much she’d loved to curl up in his arms, but he’d always seemed just as keen to cuddle with her, his arms fitting perfectly around her, his breath tangling in her hair or tickling her neck, his hands stroking her sides or her back.

But she was cold, and she was uncomfortable, and as perfect as his arms and his body were, she felt desperate enough to peel her skin off if she did not bathe soon.

It was with a pathetic whine that she coaxed him from the bed, hands clasping his as she dragged him from the bedroom. He grumbled wordlessly, even as he let himself get tugged into the bathroom, eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the darkness.

She could hardly see in the dark, and it was only with Astarion’s help that she was able to light the candles that lined the counter in the bathroom, illuminating everything in a soft glow.

It was an effort to keep her eyes averted, to pretend like she didn’t think he looked beautiful, the edges of his body blurred by the candlelight, his face softened by the golden glow. He looked a little like his namesake, like a star given form, blessing her with his light.

Although if she told him that she would certainly never hear the end of it. Even now she could feel his eyes burning into her back as she filled the tub, tracking the steam as it curled towards the ceiling and melted out of sight.

“My love.” She felt his hand at her hip, soft as a whisper. She knew this game, knew he wanted her to turn around, to focus her attention on him. She could hear it in the lilt of his voice, the laughter she could hear in it though neither of them had made a joke. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“What do you mean?” She was careful to avoid meeting his gaze, gently brushing her hand over his. “I’m getting the bath ready. Alone, might I add.”

“Well, I’m here for moral support. And you’re doing such a good job I’d hate to get in your way.”

Against her better judgement she turned to glare at him over her shoulder. It earned her a bout of warm laughter that seeped into her veins like sun-warmed honey, heat blossoming in her belly. It was immediately followed by his hands taking her face, his lips stretching into a wide smile, the knife-sharp points of his canines glinting in the candlelight.

“That’s better.” He tipped his head to the side, his eyes softening. “I was worried you had grown tired of looking at me.”

She covered his hands with hers. “I’ll never grow tired of you for as long as I live.”

Lines appeared on his forehead as his brows drew together. So she stood on her toes, gently pressing her lips to each line until they were smoothed away and she could feel his smile against her skin. His hands slid away from her face, but she kept her fingers tangled with his, not wanting to let go just yet.

“My love…” He trailed off, humming as he lowered his head, the coolness of his teeth scraping over her skin making her shiver. “Wasn’t there something else you were doing?”

“You distracted me.” His answering laughter tickled her neck as he hovered above the marks leftover from where he had bitten her.

“You were preparing a bath, I believe?”

She took hold of his face this time as she rocked back on her heels, pulling his head back just enough to meet his eyes, to see the mischief shining in them. “You know, I think this is the exact opposite of getting in my way.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He was awfully good at feigning innocence; his eyes were wide and sorrowful, a small pout pulling at his lips. Had she not known him she would have fallen for it entirely, believing him utterly innocent of any wrong-doing.

But she did know him, and she knew exactly how not innocent he could be.

She clicked her tongue. “Nice try. Maybe I’ll just bathe on my own.”

She spun around quickly, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing as he began to whine, trying to get her attention all over again.”

“My love.”

She went searching for his precious oils, finding them lined up in the corner of the small cabinet above the counter. They seemed to shimmer as she held them up to the light, as she uncorked them to smell them each and make sure she was grabbing the right ones. He was so particular about such things and she wanted to make sure she got it right.

“My darling.” His voice pitched up, cracking a bit as she began adding the oils to the bath. “I thought you wanted me to come with you!”

Much as she wanted to pretend she had a strong resolve, it crumbled to dust with just the slightest of provocation from him. How she was supposed to ignore his desperate whining, even when she knew it was a trap, was beyond her. So when he reached for her hand, drawing her closer, she didn’t resist, instead letting herself be gathered against his chest, his smug smirk illuminated in the glow of the candles.

“Well? Do you truly still plan to leave me and bathe all on your own?” One of his hands slipped down her side, leaving gooseflesh in the wake of his featherlight touch. “I could be of help, you know. I’ve become quite intimate with your body, I’m sure I could help in some way.”

She frowned. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

His answering laughter was bright, like summertime sunshine was bathing them in its golden light. It made her smile, giggles bubbling up in her throat as he laughed, pale cheeks flushing with just a hint of colour, the same pink that promised the coming dawn and the warmth that would follow.

His expression was soft again as his laughter passed, as he waited for her own bout of giggles to melt away, that soft colour still clinging to his skin. It took her a moment to identify the look in his eyes, the gentleness with which he held her gaze, with how he rested his hands at her sides. And when the realization hit her, she felt like her breath was stolen away, yanked from her lungs with a gasp.

He looked happy. He looked so genuinely happy that her eyes began to burn, her heart aching from how it pressed against the cage of her ribs.

Lines appeared on his brow once more, the corners of his lips turning down. “What’s wrong? My darling, why are you crying?”

She shook her head, wiping her eyes quickly. “I’m not.”

“Just because I can’t go out into the sun doesn’t mean I’m blind, you know.” He huffed, mouth curling into a half-smile, something like sadness hanging at the edges. “Have I done something wrong?”

She sniffed, shaking her head furiously. “No! No, not at all. I just have something caught in my eye, that’s all.”

Nothing in his expression said he believed her, but he didn’t push the issue. “Well then, should we get in before the water gets cold?” He leaned close, his voice dipping to a sultry tenor. “Or is there something else you would rather do?”

She didn’t even have to respond before he was laughing again, grinning broadly as he drew back. “My darling, you make this far too easy. Your face is all flushed and I’ve hardly done a thing.”

He’d actually done quite a lot of things today, but her tongue was suddenly too heavy to properly articulate anything sharp and witty she could say in response. And she didn’t have anything sharp and witty to say in response either, a pleasant fog settling over her mind as fatigue tugged at her.

Instead she just climbed into the tub, sinking as far beneath the water as she could, only her nose and eyes still above water as he followed behind, still looking far too pleased with himself.

He reached for the little shelf of bottles that lined the wall next to the tub, the soft light of the flickering candles casting a golden glow around the room. If she hadn’t known him she would have thought he was an angel with how the light gilded his features, twined with the strands of his hair and made it glow. Even that infuriating, devilish smile looked soft in the light, still clinging to his lips as he tilted one of the bottles up to the light.

Her eyes were burning again, her chest aching, too small for her heart, for all of the emotion tearing it apart at the seams. Had there ever been such a beautiful smile? Had there ever been such a precious person ever before?

No, she was certain that there had not been.

He was watching her, and she realized it with a start, her breath catching as she met his eyes.

“What’s the matter, pet? You look like you’ve had a spell cast over you.”

She bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood, although the fuzzy feeling around her mind and the warmth in her chest did not dissipate against the sharp pain. She had drunk no wine and yet she felt a little drunk all the same, a little like she was hovering just beyond her body, her edges blurry, everything warm.

He moved closer, taking her hand. “What’s on your mind?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, like a fish gasping for breath on dry land. She really could not say, not unless she wanted to be teased mercilessly, caught gawking at him like a child with a crush.

“Well?” He tipped his head to the side, reminding her of a predator.

Her voice would not come to her, and so she decided that she would express how she felt in a different way, her heart wishing terribly to be able to keep his heart warm, to keep that smile bright on his lips, to keep his eyes soft but never sorrowful again.

“What are you doing?” He blinked at her as she plucked the small bottle of shampoo from his hand, the sensual countenance falling away.

“Let me help you clean up,” she said, rolling the bottle between her palms. “I can wash your hair for you.”

He continued to blink, his brow creasing. Her heart constricted, fear sluicing through her veins, making her fear she had overstepped, that this was something unwanted. She’d already coaxed him from sleep, perhaps she was pushing against his boundaries.

“Only if you want to,” she amended. “If you’re comfortable with it. I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

When he tipped his head to the side it was less predatory this time, reminding her more of the curious head tilt small animals often did when you were speaking to them with a cadence they liked. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You just can’t keep your hands off me, can you, darling?”

She muttered under her breath about how much of a menace he was, even as she squeezed out the shampoo into her palm. He was smirking, watching her intently.

“You have to turn around,” she instructed, earning nothing but a rebellious smirk.

“Now why would I do that when it means I can’t see your adorable face?” He twirled a hand in the air, gesturing to her face. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on the pretty flush on your cheeks.”

She tried spinning him around, water sloshing over the lip of the tub. “Turn around! How else am I supposed to wash your hair?!”

“Just like this, darling.” He cupped her face, water sluicing down his arms, falling back into the tub with a quiet plinking.

“I feel like you’re trying to embarrass me.”

He clicked his tongue. “I would never dare.”

“I think you would dare.” She couldn’t bring herself to push his arms away, deciding she would have to yield. “I think you would just to see me squirm.”

“Well…” Unable to come up with an appropriate excuse, he merely shrugged. “I like that colour on your cheeks.”

“I didn’t realize you were an artist,” she deadpanned, lathering the shampoo between her palms. “And that you had such a nuanced appreciation of colours.”

“Only when it comes to you, love.”

She sighed, no clever rejoinder coming to mind. She liked getting the last word in, but Astarion so rarely gave her such an opportunity. He always had something else to say, something sharp and clever if not something that would make her blush so fiercely she thought she would burst into flame.

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “But you have to lower your head for me.”

He had no smart comment for that, instead quietly acquiescing, ducking his head enough so that she could run her fingers through his hair, dragging the shampoo through the silken strands.

She hummed, smiling as the gentle, moonlit ivory waves were smushed beneath the shampoo. She might have gathered it all up into a point, making him look a little silly while he trusted her to wash his hair. But he was always trying to make himself look perfect, and she didn’t mind when he looked less than perfect, when he looked silly or disheveled. He didn’t have to pretend with her, and she didn’t want him to.

“You’re doing something ridiculous to my hair, aren’t you?” He seemed to read her thoughts, peeking up at her from beneath his ivory lashes.

“Nooo.” She shook her head, massaging his scalp. “I would never dare.”

“So you are.”

She huffed, pouting as she ran her fingers down the back of his scalp, pressing gently against the back of his neck, making sure to catch the soft baby hairs that curled there.

“I trust it won’t look like that forever?” The corners of his lips quirked up, his voice dipping to a dangerous octave. “Right?”

She didn’t respond, fixing her gaze elsewhere, trying to ignore the way his eyes bored into her skin.

Another click of his tongue. She nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt his hand on her face, the pad of his thumb running across her bottom lip. “Why are you pouting? I thought this is what you wanted.”

“And I thought you were too tired to tease me like this.”

He tapped his thumb against her lip in time with her heartbeat. “I never said that.”

“I kind of assumed.”

“My love, I’m never too tired to tease you.” His hand fell back into the water with a quiet splash. “But please continue.”

“I’m just about done with your hair,” she admitted, dunking her hands into the water. “You’ll have to lean forward more or tilt your head back so I can rinse it.”

He straightened, shifting awkwardly so he could tip his head back, the sharp points of his ears grazing the surface of the water, sending out little ripples.

She scooted to the side, careful to keep the water from spilling into his eyes as she began scooping it up and pouring handfuls of water into his hair. “You know this would have been easier if you’d just turned around.”

He splashed her, rolling his eyes. “I have my reasons.”

“Would you care to divulge them?” She splashed him right back, not bothering to show the same care this time as water and suds sluiced over his face.

He sputtered, wiping his eyes. “Well not anymore, you wicked thing.”

“I think I’m quite nice.”

He flicked water at her as he sat up. “You’re not being particularly nice right now.”

She splashed him again, harder this time. Water rolled over the lip of the tub like ocean waves, puddling across the floor. “I am SO nice! I’m the nicest! I let you pick out the shampoos and soaps we use! I let you pick out the curtains! I let you be the little spoon!”

The more reasons she was, theoretically, “nice,” the more she laughed. Small giggles at first, bubbling into a laughter that gripped her lungs, shook her body until she was snorting with every breath. Her hands trembled as she tried to cover her face in a vain effort to staunch the flow, but it was of no avail. She felt like a fool, she felt dizzy, almost drunk although she’d had no alcohol.

Astarion snorted alongside her, eyes crinkling in bemusement. “I can let you be the little spoon if you want, my love. I had no idea you were sacrificing so much for my comfort.” Another snort, another flick of the water, sending her into another fit of hysterics. His lips stretched wide, a crescent moon smile that made her heart glow. “I didn’t realize falling asleep in my arms was something of such importance. Although I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Backing up until her back hit the edge of the tub, she covered her face, shoulder shuddering with laughter. “It’s not even that funny, I don’t know why I’m laughing.”

“I’m not sure either.” He moved closer, just enough to find her hand and run his thumb across her knuckles. “But I like the sound.”

“I was snorting!”

“But they were such cute snorts.” He was tracing the lines of her palm now, watching her with such warmth in his eyes she thought she would melt into the water and turn to suds and foam.

“You can’t possibly mean that.”

His bottom lip popped out; an adorable, impossible to resist pout that could make her to cave to almost anything he asked. To stay in bed for a little while longer, to buy him that pretty shirt they’d seen at a night market, to wear the glittering circlet he had mysteriously procured because it matched one that he owned.

“Don’t you trust me?” His eyes were wide as a doe’s, his voice soft as feather down. She was lost to him already, to that sorrowful, beseeching look. Lost to that quiet, almost whiny tone.

She knew she was being played, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

It was with gritted teeth that she managed a quiet. “I trust you.”

His expression morphed almost immediately, his eyes bright once more, his teeth bared from the brightness of his smile. “Marvelous! I’m glad we’re in agreement that you’re adorable.”

“You’re awful.”

He kissed the back of her hand, his laughter rumbling into her bones. “And I’m all yours, my darling.”

Gentle warmth spread from her heart, beating steadily, spurred on by the sudden sweetness of his words. Her arms grew warm next, her belly, her fingertips, everything tingling as if she were caught in a warm haze. He was all hers, he was hers to love and care for and cherish. To hold close when they slept, to share the quiet moments with, to share the loud moments with too. Of course. There would always be loud moments with him, the unexpected always rearing its head as they searched for a cure for him, a way for him to stand free in the sunlight.

“You are,” she agreed. He was hers, and he had given his heart to her willingly. It had been his choice, and she would make sure to treasure it, to treasure him, for as long as she drew breath. And as long as her heart beat, it beat for him. “And I’m yours.”

A strange look came upon his face then, something between sadness and elation, something she could not name. It was gone far too quickly for her to dissect it, his lips brushing against her hand once more before he drew away, a smile plastered on his face once more.

“You most certainly are, my darling.” He gave her hand one final squeeze before letting it go, twirling a hand through the air as he gestured to his hair. “Now about whatever you’ve done here.”

“Will you turn around now?” Whatever had snagged her attention briefly flitted away. Suds were streaking down the sides of his face, his hair half matted, pure ivory with the shampoo still caked into his scalp.

It was only with a long, petulant sigh that he turned around, laying back so his head was nearly in her lap so she could finish rinsing his hair.

“Now was that so hard?” She teased, supporting his head with one hand while she used the other to pour palmfuls of water onto his hair.

“It was torturous. I couldn’t see you for a whole minute.”

“Oh please.” She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to comb out the rest of the shampoo. “You’re such a baby.”

His brow furrowed. “I am not! I’ll have you know I’m over two hundred years old-”

She sighed, rolling her eyes as she cut him off. “Yes yes, you’re an over two hundred year old vampire, you’re terrifying and powerful and someone to be feared. But you’re still a baby.”

His eyes narrowed, his mouth opening as if to retort.

“And you’re my baby,” she finished, cutting him off once again.

She swore colour flared in his cheeks, at the tips of his ears. He looked away quickly, whatever sharp comment he’d been about to make dying before it made it to his lips. “I suppose it’s acceptable when you say it like that.”

Curling forward she brushed her lips to his brow, listening as he sighed.

He started to lift his head as she drew away, chasing after her in search of another kiss, but she gently coaxed him back down, cradling the back of his head once more. “Just relax, love.”

At first he did not relax, his eyes flickering to her face and along the shadowed ceiling of the room. But after a while she felt as he settled himself more comfortably against her. His upper back was cushioned atop her legs, his head cradled in her palm, just above her thighs, his legs drawn up so his knees cut through the water like mountains on the other side of an ocean.

“Let me know if anything is uncomfortable, okay?” She ran her hand around the sides of his ears, making sure she caught the last of the suds, making sure to rinse his hair fully so that when it dried it would be fluffy and soft just as it always was. She combed her fingers across his scalp, massaging gently, smiling as he gave a quiet hum of assent. The lines in his brow were smoothed away, his face softened in the light. He looked peaceful, serene as she rinsed the last of the shampoo away.

She could have told him to move then, that she was done and he had to sit up, but she found she did not want to, could not bring herself to be pried from this position. His weight against her was a comfort, the tranquil look on his face a balm to her heart, his even breaths lulling her into her own state of peace.

He looked calm, he looked happy, and she was loath to end the moment, for that gentle stillness to melt into the suds and bathwater.

So instead she reached for his preferred soaps, lathering it between her palms and running her hands over his shoulders, massaging the soap into his skin.

He shifted, a brow arching. “What are you doing now, my love?”

“Cleaning you up,” she said, pausing as worry flitted through her mind. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

His eyes opened, and where she had expected accusation she saw only the softness that accompanied a flower just beginning to bloom, petals not yet the brilliant crimson of blood. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s nice.” He sighed, eyes falling closed once more. “And I trust you.”

She was thankful to be sitting, because she was certain her legs would have given out on her from hearing such words from his lips.

She carried on, moving her hands over his arms and hands, sliding them back up to wash his chest, his torso. Eventually she did have to ask him to sit up, water sluicing down his back as she fetched a cloth to wash his back, careful to ensure her touch was light as she ran it over the lines of his scar. Her stomach still roiled when she saw it, remembering the sharp pain in his voice when he’d told her of its history, and when she remembered the scarlet light that he had been bathed in, that had set the scar aglow.

She bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood, forcing herself back into the present. That was behind them, it was behind him, and he would never have to fear his old vampire master agait. There was no more ritual, no more control, no more sacrifice. The scars would never glow again, they would never be anything more than scars. Fading reminders of a shadowed life and misery she would do everything she could to make sure he never felt ever again.

Suds spilled down his back, and she brought cupped hands of water to the nape of his neck, letting the water spill down his back as she began wiping up the suds. “Let me know if you feel uncomfortable at all, okay?” She scooped up more water and watched as it spilled down his back, washing away the last of the suds.

He gave a quiet hum of assent, seeming content to let her do as she wished for the moment. He was turned away from her, but she imagined the peaceful expression that must have been on his face. The dreamy smile, the pale pink of his cheeks, the same expression he often had when he first awoke, serene and blissful like he were caught in a beautiful dream.”

“I love you.” She murmured the words as she brought her lips to the back of his neck. “I love you so much.”

The quietness of the moment should have concerned her, but she’d written it off as him still being sleepy as she continued. She alternated between washing him up and scattering stray kisses along his skin. His shoulders, his sides, his arms. She made sure to catch all the little crooks of his body, fingers tangling together with his for half a heartbeat as she trailed soap and suds over his arms again before she rinsed him off.

“Alright.” She’d only just dunked the cloth back into the sudsy water, eying the lineup of pretty, colourful bottles along the shelf next to the tub, trying to figure out which ones were his favourites. They were unlabelled, but she knew what scents he liked best. “Don’t tell me which one is your favourite, okay? I think I know.”

She rested her cheek against his shoulder as she reached for the closest one, the one she was pretty sure smelled of bergamot. It was only then, as her fingers closed around the little bottle, did she notice the slight tremble of his shoulders, the soft sniffling sound that was quickly drowned out by the splash of water.

She drew back at once, the bottle slipping from her fingers and plunging into the water. For such a dramatic moment, as her breath caught in her lungs, she would have thought it would have made a louder sound as it crashed from her hand. But no, the bottle made little more than a quiet plink as it slipped beneath the surface of the water, the silence hanging in the air heavy, deafening in comparison.

“Astarion?” Her heart constricted, her lungs shuddering as they tried and failed to draw in breath. She hesitated before settling her hands on his shoulders, not knowing what else to do. “My love? Is something the matter?”

A beat. It was little more than half a moment but it could have been a century for how the time stretched between her question and his response.

“Nothing, darling.” His voice was much softer than usual, so soft she would have missed the tremor in it had she not been so close, had she not felt as it vibrated through him, resonating between them in the place where she had laid her palms.

“It’s not nothing.” She wanted to see his face, wanted to see what he was hiding. But when she leaned forward he turned his head away, nothing but his damp curls filling her sight.

“Astarion.” She settled one hand on his arm, the other brushing his hair back from his ear. “My love, why won’t you look at me?”

He cleared his throat, one hand coming up to rub at the side of his face. “It’s nothing. I think there’s some soap in my eye.”

“Let me see,” she insisted, reaching for his face. She cupped the cheek furthest from her, gently drawing his face towards her. “If there’s soap in your eye let me help get it out.”

He did not put up any resistance, although when he finally faced her fully he did not meet her eyes. Instead he just stared down into the water, his hands awkwardly clenched together in his lap. Red rimmed his eyes, his cheeks a splotchy red that spoke of tears, not the gentle flush of contentment or love. His face was wet, although that was most certainly from the bath as much as it was from his quiet tears.

Her hand slipped from his cheek along the curve of his neck, pausing only to rest on his chest, feeling its steady rise and fall as he took slow, measured breaths. “Oh my love, why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

His hand covered hers, an empty smile shuddering at the edges of his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. I just got something stuck in my eye, probably from being distracted by your hands.” His voice dropped an octave, was sweet as syrup, warm as the buzz of alcohol when she’d drank too much wine. “I was thinking about all of the other things they could do.”

The smile at his lips grew wider, the sharp points of his canines peaking out. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers, but they fell just as quickly, no smile in them.

“Is it me?” Her voice trembled as she spoke, drawing her hand from him and pressing it against her own chest. She slid backwards, worry an oily creature squeezing her belly until she thought she might retch. “Have I done something wrong? Something to hurt you?”

Ruby eyes flared wide, the water moving like ocean waves, spilling over the lip of the tub as he closed the small amount of distance between them. He cupped her face with such tenderness she thought she would be the one to cry now.

His voice was a dry rasp, his brow lined. “You have done nothing wrong, I swear. I promise, you are…” His eyes softened. “You are perfect.”

Some of the tightness in her belly eased. She wanted to reach out to him, but she held back, still fearing that perhaps her touch had been too much. Perhaps she had pushed him beyond the bounds of his comfort. She sounded small, like a child, when she finally asked “then what’s wrong? Why will you not tell me what’s wrong?”

A long sigh fell from his lips, his hands finding hers in the water, fingers threading together. He seemed to hesitate, his eyes scanning her face for a long moment, his brow drawn.

“It’s not that something is wrong…” He tipped his head to the side, a humourless laugh ringing hollowly in the air.

She chewed on the corner of her lip, unsure whether to press him for details or to give him space to speak. Maybe he just needed to think through what he was going to say.

The corner of his lip twitched. “Don’t bite your lip like that, my sweet. I can smell the blood from here.”

She froze, frowning. “I haven’t even bit it that hard-” The coppery taste of blood spread across her tongue and she frowned even more, watching as his smile grew wider. “Hey! Don’t change the subject.”

“I can’t help it when all I can think about is sinking my teeth into your lips.”

He seemed quite proud of that line, and she wasted no time in splashing his face, washing it away. He sputtered, wiping his face, his smug little grin replaced by a pout.

“My eyes are up here,” she motioned to her face, earning the return of a small smirk. “Astarion, please. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but if there’s something I did wrong, or something I could do to help.”

It was another beat before he responded, his eyes creasing at the corners. “You haven’t done anything wrong, my love. And I’m not upset, I promise.”

She elected to remain quiet this time, fluttering her fingers along the surface of the water as opposed to worrying her bottom lip with her teeth lest she distract him yet again.

The tenor of his voice softened, warm and low, reaching into her mind and easing away the last of her anxieties. “It’s quite the opposite, actually. It’s just…” He trailed off, holding her gaze steady as he searched for the right words. When finally they came to him, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, soft as feather down, as morning sunshine in the air. “You were being so gentle. You weren’t trying to seduce me, or manipulate me. You just…”

Again he trailed off. He reached for the hand still skimming across the top of the water, holding it tight. “I didn’t want to say anything because it felt absurd to be crying over such a thing. I know you love me. And yet.” He shrugged. “I was overwhelmed. I felt so loved.”

His words hung, suspended in the air between them like spider’s silk. Delicate and gauzy, shimmering with the silver of moonlight as it was spun. She wasn’t thinking as she reached out to him, as she crawled into his lap with her hands on either side of his face. Her fingers slid into his hair, tangling in the wet curls.

“My love,” she breathed. She could not find her voice, her words little more than a flutter of gossamer wings, butterflies caught in a storm, a lone songbird taking flight in morning mists. Her heart was aching, her ribs cracking, splintering beneath it, the power of her voice stolen as the feeling drowned her veins.

His brows lifted, confusion and yearning twined together in his eyes. “Yes?”

“I love you.” It was all she could think of to say, the only words that would form in her mind for the longest of times. She ought to be better with her words, but in this moment, her fingers wrinkled and the water tepid, there was nothing else. “I love you entirely.”

“And I love you, darling,” he chuckled, his hands falling to her hips.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I love you.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, saying the words over and over again like a prayer. “I love you. I adore you. My chest aches from how much I love you.”

A breathy laugh escaped him as she passed her lips over his, as she scattered kisses across his cheeks and brow and the sharp tips of his ears. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“I want you to feel loved everyday, always.” A kiss to the side of his neck, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I love you, I’ll always love you.”

His arms came around her sides, hands resting on her back. “My love…”

She couldn’t stop now, smiling as his eyes flicked skyward in an eye-roll. “I love you!”

He held her tighter, drawing her in closer. “I love you too.”

“I love you with all my heart.” A brush of her lips against the bridge of his nose, the space between his brows, the hollow of his throat. His hands tightened, fingers pressing into her skin. “I’ll find a way to live forever so I can love you forever.”

A garbled sound escaped from his lips and she froze, her grip loosening in his hair. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been gripping it until she loosed her hold, her hands aching.

“No,” he said, his voice rough as sandpaper. “No, don’t stop.”

Silver pooled in the corners of his eyes when she pulled away, lines tracking down his cheeks and gathering at the edges of his jaw. Little droplets tumbled silently down, little ripples spreading across the surface of the water.

“Are you sure?”

A small nod, one hand sliding up her back, resting at the nape of her neck. “I am sure. Don’t stop.” He offered her a small smile, even as tears streaked down his face. “Please?”

She brushed the tears away with the pads of her thumbs, cupping his face as she brought her lips to his again. She grinned as he sighed, his lips parting against hers. It was so incredibly gentle, so tender and soft that she almost burst into tears too, feeling like she might melt into a puddle and be washed away with the soap and the suds.

“I love you,” she murmured as she broke away, breathless even as she drew breath. Shadows clung to the walls, stretched out from the corners and puddled along the floor, the flickering candlelight never quite reaching fully into the cracks and corners of the room. Yet for all that shadow everything seemed to burn bright, everything awash in technicolour. It was like an artist had come in and painted over a sketch done in grey, bringing it to life with colours she could not even name, made of crushed gemstones and sunlight and sugar.

Another sob bubbled to the surface, but it was chased by a soft laugh. The hand at her neck twisted into her hair, his free hand stroking her side gently, reverently. He looked away from her, lips pressed into a thin line as if he were embarrassed from the sound.

“You’re safe, you know,” she promised, stroking his cheek. “It’s okay to cry.”

He snorted, chuckling softly as he slowly looked back at her. “For being told I’m loved?”

She brushed away another tear. “Yes, exactly.”

He looked incredulous. “Really.” It wasn’t a question so much as a comment, one brow quirking up. “You don’t mind?”

“I’m just glad you trust me.” She traced the line of his jaw. “That you feel safe with me.”

He looked on the verge of saying something smart, so she kissed him quickly, fighting against her smile as he let out a choked sound, all that remained of whatever his snarky little comment would have been.

“That was unfair,” he whined, trying and failing to glower at her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She kissed the corner of one eye, then the other, the shudder that wracked through him echoing in the hollows of her bones. “I just love you, I couldn’t help it.”

He chuckled again, running his fingers through her hair now. “Well if you’re that determined to shower me with affection, I suppose I shouldn’t stop you.”

She frowned. “Unless you want me to stop.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t want you to stop.”

“Even if it makes you cry?”

His pale brows rose higher, the corner of his lip twitching. “Only if you promise to kiss them away.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling as close as she could to the coolness of his body. Tepid water sloshed around her hips, but she did not care, did not even notice as the bath grew colder. It could have been made of ice and snow and still she would have felt nothing but the warmth of her heart, burning as hot as a star set to explode and spread fire and stardust through her veins. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, feel it beat in time with her own, a harmony only they could create.

“I promise,” she murmured, lips against the curve of his jaw, trailing kisses up his face, tasting salt on her tongue.

“Then I definitely don’t want you to stop.”

She could have said something smart then. About how he was ridiculous, how he was being awfully needy and demanding. But in truth she didn’t have it in her to say something sharp, to come up with some witty rejoinder. Any smart comments she made were like training swords to the sharp-edged daggers he could create with only his tongue anyways. But more than that, she just didn’t want to. Why would she cut through the delicate gossamer of this moment? Why would she tear apart the diaphanous veil that clung to them?

All she wanted to do most days was hold him to her chest and press her face into his hair as she breathed in the rosemary and bergamot that he was so fond of. She wanted to cup his cheeks and kiss his face until he blushed, until he laughed, until he was so full of love he would never doubt his worth again. To run her hands down his back, to tangle her fingers in his hair and comb them through his curls, to soothe him so he felt safe as he slept.

She was not about to pass up an opportunity to do exactly that, and she was not about to tease him when she was nearly fracturing from the effort it took to keep everything she felt contained in her veins and her bones.

She had been struck dumb with love, but she had never been happier, never been so glad to sit in a cold bath with wrinkled fingers. There were not even any words to describe it, so she repeated the same words over and over. That she loved him, oh how she loved him, her precious Astarion.

Eventually his tears began to slow, his quiet sobs no longer echoing through the room. She didn’t pull away, at least not right away, wanting to stay tangled with him for just a little while longer. She murmured one more “I love you,” pressed one more kiss to the corner of his lips, before she pulled away.

Astarion’s eyes were filled with stars when she found them, the smile on his lips adoring. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” She brushed a damp curl behind his ear. “But you’re not crying any longer.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to stop, darling.” He sighed, mischief in his eyes once more. “And just when I was enjoying it, too.”

She splashed water at him, snickering as he shouted. “Come on! The water is getting cold!”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, their chests pressing together, holding her fast. “I’m not the one who started kissing me, darling.”

“I was trying to make you feel loved,” she whined, wiggling in his grasp but finding she was unable to escape.

“And you very much succeeded.” He spoke languidly, drawing out each word slowly, the sharp points of his teeth catching the buttery light. “I’ve never felt so loved before, in all my long, depraved existence.”

She looped her arms around his neck once more, running her fingers through his hair. “Well I’m very glad for that.”

He inclined his head, an approving smile on his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I want to let go of you just yet.”

“Astarion,” she hissed. “I wanted to take a bath.”

He was all wickedness now, tilting his head back, holding her fast with his eyes as much as with his arms. “And I wanted to stay curled up in my lover’s arms.”

A shiver ran down her spine, her body momentarily out of her control as she shook. She pressed closer against her better judgement, searching for the scraps of warmth his body offered.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, reminding her of a lazy cat from the way he watched her with half-lidded eyes. “So doesn’t this seem like an answer to what we both want?”

“We’re not exactly doing any bathing.” She shivered again, gooseflesh rushing across her arms.

The way he smirked made it seem like he had won a prize, all satisfaction and smug delight. “It looks to me like you’d be better off staying in my arms, darling. If you don’t, you might catch a chill.”

Frowning, she planned to push away from him and crawl out of the bath, but she was shivering again, harder this time, her teeth clacking together. For all the warmth stored within the cage of her ribs, beating endlessly in time with his heart, clearly it was not enough to keep the chills away when she was waist-deep in a cold bath.

Astarion grimaced, taking note of the gooseflesh prickling her skin, the way her teeth clattered together, the unending shivers she could not seem to control. He pried one hand from his hair, inspecting her palm, before sighing dramatically. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this cold?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, looking away at the line of candles, watching as wax pooled at their bases.

A click of his tongue drew her attention back, although she wished she had not looked back as she was met with a look of reproach, his mouth a thin line, the corners of his eyes creased as they narrowed.

It was so bizarre, so utterly absurd to see such an expression on his face, when usually there was mirth or mischief or plain wickedness, that she couldn’t help but giggle.

He cocked his head to the side, the gesture of a predator having cornered its prey. “I’m not really sure what you find so funny,” he said leaning close. “But please, do enlighten me.”

“Nothing!” She shook her head quickly as she squeaked out her response. “There’s nothing that’s funny.”

“Hmm,” was his only response, although he looked like he didn’t believe her for even a second.

She tried to draw her hand away, to press it safely to her chest, but he held it tightly, his eyes boring into hers for a long, long while.

“I’m only a little cold,” she said, finally conceding. “I hardly noticed it.”

He sighed, loosening his hold. “Well I think it probably is a good idea to get out of the bath.”

She was not afforded a moment to consider his words as he stood, capturing her in his arms as he stepped from the tub.

“Hey! I haven’t washed up yet.” She wriggled in his arms, trying to get free.

“Relax.” He smirked, setting her down. “You’re not bathing in freezing water.”

“It wasn’t freezing.” She pretended she didn’t see the way his eyes flicked to the goosebumps still crawling across her arms and her legs now, too. Or the way she shivered again.

He sighed. “It’s a good thing I don’t love you for your intelligence.”

“Excuse me?!”

His hands hovered on either side of her face, his nose bumping against hers as he kissed her lightly. “I adore you, my dear.”

She glared at him as he drew back. “That is not what you said.”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, moving away to begin draining the bath. “I adore you, and I will always love you, no matter what silly things you say.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re not implying I’m dumb.”

He held a hand to his chest, looking stricken. “On my honour! I would never say such a thing.”

She considered turning around and stomping back to bed. But there had been a reason she had wanted to bathe, beyond lavishing Astarion in love, and she still itched to wash her body of the sweat and blood and other things that still clung to her.

“Don’t look at me like that, darling.” He looked on the verge of pouting again, reaching for her hands. “You’ll have some cuddles again in just a few minutes.”

“What are you plotting?”

“Don’t look so suspicious, I’m only drawing you a new bath.” He huffed, making a grand show of refilling the tub with steaming water.

Warmth like a newly kindled fire bloomed in her chest, velvet softness wrapping itself around her heart. It was a small gesture, and yet it set her alight, made her feel as though she were glowing a little from gratefulness, from the love that had her in its thrall.

Still, she had to argue, curious why he would do such a thing when he’d only wanted to stay snug in bed in the first place. “I can do it, it’s okay. I know you’d only wanted to remain in bed.”

Another click of his tongue as he reached for some of his oils, sniffing them delicately before sprinkling them across the water. “I never said that.”

She groaned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Oh yes, I know.” He set the bottles to the side, offering her his hand, a teasing smile on his lips. “It’s allowed me to get away with much in the past. I’m hoping it will let me get away with much more in our future.”

She took his hand, letting him draw her back into the now steaming water. The heat of the bath seeped into her bones, relaxing her muscles as she sank into the fragrant water, tipping her head back so her hair streamed out behind her.

“How’s that?” Astarion asked, settling into the tub once more. He drew her legs into his lap, running his hands over them beneath the surface of the water. “Better, right?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, you’re right, it is much better.”

He flicked water her way, smug. “Now where were we?”

“Well I think I was almost done washing you,” she said, her memory hazy. Most of what she remembered was kissing his face, the desire to do so once more like a creature curling in the spaces between her cells, coiled tight, willing to wrap herself in his arms once more if he bid her to.

“That’s right,” he breathed. Something softened in his gaze, his countenance turning gentle, almost reverent. “But you’ve made me feel so loved. I’d like to do the same for you.”

A flush creeped across her face, reaching down her neck and across her chest as he took her hand. “You don’t have, I didn’t do it because I wanted you to reciprocate. I just-”

He kissed her hand, cutting her off, and for a moment he could have been an angel, the soft light gilding his features, his ivory hair glowing like moonlight.

“I know,” he murmured against her skin, eyes opening to find hers. “But I’d like to do it all the same. If you’ll allow me.”

There was nothing hidden in his voice, no double meaning to his words. Nor was his smile sly, or his eyes sharp as daggers. Nothing but earnestness lay in his countenance, a determined sincerity that had her caving at once.

How could ever say no to such a display? Even now that his enslavement was behind him and his sire long dead, he was still guarded. Less so with her, but guarded all the same. It would take many years to coax him fully from his habits, from his attempts to shield himself and his true emotions. But he was not shielding himself now, he was not hiding anything. So how could she ever say no when his heart had unfurled like a flower in bloom, unveiling how he truly felt?

She leaned forward to cup his cheek with her free hand, unable to pry herself away from touching him gently, from stroking his face with light fingers. “Nothing would make me happier, love.”

He leaned into her touch, a sigh feathering across her skin as his eyes closed. “Are you sure there is nothing that has ever made you happier?”

“Astarion.”

He lifted both hands, palms out in surrender. His eyes fluttered open, his lashes tickling the tips of her fingers. “I was only teasing, love. Although.” His voice turned smooth as warmed butter. “I hope that everything I do makes you happy.”

“You make me happiest,” she breathed.

He sighed again, one hand circling around her wrist, his shoulders sagging. He looked like he was on the verge of melting, of falling apart and slumping into her arms. But he straightened, pressing a kiss to her palm before pulling away. “Then let me show you how much I love you.”

True to his word he did his best to wash her in kind, and the feeling of the warm water and the soap and his scattered kisses were so heavenly she nearly cried, too. They stayed together until the water grew cold once more, and then they wrapped themselves in soft towels, water puddling beneath their feet as they returned to their bedroom, as they perched on the bed while she carefully toweled off his hair, biting back a grin at how it stood up at funny angles.

And when water no longer beaded on their skin they curled up in bed once more, tangled together beneath the layers of blankets. Astarion’s head was pillowed against her chest, and she idly ran her fingers through his still-damp curls, listening to the even tempo of his breaths, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating in his chest.

“I love you,” she murmured into his hair, stifling a yawn as she rested her cheek against the top of his head.

He mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear, a sleepy response that she felt in her bones more than heard quivering in the air. It made her smile, her arms tightening around him as she tried to hold him closer. She was happy, happier than she’d ever thought was possible, and she would do her best to make sure he was happy every day too, until the end of her days.

#astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #honey the sweeter the sun

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anreed-bg3 · 1 day

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“The pale elf” (8/8).

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion baldur's gate 3 #the pale elf #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #virtual photography #virtual photo

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littlelovelore · 23 hours

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alone again

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion brainrot #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the pale elf #astarion baldurs gate 3 #bg3 photography #astarion screenshots #astarion wallpaper #virtual photography #littlelovelore #astarion simp #astarion romance #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion posting #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion

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dailyastarionpics · 5 months

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#bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion brainrot #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #daily astarion #baldurs gate iii #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion screenshots #astarion posting #baldurs gate astarion

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wiltedreamofbaldursgate · 5 months

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Steady Hands, Frame My Love

characters: Astarion x race/class neutral fem!Tav/reader word count: +3.2k Rating: M trigger warning: mild-ish sexual content. bad eyebrows. This hasn't been beta-read nor am I a native speaker. read on ao3 read more BG3 one shots

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror.

“Come out, spawn. There is no use in hiding.”

You know there is trouble when you spot Lae'zel in front of Astarion’s tent. Her tiny nose is scrunched up in a way that would be cute if it didn’t mean she wants to skin someone alive. The perfectly sharpened blade twitching in her hand is just another hint that she’s out for blood. You almost can’t blame Astarion for hiding from the Githyanki warrior’s wrath—almost, because it’s within every reason to assume he’s brought her wrath upon himself.

Taking a quick look around camp, you find that everybody is suspiciously busy minding their own business for once, skillfully ignoring the one-sided commotion in front of your lover’s tent. You can’t really blame them either; it’s been a very long day, and everybody wants to get some rest before dinner. You have half the mind to do the very same when Lae'zel’s intense gaze suddenly locks with yours—an honest rookie mistake.

There’s no use pretending you haven’t noticed her now, so you put your journal aside and approach the red tent with long strides and a smile that you can only hope will have a calming effect on her. Unsurprisingly, your hopes are shattered instantly.

Lae'zel doesn’t wait for you to friendly inquire about what the fuck the matter is this time; before you can even open your mouth, she’s all the way in your face.

“The spawn does as he pleases!”

Lae'zel would need to get a great deal more specific when it comes to Astarion, but you refrain from telling her so, opting for a questioning look instead.

The young warrior shakes her head, annoyed that her explanation isn’t sufficient enough for your small istik brain to comprehend.

“It is the spawn’s turn to fetch water from the stream. Thus is his duty,” Lae'zel explains slowly, accentuating every word with a well-placed hiss to get her point across. “A duty he fails to perform.”

You think it is progress that she isn’t waving her sword at you, although she does glare at you as if you were the offending party, which—since your relationship with the pale elf has become common knowledge around camp—you somewhat are.

“Where I am from, we make sure to keep our mates in check, however pleasing they might be. You might want to do the same.”

Maybe not so much progress, after all.

“Haven't I made myself quite clear on that before, Lae'zel?”

Holding her intense glare, you stare the warrior down. You have made yourself clear on occasion—you aren’t Astarion’s keeper.

It takes a moment, but Lae'zel is the first to break eye contact, eventually taking a step back. Not lowering your gaze, you wait patiently for her to continue.

“The spawn would better honour his word, or else…” She spits, not at you, but at Astarion’s firmly closed tent flap.

“I will remind him,” you assure her, not unkindly.

Lae'zel looks you up and down before she inclines her head ever so slightly.

“I trust you will,” she drawls, glaring at the tent one last time before she stalks away.

Left to take care of the issue at hand, you frown at the closed tent flap. As much as Astarion bitches about pulling his weight in camp, it’s unlike him to not do his chores one way or the other. And now that you think about it, he’s set up his tent uncharacteristically fast earlier, too, not even trying to rope anyone in to help him do his work. The realisation that you haven’t seen him since he vanished into said tent quite a while ago settles unpleasantly in your stomach.

“Astarion?”

You step closer to the heavy fabric closing off the tent’s entrance, listening. There’s no answer, although you do hear some hurried movement from within the tent. It’s a good sign, you suppose.

“You good in there?”

The silence stretches for another moment before Astarion finally lets out an exaggerated sigh. Going by the sound of it, he, too, must be standing rather close to the entrance.

“Truth be told, darling, I have been better.”

“Are you hurt?” You ask, not bothering to hide the obvious worry lacing your voice.

When could he have even gotten hurt? Haven’t you checked up on everyone after your earlier fight with some overly pesky, giant spiders? Or is he just messing with you—trying to avoid his laborious chore after all?

It takes yet another moment for Astarion to mumble something incomprehensible in reply. With raised eyebrows, you repeat your question, which earns you another sigh from him, this time more exasperated than theatrical.

“I just so happened to get some acid in my face when we took care of those cursed spiders and—”

“And?” You press, alarmed.

“It’s nothing, darling, really; it’s just—well…”

“Astarion!”

The vampire curses, and you can hear him step even closer to the tent’s opening, closer to you. You’re almost sure that if you pressed your hand against the fabric shielding him from you, you would be able to touch him.

“They're gone,” he says, his voice so low you have to strain your ears to hear him.

Your frown deepens. “What is?”

More mumbling reaches your ear, and Astarion has to repeat himself twice before you can eventually make any sense of his words. You stare at the tent flap in disbelief. You can't have heard right.

“Your eyebrows are gone?”

Astarion inhales sharply. “Must you scream it around for everyone to hear? Come in, come in!”

Not knowing what to expect, you enter the tent.

Astarion has retreated to the shadows; his hand is firmly pressed against his forehead. You stare up at him, trying to assess the situation. He looks pained alright, although you have an inkling it’s more from wounded vanity than actual injury. As you step closer to him, you give him a reassuring smile.

“So, acid, huh? I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He is not convinced. At all. Wordlessly, he’s staring back at you, his jaw set. Your smile fades.

“Let me take a look?” You try again, feeling your already shaky optimism dwindle further.

He thinks it over for a couple of heartbeats before he slowly drags his hand to his hairline, pushing up the stands of white hair that usually fall so gracefully in his face…

Astarion must’ve drunk a healing potion because the presumably once-angry burns on his skin have already faded into pale red blotches sprinkled all over his forehead. By morning, nobody would even be able to tell the acid burns were ever there—were it not for Astarion’s eyebrows, or what’s left of them, that is.

You instantly force your face into a mask of neutrality. You have to approach this very delicately.

“It’s… salvageable. Really,” is all you can blurt out, though.

Astarion’s crimson eyes grow comically round, accentuated by the lack of eyebrows; he doesn’t believe a word you say, which you can’t really hold against him. You’re talking shit. It’s bad, and you wonder how in the nine hells you haven’t noticed this before.

“You can redraw them here and…there,” you go on for lack of anything better to say—Gods, you really should shut up. “Fill them back in, you know…?”

Astarion wets his lips while you're evading his piercing gaze.

“Why, what a grand idea,” he breathes, shakily. “I never would’ve thought of that myself. If only there wasn’t this one peculiar little thing. What was it again, my dear?”

You cringe. Of course. Of course… How could you forget?

“Ah, right…” You only notice the delicate hand mirror Astarion was holding when it flies across the tent, shattering somewhere on the bare ground farthest from you. “I can’t fucking see my face!”

As if all strength has left his body, Astarion sinks to the ground, where he lets himself fall back into his pile of blankets, arms draped over his eyes. It’s all rather dramatic, but you guess you can’t have one without the other.

Grimacing, because you’re sorry for him, you sink to your knees next to him, gently tugging at his sleeve.

“Do you want me to do it? Redraw them, I mean.”

You can tell by the way Astarion sits up as if struck by lightning that he was only waiting for your offer. Suddenly very close, he considers you with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose you could,” he muses, tracing the shape of your left eyebrow with his index finger. “You usually look presentable enough.”

You let the comment slide, but not without rolling your eyes at him. It’s just show, though, a way to suppress a smile. Astarion thinks he’s sly about it, but you catch him often enough looking at you as if you were the sun at dawn.

Of course, you would never dare mention that to him.

“Give me a minute,” you say instead, already rising to your feet, were it not for the cold fingers curling around your wrist.

Astarion gives you a stern look as he's holding you in place, his nose nearly brushing against yours. “Not a word to anyone about this.”

You give him a solemn look in return as you comb your fingers through his hair, gently guiding some stray locks back into place. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your hand is trembling just a little—enough for Astarion to notice. Enough for that damn smirk to find its way to his lips. You hold your breath.

“Nervous, love?”

Yes, and it’s stupid because you’ve done this often enough—daily, even. It’s just easier to apply cosmetics on yourself, sitting in front of a mirror and not kneeling in front of him, trying to evade his piercing gaze.

“Why would I be?” You scowl, readjusting the hold on your charred willow stick that has yet to make contact with Astarion’s skin. “Aren’t my eyebrows, are they?”

You shift closer to him, brushing against his leg with your knee, which doesn’t help your case at all. You can’t help feeling a little shaky when he’s this close—and he knows it.

“No need to tremble like a virgin, then, my sweet.”

Giving him a sharp look, you draw back a little, although you don’t make it far.

“Maybe you just need to come a little closer still,” he purrs as his hand takes hold of the back of your knee, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. “Might be less distracting for you…”

For someone close to having a meltdown less than fifteen minutes ago, he’s surely having lots of fun now. Biting your lower lip, you adjust your weight, straddling Astarion properly. Trying to ignore the hard body pressing against yours, you assess the natural growth of his eyebrows again, eventually setting the tip of the charred willow stick down on his skin, only to remove it again. This won’t work like this.

“Honestly, can you please just close your eyes?”

Astarion scoffs. “Should I blow out the candles, too, while I’m at it? Leave the nightdress on?”

“Shut up, or you’ll end up looking like a clown.”

That eventually does the trick. He gives you one last look that is somewhere between peeved and wary before he closes his eyes.

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing, to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror. The thought alone makes you shudder.

Astarion’s hand wanders up from your knee to your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze; this time, his touch is more encouragement than teasing.

After taking a deep breath, you lean back in.

With steady hands, you begin to redraw the missing parts of his eyebrows. Taking your time, you make sure to follow the natural shape of them; to blend out the colour where the charcoal comes off as too stark a contrast to his white hair.

While you’re working, Astarion doesn’t move one bit, eager—for once—to not fluster you. It’s not until you lean back to consider the fruits of your labour that he opens his eyes again.

“And?”

“Well,” you muse, “you look presentable enough.”

He scowls as you throw his own words back at him; you suppress a laugh before you take his face between your hands.

“If I could see the stars right now, I could not tell them apart from you,” you proclaim, mimicking his dramatics once again. It’s not as funny when you do it, so you’re quick to add, “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

You mean it, and Astarion knows it; trusts that you do. He leans forward to brush a kiss against your lips, hugging you to him, which is as much thanks as you expected to receive.

“Will you do it again tomorrow? And the day after,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, “please?”

“Of course,” you assure him, deepening the embrace, “until they’ve grown back.”

Astarion hums in agreement and you remain like this for a moment before you pull back to look into his eyes, which are once again framed by a pair of sharp eyebrows accentuating his perfect features.

“I should’ve noticed earlier,” you say, at last. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good mirror, it seems.”

Astarion frowns at you, the intensity of his gaze taking you aback as it is wont to do.

“Don’t be,” he urges, gently taking your dominant hand in his. He runs his fingers along the back of it, careful not to put too much pressure on your still-raw skin. His touch stings nonetheless, reminding you of your own acid burns that have yet to heal—those spiders really are a menace. “You should be more careful, too, you know? You’re the only working mirror I have.”

You’re lying flat on your back before you can even gasp in surprise. To your embarrassment, your legs have already wrapped around Astarion’s waist; all you can see is that damn smirk on his lips as he’s towering over you, his face barely a finger width away from yours. Your breath hitches as you take him in; nobody has any right to be this beautiful.

“It would be a shame if I lost it, my precious little mirror,” he sighs before pressing his lips to yours.

It’s a far cry from his earlier kiss—heated, needy. Knowing you don’t stand a chance against his tongue gliding over your lower lip, you open your mouth to him, slowly losing yourself in him. There’s really nothing easier than that.

Your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer as your fingers dig through his locks, eliciting a low moan from him. This is a lot more thanks for your service than you’ve expected, but you find yourself unable to complain. Your mouth is far too occupied for that anyway.

It’s almost obscene how easily Astarion can undo your stays and by the time his hand finds its way underneath your thin shirt, your mind is long clouded by lust. Leaving goosebumps in its wake, his hand glides over your belly up to your sternum before it firmly cups your breast. The lazy pace of his thumb drawing circles around your hardened nipple has you aching your back, trying to ease the wet heat gathering between your legs.

Wet.

Somewhere very far in the back of your mind, you remember that you had a reason for coming to him earlier—way before you ended up on his lap, let alone underneath him. Let alone this damn wet. What was it again?

You break loose from Astarion to take a quick breath. Not wasting any time away from you, his lips begin to trace along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone; his wicked grin is painfully obvious against your skin. By the time you realise Astarion is scheming something, he’s already pushing his knee under your ass, repositioning you so that you can feel his hardness pressing against your core. You hiss at the sudden contact.

Ah, right—hiss! Lae'zel.

You throw your head back with a sigh as Astarion begins to grind his hips against you, making any thought of the Githyanki warrior evaporate quickly. Fuck Lae'zel and her sense of duty and honour. You can just sit out her wrath with Astarion right here, right now, however long it may take. It doesn’t really matter that you’re not sitting much, either.

But then again, maybe this is why your companions take offence at you the moment Astarion is stepping out of line, although you’re sure they would be biassed, too, if they knew how positively divine he feels—especially when he’s teasing the waistband of your trousers with his long fingers as he does now. Your hips move in answer to his touch, and yet…Fuck.

You groan. Not with pleasure but from your own sense of duty. The others trust you as much as Astarion does; that’s why they somehow thought it wise to make you their leader. Almost annoyed with yourself, you prop yourself up on one elbow, pressing your hand against Astarion’s chest, telling him to stop before you’re way past the point of no return.

He raises an eyebrow at you. His hair is messy and his lips are red and swollen from your kisses and by the Gods you want him to fuck you. It takes you a very long moment to gather yourself.

“Now that we took care of your issue,” you pant, tracing the shape of his left eyebrow with your index finger, “you might wanna go fetch water if you don’t want Lae'zel to wipe them off right away.”

Tilting his head, Astarion gives you a long look. His fingers keep digging into your thigh which has you grinding your teeth to suppress another sigh. He doesn’t buy your attempt at keeping order and peace, not when he can undoubtedly feel you trembling with need for him. You’re not even protesting when he leans back over you, one arm next to your head to support his weight.

“So, what?” he breathes against your shoulder before planting a hot kiss against your skin. And another. And another, as he is slowly kissing his way down your body. “You said you would redo them over and over and over again, didn’t you, darling?”

Holding your breath, you watch your shirt being pushed up the lower he’s moving down on you, gasping only when the crisp evening air caresses your exposed chest.

Astarion’s trail of kisses comes to a halt right below your belly button. His crimson eyes are looking at you expectantly but you’re too preoccupied with his fingers slowly undoing your trousers to make any sense of his wordless question. You swallow.

“You did say that, didn’t you?” He repeats, the amusement evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you nod rather enthusiastically. “No problem. Not at all.”

“That’s what I thought,” Astarion grins, finally freeing you of your trousers to see how pathetically ready you already are for him.

Duty can wait a little longer, you decide as you give yourself over to the pale elf. You only promised Lae'zel to remind Astarion of his chores, not that you would make him do them, you reason.

You’re not his keeper, after all.

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