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pursuitseternal · 1 month

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“Beginning Anew:” graveyard intimacy in “Our Blood is Thicker”

(Ascended) Astarion x Cordehlia (Tav) | E | 3.3K

🎨 By official illustrator @marimosalad

Summary: After the fall of the Netherbrain, the Vampire Ascendant and the Bone Picker have worked to help rebuild in the aftermath. But now, in the night, they seek a moment for them, burying their pasts and embracing their future, side by side until the world falls down.

CW: Graveyard sex, semi-public sex, Cocky AA gloating he teeeechnically killed her, Cordehlia having none of that, sub/dom switching, hope for the future side by side.

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 21:

Beginning Anew

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Fires still burned, the filth of battle not unfamiliar to Cordehlia as she walked the Lower City after dark. But what was unfamiliar this time, was the warm hand laced in hers, the gentle sway of his body so close beside her. She sighed, loving the way they brushed every other step over the cobblestones.

It was done, over. Enemies defeated and villains put to the blade.

Some of her friends were lost to other places, other realms and destinies already determined to be their ends. Her heart ached for the fallen, for faces that she could easily see again and others… not quite so easily. But that was battle, loss and heartache lacing the sweetness of victory. Only this time, she wasn’t alone in her triumph.

She had him.

They had barely slept the last two days, rebuilding and guiding the citizens of the City, not to mention escaping every prying eye that wished to see the Vampire Ascendant and the Bone Picker, the stuff of legends, the pair of them. But for now, they walked in the quiet silence of night through mostly empty streets. Heading back to the Elfsong, thankful it was still standing.

From the corner of her eye, she saw his lip twist in that rakish smirk for the briefest of seconds.

“Come, my love,” he pulled her into the adjacent alley, deeper into the shadow, black so dark, she could see that faintly lingering glow in his eyes. That tingle of his new magic tickled over her skin, leaping from his touch to dance up the back of her hand.

“Now where, Ancunín?” Cordehlia hissed, teasing but gleeful as she hurried in his wake. Pulled by him, hand in hand. A gesture they had shared along elven paths and shady glades, only this time it was down rubble-filled streets. But she was just content to be following him at all. To follow him, her heart in his chest, for eternity.

He gave that teasing giggle low in his chest. “That should be Lord Ancunín, my sweet, but I’ll let it slide for you…”

Her hand, like lightning now that she mastered her new vampiric strength, flew for the curve of his ass, giving it a punishing squeeze through his suede and leather trousers. “Behave,” she smirked up at him as he gave her a mocking scowl, “my Lord.”

“Yes, dear,” he shook his head, a sultry, sinister smile that showed all his teeth caught in the dim light as he led them to make one final turn. He took note of the way her cool hand clutched harder in his as they entered under the gate of the cemetery.

She knew right where he was headed, begrudgingly, she looked into his softly smirking face as they stood at the foot of his headstone. “Why?” was all she could say.

His palm caressed her cheek, that warm touch grounding her even as her undead heart began to pound hard, if slowly, in her chest. “Now that our enemies have fallen, it’s time to start anew, don’t you think? The Ascendant and his Raven?”

“You mean the Bone Picker and her devoted husband, don’t you?” she snickered, a bit irked and yet…. Something about being his made her stomach flutter and coil with that constant need for satisfaction.

“What about, Lord and Lady Ancunín, hmm?” he pulled her flush against his body, that damned beaded jacket again, now his new favorite, scratching through the silk of her new chemise. “What we were always wanting to be… destined to be, don’t you think?”

Hand braced in the center of his chest, her every new sense could hear his heart thumping, feel the blood rush in his veins again, smell it beginning to race and pool in certain parts of his anatomy.

As if she didn’t always know the instant he grew hard for her.

“Are you seriously thinking about…” she arched her eyes wryly at him, words failing her as she chose to just grab for his erection instead. He just grinded that thickening length through his leathers into her palm. A laugh in her ear as she felt his warm breath inhaling her scent. “You know we are in a graveyard?” she taunted.

“Yes,” he chuckled louder.

“And that we are standing at your gravesite, as much of a lie as it is…”

His tongue trapped the soft bottom of her ear to suck it gently into his mouth. “Yes,” he rasped, a bit rougher in his throat.

“And you do know this is a place where I now have not one, but two horrible memories of laying near unconscious, my head near your own… headstone, right?” She shuddered under his warm lips, pulling him tighter into her hand on his cock by the small of his back.

“Yes,” he replied, “and don’t you think we grieve those poor memories to make a new one here… together?” His words were honey-sweet, balm on her wounds. His nose nuzzled against her neck, breathing in her scent, she knew.

“I’ve been… yours… for a tenday, and you’re already an absolute freak, wanting to fuck on your grave…”

“You love me, though,” he smirked, shaking his head. “It’s not like you wouldn’t do the same, little love.”

“Not my grave, not my name in stone,” she shoved him by his cock, making him grunt so sweetly as he withdrew just a breath.

“It can be arranged you know,” he forced his voice steady, trying so hard to keep that silken seduction in his tone. “After all, I did kill you.”

“Please,” she huffed, rolling her now crimson eyes as she stilled her hand and eased it off his erection. “In a fair fight, I would still kick your arse, Astarion… good thing you Ascended, just to even the odds.” Cordehlia grinned, lips twisting to one side as she let her touch fall. His eyes widened in hurt, or panic, or desperation as he caught her wrist to replace it there between his legs immediately.

“My love, I am the Vampire Ascendant now,” he purred into her face, “every fight is fair… for me.”

Cordehlia let out a very loud, nasally, and ugly noise, cracking into that smile that warmed his heart and showed all her teeth, fangs included now. “Great,” she rolled her eyes, a show of petulance, “As if you need the entitlement or fodder for your arrogance, my love.”

“Just what I’m due,” he brushed his lips against hers, her own so eager for another taste. Her breath forced its way into his mouth, her teeth nipping gently one his lips, longing for a taste, he knew. “Hungry?” he rasped into her kiss, and she was only able to nod and bite just a bit harder with her blunted teeth.

“Famished,” she whispered, licking her tongue over the roof of his mouth.

“Then kneel, my darling…”

She flashed him a look of narrowed eyes and twisted mouth, irritated but intrigued. Suspicious but aroused. Her fingers slid with tantalizing lightness down the sinews of his thighs, her knees bending as he smirked with tickled delight. The sight of his love, playful minx she was, looking for any chance she could to bend his rules. That glint in her eye, ancient and youthful, said as much.

She loved this. But she wouldn’t let him know that entirely. Not yet. For now, she was happy to taunt and gaze at his forever-ethereal beauty. The moon lit the night air behind him, those silver curls fairly glowing, kissed by the stars, just as they alway had each evening they would find one another. Perhaps he gazed with slightly more hunger down at her now, perhaps he craved having his way more than before… but not so much as he had once, the spoiled son of a noble family, destined for greatness.

And greatness finally found him, she could see he thought as much. He sighed contentedly, eagerly, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw to gasp so carefully under her chin.

To tilt her mouth just right for his kiss.

Ravenous, she arched upwards for his lips, working her mouth with all heat and fangs and mouth-watering desire. Until something warm dripped from their lips, the coppery tang of his own blood coating his tongue before he even felt the ice-cold prick of her own fang at the corner of his mouth. “Tch, naughty,” he hissed as she sucked the blood that seeped more with every lick.

Cordehlia only laughed from her throat in reply, hand gripping mercilessly at the outline of his cock, making him swallow another grunt. Laughing and sucking, she freed those small brass buttons down the supple leather of his breeches.

A sigh of pure and heated contentment in his throat, he stood to watch. Those crimson eyes gleamed at him, bright with her own lust, sparkling with mischief. Her lips twitched, waiting to catch his cock the second it sprung free.

Her fingers, warmed from even the littlest drops of his blood in her belly now, she rubbed his length. All silken skin and risen veins, she stroked him in one hand and palmed the smooth, tight skin of his balls in her other. A gentle thrust of his hips, he could feel her breath as she inhaled his musk and salt from the v of his waist. But those lips didn’t aim for his pulsing, seeping head.

Oh no, his bride wrapped her warming lips fully around one of his balls. The groan he made echoed off the walls behind her, he needed to lean one hand on his own headstone just to steady his legs. She licked, first one then the other, tongue swirling over him as he could feel them tighten, as his cock twitched against her ear, resisting her gently hold around it.

“Gently,” he hissed, the cold drag of her fangs threatening the soft velvet skin in her mouth. And she just laughed.

“Afraid?” she murmured rubbing her nose into that hard plane of his hips.

“Mmm, I will only ever admit that to you, my treasure…” he braced himself for more. For another scrape of her teeth over his most sensitive of parts. The rush of fear and lust, of pleasure and pain sent arousal like molten heat right to his core.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” she purred, aiming those fangs for the side of his thigh buried inside the gap in his trousers. A small snarl reached her ears from above, muscles under her mouth bunched as she lapped the blood that flowed.

His hand moved into her fiery hair, guiding her blushing face back before him, but instead of shoving his cock between her plump lips, he sank to his knees too, her lips too tantalizing not to consume for his own. Her body too precious to keep at his feet for a moment longer.

Those strong hands, all too familiar with blade and bow, gripped into the collar of his jacket, twisting him and pulling him to crush her into the earth, their heads almost knocking against that aged stone. He growled, his thumb prying open her jaw to dive his tongue in deeper. “Cordehlia,” his voice dripping like honey and brushing like silk, “I love the taste of you… after you’ve tasted me.”

Her smile answered as it pressed into his mouth. Cordehlia only wanted more, wanted to glut on his love for her, to feed until she was drunk on his lust and his cock and his desire. She bucked and wriggled and slid her own sensible trousers free. One of his free hands worked them off as well, until she could kick them to the side, her supple boots joining them. Satisfied at last, she slunk a hand to touch her own slickness. But Astarion only growled, a push of his mind against her own, desirous and disapproving. Instead he chuckled into their working mouths. He grinded heavily into her hips, hooking his knee into her own.

Spreading her.

Straining her apart until he could glide his length through that pool between her thighs. Her craving was palpable, her hunger filled his own stomach. One warm palm at the back of her head, and he placed her panting mouth on his own throbbing neck.

Fangs sank into his skin, his cock thrusting deep into her dripping folds. Swallow by swallow as she drank from him, she grew warm, igniting little by little from within, around him, under him. Just a bit more, he split her by her thigh. Making her gasp with a mouthful of his blood. Making her arch just right to take him in so deep, that throbbing head of his cock pressed against the end of her channel.

For laying on a patch of land to hold the dead, he had never felt so alive. Not with his pulse raging through his veins, from the tips of his ears to the twitch of his cock buried deep inside her.

Always eager, ravenous for more, demanding and needy… it didn’t matter if it was their first time

By that ancient stream or the current time, here and now by his headstone, she wouldn’t have him any other way.

Buried to his balls, eyes fixed into hers, one heart and one breath between them. Lovers then and now and for eternity. “Until the world falls down…” he had said before. And that glimmer in his moonstruck, crimson eyes now as he fucked into her repeated it over and over again.

Nails dug into the small span of his back, wherever she could reach his flesh. Her touch gripped hard beneath the band of his trousers to pull him in. As if he needed the enticement. The way their foreheads pressed tightly, their mouths slack and eyes locked… Cordehlia groaned, her own strength clutched hard around him, legs around his waist, fingers dug deep enough for blood as she bucked in bliss. He grit his teeth, savoring the way she pulsed around him, trying to to be undone at the same moment. Biting his tongue, closing his eyes, he forced himself to last through it, even as her ecstacy swept him away. The weight of her hand at his nape pulled his mouth to her tongue. Instantly she lapped at the blood that dripped from where he nipped himself.

Of course she would sense it, hunger for it. He just laughed as he stilled inside her at that moment. Letting her feast on him. “Enough?” he purred, a little unbidden roll of his hips through her extra-slick folds now.

“Never,” her grip already pulled at his collar, mouth pressed sharply into hers. He hissed, the pressure of her tight walls, the rock of her hips to take him deeper… the taste of his blood on their tongues. It was everything he ever wanted.

Well… maybe… one more thing…

Cradling her head in his palm, he sank his fang into her working lower lip, that floral taste that was so truly hers alone filled his mouth. One swallow of her essence, and he burst. Pulse after pulse, he erupted and shook as he came. His breath stifled by her mouth, it was all he could do to close his eyes to the moonlight in the graveyard and let his body ride hard and fast.

Until the only sound in that vacant yard was their rapid breathing, the slick of their sexes, and the racing of his one Ascendant heart.

He kept his voice soft, fingers stroking over that arch of her cheek, those crimson eyes fluttering and filling with tears unshed to catch the starlight. Almost like the silver they once were. “Do you remember what I promised you that last night before I… left you?”

Cordehlia gave a wet laugh, just the one. “Do you remember, Ancunín?” she teased through the surge of tenderness that warmed her inside and out.

He quirked his brows, mock offense darkening his sharp features even as he smiled. “How dare you…” he taunted back, pinching her earlobe as if she were a naughty little elfling. Which she always would be to him, deep down. “I recall promising you wardrobes of silken dresses, notoriety as the beautiful bride of a powerful man… that the City would kneel at your feet, my darling…”

Now she sniffed back her tears as they flowed for real, turning her head to hide them from him. “That was so long ago, Astarion…. I, I don’t even know if I am the same. I don’t know if I belong in a world of luxury and finery and butter-soft dresses…”

His fingers just kept stroking her face. Waiting.

She sighed. “I think she died when she thought you dead, when she saw you all those years ago in the tavern…”

He silenced her with a kiss, tender and tasting and soft as he could. His thumb wiped off a single cool tear as it trekked down her face.

“We are both dead and remade you know,” he whispered as he looked down at her again. “I’d like to still give you whatever you desire. Your delight is mine. Your sorrow, mine.”

Her eyes struggled to meet his gaze, but once they did, she grinned gently. “And yours mine,” she swallowed through her crying.

Astarion swept his hand to her hair now, soft and fiery. Just like her. “I would like nothing better than to spoil you for eternity, to rebuild this city or travel or battle or return to our home country to remember or seclude ourselves in a palace… as long as we do it together.”

“I’d like that,” she smiled wider, her own hand cupping his fiercely grinning face. “As long as we do it together.”

Lips brushed, sweet and chaste, a kiss of promise and hope and future—a caress of one breath, one blood, one heart. As they broke apart, she shoved him in the chest, trying to sit up.

A smirk on his lips, he let her, busying himself with arranging his clothes back properly as he stood. Lost in the moonlight, gazing into the sky, he only turned once he heard the scratch of a dagger into stone.

She was a sight, burnished hair spilling over her shoulders, barely clothed again, and that shining dagger in her hand. With every scratch, she carved into the headstone beneath his name.

With her own.

Cordehlia Aquilae, followed by her own years of life, far exceeding his inscribed above.

He just watched until she was done, standing to return her weapon home, dusting off her hands as she turned. “Don’t let it get to your head you killed me, Astarion,” she teased and drew closer. “You really don’t need to inflate your pride any more.”

He answered with that same wicked look, all smirking lips and devouring eyes. “Our little secret then,” he purred, pulling her close once she was within reach. “My eternal lover, beyond the reach of time… Cordehlia Aquilae…”

She shook her head, raising on her toes to kiss him again. “No, she’s dead.” The words rang with a hint of sadness. But then he looked into her eyes. Bright with the stars, her cheeks flushed with his blood in her veins. “Cordehlia Ancunín, that is if you’ll have me…”

“Forever,” he interrupted before she could say anything else disparaging, “in every position, in any place… Never again from my side.”

“Promise?” she rasped, a grind of her hips against his that ignited his body again. So soon

“I promise you Cordehlia, my bride, my love…” he pulled her close, close enough to feel her body still warm from their first coupling. The first of many tonight, he smirked so assuredly. “We have a beautiful if probably bloody future ahead of us, my love.” His finger brought her rosy lips, her glinting fanged-smile against his own. “I can hardly wait.”

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Thus ends the Pale Elf Quest AU for these romantic heroes. Thank you for enduring the angst to get to the happy ending.

But….. it’s not really an ending. There will be more for Corstarion 💞🗡️. I mean, now they’re both powerful, happy, menaces of a vampiric nature. I will add on epilogue chapters, but for now this chapter does mark the “end” of the Quest in canon.

Watch this page for their Ascendant and Raven adventures however. And yes, they will be even hornier and bloodthirsty now.

♥️ Pursuits

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pursuitseternal · 4 months

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“Lapping:” post-battle lust runs hot for Astarion and Cordehlia in “Our Blood is Thicker”

Moodboard fanart by @marimosalad , my love

Link to the full nsfw art here

Astarion x Cordehlia (f!oc) | E | 4.3K of post-battle lust and licking

Summary: the fight was over, quick and hot, but not as hot as Cordehlia’s blood burns. A private room (mysteriously) secured at the Last Light Inn, the lovers take every advantage of the opportunity, but not without a little more conniving from their mysterious guest.

CW: Oral sex, hints of submission, devilish deals, bad puns from Gale, Very Intimate Missionary™️, with that hint of angst that runs through their lust

Previous chapter | Ao3 link | Fic masterlist

Chapter 9: Lapping…

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The Last Light Inn, there was no name more fitting for this place. Surrounded by shadows and curses, not to mention it seemed to be barely holding on by a thread. “More like On-Its-Last-Legs Inn…” Gale had joked under his breath as everyone wandered back down the stairs. Everyone one heaved, blood running hot after the latest ambush.

And the vampire was not tickled by the humor.

Astarion spun around, unamused and taunting as he smirked back at the wizard. “Really?” he jibed. “That’s your wizardly wit contribution after all that just happened?”

Gale shrugged. “A little humor, even spattered in blood, isn’t distasteful.”

“You play with words about as well as you cook,” the vampire grimaced, grabbing his arm around Cordehlia’s armored waist. “Not that I mind a little post-battle, covered-in-blood type of celebration.” He threw a little sidelong glance at their intrepid leader in his hold.

She smiled into his face, the briefest of loving grins, before looking over her shoulder at the rest. “Camp will be well deserved, to be sure. Perhaps the Inn has some remaining supplies.”

“Some ale?” Wyll chimed in, hopeful. “I doubt anything as good as Baldurian, but I’d settle for anything that doesn’t taste like piss at this point.”

Cordehli burst into giggles, that steadying hold around her body cooling the bloodlust that had threatened to surge inside her moments ago. “Such language from the Blade of Frontiers,” she taunted in between her laughter. “I’ll see what I can scrounge up for my merry band.”

The Inn was a sea of organized chaos, Jaheira’s exacting voice pierced through the clatter of weapons and the boisterous conversations. Enemies defeated, Harpers already cleaning the blood and disposing of the bodies, it seemed that the shock of the attack of one of their own set everyone on edge. Making each one seek a little respite to celebrate the victory. Their safety from the curse and the preservation of their mission to end Ketheric Thorm, his poison, and the threat of the Absolute.

The scent of roasted meat and alcohol began to fill the Inn, fortunately covering the stink of blood.

And as the party began to sidle up to the bar, their eyes coveting the tankards of drink and sparse platters of food. Jaheira slinked over, waving the group forward with a sweep of her arm. “For saving our very existence, you all have more than earned it.”

Cordehlia smiled, nodding her head in gratitude, her body still and steady where she remained in Astarion’s slight embrace.

“You, Not-So-True-Soul, you have an extra reward. That messenger you sent ahead, he has secured you the room you requested. Your meal awaits you,” her sharp eyes scanned the masculine arms still around her waist. “I was told to send enough for two…”

Her rogue’s hand brushed possessively over the curve of her hip, making the metal of her armor clatter slightly.

“The rest of your party is welcome to the grounds in the arc of our light, once they finish celebrating to themselves, I’m sure.”

Cordehlia cleared her throat. “While the accommodations are most welcome, I sent no such messenger,” she replied, that commanding tone still in her voice.

“Tall, tan,” Jaheira grinned, “most persuasive. He left just before the battle broke out. If he wasn’t from you…” her face tweaked suspiciously, “perhaps you have a clandestine advocate.”

“Tall, tan, persuasive? Certainly no demon in disguise,” Astarion grinned that slanted smirk at his own humor. And if it weren’t for the plate metal on her arm or covering his belly, she would have rammed him with her elbow for the joke.

More like a devil in disguise. What was Raphael’s game…. But Cordehlia’s wondering ceased as Jaheira gestured sharply towards the hall.

“Up two flights of stairs, you’ll find the room I’m sure,” she gave a little leer as she began to turn away. “Nothing has a nose quite like two lovers looking for a quiet place for an evening.”

Cordehlia’s heart leapt right into her throat. It was… almost too much. Too much insinuations too much to have to wait. Her blood pounded, her body on fire from fighting, even if the fight was small and over quickly. Of course, Astarion’s touch on her body, even through the leather and metal of her armor, it was enough to both ground her and stir her. They made their way up the stairs, almost ceremoniously at first, with sure and steady footsteps, even as his fingers, always so dexterous, slipped their way into the top of her armor at her waist. He found purchase above her belt, the soft, thin layer of leather beneath like a second skin, barely hiding the fervent way he dug into her skin. They way the tips of his fingers fought their own battle, pressing towards that bone of her hip, reaching further and further towards the pool of her desire.

He caught her eye at the top of the first landing, his eyes wide, dilated dark as he began to pull her faster. She couldn’t look away, barely noticing where the stains of their battle still remained across the floorboards they crossed. The second set of stairs, he practically yanked her up their creaking wooden boards.

Even as lithe as she was, Cordehlia couldn’t match his vampiric agility, stumbling into him somewhere in the middle. And Astarion took every advantage. He pulled her into his arms, his mouth already wet, salivating with his never-ending hunger. And not just for her blood. Armor and all, he lifted her in his arms, her mouth trapped by the working of his lips and the nipping bite of his fangs. Dragging her up the remaining few stairs, he gave that gut-dropping giggle, pushing her against the closest wall. Their armor clashed and cracked as he pressed against her. Everything was hard and sharp… the metal on their bodies and the fangs on her lips.

And Cordehlia gave a matching laugh of exhilaration, catching his lower lip in her own teeth and biting down. His blood coated her tongue, rich and tingling and coppery. The groan from his throat only fed into her own insatiable need, the driving beat of her lust. Her arm reached, hand fumbling for the doorknob beside her. Astarion smiled into the grip of her kiss. “So eager… how delicious,” he purred into the hot damp of her mouth.

His hand strayed from her hips to open the door, the warm light of the room embracing them as they stumbled inside. The scent of food, the fire in the grate. They didn’t even break to find the bed, Cordehlia merely backing until her legs butted against the edge of a mattress. Ever dexterous, he already had half her buckles and braces unlatched, the metal of her armor falling with thuds and clangs at their feet.

She hurried to do the same. Breath heavy, air whistling in their blood-coated mouths. Finally, their bodies shed the metal, the last little plate clattering from Astarion’s thigh, Cordehlia’s own nimble hands loosening the last buckles as she knelt at his feet. The Pale Elf’s eyes were closed, his head back as her hands ran up the thin leather of his breeches beneath. Her mouth trailed kisses over its soft stretched fabric until she hovered right over where it bulged to near bursting.

But she laughed, settled back on her heels. Hands tracing back down the hard muscles in his legs.

Astarion hummed, taunting and teasing as he began to look down at her. “You, my darling, certainly know how to delay grati…”

His whole body went rigid, his fangs baring and mouth hissing in surprise. “What do you want, devil?” he growled toward the crackling fire, and Cordehlia scrambled to turn around. To face the unseen voyeur behind her.

Certainly, tucked into the shadows, reclined in a modest chair, Raphael sat, smirking in that fair form of his. “Oh, do not stop on my account, I beg you. It would be the greatest sin to prevent two such beautiful, powerful beings such as you from chasing after the most natural of pursuits…”

Choosing to ignore the insinuation, she spoke clearly. “I assume you are here to call in your bargain, Raphael,” Cordehlia rose to her feet, that heat of her desire cooling to iron. She needed no armor to stiffen her form or shield her in false confidence.

She could have been naked, and just as fearsome.

“Calling in a bargain is what drunkards at gambling tables do, little warrior,” Raphael pressed the tips of his fingers together, raising them to rest against his chin. Cunning and careful. “I take as much pride in crafting mutually beneficial deals as you must in finding yourself covered in blood and well…” the devil’s dark eyes skated to the rasping male beside her, “…other fluids, to be sure.”

Astarion’s body braced against her back, she didn’t even need to turn to feel his lips raise, threatened by the insinuation about what was his. “Careful,” he kept his voice ice-cold, “or you might find your own body short some of your own fluids.”

“Be equally careful, for my blood burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey,” Raphael taunted back, “besides, how could I translate those inscrutable scars on your back if I’m dead?”

Astarion relented, reluctantly snapping his jaws shut, eyes still diligently scanning for any next move.

Cordehlia crossed her arms, intimidating and covering the way her nipples already strained for attention from the man beside her. “Say what you want, and speak quickly,” she hissed. Terrifying and burning. “I’m not sure how long I can tolerate you standing between me and my desires. Unless you wish to see my lust turn back to bloodlust once more. My vampire is not the only one who can drain you of your blood.”

Astarion shivered, and not from fear. “Now, now,” he hummed, still suspicious and defensive, wrapping his arms posessively around her stiffened form, “let’s hear what he has to offer you, my darling, hold your talons in for a moment, little raven…”

She arched back into his embrace, grinning like a fool at her new pet name… his raven… no longer the dreadful Corvus…

“Wise indeed,” Raphael smirked wider, his eyes scanning over every place their bodies met, “especially as I have the offer that might be exchanged for the knowledge of those curious scars you surely grip as he fucks you, my lady.” He grinned as he stood, a wriggle of his body to adjust his tight fitting clothes… and breeches… assuming a confident and relaxed posture. “You will soon encounter a creature most foul once you undoubtedly reach, and leave, Moonrise Towers. You will find him haunting the domains of Shar. Do not underestimate him, and dispatch him quickly.”

“That’s it?” Cordehlia gave a cold cackle. “Kill a monster? No army, no death-defying mission, no curse to call down upon generations?”

“You will not defy death if you aren’t careful. He is an Orthon, my greatest foe, covered in more blood than you,” his thin lips drew wide at that, at the way she twitched in reaction. “Kill him, and you will know all about that Infernal fragment on your lover’s smooth, ivory skin.”

He crossed the distance, catching Cordehlia’s hand from her crossed arms, drawing in a deep inhalation of her palm before placing a gentlemanly kiss on the top of her hand.

“Until your victory, my lady…” he bid, all cordially, even as his eyes drank in the sight of them. Until he vanished in a swirl of smoke and brimstone.

Vanished just at the right time, as Astarion already had pulled a small dagger from his boot, almost ready to send it flying through the wisps of lingering demonic smoke.

“My, my…” Cordehlia ran a finger over the little blade from over her shoulder. “Coming to my defense so quickly,” she purred as she traced her touch down the blunt flat face. “Not that I don’t love to see you as the jealous lover still.”

“I wouldn’t have killed him… not quite yet…” He let the blade drop, forsaking the cold steel for her warm flesh instead. Astarion’s touch launched over her front to creep under the fabric of her tunic. “As for my… jealousy… it's nice to hear somethings must never change. And you… So fearsome and defiant, my love,” he rasped in her ear, the tip of his tongue tickling over its curve. “We are so close now, I can taste it…”

“I think that’s just your hunger for where we left off,” she chided back with a single laugh. Turning in his arms, she let his hands shimmy her shirt free.

“Which was where, exactly?” he toyed with her. “I think I recall your mouth so close to somewhere largely important.”

“Hmm,” she pulled his own shirt from the band of his breeches. “Is that what you wish your little raven to do?”

Those crimson eyes scanned to the waiting bed beside them. “I think I wish to finally fuck you in a proper bed, and,” he whispered against her mouth, feeling the warmth of her breathe sighing into his cool lips, “for you to fuck me too…”

“You always know just what honey-sweet, romantic words to say…” she murmured in reply. Her fingers flew to pull the laces from his breeches, easing them just enough to slide her hand into the stretched leather to take him in her grip. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable first, my defiant, protective, possessive rogue…”

His face quirked, twisting with teeth, eyes bright with desire. “Not sure, I kind of enjoyed the sight of your kneeling at my feet, darling,” he taunted in that provocative, silken voice.

Cordehlia sniffed, amused. Aroused. Gripping tighter as she stroked his erection, she peeled off leather breeches to reveal more of that pale skin and etched muscles. Slowly, her touch danced over his legs, that fabric shuffled lower and lower, her body following suit until she caressed him, rubbing her hand up and down his length, wetting her lips as she smiled up at him. On her knees.

“Mmm,” he hummed, stepping from the pile of their clothes, laughing as he shifted even closer to where she knelt, his cock unable to hide the jolt that made it twitch as it brushed against her face. “A sight fit for a king,” he moaned, one hand reaching to claw his fingers into that mess of burnished red hair. “Though you would be no one’s vassal, my love.”

And that, that earned him a wide mouth smile, the running of a tongue along the entire length of his cock, a hand gripped tightly around its girth. “Even so,” she hummed, another dripping lick of his cock, “I would still aim to please you, Astarion…” She stood, hand still stroking him, letting the slick of her split spread under her touch. “Now, I think we have waited for that bed for long enough.”

He pulled her tight, trapping her in the iron hold of his arms. Settling her on the bed beside him, Astarion lounged back into the parse pile of pillows. He could have cared that the fabric was coarse, the smell a bit musty, the mattress a bit lumpy. But the moment she slid that smooth, warm flesh to cover him, all his biting critiques and criticisms vanished.

He could have been lounging in a palace, his body alive, cushioned on the plushest of beds for all he knew as her mouth trailed little sucks and nips of her teeth over every ridge and rise of his chest. His cock strained, waiting for that now centuries-old, familiar warmth of her lips and tongue to wrap tightly around it.

That hair, lustrous like light and red like fire, he needed to hold it, to weave his touch in it to feel every little jerk of her head as she sucked him and lapped him. Her voice hummed, little mewls with every kiss she traced down the v-shaped muscles of his hips.

Cordehlia glanced up, her silver eyes bright with lust, her lips licked over and over again as she gave him that heavy-lidded gaze. Then, that pink tongue teased just the weeping slit of his cock.

“Gods,” he groaned, head thrown back, face lit in extacy. As her tongue repeated the motion, harder and laughing, his body bucked beneath her. “My little raven, more tongue than talons… how divine…”

He could feel her smile against his thigh, her tongue swirling around the soft, supple skin of his balls, her hands pressed inside the rocklike muscles of his thighs, spreading him wider. He felt it then, just after she gave another taunting laugh.

The hard edge of her teeth dragging around his balls, just enough to make him gasp and squirm.

“Easy, darling,” he gripping into her hair, lifting her head to reveal her conceited, smirking grin.

“But I am going easy,” she pouted, wrapping her fingers around his cock to stroke it harder, faster. “Just remember that your darling has bite too…”

Her tongue returned to that hypnotic rhythm, up and down his shaft, catching his cock with every little unbidden twitch it made as she pleasured him.

It was… glorious. And it only grew better, Cordehlia raised up, crawling towards him. Hands grasped on the headboard, her folds drenching his cock as she settled on it. Rock hard, it pressed into his own belly, warmed by the heat of her arousal and the molten slick that seeped from her cunt.

Astarion hummed his approval, eyeing the way her fiery hair cascaded loose from her braids. “You may have been the one on your knees, my sweetest, but you deserve all the worship you can tolerate. My love,” he purred, hands holding her hips, bracing there to caress the clenching of her muscles as she dragged her folds over his length. He groaned as she bucked faster, careful not to let that shaft pierce into her, not yet. “A man could get lost in his need for you, my darling Cordehlia…”

“Not just lost in your need to drink from my neck and fuck me between my thighs?” she hummed, tossing her hair, finally reaching a hand between their drenched bodies to guide him inside

“Never,” he groaned, satisfied in the wet warmth he craved. Hungering for it equal to her potent, addictive living blood. “You’re more than a lover to warm my bed and a neck on which to feed…”

His words barely left his mouth before her lips silenced them, sucking them from his tongue with her own ardor.

“With you, I feel… alive again. I feel… real,” he panted into her kiss, her own hunger nearly suffocating, painful if he didn’t truly need the oxygen to survive.

“You are real,” she hissed her reply. Her hand tearing his fingers from her hip, pressing them into that dripping crest of her folds. Their fingertips catching her clit, brushing where they joined. “This is real.” She writhed as he circled that spot, her voice thick like honey even as she grinded and rode his cock. The friction so instense, so fast and heated, for an instant she forgot just how cold his flesh was. How undead.

That strong digit, dexterous and skilled, pleasured her perfectly with each rise and fall of her body. Orgasm clawed through her, waves of warmth tore her apart as she bucked at random, her arms giving out until she collapsed on his chest. The chill of his skin making her breath catch loudly. Astarion’s giggle was soft in her ear, his body coiling its remaining strength, rolling her quickly and carefully onto her back.

And she was grateful for the caress of a bed once more as well. The way it cradled her, sucked her in as he bore all his weight on top of her frame. She clung to him, arms around his shoulders, thighs wrapping about that narrow waist of his, etched definitions of his muscles hard against her supple curves. Trapping her, caging her, imprisoned by the wiry strength of his arms, pinned by the crushing weight of his hips and the merciless press of his thighs.

Spreading her wider, cock at the ready to spear into that awaiting molten slick. “I want to watch you come undone, my love,” he growled, braced on his arms, letting all his weight rest on that dripping curve of her mound. One hand slinked its way down her belly, the haphazard rises and falls of her breath as she shuddered from her need making him salivate. A growl, his fangs grit and bared, he guided his cock over her seam, her juices coating him in that warmth he needed like he once needed air to live. Her body squirmed as he toyed it over her clit, so hard it almost pressed back against his erection. She mewled with need, silver eyes wide and glued to watch the magic he conjured with his cock.

“Fuck, Astarion,” she panted, straining against his weight to try and catch his cock inside. “I need you,” she groaned, much to his wicked delight. “Cease this flirtation and do it. Don’t you know how badly I’ve burned for you all day…”

“I know,” he growled, finally sliding inside her trembling walls, “I just like to hear it, my love.” He began his familiar gait of thrust, slowly at first, to make her shiver and buck and writhe for more. And all the while, those crimson eyes drank in her every reaction, every bite of her lower lip, every time she forced her fluttering eyes to return his stare. “Always headlong, aren’t you, my darling? Like an unbroken filly, galloping at breakneck for what you want, damn the consequences…” he began that inevitable climb, fucking faster, each intoxicating swivel of his hips making her gasp. “Strong willed and fearless.”

“Cease this comparing me to a horse,” she hissed, raising her head, hands gripping into the bulging of his biceps.

“Why? You’re an even more pleasing mount, darling,” he giggled, her silver eyes rolling at the humor and the pleasure he stoked inside her. “Perhaps that is an idea for our next round, darling. I’m too enraptured watching your face turn beet red with pleasure to bend you over and take you from behind…”

She shuddered, her body shaking visibly, eyes rolling back at the image he summoned. “Please, yes…”

“Enjoy for now,” he emphasized each word with a dive of his cock completely within, silkenly gliding through that hot slick. “I know… I am…”

“Gods,” she groaned, head flailing from side to side, breath after breath as she wriggled beneath him. Driven closer and higher and hotter as she began to clench around his cock. Ecstasy began dawning on her face, those lines forming as her mouth gaped open and panted, her eyes forcing themselves to remain half-open, just to watch him drinking in this sight beneath him in. Her shoulders rose and slammed against the mattress, her hands clawed hard to his arms as she shattered. Pure bliss. Obsession. Trembling satisfaction as she screamed over and over again with each wave of climax.

Her thighs bucked hard against him, and suddenly his own climax pulled him under. Surprising him. He hitched with stilted thrusts, arms shaking in her grip as he came. Grunt after deep-throated grunt, he pulsed harder than ever before, consumed by the sight of her, of her pleasure and submission, the way her lips turned coyly as she was equally memorized by the sight of his bliss. But he didn’t allow himself down. Not just yet. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips, dry from all his panting, against her wet and eager mouth.

Slow. Languorous. She kissed him back, savoring the taste of his tongue, the play of his lips. He gave a few more thrusts, the mix of their cum just drenching their bodies and the bed. He would feel sorry for the Harpers who would have to change these sheets if he cared for anything as much as he cared for her.

But no, there was nothing else in all these realms but the red-haired warrior who clung to him as if he would save her life, a rock in the stream that almost drowned her.

For that was just what he was to her. He knew.

At last, he lowered into the bed, their kiss unbreaking even as he laid in the coarse sheets. “So, about Raphael and his bargain…” Astarion murmured between the wet plucking of their kisses.

“Tomorrow, to Moonrise Towers and the devil’s old enemy to slay beyond,” Cordehlia whispered back, raising herself to rest her head in the valley of his chest, splayed on the cold and hard planes she knew so well. Her hair cascading like a tumble of fire over the chilled, pale skin of his torso.

Astarion pouted a bit, his long fingers straying through those mussy locks of hers. “No bathing in the blood of our foes? No dancing on Raphael’s enemy’s grave? I was hoping for something a little more bloodthirsty sounding… a little more romantic when it comes to finally getting these scars deciphered….” He kissed the top of her forehead, his breath drawing in the scent of her sweat and her hair.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, reckless desire blooming on her cheeks. “A little more effort from your tongue, and you might just hear all sorts of things from mine, my love…”

His chuckle resounded beneath the ear that pressed into his ribs. For that moment, she stilled. Listening.

The sound of his laugh… the rush of air in his lungs as he kept inhaling her scent… a little growl of his stomach from his unending hunger…

But as her own skin cooled, her heat drawn from her body by his cold flesh… she grieved one sound that no longer met her ear. His beating heart.

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