Think it can fit?

by Geneix_1

Summary:

After long weeks of abusing your body in battle and bloodshed, you decide to ease your mind and body by taking a relaxing dip in a nearby stream. Little do you know though, is that you have company from everyone's favorite companion, and he seems hungry for something other than blood.

Notes:

Hey, so this is the first fic I've written ever so like mind the mistakes. Just a freak who needs sum more breeding kink Astarion fics so this is my contribution. Also lmk if yall want requests or a second part to this! Hope you like <3

Chapter 1

A pang of soreness tears through your body due to overexerting yourself from fighting any creature that threatened your party and the consistent strain you placed on your muscles from traveling far distances. You’ve decided that tonight will be the night of relaxation after long days of stress and annoyance with a particular party member. There was something about the pale elf that just rubbed you the wrong way, which was truly unfortunate because he is undeniably attractive… but you couldn’t possibly let him learn this fact and contribute to his already inflated ego.

 

For some reason, you can’t seem to get him off your mind despite his provocative and borderline irritating antics. You suppose that over time the blush-evoking remarks have started to grow on you despite actively working against them. It’s not like Astarion making advances towards you was anything new or out of the ordinary, it had been happening for quite some time, but something in you recently has started to tick. Your mind has started to wander in the last few weeks, taking his words and forming them into a fantasy of your own.

 

You couldn’t help but wonder about how he would go about drinking from you as he’s suggested doing numerous times. Would he be dominating and unforgiving when sinking his fangs into the most sensitive part of your neck? Lapping up the red liquid until your body started to become cold and numb, devouring you whole? Or would he take an intimate approach by lightly grazing your neck while pressing the heavy weight of his firm body into yours, taking what he wanted from you? Was there a hope that you wanted something more than just allowing the elf to drink from you? Until today you haven’t thought the sight of your blood on someone else’s lips could feel so erotic, but now you’re starting to have second thoughts…

 

You feel a sudden intrusion in your head, the feeling resembling a light headache. This leads you to shake your head from the thought of Astarion, feeling a slight wave of embarrassment and the warm feeling that had started to pool in your lower abdomen. You remind yourself there are much more important priorities at the top of your list, and having fantasies about your vampire spawn party member is not one of them.

 

Or at least one of the more important ones you think silently to yourself.

 

You’ve decided to spend the rest of the evening taking time alone and to yourself, waiting until nightfall for the rest of your companions to be tucked into their bedrolls and well into their sleep. 

 

You open the flap to your tent, and as slowly and quietly as you can you sneak your way through the campsite, trying your best not to wake anyone. 

 

You successfully make your way to the nearest stream of water after finessing yourself through dark and eerie woods, not being able to shake the feeling that eyes are watching every step you take. The excuse you made was telling yourself

 

You’re just a little overly worn out and exhausted, probably just paranoid from the lack of sleep

 

You choose to ignore the feeling, committed to a tranquil night all to yourself.

 

Before the water lays a large rock with a flat surface that allows you the perfect space to strip yourself completely of the blood and sweat-soaked layers of clothing you’ve been eager to get out of for much too long. The soiled fabric pools into a lump beside you as your form becomes naked to the cool air that hits your skin, forming goosebumps all along the surface. You finally take your much-needed dip, feeling some tension loosen from the achy parts of your body allowing yourself to melt into the warm body of water. 

 

After taking some time scrubbing your body from the aftermath of battle and bloodshed, you take in your surroundings, still not being able to rid the feeling of being spectated by an unknown presence. You notice the air around you has become thick with fog, impairing your ability to see the environment surrounding you clearly- but not thick enough to veil the blood-red eyes peering out at you amongst the grove. This sight immediately snaps you out of anything that resembles comfort, promptly putting up your guard by sinking your body further into the water, wanting to hide out of alarm and bashfulness. The unwelcomed visitor takes a few steps forward, finally revealing a white head of curls and the usual look of cockiness Astarion is all too well known for. 

 

“Oh darling, don't you dare get shy on me now, I was just starting to enjoy the show” He pouted through a wide grin, walking closer to the spot where your clothes lay.

 

Oh fuck.

 

You feel yourself becoming wide-eyed. You’re not sure if you should feel more at ease considering you’ve fought multiple battles and have been camping with Astarion for weeks on end, or if that's exactly the reason why you should feel more alarmed. 

 

“A-astarion…why are you here? You scared the shit out of me” You say breathier than you intended, trying your best to cover yourself, flush with embarrassment.

 

With a smirk, he chuckles darkly, settling down to rest his elbows on his knees at the edge of the stream to take in an even better look at your vulnerable state. 

 

“I couldn’t help but notice you sneaking off at such a late hour, trying so hard not to wake the others.” He tilts his head to the side, staring at you through his upper lids. “You should be thanking me, really. What if a horrible beast had gotten its claws on you, my love?”

 

Ironic coming from him, sporting his fangs in the moonlight looking like he’s just about to devour you whole.

 

You roll your eyes annoyed in response to his smugness. “I can assure you that you are the most dangerous creature in these woods, Astarion.” He dramatically fawns his hand over his head, tilting slightly backward.

 

“Ugh! Darling I’m hurt, you know I’d never drink from you without your permission...” He pauses, raking his eyes on your exposed glistening skin. “But you do want me too…don’t you?” He practically purrs the last few words, raising a brow as he captures you in his intense stare again.

 

You start to feel all of the blood in your body rush to your face and find yourself rubbing your sore thighs together, seeking any kind of relief from the sudden arousal that's rushed to your core.

 

Face flushed, all you can manage to do is scoff and roll your eyes while turning in the opposite direction, back now facing Astarion. There was no way in hells you were going to give in so easily, especially to someone so smug and full of themselves, even if your body was practically begging for it. 

 

“Oh darling don’t be like that, you know I love teasing you” he let out with a small chuckle. 

“And from what I can tell it seems like you love it too,” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear while grazing his eyes to your lower back.

 

He can’t help but take advantage of the new angle you’ve provided for him, now left feeling even more inclined to take a dip for himself, imagining what your wet soft skin would feel like under his touch, what you would sound like knowing that nobody else could hear…

 

With a sigh he follows you by removing his clothes carefully, allowing them to fall on top of the pile that you’ve made, then quickly making his way into the warm body of water. 

 

After maintaining the self-control it took for you to not whip around to see Astarion undress, curiosity ultimately gets the best of you as you slowly turn around to see him slowly inching towards you, eyes borderline predatory. 

 

Still somewhat uncomfortable with having your body be seen by anyone let alone Astarion, you continued to sink deeper into the water while resting your arms across your breasts ensuring that they were fully covered, afraid he might dislike what he sees and have second thoughts. Maybe you’re being too presumptuous though, maybe he really was just trying to get a rise out of you, taking enjoyment in seeing you get red with embarrassment, maybe even boosting his ego-

 

In one quick motion, he grabs the sides of your arms pulling you in close, almost being chest to chest if your arms weren’t serving as a barrier between your bodies the chill of his hands feeling being a stark contrast to the hot water. In shock by the sudden movement you look up, opening your mouth in protest “Astarion listen I don’t think-”

 

“Shhh, my love,” He brings himself down to level with you, his nose almost touching yours, feeling his breath slightly fan on your face. “I’ve seen you at your most vulnerable already. I’ve seen you bloody and beaten, on the brink of death. Do you really think I’d mind seeing you without a few layers on?”

 

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard a tone of genuineness in his voice, leading you to believe he was actually being serious. Still, though, you weren’t fully convinced, with the weight of your insecurity being greater than your arousal. At least for now…

 

He could see you weighing the choice of being vulnerable behind your eyes, and he was fully prepared to wait all night if he had to. He couldn’t resist the temptation of a meal when it was sitting right in front of him, but beyond that yearning, he wasn’t expecting this reaction from you at all. In fact, he found this new quality he didn’t know of to be…alluring to say the least. 

 

He starts to slowly rub the sides of your arms, cautiously and moving slowly down the sides of your body, reaching the small of your waist, almost as if he pressed any harder you would shatter under his touch. 

 

“Darling, I already know I’ll like what I see, just be a good girl and relax for me…” He mutters in a breathy sentence. 

 

This hits you like a ton of bricks, the pet name instantly gives you full-body shivers while simultaneously making your entire body feel like it’s on fire. 

 

With a whimper, you finally let your arms fall to your side exposing your breasts, then reach out to softly place your hands on his chest, allowing for an unspoken vulnerability. 

 

You finally get yourself to look at him in the eyes with heavy lids and parted lips, gods he looks so much better than anything your mind could have conjured in your previous fantasies. 

 

 While taking in as much as he can of the newfound skin you’ve revealed, he takes the noise and movement you make as permission to finally act on desire, grappling with the last shreds of whatever control he has left.

 

He leans in close, making contact by grazing your ear and neck and pressing his body even further against yours, taking note of how soft your breasts felt against him, and taking a deep breath memorizing how sweet you smell. 

 

Lips traveled down your body as he moaned softly, hand wandering up your body to squeeze and palm at your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers, causing a surprised yelp.

 

You feel his lips spread into the shape of a grin across the skin of your torso, your reaction to his ministrations spurring him with a newfound urgency. You look down to be met with Astarion looking at you through heavy lids, lips pressing against your skin with more haste, scraping his fangs against the surface, but not enough to break the skin. 

 

You don’t pull away, instead, the heat in the pit of your stomach grows hotter at the sight. You bring up your hands to cup the side of his face, thumbs slowly rubbing circles onto his cheeks, noticing the tinge of blush that spreads. “I wouldn’t mind you drinking from me, if that’s what all this is about my love.” The last few words were said in a teasing voice.

 

“Oh darling…” He purrs, peppering kisses across your chest, now tonguing and sucking at your skin, decorating your chest with purple marks while groping your breast. “You’re so awfully generous, but I had a little more in mind than drinking from you. Only if that’s okay with you of course” He says softly, trying to hide the desperation in his voice. “And it is okay with you…right?”

A surprised yelp leaves your mouth when Astarion pulls one of your nipples into his mouth, circling his tongue around the hardened skin while sucking harshly, all while grabbing your waist with a bruising grip. Astarion felt his control slipping—his careful composure beginning to unravel from each sound that left your lips. He’s done this with countless people, teasing and toying with their bodies. He usually let his mind float somewhere else when everything was said and done but still, something about the way you shivered under his touch, the way your body reacted so instinctively to him, ignited a deeper hunger. 

 

He was enjoying himself far too much to just drink from you now.

 

Pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips curled into a smirk as he dragged a single, wet fingertip down the valley of your breasts still circling his tongue, watching the way your breath hitched. Your nipple leaves his mouth with a wet pop.  “You’re trembling, darling,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “Is it fear… or anticipation?”

 

Your lips parted, but before you could answer, he leaned in again, allowing his fangs to just barely graze your pulse point. Not biting, not yet. Just teasing. He let out a pleased hum as your hands gripped onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Tsk, tsk,” he chuckled darkly. “So needy already. And here I thought you wanted to play hard to get.”

 

He pulled you even closer, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his own, the contrast of your heat against his cool skin making his hunger all the more unbearable. His hands traced slow, deliberate paths down your sides, his fingers skimming just above the water’s surface, making the anticipation coil tightly within you.

 

“Tell me, my sweet,” he purred against your ear, his voice low and tantalizing, “how long have you fantasized about this? About me?”

 

Your body feels like it’s on fire now, any attempt at an answer is now completely forgotten

Your hesitation was all the answer he needed.

 

Astarion let out a low chuckle, trailing a path of slow, lingering kisses down your throat, savoring the way your pulse quickened beneath his lips. “Oh, don’t be shy now,” he murmured between kisses, “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. So desperate to hide it, but darling, you forget—” He nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin but enough to make you gasp. “I can smell your desire.” His hot wet tongue laps against the skin, sucking at your pulse point and hard enough to force a soft moan from your lips. “A-Astarion”

 

Your body betrayed you, pressing closer, seeking friction, seeking him. He took his time, reveling in your reactions, the way you trembled under his touch, the way your breath hitched with every ghost of contact. He wanted you to beg for it, to unravel completely in his grasp.

 

“Patience, love,” he cooed, dragging his fingers along your inner thigh, deliberately slow, teasing. “We have all night… and I plan to savor every second of you.”

 

While the warmth of the water was intoxicating, you were beginning to feel overwhelmed and bordering on uncomfortable from the intense heat radiating from your core, thighs starting to squirm together.

 

As if reading your thoughts, Astarion smirked, his hands gripping beneath your ass and thighs to hoist you up. A breathless gasp left your lips as he carried you effortlessly, wading through the water, his strength on full display. “I think we need to be somewhere more… sturdy for what I have in mind, what do you think hm?” he mused, groping the fat of your ass harder than before.

Your response comes out as a whine followed by quick nodding rather than a full sentence “mm hm I think that sounds good yeah.”

 

“I thought you’d say that” he lets out with a dark chuckle

 

He lifts you fully out of the water, the cool night air bit at your damp skin as he laid you down on the soft moss-covered bank, the world around you fading into darkness save for the glow of the moon and the heat in his gaze. Your heart pounded as he hovered above you, droplets of water trailing down the sharp lines of his body, his pale skin practically glowing in the dim light. The picture of licking the droplets of water making their way down his stomach filled your head, getting to touch the hardness of his body, your tongue exploring his wet skin, soft moans escaping from his lips-

 

Astarion’s smirk widened as his fingers traced lazy circles along your hip bone, his touch is featherlight—deliberately infuriating. He dipped his head, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he all but purred, “Oh, darling, you’re blushing, how cute. That must mean whatever you were imagining was positively filthy.”

 

His hand drifted lower, teasing your outer lips, never quite where you wanted him. “Let me guess,” he mused, his voice sultry, moving his dexterous fingers dangerously slow. “Were you thinking about stretching those pretty lips around me? About how I’d groan when you take me in, how I’d fist a hand in your hair and guide you—slow at first, then deep, until you’re choking on my cock?”

 

You feel your walls clenching around themselves, the feeling of nothing becoming more painful by the second. He laughed when he felt the sharp inhale of breath against his neck, delighting in your body's response. 

 

“Or maybe,” he continued, his lips ghosting over your jaw, “you were imagining something even filthier. Something wetter, messier.”

 

Astarion’s fingers trailed lower, finally covering and dipping his finger in your slick, just barely brushing against your clit, but enough to make you jolt. His voice dropped to a sinful whisper. “Were you thinking about how I’d spread this gorgeous cunt apart? How I’d hold you down, keep you open, make you take every lick?”

 

You start to feel dizzy from his words, the image of coming on Astarions face making you grow wetter by the second.

 

His breath was hot against your skin, and you could feel the smirk on his lips as he kissed down your neck, down your chest, lower, lower— “Oh, love, I’d have you writhing, begging, thighs trembling against my shoulders.” His tongue flicked out, grazing your lower tummy before he nipped at the sensitive skin. “You’d be so sweet on my tongue, soaking my face, gripping my hair while I devour you.” You, again, clench around nothing at his words.

 

He chuckled darkly, lifting his gaze to meet yours, the hunger in his crimson eyes unmistakable. “And the best part? I wouldn’t stop until you’re sobbing for me, until you come for me, falling apart over and over again.” His fingers pressed just a little firmer against your now erect bud, resulting in a whine from your lips. “Would you beg for me, darling? Would you cry out my name while I make you come on my tongue?”

 

Astarion tilts your chin up with his fingers, his smirk turning almost feral. “Be a good girl and tell me,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Or if you’re too shy to say it... perhaps I should just make you show me instead.”

 

Your breath came out in shallow, uneven pants, your body already thrumming with anticipation from his words alone. The way he looked at you—hungry, predatory, waiting—made your skin burn, made your thighs press together instinctively. But you knew he wouldn’t let you get away with that.

 

Astarion tilted his head, his smirk never wavering as his fingers continued their slow, torturous circles against your inner thigh. “Come now, darling,” he cooed, voice dripping with amusement. “Use your words.”

 

Your cheeks burned under his gaze, but you swallowed your nerves, your lips parting hesitantly. “I... I want you to...”

His hand stilled. Waiting.

 

Your heart pounded, a delicious mixture of embarrassment and desire knotting in your stomach. You knew exactly what he wanted—to hear you say it. To hear you beg. So you let your lashes flutter as you took a breath, purposefully softening your voice, making sure each word was drenched in need.

 

“Astarion...” You met his gaze, watching the flicker of something darker, something more desperate, flare in his crimson eyes. You wet your lips, dragging out the moment just long enough to watch his jaw tighten. And then—

 

“Eat my pussy... please.”

 

The shift in him was instantaneous. His grip on your thighs tightened, his entire body going rigid for half a second before a growl rumbled in his chest, low and dangerous. His smirk was gone, replaced by something far more primal.

 

He all but snarled, his finger finally dipping between your folds, groaning at the heat and wetness that greeted him. “And so fucking wet for me already.”

 

He dragged his finger through your slickness, spreading it, teasing, never quite giving you what you needed. “I should make you beg a little more,” he mused, voice dark with amusement. “But gods, how could I ever deny such a pretty little cunt?”

 

Without warning, he slipped a single finger inside, slow at first, feeling the way your walls clenched around him. “Fuck,” he murmured, sounding almost reverent. “You’re so tight, love. Gripping me like you never want me to leave.”

 

A second finger joined the first, stretching you, scissoring inside you as his thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. He watched your face intently, drinking in every gasp, every flutter of your lashes, every tiny movement of your hips as you chased more friction.

 

“That’s it,” he crooned, his fingers curling just right, stroking against the spot that had you keening. “Taking me so well. I wonder... will you be able to take all of me?”

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs, and Astarion chuckled darkly, feeling the way you clenched around his fingers. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” His lips ghosted over your inner thigh, fangs just barely scraping your skin. “Being told how perfectly your body was made for this?”

 

He pumped his fingers faster now, pushing you closer to that edge, teasing, tormenting—only to pull away entirely just before you could tip over.

You could’ve screamed out of frustration a strangled noise of protest left your lips, but Astarion only laughed, spreading you open wider beneath him. “Patience, darling,” he husked, breath hot against your soaked folds. “I’ve barely begun.”

 

Then, finally—finally—his mouth was on you, and all thoughts of teasing, of control, of anything but him, as he licks a fat stripe against you, moving from your opening to your clit, gathering your juices against his tongue. 

 

Astarion groaned as he tasted you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin, making you whimper. “Gods,” he breathed, pulling back just enough to look at your cunt clenching around nothing in anticipation. His crimson eyes flickered up to meet yours, dark with hunger. “You taste divine, darling. How cruel of you to keep this from me for so long.”

He didn’t give you time to respond—not that you could, not when he dove back in, tongue flicking over your clit with practiced precision. He sucked and lapped at you like a man starved, alternating between slow, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks that had your thighs trembling around his head.

 

But he wasn’t done.

 

A single finger slid back inside you, easily sinking into your soaked heat, curling just enough to brush against that sweet, devastating spot deep within. Astarion hummed in satisfaction as your walls clenched around him, a smirk curling against your skin. “So eager,” he murmured, adding another finger, stretching you open, working you in time with his mouth. “So fucking tight for me.”

 

His tongue circled your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucked lightly, dragging a strangled moan from your throat. “That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice drenched in sinful amusement. “Be a good girl and let me hear you.”

 

He quickened his pace, fingers plunging deeper, fucking into you with perfect rhythm, each stroke deliberate, pushing you higher and higher. His mouth was relentless, tongue and lips working in tandem with his fingers, coaxing you closer to that delicious edge.

 

“You’re dripping for me,” he groaned between licks, his free hand holding down your thigh in place to keep you spread wide for him. “Fucking soaking my hand, my mouth—” He nipped at your clit just enough to make you jolt, before soothing the sting with his tongue. 

 

Your breath hitched, body arching into him, chasing that pleasure, needing more. He chuckled against you, reveling in your desperation.

“Come on, darling,” he purred, fucking his fingers into you harder, assaulting the spot that threatens to push you over the edge, his tongue flicking over your swollen clit in quick, devastating strokes. “Come on my fingers for me. Let me feel you—taste you.”

 

And with one last perfect stroke—his fingers curling, his mouth sucking just right—your body shattered, pleasure crashing over you in a blinding wave. Your walls clamped around his fingers, your thighs trembling, cries of ecstasy spilling from your lips as he coaxed you through it, not relenting, not stopping, dragging every last aftershock from your spent body.

Astarion moaned against you, drinking in everything you gave him, letting his tongue lap up every drop of your release. He only pulled away when your body finally shuddered with oversensitivity, his lips glistening, his smirk utterly satisfied.

 

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, pressing a teasing kiss to your trembling inner thigh. “But we’re far from finished, love.”

You body trembled beneath him, aftershocks still fluttering through your limbs as you tried to catch your breath. You could still feel the ghost of his tongue on your clit, the ache of his fingers stretching you open, the wet mess between your thighs.

 

“I—I don’t know if I can take more,” you panted, voice shaky, wrecked.

 

Astarion, of course, only smirked at that, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. He dragged his fingers down your stomach, slow and deliberate, teasing. “Oh, but you can, darling. You will.” His lips brushed against your ear, voice dropping to a sinful whisper. “You’re already so desperate for it. I can feel it—the way you’re clenching, aching, just thinking about how I’ll feel inside you.”

 

Your breath hitched because he was right. Even spent and trembling, the hunger hadn’t dulled—it had only sharpened.

 

Then he pulled back slightly, just enough for you to see as he stroked himself, his cock standing thick and hard, glistening with your slick. Your eyes widened, nerves coiling in your stomach at the sight of him. He was big—thick enough that a flicker of doubt sparked in your mind. Could you even take all of him?

 

Astarion saw it—the hesitation in your eyes, the way your thighs instinctively pressed together. His smirk grew wicked. “Oh, is that uncertainty, love?” he teased, dragging the leaking tip of his cock along your soaked folds, pressing just enough to part them. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

 

You swallowed hard, but your body betrayed you, arching toward him, craving the stretch despite the slight worry.

 

Astarion chuckled darkly. “No need to be shy, darling. I’ll make it fit.”

 

He pressed forward, just enough for the thick head of his cock to stretch you open, sinking in the barest inch. A guttural groan tore from his throat, his fingers tightening around your hips. “Fuck,” he hissed, pausing to savor the feeling. “You’re so fucking tight.”

 

Your walls clenched around him, sucking him deeper, and his breath hitched sharply. He gritted his teeth, restraining himself from slamming into you all at once. No, he wanted to savor this—to make you feel every inch of him splitting you open.

 

His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he pressed in another inch, then another, deliberately slow, stretching you, making you take all of him. “You feel fucking perfect,” he murmured, voice strained with pleasure. “Like you were made for me. A pretty little cunt meant to be filled—meant to take my cock.”

 

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your body arching, overwhelmed by the delicious stretch, the way he filled you so completely.

 

Astarion let out a dark chuckle, watching your every reaction, reveling in how your body responded to him. “You like that, don’t you?” he teased, rolling his hips just enough to make you keen. “Like being stretched so full, stuffed with my cock?”

 

His thrusts deepened, growing harder, dragging pleasure through every nerve in your body, but then his pace slowed as his lips brushed against your throat, voice dropping to a dark whisper.

 

“Tell me, love,” he purred, fangs grazing your skin, “do you want me to drink from you before or while you’re coming?”

 

The question sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs. The thought of his fangs sinking in while you shattered around him—while you were helpless to anything but pleasure—made you tighten around him involuntarily.

 

Astarion groaned at the reaction, his fingers digging into your hips. “Oh, you like the thought of that, don’t you? Of coming undone while I feed from you? So debased.”

 

The mere thought made you clench around him, but another sensation began to build—a pressure deep inside you, something unfamiliar and overwhelming. Your body tensed, unsure, the feeling almost like—

 

“I—I feel like I have to—” You gasped, trying to pull away, confusion clouding your pleasure-drunk mind.

 

Astarion immediately pinned you down, his grip tightening. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he growled, his thrusts turning sharp, relentless. “You’re going to come for me.”

 

“I don’t—” You shook your head, the pressure unbearable, a mix of panic and pleasure twisting inside you.

 

Astarion’s smirk was wicked as he pressed his thumb to your clit, circling it with devastating precision. “You’re going to make a mess for me, darling,” he rasped, voice thick with hunger. “I can feel it—you're right there.”

 

His thrusts grew brutal, his fingers working you over until the pleasure snapped—until you shattered completely.

 

A cry tore from your throat as the pressure burst, pleasure cascading through you in overwhelming waves, your body shaking uncontrollably as liquid gushed from you, soaking the both of you.

 

Astarion groaned in pure delight, his pace stuttering at the feeling of you drenching him, the sight of you utterly wrecked beneath him. “Fuck—just like that,” he praised, watching your dazed, pleasure-drunk expression. “So fucking perfect. Gods, we’ll have to explore that little talent of yours later hm?” He chuckled darkly, rutting into you, dragging out your aftershocks. “We’ll have to make sure it happens again.”

 

Your body trembled, hovering on the edge of something devastating, something overwhelming, as Astarion’s pace turned brutal. His cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, his fingers merciless against your clit, and that unbearable pressure inside you coiled tighter, tighter—

 

But then his voice—low, dark, utterly possessive—sent another wave of arousal surging through you.

 

“I’m going to drink from you,” he rasped against your throat, fangs just barely scraping your skin. “Right as you come. Right as I fill you up.”

 

Your breath hitched, your nails raking down his back at the sheer filth of it.

 

His thrusts turned erratic, desperate, like he was losing himself completely to the pleasure of you, like he couldn’t hold back any longer. “You’re taking me so well,” he groaned, voice thick with pleasure. “Like you were fucking made for me. Like your body was meant to be filled with my seed.”

 

A whimper tore from your throat, your body betraying you, clenching down so tightly around him that he cursed, the sound wrecked and desperate.

 

Astarion’s fangs grazed your throat again, lingering this time. “You want it, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice husky, dripping with hunger. “Want me to fuck a baby into you? Want to be full of me—marked by me?”

 

His filthy words sent you spiraling, the tension snapping so suddenly, so violently, that you barely had time to register the overwhelming pleasure crashing through you—

 

Before his fangs sank deep into your neck.

 

The pain barely registered past the pleasure consuming you. The sharp sting blended into the overwhelming bliss as your body seized around him, the unbearable pressure inside you finally releasing.

 

A choked, helpless cry tore from your throat as you gushed around him, the sensation foreign, so intense it nearly frightened you. Your body spasmed, the pleasure unlike anything you’d ever felt—

 

And Astarion groaned against your skin, drinking deep, sucking greedily as his hips stuttered, his cock throbbing violently inside you.

 

“Fuck,” he growled, his voice muffled against your throat. His grip tightened, fingers bruising as he pinned you down, driving himself as deep as he could go, chasing his own release.

 

His moans turned wrecked, desperate, breaking between ragged breaths and hungry gulps of your blood. “So good, love—so fucking tight—gods, I’m going to—”

 

He buried himself to the hilt, his whole body shuddering as he came with a guttural moan, hot, thick ropes of cum flooding you.

 

You gasped, body still trembling, still sensitive as you felt him pulse inside you, filling you so much that warmth trickled out around him.

 

Astarion pulled back slightly, panting, lips stained red, pupils blown wide with hunger and satisfaction. He looked absolutely ruined, his pale skin flushed, his body still twitching from the aftershocks of his release.

 

And yet, even as he caught his breath, his hand drifted down to your lower stomach, pressing lightly. “So much,” he murmured, sounding almost fascinated. He pushed in deeper, making sure not a drop of him was wasted. “You’re going to keep it all inside, aren’t you, love?” His lips curled into a satisfied smirk, his voice still thick with pleasure. “You’d look so pretty carrying our child.”

 

Your body clenched involuntarily, and Astarion groaned at the feeling, his cock twitching inside you.

 

“Oh?” he mused, a laugh escaping his lips. “You like the thought of that, don’t you?”

 

All you can manage to do in your fuck drunken state is give what could maybe be a nod, eyes still fluttering, trying to find any sense of grounding.

 

Heat flooded your face, and you opened your mouth to protest—but then he rolled his hips again, lazy and deliberate, dragging overstimulation through you.

“You do,” he purred, his smirk growing wicked. “You want to be full of me. Marked by me.”

 

His fingers trailed down to where you were still joined, dipping into the mess between your thighs before bringing them up, spreading his release between your folds.

 

Astarion leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, his voice dropping to a sinful whisper.

 

“Would you let me do it again, love? Fill you up until there’s no doubt who you belong to?”

 

Your breath hitched, body still trembling beneath him, completely wrecked—and yet, the thought of him taking you again, filling you up until you were overflowing with him, sent a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

 

Your lips parted, and though your voice was barely above a whisper, the words came without hesitation.

 

“I’d love that.”

 

Astarion stilled above you for a moment before a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

 

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he murmured, voice dark with promise, fingers tracing possessive circles against your hip. “I think I’ll have to make good on that very, very soon.”

 

He shifted slightly, still buried inside you, still unbearably hard.

 

“In fact,” he mused, nipping at your jaw, “why wait?”

Chapter 2: Let me take care of you

Notes:

Didn't wanna leave y'all on a cliff hanger (including myself) so here it is. Much more fluff and angst as well as mentioning of Astarion's past so SA warning and mind the tags! But most importantly, enjoy and let me know if you freaks want anything in particular muah enjoy <3

A few days had passed since that night—since you let Astarion take you, claim you, spill himself deep inside you with the filthiest promises on his lips. And yet, neither of you had spoken about it. Not once.

The only acknowledgment had been in fleeting glances, stolen moments where your eyes would meet before darting away, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a blade. You weren’t sure what was worse: the fact that it happened at all or the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It had been reckless. Irresponsible. As the leader of your party, you had no business entangling yourself with one of your companions, especially one who could drain you dry in the span of a breath. And yet, you had done far worse than simply give in. You had surrendered completely—moaning his name like a prayer, begging for more, gasping at the sheer filth spilling from his lips as he filled you.

And gods help you, but it wasn’t just the sex that had you lying awake at night, heat pooling in your gut at the memory. No, it was the way he had spoken to you—low and possessive, murmuring about how good you felt, how he should put a baby in you, how you’d probably like that. And that was the part that had you wanting to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Because he had been right.

You had liked it. More than liked it. Something about the raw, primal hunger in his voice, the way he growled it against your skin as he pressed deeper inside you, had made you come undone faster than you’d ever thought possible. And now, days later, you couldn’t stop thinking about it—couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to hear those words again.

You shook your head furiously, as if you could will the thoughts away. Absolutely not. You were not going to start fantasizing about that. Not again.

But you weren’t the only one grappling with the aftermath. If anything, Astarion was suffering the brunt of it.

Astarion wasn’t unfamiliar with the lingering aftermath of sex—guilt, disgust, the dull ache of being used, of forcing himself through motions that meant nothing. He had mastered the art of detachment, turning intimacy into nothing more than a performance, a weapon.

But this… this was different.

For the past few days, he had been desperately trying to rationalize what had happened between you two. The logical part of him told him he had merely been playing his role, seducing you like he had done with countless others before. It was supposed to be easy—tempt you, use you, keep you wrapped around his finger.

So why in the hells had it felt so good?

Why had it lingered?

It wasn’t just your body—though, gods, he couldn’t stop thinking about that either. The way you had taken him so perfectly, clinging to him, gasping for him, moaning his name as if he was something to be worshiped rather than just used. He had touched so many bodies before, but none had ever felt like yours—soft and eager, pulling him in like he belonged there.

And worse than that, he had wanted it.

Not just your blood, not just another conquest, but you. The way you had touched him, kissed him, looked at him… it had made him feel something foreign, something dangerous. You weren’t just another hand grasping at him in the dark, another warm body to be conquered and discarded. You had wanted him—not as a tool, not as a means to an end, but as a man.

And that terrified him.

So he told himself it was nothing. That it had only felt different because he hadn’t had sex he truly wanted in centuries. That it was just a moment of indulgence, a lapse in control, nothing more.

At least… that’s what he had been telling himself.
You and Astarion weren’t the only ones suffering under the weight of the wicked tension in the air. The awkwardness between you hadn’t gone unnoticed, the air between you thick enough to choke on. Some of your companions couldn’t care less about whatever petty drama had settled between you both, but Karlach? Karlach had eyes like a hawk when it came to her friends, and she wasn’t about to let this slide.

It wasn’t just the stolen glances or the way the two of you barely spoke—it was the way you carried yourself, the way your fingers occasionally ghosted over the faint marks he had left on your skin. The way you seemed lost in thought, as if haunted by something you didn’t quite know how to handle.

The sun had started its slow descent, the camp settling into its usual nighttime routine. Shadows stretched long against the firelight, the scent of burning wood filling the air as you lingered by the flames, book in hand. Not that you were reading. You had picked up the first thing your hands had found while rummaging through a pile of scavenged loot, hoping it would serve as enough of a distraction to keep your mind from wandering back to him.

Heavy footsteps crunched against the dirt, and before you even looked up, you knew exactly who they belonged to. Relief filled your chest.

“Hey, soldier,” Karlach greeted, her voice as warm as the heat rolling off her skin. She plopped down beside you, all muscle and ease, leaning over with curious eyes to peek at the book in your lap. “What are you reading?”

You blinked down at the cover as if only now realizing you were holding it. “Oh, I don’t even know, honestly. Just something I found while digging through trash during a raid…” You cleared your throat, shifting in place. “So, uh, what brings you over here? It’s getting pretty late—I figured you’d be off to bed by now.”

Karlach hesitated, something unspoken flickering across her face. She fidgeted, uncharacteristically hesitant, before letting out a long sigh.

“It’s just, uh… well…” She winced, like she was already anticipating the conversation to be a mess. “What the hell is going on between you and Fangs over there?” She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of Astarion’s tent, then fixed you with a look. “Because the two of you have been acting like two horny teenagers who got caught fucking behind a barn, and I swear to the gods, I am about sick of it.”

You choked on absolutely nothing, eyes widening.

Karlach grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m not blind, soldier. The whole camp can feel the tension radiating off you two like some kind of tragic romance novel. And honestly? It’s getting unbearable.”

You weren’t exactly surprised that she had picked up on something, but to hear that it was that bad? Bad enough for Karlach to bring it up outright? Heat crept up your neck, shame mixing with something else—something close to dread.

She nudged you with her elbow, her smirk fading slightly as her expression softened. “Look, I get it—whatever’s going on, it’s got you all twisted up. But you know you can talk to me, right?”

You swallowed, gripping the book a little tighter. You weren’t sure where to even begin.

Heat crept up your neck, shame settling deep in your chest as your fingers twitched against your lap. You felt like you were about to crawl out of your own skin, the weight of everything pressing too hard, too fast. A thin sheen of moisture gathered in your eyes, and you blinked rapidly, refusing to let it spill over.

“We… I don’t even know where to start,” you muttered, voice tight. “And I don’t even know if you want to know.”

Karlach huffed, shifting closer to nudge your arm with hers. “Oh, come on, soldier. Spill. You think I scare easy? I promise, whatever it is, I won’t judge.” She shot you a reassuring grin. “There’s not much I haven’t heard—or done—myself.”

You swallowed hard, hesitating for a second before blurting out, “Remember when I said I was going to take a bath a few days ago?”

Karlach’s brow furrowed. “Uh-huh…”

You exhaled sharply, shoulders sagging. “I—he—I fucked Astarion. Or, I guess more accurately, he fucked me.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands for a moment before adding, “Really, really well.”

For a moment, Karlach was dead silent. Then she let out a low whistle. “Damn. That explains the tension around here. I thought you two were either about to kill each other or fuck again right there in the middle of camp.”

Your head snapped up, and Karlach just shrugged, grinning like she was enjoying this way too much.

“But that’s not even the problem,” you rushed on, voice cracking slightly. “We haven’t spoken since. Not a word. Not even a snarky comment. And I just—” Your breath hitched, and you shook your head, fingers gripping the fabric of your pants. “Do you think he regrets it? I mean, gods, it’s Astarion, of course he doesn’t actually—” You cut yourself off, not sure if you wanted to say the next part out loud.

Karlach’s teasing expression softened, her voice turning gentle but still firm. “Hey, hey, slow down. What are you even saying right now? You think he what—used you?”

You shrugged miserably.

Karlach clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Nah, that’s not it. Trust me, I know that guy—he’s got issues, but ignoring someone isn’t his style, not unless he’s trying to figure something out.”

You exhaled a shaky breath. “I just—what if it was stupid? What if it was irresponsible? He’s a vampire, Karlach. He could’ve drained me dry, but instead, I let him…” You squeezed your eyes shut, mortified. “I let him talk about breeding me. And I liked it.”

Karlach’s eyes widened before she let out a loud, booming laugh. “Oh, fuck me. I was not expecting that.” She clapped a hand over her mouth for a second, muffling her snickers before she composed herself. “Shit, soldier, you really went all in, huh?”

Your face burned, but Karlach just grinned at you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Listen, you’re beating yourself up over this, but you’re allowed to want things. And you clearly wanted him.” Her tone turned wry, but there was no judgment in it. “Really badly, apparently.”

You groaned, dropping your head against her shoulder, and she chuckled, patting your back. “Look, you want my advice? Talk to him. Otherwise, you’re just gonna stew in all this weird energy and make me sit through even more unbearable tension, and I swear, if I have to watch one more pining stare between you two, I might actually die again.”
You exhaled slowly, the tension in your chest easing just a bit after getting everything off your shoulders. But even with Karlach’s reassurance, a new kind of weight settled in its place—dread.

“Yeah, but…” You hesitated, picking at the fabric of your shirt. “Karlach, I don’t think I can handle it if he regrets it.” You swallowed, forcing yourself to say the words out loud. “What if it was just a mistake to him? What if he was just… using me?”

Karlach let out a dramatic groan, throwing her hands up. “Ugh, you overthinkers are gonna be the death of me.” She turned to face you fully, leveling you with a look that was both exasperated and affectionate. “First of all, soldier, Astarion is not regretting a damn thing. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and trust me, ‘mistake’ is not what’s running through that devious little brain of his.”

You frowned. “And what exactly is running through his brain, then?”

Karlach smirked. “Like a man who’s either about to eat you alive or write poetry about your thighs.” She snorted. “Or both.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “You’re not helping.”

Karlach chuckled but softened slightly, nudging your knee with hers. “Look, I get it. You’re scared. But avoiding him isn’t gonna make this better. You want to know what he’s thinking? Ask him.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “And if I don’t like the answer?”

Karlach raised a brow. “Then you deal with it. But c’mon, deep down, you already know he’s not regretting it the way you’re afraid he is.”

Your stomach twisted, uncertainty still gnawing at you, but Karlach just grinned, standing and stretching. “Anyway, I’d bet my entire second life that if you walked up to him right now and so much as whispered something about that ‘put a baby in me’ talk—” she waggled her brows, laughing when you swatted at her, “—he’d be all over you again in a heartbeat.”

You buried your face in your hands again. “I hate you.”

Karlach just cackled. “Love you too, soldier.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Karlach. I needed that.”

Karlach grinned, standing up and giving your shoulder a firm squeeze. “Anytime, soldier. Now go get some rest—maybe dream up a few ways to make that pale bastard sweat tomorrow.” She winked before heading off toward her tent, leaving you alone by the fire with your swirling thoughts.

You let out a long breath, glancing toward Astarion’s tent. The flap was drawn shut, no sign of movement inside. He was probably already asleep—or at least pretending to be. Either way, you weren’t about to force a confrontation tonight. No, that could wait until tomorrow.

Standing, you stretched out your sore muscles before making your way toward your own tent. Pushing inside, you exhaled, letting the weight of the day settle over you. Peeling off your travel-worn clothes, you reached for something softer, something lighter—something that, if you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t mind Astarion seeing.

The thin fabric draped over your skin, clinging just enough to highlight the curves of your body. It was comfortable, sure—but a part of you knew you wanted to look… inviting. Just in case.

Not that you expected him to come lurking. No, of course not. But still.

Shaking your head at your own ridiculousness, you crawled into your bedroll, pulling the blanket over you. Tomorrow, you’d talk to him. You’d force him to acknowledge whatever this was between you, one way or another.

For now, though, you let your body relax into the familiar comfort of your tent, closing your eyes with one last thought lingering in your mind—

Would he think of you tonight, the way you knew you’d been thinking of him?

A faint scratching at your tent stirs you from your sleep, pulling you from the depths of your dreamlike haze. At first, you dismiss it—probably just some small forest creature skittering about, looking for shelter. Groaning in annoyance, you shift, burying your face deeper into your pillow, willing yourself to drift back under.

But the noise persists. Louder this time. More deliberate.

Blinking groggily, you rub the sleep from your eyes, your body tensing as your mind sharpens. A shadow stretches across the thin fabric of your tent, unmoving, waiting. Your pulse kicks up, startled by the unexpected presence.

Then, a familiar voice—low, hushed, and unmistakably amused.

“Pssst. It’s just me, darling.”

Astarion.

The tension in your chest melts away, relief washing over you in waves. And yet, even as your heartbeat settles, a flicker of irritation sparks to life. He had ignored you for days—brushed you aside like you were nothing. Now, in the dead of night, he suddenly decided to appear?

Suppressing the conflicted emotions swirling inside you, you school your voice into something flat, something distant. “Oh. Uh… okay?”

There’s a beat of silence before he scoffs, feigning offense. “Well? Are you going to let me in, or must I shiver out here, cold and alone? Have you no mercy, my sweet?”

You roll your eyes, sighing as you reach for the flap of your tent, pulling it open just enough to meet his gaze. But what you see gives you pause.

Gone is the perfectly composed, ever-charming rogue you’re used to. His usual mask of smug confidence is absent, replaced by something… softer. He looks tired—worn in a way that has nothing to do with exhaustion, a quiet tension lining his features. The sharp crimson of his eyes glows faintly in the darkness, searching yours, uncertain in a way that’s rare for him.

Your stomach twists, your irritation wavering.

“…Yeah. Yeah, come in.”

You shift to make room as he slips inside, his movements uncharacteristically hesitant. The moment the tent flap falls shut behind him, you suddenly become hyperaware of just how close the space is, how the air seems to thicken with something unspoken.

He’s here. After days of silence, he’s here.

And judging by the look on his face, he didn’t come just to talk.

Irritation coils tightly in your chest, mixing with the lingering sting of hurt. How could he just sit there, silent, after days of avoiding you? After making you feel like nothing had happened—like his face hadn’t been buried between your thighs, like he hadn’t groaned against your skin while filling you, whispering filth into your ear?

The heat of frustration rises, making the confined space of your tent feel unbearably small, the air thick with unspoken words.

“So?” You finally snap, voice sharper than you intended, but you don’t try to soften it. “What do you want, Astarion?”

The question hangs heavy between you, and for the first time in a long while, he looks… unsure.

His usual smirk is nowhere to be found. The ever-present glint of mischief in his eyes is dulled, his composure slipping like cracks forming in a well-worn mask.

“I—I, uhm…” His voice wavers slightly, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s grasping for something—anything—to say. His fingers twitch at his sides before he exhales sharply, dropping whatever half-formed excuse he had planned.

“I know I’ve been avoiding you,” he finally admits, his voice quieter than usual, strained. “And I know that hurts you. But… I don’t know what to say.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the slight break in his usually unwavering confidence, chips away at your anger. But the ache in your chest remains.

“So you thought you’d just ignore it?” You counter, folding your arms. “Ignore me?”

He flinches, just barely, but you catch it.

“No,” he breathes, voice raw. “I thought… if I gave myself enough time, it would go away. That you would go away.”

Your stomach twists at his words, something sharp lodging itself deep inside you.

“But you haven’t,” he continues, almost like he’s confessing something against his will. His fingers curl into fists, his jaw clenching. “And I don’t know how to handle that.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Handle what?”

He exhales shakily, shoulders stiff. “This. You.” He lifts his gaze to you, and the sheer intensity in his eyes makes you freeze. “Because I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. And that terrifies me.”

The tent suddenly feels even smaller, his presence overwhelming, suffocating in a way that makes your pulse race.

“I don’t do this,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to do this.” His breath shakes, and he hesitates before continuing, as if he’s never said the words out loud before. “I was trained—conditioned—to use people. To make them think they mattered to me, to make them trust me.” His voice turns bitter, but not toward you—toward something else, something deeper.

“For two hundred years, I had no choice. Every touch, every kiss, every moan I gave was a lie. Because it was never for me—it was for him.” He swallows thickly, his jaw tightening like he’s holding something back. “Everything I did, everything I was forced to endure—it was to please Cazador. My body wasn’t mine, my thoughts weren’t mine. I was just… a puppet. A pretty thing to be used and discarded.”

His hands shake slightly at his sides, and he clenches them again, forcing himself to still.

“I thought I’d never have to feel again. That I’d never want to.” His gaze flickers to yours, a quiet desperation in his eyes. “But you—you ruin all of that.”

Your breath catches.

“You didn’t just take what I gave and leave it at that,” he murmurs, voice breaking slightly. “You touched me like I was real. Like I was more than a body to be used.” He exhales, shaking his head, his control unraveling with each word. “And I hate that I—” He stops himself, pressing his lips together, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard.

The silence between you is deafening, heavy with unspoken things, but he forces himself to meet your gaze, completely unguarded for the first time.

“So tell me, darling,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

Before you can even think of a response, you feel it—a warm, wet trail sliding down your cheek.

Tears.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until the salty taste touched the corner of your lips, your chest tightening with something unbearably raw. The weight of Astarion’s words, the years of torment woven between them, settles into you like a stone. Your heart aches—not just for him, but for every moment he had been forced to pretend, to endure, to become something hollow just to survive.

Any anger, any frustration, any lingering resentment you had toward him vanishes in an instant, replaced by a deep, aching sorrow. Guilt grips at your ribs, twisting sharply. How could you have been so selfish? How could you have let your own feelings of rejection cloud the reality of what he’s been through?

Your fingers twitch at your sides before you finally move, reaching out, gently resting your hand over his. He stiffens slightly at the touch, and you hesitate, looking up at him, silently asking for permission.

He doesn’t pull away.

“Astarion…” Your voice trembles, thick with emotion. “I—I’m so, so sorry.”

Your thumb brushes against his knuckles, a soft, grounding motion. His skin is cool beneath your touch, but beneath that, you feel the slightest tremor. He’s holding himself together, barely, as if one wrong move might shatter him entirely.

“I just thought…” You swallow hard, trying to find the right words, but everything feels inadequate compared to the pain he’s just laid bare before you. “I honestly thought you regretted it. That you couldn’t even stand to look at me. That you—” Your voice catches, thick with uncertainty, with the fear that had been gnawing at you for days. “That you decided I was… vile.”

His breath hitches, and for a brief moment, something flashes across his face—something wounded. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak, just watches you, his crimson eyes searching, as if he can’t quite believe the words that just left your mouth.

And then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“Vile?” His voice is barely more than a breath, but there’s something in it that makes your chest tighten all over again.

As if the very thought is unfathomable.

Astarion stares at you, utterly still, his mind struggling to process what he just heard. You thought he regretted it? That he couldn’t stand to face you? That he—

His stomach twists violently.

He’s spent centuries being used, discarded, treated like a tool, a body, a means to an end. He’s spent even longer convincing himself that’s all he’s good for. That people will only ever want him for what he can offer, not for who he is.

But you… you thought he was the one who had thrown you away?

That he saw you as something shameful?

The idea alone makes his throat tighten.

His eyes flicker down to where your hand still rests over his, warm and grounding. He could pull away, could retreat back behind the walls he’s spent so long fortifying—but gods, he doesn’t want to.

Not with you.

Astarion swallows hard, suddenly acutely aware of every detail—the way your lip trembles, the way your lashes are damp with unshed tears, the way you’re looking at him like he’s something worth mourning.

And that… that terrifies him.

Because he’s not.

He doesn’t know how to be.

But the words come anyway, unbidden, his voice rough and unsteady. “Is that really what you think of me?”

You inhale sharply, as if caught off guard. “I—”

He doesn’t let you finish. His fingers curl beneath yours, gripping your hand—not to push you away, but to hold on.

“I don’t regret it,” he murmurs, and the confession feels heavier than he expected. His eyes flicker to yours, wide and searching. “Not for a single godsdamned second.”

Your breath catches.

“I didn’t avoid you because I regretted it.” He swallows, forcing himself to hold your gaze, to let you see him. “I avoided you because I didn’t know how to deal with it.” A bitter chuckle slips from his lips, but there’s no humor behind it. “Because for the first time in two hundred years, it wasn’t just about control. It wasn’t about power, or survival, or—” He shakes his head, frustrated. “I wasn’t pretending.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his curls, gripping at the roots. “And that should scare me. It does scare me.” He lets out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “But do you want to know what’s even more terrifying?”

You nod wordlessly, as if afraid that speaking might shatter the fragile moment between you.

Astarion leans in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want it to happen again.”

A shiver rolls down your spine.

He watches your reaction closely, as if waiting for you to recoil, to pull away, to give him some kind of sign that this is a mistake. But you don’t.

So he presses forward.

“I want you.” His voice is raw, unguarded, laced with something fragile and unfamiliar. “And I hate that I want you.” His jaw clenches, and he shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “But gods, I do.”

The tent is silent, the air between you thick with something heavy, something dangerous.

Astarion swallows hard, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “So tell me,llittle love… what do you want?”

You wipe at your tears quickly, not wanting to make Astarion even more upset, not wanting him to think this was pity. It wasn’t. It was something deeper, something unbearably raw.

When you look back up at him, your gaze unwavering, you don’t hesitate.

“I want you to never feel used again,” you say, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “I want for you to feel loved. Appreciated. Wanted.” Your fingers tighten slightly around his hand. “Astarion, you deserve so much more than what’s been done to you. You deserve to be more than a tool for someone else.” Your throat tightens as you breathe, “And you never will be again. I promise.”

Astarion stares at you, something unreadable flickering in his crimson eyes. His grip on your hand goes tense—almost as if he doesn’t trust himself to hold on.

Loved.

Appreciated.

Wanted.

The words swirl inside his mind, foreign and unfamiliar, like something spoken in a language he was never meant to understand.

He should scoff. He should wave you off, make some flippant joke about how poetic you’re being. He should retreat behind that easy smirk of his, turn your tenderness into something lighthearted, something meaningless.

But he can’t.

Because the way you’re looking at him—like you mean it, like you believe he’s deserving of those things—it makes his carefully crafted walls feel fragile, paper-thin.

His throat bobs as he swallows, but his voice is hoarse when he speaks. “You say that now, darling.” His lips twitch, as if he wants to smirk but can’t quite manage it. “But what happens when you realize I’m not what you think I am? That I’m selfish, that I’m a liar, that I don’t know how to be whatever it is you think I can be?”

He inhales sharply, fingers flexing beneath yours. “I don’t know how to be loved.” The confession spills from his lips before he can stop it, the weight of it thick in the air. “I don’t even know what that feels like.”

He exhales, shaking his head. “I know how to seduce. How to manipulate. How to take what I need to survive. But love? Love is foreign to me.” His voice wavers slightly, the smallest crack in his otherwise smooth veneer. “And the idea of you giving it to me—of it being real?” He lets out a shaky breath, eyes flickering away from yours. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

His fingers tighten slightly around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles—hesitant, unsure, like he’s testing something unfamiliar.

Astarion has spent two centuries being nothing more than a pawn, a plaything, a body to be taken, used, and discarded. And now, you sit before him, offering something else entirely. Something terrifying. Something real.

And he has no idea how to hold it.

Your thumb brushes over the back of his hand, soft and deliberate, grounding him. You don’t press, don’t demand anything from him—just offer warmth, comfort, understanding.

“Astarion,” you whisper, voice steady despite the emotion weighing heavy in your chest. “I want all of you. Even the parts you think nobody could ever want.”

His breath stutters, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I mean, you were tortured. Abused for hundreds of years, my love.” The words ache to say out loud, but they are the truth. His truth. And you won’t shy away from it. “What can you expect?”

Astarion doesn’t speak. He only listens, the tension in his body unraveling as his face softens. His crimson eyes, sharp and guarded for so long, glaze with something fragile—something he doesn’t allow himself to feel often, if ever.

He blinks rapidly, as if trying to will it away.

You tighten your hold on him, steadying him. “It’s going to take time,” you continue, voice gentle. “To let yourself be loved. To believe that you can be.” You exhale softly, squeezing his hand. “And I can’t imagine how painful that is for you. But know this—” You lift your gaze to meet his fully, holding nothing back. “I’ll keep loving you regardless. Even if you decide you’re not ready. Even if you need to go slow.” A small, reassuring smile tugs at your lips. “Even if you drive me absolutely insane in the process.”

That startles a breathy, disbelieving sound from him—something caught between a huff and a quiet laugh, but his face is unreadable. A storm of emotions flickers across his features, too many to name, too fleeting to grasp.

Finally, he swallows hard, shifting slightly. “You say that now,” he murmurs, voice quieter than before, rougher. “But what happens when I can’t be what you need? When I fail at this—at us?”

Your chest tightens. He’s not rejecting you. He’s afraid.

Astarion turns his gaze to your joined hands, studying the way your fingers tangle together, as if memorizing the sight. His lips part, but whatever he wants to say hesitates on his tongue.

Finally, he exhales, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know how to be loved.”

Your fingers curl around his, anchoring him. “Then let me show you.”

His breath catches, his lashes fluttering as he glances back up at you. And for the first time, he doesn’t argue.

But still, the hesitation lingers—the ghost of fear still etched in the lines of his face. You can see it in the way his jaw tightens, in the way his shoulders remain just a little too rigid.

So you take a breath, steadying yourself, choosing your next words carefully.

“Astarion, you’re not going to fail at this,” you whisper, your tone as firm as it is gentle. “There’s no right way to be loved. No perfect version of yourself that you have to become. You—as you are, broken pieces and all—that’s enough.”

His grip on your hand tightens slightly, his expression flickering between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

You shift slightly, voice softer now. “Can I hold you?”

Astarion blinks, caught off guard. His lips part, as if he wants to say something—to deflect, to tease, to turn it into something lighthearted—but nothing comes.

Instead, after a long, quiet moment, he nods.

Just once.

It’s small, barely a movement, but the weight of it is enough to make your heart ache.

Carefully, you move closer, giving him every opportunity to stop you, to change his mind. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets you ease your arms around him, his body tensing for only a second before—slowly, cautiously—he leans into you.

And gods, he feels so fragile in your arms. Like he doesn’t quite know how to exist in this moment, like he’s bracing for it to disappear.

You run your fingers through his curls, threading them gently between your fingertips, reveling in the softness of them. He shudders, just slightly, like the sensation is unfamiliar—like the simple act of being touched without expectation is something he’s never allowed himself to enjoy.

His breath hitches when you scratch lightly against his scalp, a quiet, barely audible sound escaping his throat before he buries his face against your shoulder.

You smile softly, continuing the motion, your other hand rubbing slow, reassuring circles along his back. His grip on you tightens, fingers curling into the fabric of your clothing—not desperate, not possessive, but as if grounding himself in the feeling of you.

And when he finally exhales, melting into your embrace with something dangerously close to trust, you hold him just a little tighter—just enough to let him know you aren’t letting go.

Not now. Not ever.

The moment your arms wrap around him, Astarion breaks.

All the restraint, all the careful composure he’s been clinging to, slips through his fingers like sand.

He clings to you, holding on so tightly it’s as if he’s trying to mold himself against you, as if letting go might shatter whatever fragile thing has been built between you. His fingers dig into your back, his breath uneven, body pressed flush against yours like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he so much as loosens his grip.

Like he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll slip through his grasp like a dream upon waking.

You don’t pull away.

You just hold him.

He exhales sharply, burying his face against your shoulder, his body shuddering against yours. And when your fingers slip into his curls, raking through them with slow, deliberate tenderness, he groans, the sound low and wrecked, like the sensation is too much.

Like it undoes him.

No one has ever touched him like this. Not without expectation, not without demand. Just to touch. Just to hold.

He leans further into your hands, pressing himself against you like he’s chasing the warmth of your touch, like he’s starved for it.

And maybe he is.

Maybe he always has been.

Then, quietly—so softly you almost don’t catch it—he whispers against your ear,

“You never told me what you want, my love.”

There’s something searching in his tone, something aching. As if he needs to hear the answer, as if the idea of you wanting something—wanting him—is something he can’t quite bring himself to believe.

He doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t look at you. He just stays there, waiting.

Waiting for you to tell him that this, he, is something you truly want.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your fingers still tangled in his hair, still holding onto him like you don’t plan on letting go.

His gaze is heavy, searching, as if he’s waiting for something—for the catch, the expectation, the moment where you’ll ask for something in return.

You offer nothing but warmth.

“If you’d let me…” you murmur, your hand drifting lower, brushing against his thigh.

Your thumb traces slow, soothing circles against the fabric, not pushing, not demanding—just offering.

“I’d love to take care of you,” you whisper, voice soft yet laced with intent. “Just let you lay back and relax.” Your fingers press slightly, teasing, as you tilt your head, watching him. “But only if you want to.”

Astarion inhales sharply, his grip on you faltering for just a moment, his fingers twitching like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them.

His first instinct is to scoff, to roll his eyes, to tell you he doesn’t need to be taken care of.

But the words don’t come.

Because when was the last time someone offered him something like this? Not their body, not their blood—just pleasure. Just care. Just the chance to feel good for the sake of feeling good.

And gods, the way you say it…

Like it’s not some kind of test. Like you won’t withdraw the offer if he hesitates too long.

Like he’s allowed to want this.

His breath comes a little faster, his eyes flickering down to where your fingers are still moving against his thigh, slow and steady. Your touch isn’t rushed, isn’t expectant, but it lingers, warm and teasing, and fuck—

He swallows hard.

“I—” His voice catches, his lips parting slightly.

Your other hand is still tangled in his hair, still playing with his curls in a way that makes his scalp tingle, that makes him ache with a kind of want he doesn’t know how to voice.

He exhales, a small, shaky sound, eyes fluttering half-lidded as your fingers press just a bit firmer against his leg.

“Gods,” he mutters, tilting his head back slightly, his throat exposed, his body betraying him as he leans further into your touch. “You’re… dangerous, you know that?”

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. “Am I?”

He nods faintly, but there’s no conviction behind it. No real protest.

Your hand inches higher, and his breath stutters.

He should resist this. He should. He should make some sarcastic remark, keep himself from slipping into the warm, honeyed pull of your voice, the promise of your hands on him, making him feel good.

But fuck, he wants it.

He wants you.

“You really want to do this?” he murmurs, but there’s no challenge in it, no teasing. Just quiet, trembling disbelief.

You nod, your hand slipping higher, fingers just barely ghosting over the growing hardness beneath his clothes.

His hips shift, ever so slightly, and his eyes flutter closed for half a second before snapping back open, pupils dilated.

“You can just—” You lean in, your breath fanning over his jaw, your voice sultry but sincere. “Just lay back Astarion.”

His breath hitches sharply.

He exhales, shaking his head with a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. “You really are something else,” he murmurs again, but this time, there’s no hesitation when his hips press up, just slightly, chasing your touch.

“…Then by all means, darling,” he exhales, eyes dark with something needy, something eager. “Take care of me.”

You smirk at his breathless surrender, your fingers teasingly slipping away from his thigh as you slowly rise to your knees.

Astarion watches you, his crimson eyes heavy-lidded, filled with something between anticipation and amusement. He’s already gone.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he muses, voice low, indulgent.

You tilt your head playfully, trailing your fingers up your own arms, deliberately slow, reveling in the way his gaze follows every movement. “Mmm… maybe.”

His lips curl into a smirk, but there’s a hunger beneath it, a dark gleam in his eyes as he watches you shift onto your knees, letting the firelight cast soft, flickering shadows over your body.

Your fingers ghost over the hem of your nightclothes, toying with the thin fabric. “You know,” you muse, letting your voice drop just enough to tease, “you never did tell me how I looked in this.”

Astarion exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he lets his gaze drag over you, deliberate and unhurried.

“Oh, darling,” he murmurs, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, “I think you know exactly how you look.” His eyes travel from the curve of your waist to the swell of your breasts, lingering there shamelessly. “And yet you still want me to say it?”

You hum in confirmation, slipping one shoulder of your nightdress down just enough to tease but not reveal too much.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as if utterly exasperated by you, but his eyes tell a different story—they burn for you.

“Fine,” he drawls, shifting slightly where he sits, his gaze dragging over every inch of exposed skin, his voice dipping into something lower, something indulgent. “You look… sinful.”

A shiver rolls down your spine, heat pooling between your thighs at the way he says it.

His smirk deepens as he watches the effect his words have on you. “That pretty little nightdress of yours barely leaves anything to the imagination,” he continues, his gaze lowering appreciatively. “Though I must admit, I do love the view.”

His crimson eyes trace over your curves, taking his time, drinking you in.
“The way it clings to you…” His voice drops into something darker, his fingers tapping idly against his knee. “It’s almost cruel, really. How it teases me—hiding just enough to make me desperate to see.” His gaze lingers at the swell of your breasts, clearly visible through the thin fabric, before trailing lower. “Your waist, so perfectly shaped… and that gorgeous ass of yours, gods, you know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

You bite your lip, feigning innocence, shifting slightly so the hem of your dress rides higher on your thighs.

Astarion groans, tilting his head slightly. “You are cruel,” he murmurs, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for you. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Your smirk widens, enjoying the way his restraint frays at the edges. “Oh please, we both know you love it.”

Astarion grins, sharp and wicked, but there’s a softness there too, something more than just hunger. “That, my sweet, is entirely beside the point.”

Your fingers trail lower, slipping beneath the fabric, lifting the hem ever so slightly. His gaze darkens.

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “Should I stop?”

His jaw flexes, but his smirk never wavers. “I think I’d actually perish if you did.”

You giggle, a real, genuine laugh, and for a moment, the playful teasing blends seamlessly into something softer, something more intimate.

Astarion watches you with something warm flickering behind his eyes, something that goes beyond lust, beyond desire.

“Keep going,” he murmurs, almost like a plea, his voice dipping into something raw. “I want to watch you.”

And gods, the way he says it—like he needs this, like you’re something worthy of devotion—it makes your heart race.

Your fingers slip beneath the hem of your nightdress again, and this time, you don’t stop.

You shift closer, crawling toward him, closing the space between you until you’re straddling his lap. The moment you settle there, pressing down just enough to make him feel you, he lets out a quiet, shuddering breath.

Your fingers slip into his curls, playing with them lazily as you lean in, your lips just barely ghosting over the shell of his ear.

“Tell me, Astarion…” you whisper, voice sultry, teasing, wicked, “do you want to know what I’d do to you if you let me?”

He exhales sharply, tilting his head back slightly, baring his throat to you. “Oh, darling, you know I do.”

Your smirk widens.

You trail your fingers down his chest, over his stomach, teasing the edge of his waistband before shifting back up, dragging your nails ever so lightly against his skin. Your lips graze against his earlobe, your breath warm against him.

“I’d start slow…” you murmur, your hand slipping lower, just brushing against the thick, straining outline of his cock. “Stroke you—just barely—until you’re aching, until you’re throbbing for more.”

Astarion lets out a sharp breath, his hands twitching at his sides, as if he wants to touch you but doesn’t dare interrupt.

Your other hand cradles the back of his neck, threading through his curls, tilting his head just the way you want. “And when I’ve teased you long enough…” you continue, your voice dipping lower, dirtier, “…I’d take you in my mouth.”

He gasps, barely audible, his hips jerking up slightly into your touch, needing more.

You press a slow, lingering kiss just beneath his jaw, then another, trailing lower.

“I’d take you all the way down,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his skin. “Letting you feel my tongue working every inch of you… hollowing my cheeks as I suck you so deep you’d forget your own godsdamn name.”

Astarion groans, head falling back against your touch, eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck—”

You grin.

Your fingers squeeze around his length through his clothes, rubbing just enough to make him gasp.

“And when I’ve made you nice and messy,” you whisper, voice dripping with filth, “I’d climb onto your lap and ride you—slow at first, just to make you suffer.” You grind down just slightly, enough for him to feel you, enough to make his breath hitch.

He whimpers, hands gripping your thighs like he’s barely holding on.

You lean in again, dragging your lips along the shell of his ear, lowering your voice into something even filthier.

“Or maybe…” you hum, your hand slipping between his legs, brushing against his inner thigh, “I’d have you lie back, spread those pretty legs for me…”

His breath catches.

“…and let me eat your ass while I stroke you off—feel you twitching, begging while I fuck you with my tongue.”

Astarion gasps.

His whole body tenses, his fingers digging into your skin, his mouth parting like he wants to say something, but fuck, he can’t—he can barely breathe.

You smirk against his jaw, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. “Would you like that, my love?”

His head snaps forward, his pupils blown wide, his lips parted as he stares at you. “You—fuck, you are insufferable,” he breathes, voice wrecked, raw.

You chuckle, dragging your lips back up to meet his ear. “And yet,” you whisper, giving his cock a slow, firm stroke through his clothes, “you’re letting me.”

Astarion lets out a wrecked moan, his hips jerking up hard into your touch, his body betraying him.

His breath comes uneven, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hands gripping you now, holding you there like he needs you.

“Oh, I’m more than letting you,” he groans, voice shaking, his head tilting back with a choked sound.

“…I’m begging you.”

You smirk, dragging your lips along his jaw, voice barely above a whisper.

“Then lie back, my love,” you murmur, giving his cock another slow, teasing squeeze. “Let me make you feel good”

Astarion is already breathless beneath you, his body trembling, thighs twitching as you settle lower.

You don’t rush. Instead, you let your lips trail down, pressing soft, featherlight kisses to the sensitive sack of skin beneath his cock while your fingers continue stroking him—slow, deliberate, spreading his precum to slick every glide of your hand.

His breath stutters.

“Oh—fuck,” he chokes out, his grip on the sheets tightening, desperate.

Smirking, you flick your tongue over him, teasing, sucking, feeling the way his body tenses, his hips jerking before he stops himself, trying so hard to let you take your time.

But you can hear it—the low, helpless gasps spilling from his lips, the way his breath catches every time your tongue moves just right, how his thighs spread wider, giving himself over to your touch.

“You—gods,” he groans, tilting his head back, his curls spilling across the pillow. “You’re going to ruin me.”

You hum against him, locking eyes with him through heavy lids, watching as his own darken, his lips parting when you take him in just a little deeper.

A whimper escapes him.

And fuck, that sound alone makes heat coil between your thighs, makes you ache for him.

“Oh? Did you want more my love?” you murmur, stroking him just a little firmer, dragging your tongue over him in slow, sensual licks.

Astarion shudders, his hips twitching beneath you. “Obviously,” he gasps, half a moan, half a laugh.

But his laughter quickly fades into another wrecked groan when you suck lightly, drawing him in again, making his fingers clench into the sheets as he trembles.

You smirk against his skin, feeling the way he’s starting to lose himself, how his body chases your touch.

 

Without warning, you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, your tongue swirling against the sensitive head, spreading the thick precum that’s steadily leaking from him.

Astarion gasps, his thighs tensing beneath you, fingers twitching at his sides as a shuddering breath escapes him.

“Oh, fuck—” he chokes out, his head tilting back.

You hum around him, letting the vibration tease him further, taking him deeper, savoring the way he twitches on your tongue. Your hands move lower, cupping his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.

Astarion jerks, a sharp, needy moan breaking from him, his hips shifting toward your touch before he stops himself.

His self-control is slipping.

You peer up at him through heavy lids, his crimson eyes burning as he watches you, lips parted, completely entranced.

Dragging your tongue along his length, you stroke him steadily, feeling him tremble, fall apart beneath you.

“You’re too good at this,” he gasps, his voice ragged.

You pull back slightly, smirking. “Are you doing okay?”

His chest heaves, his fingers tightening in the sheets. “More than okay”

You press another slow kiss to his tip, licking a long, deliberate stripe up his length before murmuring,

“Then lets continue.”

Astarion moans, his whole body shaking beneath you.

“You can do whatever you want, Astarion. Remember, tonight is about you.”

His crimson eyes flash at your words, his restraint snapping as his fingers tangle into your hair, gripping tight.

“Oh, darling…” he breathes, his voice trembling with something between awe and raw, desperate hunger. “You have no idea what you’ve just given me.”

Then, without hesitation, he thrusts, pushing deeper into your mouth, his cock sliding further along your tongue until the tip brushes the back of your throat.

Your breath hitches, your body tensing for a brief moment as you try not to gag, your throat clenching around him. But you take it—you take all of him, moaning around his length, the vibrations making him shudder.

“Fuck—” Astarion groans, his head tilting back, pleasure wracking through him as his grip tightens in your hair. His usually sharp tongue is lost to gasps, moans spilling from his lips unrestrained. “Look at you, it’s like you were made to suck my cock” he rasps, glancing down, his expression utterly wrecked.

You do look at him, your eyes fluttering up through damp lashes, tears pricking the corners from how deep he is, how full your mouth is, how he owns every inch of you in this moment.

And gods, the sight must do something to him because he shudders, his hips faltering for just a moment before he thrusts again, the sound that escapes him bordering on a whimper.

“You’re—” He gasps, his voice breaking, his thighs trembling. “You’re taking me so well, my love. So—ngh—so good.”

You hum in response, letting the vibrations ripple through him, feeling the way he twitches on your tongue. Your hands slide up his thighs, nails scraping lightly against his skin, grounding him as you relax your throat even more, letting him take what he needs.

His moans turn breathier, sharper, his body betraying him as his hips move faster, as he chases the wet heat of your mouth, his control slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Gods above,” he groans, his jaw going slack for a moment, his grip in your hair almost bruising.

You feel the way he throbs against your tongue, the way his thighs flex, the way his whole body shakes as he tries—fails—to hold himself back.

He’s close.

Just as you feel him start to tense, his body coiling with that telltale edge of release, you pull away—letting his cock slip from your swollen lips, your hands leaving his body entirely.

Astarion whines—an utterly desperate, needy sound that escapes before he can stop it, his head snapping forward, wide crimson eyes filled with something close to betrayal.

“What—” His voice is breathless, wrecked, his grip on the sheets tightening as he glares at you, his chest heaving. “What the fuck?, do not—”

You tilt your head, smirking as you wipe the spit from the corner of your lips. “What did you say to me the other night?” you muse, voice laced with mock innocence. “Oh yes—” You lean in close, your breath teasing over his inner thighs. “I’m only getting started.”

Astarion groans, tilting his head back against the pillow in agony, his body shaking with frustration. “You’re cruel,” he grits out, his hips lifting slightly, searching for anything—your touch, your mouth, relief. “So, so unbelievably cruel—”

Before he can complain any further, his words are cut off by a sharp, utterly sinful moan—loud, uncontrolled, the kind of sound that should be embarrassing, but he’s too far gone to care.

Because your tongue is now tracing over the tight ring of his entrance, testing, teasing, pressing just enough to make him tremble.

Astarion gasps, his whole body jerking as his hands fly to his own thighs, gripping at them like he’s trying—failing—to ground himself.

“Fuck—” His voice is wrecked, completely unraveling as his legs spread wider without thinking, offering himself to you, letting you have him.

His cock twitches against his stomach, still neglected, still aching, leaking against his skin, but he doesn’t care—not when your tongue is working him open, not when your hands return to his thighs, holding him down as he writhes beneath you.

“Oh—gods above,” he moans, breath hitching, his fingers flexing, gripping at the sheets, gripping at nothing, his mind struggling to process the pleasure consuming him.

His thighs tremble, his stomach tensing as his head lolls back, exposing the pale, delicate lines of his throat as another desperate sound rips from his lips.

“You—” His breath shudders, his voice shaking. “You cannot just—ahhh—do this to me.”

You hum against him, letting your tongue press just a little deeper, watching as his back arches in response, his lips parting in a gasping moan.

“Oh, fuck—” Astarion’s voice breaks completely, his entire body twitching as he shakes beneath you.

And gods, the way he’s completely falling apart—the way he’s losing himself in your touch, in the pleasure you’re giving him—

It only makes you want to push him further.

He’s falling apart on your tongue, trembling beneath you, lips swollen and wet from all his gasping moans.

You know he’s ready for more.

Lifting your gaze to meet his, you drag your nails lightly up his thighs, watching the way his breath catches in anticipation. “Poor thing,” you tease, feigning sympathy. “You’re shaking.”

Astarion exhales shakily, his fingers twitching where they clutch the sheets, his expression ruined—but still, his smirk lingers, albeit weaker than before. “Whose fault do you think that is?”

You smirk, tilting your head. “It is cute, though, how desperate you are.” Your touch slows, deliberately teasing. “I suppose I should help you out…”

His brows flick in amusement, but his voice is strained. “I’d be ever so grateful.”

You pretend to consider before sighing. “Shame, though. I’m a little unprepared. Do you have oil with you?”

Astarion’s teasing expression shifts instantly, excitement flickering behind his gaze, only for disappointment to quickly follow. “No, not with me,” he admits, almost regretful. “I wasn’t expecting the night to go this way.”

You hum, shifting up onto your knees, moving closer, letting your breath fan over his lips. “No worries,” you murmur before crushing your mouth to his.

Astarion whimpers, his fingers gripping at your waist, holding onto you, his body still trembling from the pleasure you’ve been wracking through him.

Your hand slides up into his curls, fingers tangling as you take him—kissing him deeply, swallowing the sharp inhale he gives as your tongue teases against his fangs.

He moans into you, letting you lead, his body pressing into yours as he chases the warmth of your mouth, deepening the kiss until he’s pushing his tongue past your lips, desperate to taste more of you.

Then—just barely—one of his fangs nicks your tongue, drawing the faintest hint of blood.

Astarion shudders, a ragged moan tearing from his throat as he clings to you, his tongue sweeping over the cut. He groans so deeply, his hands tightening around you like he never wants to let go.

You pull back, both of you breathless, lips flushed and wet.

You smirk, wiping your thumb over his bottom lip, your voice dipping lower. “That got you excited.”

His chest heaves, his lips parted, tongue just barely peeking out as he blinks up at you, dazed.

Your grin widens as you push your finger to his lips. “Be good for me and open up.”

Astarion obeys instantly, jutting his tongue out, wetting his lips as his pupils dilate.

You slip one finger into his mouth, and he immediately wraps his tongue around it, sucking slowly, deliberately, his moan vibrating against your skin.

“Ohh,” you coo, watching him through heavy lids. “Look at you, is there anything you won’t let me do to you?”

Astarion whimpers, but he doesn’t pull away.

You press a second finger between his lips, and he welcomes it, sucking greedily, making a mess of himself, moaning loudly as his tongue swirls around them, coating them completely.

His eyes flutter, his lips plush and slick, and his cock twitches against his stomach, neglected, aching, throbbing for relief.

You tilt your head, admiring the sight of him. “I don’t think you deserve to finish just yet,” you murmur, letting your fingers slide deeper against his tongue. “Not when you look so pretty like this.”

Astarion groans, his body shaking, his thighs trembling beneath you.

You press a slow, lingering peck to his lips, a sweet contrast to the wrecked, debauched state he’s in. His breath is uneven, his lips still parted from where he had been sucking your fingers moments before.

“I know patience isn’t your virtue, my love,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along his jaw, feeling the tension there, the ache of anticipation. “But I promise—I’ll make you feel so much better soon.”

Astarion lets out a dramatic sigh, tilting his head back against the pillow, but you don’t miss the way his thighs twitch, how his cock jerks against his stomach, the barest sheen of sweat gathering at his temples.

He’s teasing, but he wants it.

More than he’s ever wanted anything.

You sink back down, letting your hands slide down his body, feeling the way he shivers beneath your touch as you settle back between his legs.

You start slow, tracing the sensitive rim of his entrance with featherlight strokes, teasing, testing, watching as his muscle flutter beneath your fingers.

Astarion shudders, his breath catching—and then, gods, his body clenches down hard on nothing, the instinctive reaction making heat pool between your thighs.

“Oh?” You smirk against his inner thigh pressing a firm lick against it, letting your fingers tease just a little firmer. “Is that what you need, my love?”

His chest heaves, his eyes flickering down to you, pupils blown, lips swollen from all his gasping moans.

“Please—” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper, strained with want.

You hum in satisfaction, pressing one final, teasing kiss to the inside of his thigh before pushing forward.

Slowly, carefully, you press the tip of your finger past the tight ring of muscle, easing inside.

Astarion gasps, his fingers clenching into the sheets.

You can how his breath quickens, how his hips twitch toward your touch rather than away from it.

You wait—giving him a chance to adjust, your free hand smoothing along his thigh in slow, grounding strokes.

And then, as you feel him relax, you press deeper.

A broken moan spills from Astarion’s lips, his body trembling as you begin a steady rhythm, pushing in further with each pass, letting him get used to the feeling, making sure he’s ready for more.

His thighs twitch against your shoulders, his whole body reacting as your pace quickens, your fingers sinking deeper, searching, testing—

And then—

Astarion shouts, a sharp, surprised moan tearing from his throat as his back arches, his body locking up for half a second before melting into pleasure.

“Fuck—” His voice breaks, his head falling back, his fingers twisting into the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him from losing his mind.

You smirk, curling your fingers again, pressing just right,harder this time, watching as he writhes beneath you, his lips parted in a breathless, pathetic moan.

“There it is,” you purr, dragging your tongue along his thigh, letting your breath ghost over the sensitive skin.

Astarion whimpers—his body completely, helplessly at your mercy.

You grin at the way he writhes beneath you, his breathless moans growing sharper, needier with every stroke of your fingers.

“You sound so pretty, my love,” you purr, voice dripping with satisfaction as you let your fingers drag against his most sensitive spot again, watching as his thighs tremble around you.

Astarion whimpers, his head lolling back against the pillow, his fangs catching against his swollen bottom lip as he struggles to contain himself.

 

You pull back slightly, adjusting your angle, and with a wicked smirk, you press a second finger inside him, slow but relentless, stretching him open.

Astarion gasps, his whole body tensing before he melts into it, his legs spreading wider to welcome more of you, pushing down into you even further.

“Oh, fuck—” His voice cracks, his hips jerking helplessly at the new intrusion, his hands flying to the sheets, gripping tight as his chest heaves.

You hum in approval, curling your fingers just right, pressing them deep against his most sensitive spot, pushing against it, feeling the way his body clenches around you.

His cock twitches violently against his stomach, smearing slick precum across his pale skin, his muscles jumping with every unrelenting press of your fingers.

“Look at you,” you murmur, dragging your free hand up his thigh, feeling how badly he’s shaking. “So desperate, my love… and I’m only getting started.”

Astarion shudders, his breath ragged, his thighs twitching as he rocks into your touch, chasing more, needing more.

“Gods above,” he moans, his head tilting back, his fangs bared as his entire body arches into the sensation. “You—ahh—fuck, you’re going to break me.”

You grin against his skin, lowering yourself again, your fingers pistoning into him now, a ruthless, punishing rhythm that has his voice cracking between moans.

His cock jerks again, leaking even more, dripping against his stomach, leaving a messy, sinful trail down his skin as his thighs flex.

Your smirk widens as you lower yourself further, flicking your tongue against the glistening trail of precum smeared across his abs, savoring the salty taste of his arousal.

Astarion wails, his body seizing beneath you, his hips jerking with every shockwave of pleasure that courses through him.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” you whisper, pressing your fingers deeper, harder, making his whole body jerk in response.

Astarion sobs out a moan, his fingers flying to his own hair, tugging at his curls as he writhes beneath you, lost, utterly gone on the feeling.

But you’re not done.

Not even close.

With a wicked gleam in your eyes, you lower your mouth to his cock, wrapping your lips around the flushed, leaking tip, swirling your tongue against the slit as you hollow your cheeks.

Astarion shouts, his body convulsing at the sudden added pleasure, his back arching off the your bedroll as a broken, desperate moan spills from his lips.

“Fuck—fuck—” His voice is wrecked, shaking, his thighs trembling around you as he bucks into your mouth, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation of your fingers and wet mouth.

You hum around him, the vibration making him shudder, his hands flying down—gripping your hair, holding on for dear life.

“Oh—gods—” He gasps, his breath coming in rapid, uneven pants. “You—you can’t—this is—too much—”

But he doesn’t pull you away.

He couldn’t if he tried.

You keep pushing him, keep driving him toward the edge, your fingers unrelenting inside him, your mouth sucking harder, deeper.

His body tenses, his moans turning into sharp, helpless cries, his cock pulsing on your tongue, precum pouring onto it as he teeters on the precipice of pure, overwhelming bliss.

“Y-Yes—yes—fuck—” His voice shakes, his entire body breaking beneath you.

You pull off his cock for just a second, licking your lips as you whisper against the sensitive head,

“ be a good boy, my love…”

You push your fingers deeper, pressing into his sweetest spot while swallowing him down once more.

“…and let go.”

Astarion screams, his entire body locking up as pleasure crashes over him, unstoppable, obliterating.
His entire body locks up, his thighs trembling violently as his orgasm rips through him, tearing him apart in waves of pleasure so intense it seems to break him.

His jaw goes slack, his head tilting back against the pillow, mouth parted in a silent cry before a deep, wrecked moan spills from his lips. His crimson eyes roll back, lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks as his fingers dig into your scalp, holding you down, making sure you take everything.

You almost choke at the sheer amount of hot, thick come that pours down your throat, some escaping from the corners of your lips, dripping messily down your chin.

But you don’t pull away.

You take it.

You swallow around him, hollowing your cheeks as you work your tongue against the underside of his cock, coaxing him through every pulse, every aftershock that wracks his overstimulated body.

Astarion whimpers—a completely broken sound—as his thighs twitch, his hips giving the faintest little jerks as his orgasm stretches out longer, drawn out by the sheer heat of your mouth still wrapped around him.

His grip in your hair tightens just a little, not pulling, just holding, like he needs something to ground himself.

You glance up at him, taking in the sight of his head thrown back, the way his chest heaves, his panting slowing, his entire body melting into the sheets.

His eyes squeeze shut, his brows furrowing like the pleasure is still too much, like he’s floating in the remnants of his release, ruined beyond recognition.

You give him one last, slow, gentle suck before finally pulling off him, licking your lips as you swallow down the last traces of his pleasure, savoring the taste of him.

Astarion shudders at the loss of your mouth, a soft, pathetic whimper escaping him as his fingers finally ease from your hair, his body spent, utterly devastated.

You press a kiss to the inside of his thigh, watching as his muscles jump under your lips, still sensitive, still feeling everything.

“Still with me, love?” you murmur, voice thick with satisfaction, amusement curling at the edges.

Astarion lets out a ragged breath, his lips still parted, his eyes finally fluttering open—hazy, dazed, his usual sharp wit momentarily lost in the wreckage of his pleasure.

“Barely,” he rasps, his voice hoarse, utterly ruined.

You smirk, stroking his thigh soothingly, already feeling the way his muscles twitch beneath your fingertips.

“Good,” you murmur, pressing another kiss to his skin. “I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Astarion lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he drapes an arm over his face, still trying to recover.

“Of course you’re not,” he mutters, voice laced with exhaustion and amusement.

But there’s something else in his tone—something warm, soft, completely entranced by you.

Before you can so much as catch your breath, Astarion pulls you up, his fingers slipping into

your hair as he crashes his mouth against yours.

He devours you, deepening the kiss as his tongue sweeps into your mouth, groaning when he tastes himself on you.

His grin against your lips is filthy.

“Mmm,” he hums, pulling back just enough to nip at your bottom lip, releasing it with a soft pop. “I knew you were something special.”

You chuckle breathlessly, settling your hands on his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of it as he slowly comes back down to earth.

Or so you think.

Because when his dark, wine-colored eyes meet yours, filled with mischief and something dangerous, your stomach flips.

Then, you feel it.

Or rather, see it.

Your eyes widen as you glance down, watching in shock as his cock—still wet from your mouth, still sensitive from the orgasm you’d just pulled from him—steadily twitches back to life.

“What,” you breathe, completely stunned.

Astarion laughs, low and pleased, watching your reaction with absolute delight.

“Surprised, darling?” he purrs, dragging a single finger along your jaw. “Did you really think I was finished?”

Your breath stutters, heat flooding your core despite the fact that your brain is still trying to process what’s happening.

“I—” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look back up at him instead of staring at the evidence of his insatiability. “Astarion, you just—”

“YesI did just come down your throat,” he interrupts smoothly, sighing dramatically as he runs a lazy hand through his tousled curls. “And yet—” he shifts slightly, his renewed hardness pressing firm against your thigh, “here we are.”

You should be horrified.

You should be questioning how the hell he’s still this needy, how his stamina is so utterly inhuman.

But instead—

Instead, heat pools between your thighs, your traitorous body aching at the idea of him still wanting you, of him taking you again, deeper, harder.

Astarion catches the way your thighs press together, the sharp breath you take in but don’t fully release.

And gods, he revels in it.

“Oh?” His smirk widens, lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hands skim over your waist. “Do you like that, darling? Knowing I still need you?”

Your breath catches as his fingers trail lower, teasing, promising.

You try to sound unaffected, but your voice betrays you. “Are you always like this?”

Astarion grins, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against the column of your throat.

“Only for you, my sweet,” he murmurs, voice thick with promise.

Then, with a sharp tug, he pulls you flush against him, letting you feel every inch of his renewed arousal.

“And,” he breathes, wicked, knowing, “we both know you’re not done either.”

Before you can even react, Astarion moves.

A newfound strength overtakes him, a reminder of the raw, predatory power he possesses, something you should have anticipated—but were too drunk off his whimpers and pleas to remember.

With startling speed, he flips you onto your knees, pressing his palm against the back of your head as he forces you down, his other hand gripping your waist, arching your back and pushing your ass high into the air.

The motion knocks the air from your lungs, your breath catching as heat floods between your thighs.

“A-Astarion—”

He shushes you, his voice silky, soothing—but his hands are anything but, rough and possessive as they slide down your thighs, spreading them obscenely apart.

“Oh, darling,” he purrs, his hands gripping just enough to bruise. “I knew you’d look absolutely sinful like this.”

You whimper, still trying to process how quickly he just took control, the way he’s holding you down like he owns you, like he’s starving and you’re the only thing that can satisfy him.

And then you feel it—his stare, burning, devouring, locked onto the space between your thighs.

Astarion groans, a low, hungry sound slipping past his lips as his fingers trace down your inner thigh, stopping just short of where you need him.

“Oh, my love,” he murmurs, voice thick with desperation, with need. “You’re soaking for me.”

Your entire body shudders, your fingers clenching into the sheets as another wave of heat rushes through you.

Astarion notices.

Of course he notices.

His smirk widens as he drags a single finger through your folds, collecting the slick there before pulling away, his breath hitching slightly at how utterly drenched you are.

He lifts his hand, watching the way your arousal glistens against his pale skin before bringing the slick-coated finger to his lips, sucking it clean with a low, satisfied hum.

“Sweet gods,” he breathes, closing his eyes for a brief moment, his tongue flicking over the tip of his finger, savoring every drop. “You taste divine.”

Your stomach tightens, a broken whimper escaping you at the sight, at the way he moans around the taste of you like you’re the most indulgent thing he’s ever had the pleasure of consuming.

His crimson eyes flick back to yours, blazing, his lips curling into something wicked.

“If you really want to please me,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh, “you’ll let me have more.”

You barely have time to take a breath before he leans in—

And plunges his tongue inside you.

A sharp cry rips from your throat as your arms give out, your face pressing into the plush pillows as your fingers fist the sheets.

Astarion growls against you, his grip on your thighs tightening, keeping you right where he wants you as he devours you, his tongue sinking deep, fucking into you with slow, indulgent strokes.

“*Oh—*fuck,” you sob, your hips instinctively rocking against his mouth, trying to take more, to feel more.

Astarion moans at the way you move for him, at the way your walls flutter around his tongue, desperate for more stimulation.

His fingers dig into your thighs, bruising, needy, his own body shaking with the effort to hold back—but gods, he wants you to break first.

He pulls away just slightly, lips glistening, panting against your drenched heat, the air cool against your overstimulated skin.

“There’s a good girl,” he praises, voice thick with pure, unfiltered need. “So sweet. So obedient.”

You can barely respond, your body trembling, legs threatening to give out from how deep he worked his tongue inside you—how close you are already.

Then he groans, low and guttural, his voice dropping into something possessive, filthy.

“Mm, no,” he rasps, standing behind you now, his cock rubbing along your soaked entrance, dragging through your slick folds. “Not like that.”

He lines himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing just long enough to make you ache.

“You’re going to come…” he growls, grabbing your hips in a bruising grip.

“…on my cock.”

And then—

He thrusts into you in one smooth, devastating motion, burying himself to the hilt.

You scream, the air knocked from your lungs, your eyes rolling back as he stretches you open with no mercy, filling you completely, claiming you all over again.

“Fuck, yes,” Astarion groans, throwing his head back, his voice wrecked with pleasure. “That’s what I wanted—gods, you feel unreal.”

You sob out a moan, your body already clenching around him, still sensitive from his tongue, your thighs shaking from the sudden fullness.

And behind you, Astarion’s grip only tightens, his hips pulling back—

Astarion slams into you again, his grip on your hips bruising, pulling you back to meet every ruthless thrust.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls, voice dripping with pure filth, his fingers digging into your skin as he pounds into you, his cock stretching you to the edge of pain and pleasure. “Take it, just like that—gods, you’re so fucking tight.”

You whimper, your body shaking beneath him, your cheek pressing into the mattress, your fingers clawing at the sheets as he fucks into you, raw and merciless.

“That’s my good little thing,” he groans, throwing his head back, the sound of your wetness echoing in the air, each brutal thrust making you cry out. “Letting me use you—letting me ruin you.”

Your thighs tremble, pleasure building too fast, too intense—and Astarion knows.

He feels it in the way you clench around him, the way your walls flutter, desperate for release.

“Already?” he laughs, a cruel, breathless chuckle, mocking and pleased. “Oh, darling, I’ve barely even started.”

A sharp smack lands against your ass, the sting making you yelp, but your body only tightens around him in response.

Astarion groans, his cock twitching at the reaction.

“Fuck, look at you,” he hisses, his hands sliding up your back, gripping your shoulders as he yanks you up onto your knees, your back flush against his chest.

One of his hands wraps around your throat, tilting your head back against his shoulder, forcing you to look at him as he fucks you deeper, harder, hitting every sensitive spot inside you.

His lips graze your ear, his breath hot, merciless.

“You love this, don’t you?” he purrs, punctuating it with another vicious snap of his hips. “Being fucked stupid, only for me.”

You sob out a moan, your hands flying to his forearm, clinging to him as your body shakes, heat pooling in your stomach, ready to come—

But Astarion feels it—he knows, and suddenly, he stops.

A high, broken whimper falls from your lips, your body twitching in protest, trying to chase the pleasure, trying to finish—

But he doesn’t let you.

A dark chuckle rumbles in his throat, his fangs grazing your skin, his fingers tightening around your throat, keeping you right on the edge.

“Oh no,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweat on your neck. “You’ll come when I say so.”

And then, with a wicked grin, he thrusts back into you, harder, rougher—

He fucks into you hard, relentless, like he’s trying to brand himself into your body, like he wants to make sure you’ll never forget what it feels like to be this completely owned.

“That’s it,” he growls into your ear, voice cracking with intensity, his hand still wrapped firmly around your throat. “This little cunt’s mine now, isn’t it?”

You try to nod, try to say something—anything—but all that comes out is a shattered moan as his cock slams into your sweet spot again, again, again.

“I want to hear you say it,” he hisses, lips dragging along your ear, his teeth grazing your neck, so close to biting. “Tell me who it belongs to.”

“Y-You—” your voice breaks on a gasp, your body locking up as you feel the orgasm building again, stronger, hotter, impossible to hold back. “Yours, Astarion—fuck, it’s yours!”

He lets out a low, guttural moan, clearly affected by the words, and slams into you harder, his hand leaving your throat just long enough to grab your jaw, pulling your face toward him so he can see it.

“Say it again,” he demands, his other hand bruising your hip as he pounds into you from behind, your legs threatening to give out completely. “Say it like you mean it.”

“It’s yours!” you cry out, voice high and broken. “All of it—my pussy, my body—I’m yours!”

“Good girl,” he snarls, slamming into you deep and hard, the sound of skin against skin echoing through camp, obscene and soaked with your slick.

His hand slides down your stomach, between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, tight circles as he fucks you through it.

“Then come,” he growls, his voice almost feral. “Come all over my cock—mark me. I want to feel you lose it.”

You scream his name as you shatter, your orgasm ripping through you with such force your vision blurs, your thighs shaking violently as you clench around him, soaking his cock, your voice a string of cries and breathless, filthy praise.

“Astarion—fuck—don’t stop—please—”

“Never,” he groans, still thrusting through your orgasm, fucking you even as your body starts to give out, overstimulated and wrecked and still so desperate for him.

“You’re mine,” he snarls again, possessive, breathless, lost in the tight grip of your body around him. “Say it again, sweet girl—say it while I fill you up.”

Your voice is wrecked, barely coherent, but the words come through clear enough.

“*I’m yours, Astarion—*gods—I’m fucking yours.”

And that’s all it takes—he groans low and deep, hips jerking as his release slams into him, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he spills into you, holding your hips tight as he grinds into your body, making sure every drop stays right where it belongs.

Astarion stays buried inside you, his breath ragged, fingers bruising your hips as he slowly rocks into you, pushing his release deeper, making sure you feel every drop.

His body shudders against yours, his lips pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, claiming you even as he catches his breath.

“Fuck, darling,” he groans, his voice dark, husky, dripping with possession. “You feel unreal like this… stuffed full of my come, dripping with it, mine.”

A sharp whimper leaves your lips, your body still twitching, thighs trembling as your walls flutter helplessly around him, overstimulated but still aching for more.

Astarion chuckles, breathless, dragging his teeth along your already marked neck.

His fingers trail lower, spreading your thighs just enough to see the evidence of what he’s done to you—your swollen, spent cunt, his release leaking out, smearing down your thighs.

“Look at this,” he murmurs, dragging two fingers through the slick between your folds, scooping up the mixture of you both before bringing them to his lips. “Absolutely ruined.”

You whimper, your face burning as he licks his fingers clean, moaning as he savors the taste of you both combined.

“Mmm,” he hums, his voice sinful. “I could get used to this.”

You barely have time to recover before he shifts his weight, pressing your body further into the bedroll

A sharp gasp escapes you as you feel his cock twitch inside you again—half-hard, stirring back to life.

Your breath stutters, shock and arousal fighting for dominance in your brain. “Astarion, you can’t be serious.”

He grins against your skin, biting at your shoulder before purring, “, I assure you—I am always serious about fucking you senseless.”

ut then—slowly, reluctantly—his pace slows, his teasing lips softening against your shoulder, his fingers easing from their possessive grip into something gentler.

Astarion exhales, his forehead pressing lightly against your back, the tension in his body finally unraveling.

A comfortable silence settles between you, the only sounds filling the air being your combined breathing, still heavy, sated.

You shift slightly, rolling onto your side, bringing him with you as he slips out of you, a quiet whimper leaving both of you at the loss.

Astarion wraps himself around you immediately, pulling you close, burying his face in the crook of your neck, holding you like he’s scared to let go.

His fingers trace lazy patterns against your skin, his usual sharp tongue replaced with a quiet, thoughtful hum.

“…I meant what I said earlier.”

You blink, tilting your head to look at him, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his tone.

Astarion’s gaze flickers, something vulnerable beneath his usual smugness. “That I’ve never… wanted anyone like this before.”

You soften, brushing your fingers through his disheveled silver curls, scratching lightly at his scalp the way you know he loves.

“I want you too, Astarion,” you murmur, voice gentle, sincere. “Not just like this—not just physically. You.”

A sharp inhale. A hesitation.

Then, slowly, Astarion closes his eyes, melting into your touch, his grip on your waist tightening, like he’s grounding himself in you.

“…You terrify me, darling,” he whispers, but there’s no fear in his voice. Only wonder.

You smile, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his temple, memorizing the feeling of him—so close, so real.

“You deserve this,” you tell him gently. “To be wanted. To be loved. It’ll take time”

A beat of silence. Then—his voice returns to its usual teasing lilt.

Astarion’s expression is nothing short of wicked, his smirk sharp, teasing, as he trails his fingers lazily over your wrists, pinning them gently against the sheets.

“You did say I could do whatever I wanted with you tonight,” he muses, his grip tightening just slightly—enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.

You swallow, pulse jumping, heat curling between your thighs again at the sheer promise in his voice.

“I did,” you murmur, voice soft, testing, watching the way his crimson eyes darken.

His lips curl further, his hold on you firm but playful, his knee nudging your legs apart again, as if he’s already considering whether or not to test your limits.

“Tell me, pet,” he purrs, leaning down, breath warm against your lips. “Have you ever been tied up before?”

Your breath catches, a mix of anticipation and heat flooding your body.

He sees it, he feels it, the way your body responds without hesitation. His smirk widens, fully satisfied with your reaction.

But then—

Astarion pulls back, releasing your wrists, tilting his head with a thoughtful hum.

“Hmm. No, no,” he muses, rolling onto his back, stretching like a very satisfied cat. “That’s far too tempting of an idea to rush.”

You blink at him, still reeling, your body still throbbing from what just happened, your mind still stuck on the idea of him tying you up—and now he’s just… dropping it?

Before you can protest, he laughs, running a hand through his completely ruined curls, clearly pleased with himself.

“Besides,” he drawls, turning onto his side to face you, his fingers ghosting playfully over your very spent body, “I highly doubt we were subtle enough to keep your little friend Karlach from noticing that we’re getting along again.”

Your stomach drops, heat creeping up your already flushed face.

“Oh gods,” you groan, covering your face with your hands. “She’s never going to let me live this down.”

Astarion lets out a mocking gasp, clutching his chest dramatically.

“You? Embarrassed? After screaming my name like a wanton little thing all night? Oh, my sweet, you should have thought of that before making such a spectacle of yourself.”

You peek at him between your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “I was making a spectacle? You were the one telling me to ‘mark you with my orgasms.’”

He shrugs, utterly unashamed. “Yes, well, I do think I succeeded in that endeavor, wouldn’t you say?” His fingers slip between your thighs again, just to tease, and your whole body shudders. “Mm. Soaked.”

You swat his hand away, but your breath hitches at the contact. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” he hums, tilting his head adoringly as he watches you flustered, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back against him.

You huff, still covering your face, but then something clicks in your mind—

Astarion not only didn’t deny Karlach would hear, but he confirmed she absolutely would.

You squint at him, pulling your hands away from your face. “…Did you want her to hear?”

Astarion smirks, completely unbothered, feigning innocence. “Darling, I don’t need an audience to know I’ve thoroughly claimed you, but—” he taps his chin in mock thought “—a little validation never hurts, does it?”

You gasp, smacking his shoulder as he laughs. “Astarion! That is—”

“Oh, don’t act like you’re not a little thrilled,” he interrupts smoothly, grinning. “Admit it—you like the idea of everyone knowing just who you belong to now.”

Your face burns, and you refuse to answer.

Astarion just smirks, immensely pleased with himself.

“Don’t worry, pet. I’ll make sure Karlach doesn’t tease you too much—” He kisses your temple, voice dipping into something silky and dark “—if you behave.”

You glare at him. “And what, exactly, constitutes behaving?”

Astarion grins, shifting his weight to pin your wrists down again, playfully restraining you.

“Well,” he murmurs, his voice thick with promise, “if you’re good, I might let you in on some of my favorite ways to keep a lover helpless beneath me.”

Your breath catches, your body betraying you with a shiver of anticipation.

He feels it—he sees it—and smirks, pressing one final filthy kiss to your jaw.

“But…” He hums, releasing your wrists slowly, dragging his fingers down your arms. “Not tonight.”

Your pulse jumps, the loss of pressure making you ache for it.

“Why not tonight?” you ask, both frustrated and intrigued.

Astarion grins against your skin, pressing a chaste—too chaste—kiss to your lips before pulling away.

“Because, my sweet, I want you fully rested before I tie you up and make you beg for my cock.”

Your breath stutters, the sheer certainty in his voice making your body throb.

Before you can respond, he flips you over, pulling you flush against his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist like he’s caging you in.

“For now,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple, voice genuine, warm, “just sleep, darling.”

You sigh, melting against him, your fingers threading through his curls one last time as exhaustion finally takes over.

But even as you drift off, your heart pounds at the thought of what awaits you next time.