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In hindsight, you do partially regret allowing him to fuss around you without much complaint.
‘We’re all going through a lot right now’ you had reasoned to yourself when it began. That, and the fact Astarion seemed to have quite a bit of… preexisting baggage to unpack as well.
Your sympathetic patience seemed to work in your favor though, at least partially, because the spawn did grow more comfortable around you. Unfortunately, it has meant he’s grown immensely comfortable unloading all of his daily grievances upon your even ears.
Though, in face of being drained in the night, you supposed being an amicable venting post was better than the alternative.
Still, being the spoiled city boy he was, being on the road roused many complaints from the man. Frequently. Like now, where you had been ambushed in your tent by a groaning vampire spawn. Something about how Shadowheart is refusing to soothe an ache in his back, apparently.
“I mean really-“ Astarion whines theatrically. “Would such a minor spell be so much trouble for her?”
Though you had been looking at him since he barged in, he only now meets your gaze, correctly just assuming you’d been listening to him as he ranted. His eyebrows are raised in an inquiring look, and you realize that last question was not rhetorical.
“I don’t think it would, ultimately.”
He huffs in agreement, momentarily satisfied by you taking his side. However, you continue to speak.
”Considering the pain you’ve been today though, I don’t know if I’d be sparing any spells either.”
Astarion’s jaw hangs slack in offense. “I’ve been a pain because I’ve been in pain, you ass. This crick in my back has been torturous and you ruffians seem to have no sympathy for that fact.”
You roll your eyes. If you had anything to lend you would’ve! Supplies had just been rather tight at present and it’s not like the rest of you weren’t bone weary and sore too. Hells, Gale had even taken Astarion’s pack right off his back as they travelled just to silence his wailing (to little avail).
Ever the peacekeeper though, you move past the jab. ”Have you been avoiding that sitting position I warned you about? It could be making it worse.”
He openly pouts. “It’s the most comfortable one for reading though…”
You know he enjoys seeing you agitated, so you do your best to suppress the twitching of your brow at his response. The man must feed on annoyance as well as blood, gah.
“Okay then…” You see him smirking at you out of the corner of your eye. “Would a massage help, do you think?”
Astarion guffaws. “Hah! Darling, if you could find a massage parlor in this wilderness: I’ll kiss Halsin right on his big, bear lips.”
The misunderstanding of your words and mental image of his reply makes you chuckle.
”I meant from me, you smartass.”
He pauses, ever so briefly, to look at you with a surprised expression. That is, until he erupts into full bellied laughter. You’re a little confused and feel as if you should be offended, but you’d never seen him so candidly amused. You think he might be wiping a tear out of his eye when he faces you once more.
”Oh- hah- that is too funny, dear, really.”
You make a face.
“I wasn’t trying to be..?” You say, almost questioningly.
He finally collects his laughter to shoot you an incredulous, albeit amused, look. “You? A masseuse? I’ve seen the way you wield a weapon, I’d hardly call your touch delicate.”
“I’m a being of many surprises then, I suppose.” He still seems disbelieving, so you continue. “I used to give massages ‘n’ stuff before all this. Not professionally or anything, just as people around me needed them. I’ve never much enjoyed receiving them myself but everyone did always insist I was skilled at it.”
Astarion seems to digest your words carefully.
“I see…” He eventually offers. You weren’t quite sure what the reason for this hesitance was, given all his moaning, but it wasn’t much skin of your back if he refused the offer. Your ears were another story though if his caterwauling continued…
In a blink, he seems to collect himself, throwing on the face you had grown accustomed to. “If you insist. I suppose I will accept this ‘complimentary experience’. Do try to keep your hands above the belt though,” he says with a wink, as if the innuendo wasn’t clear enough.
That elicits a snort from you. “What kind of operation do you think this is? I’ll have you know I run a very reputable, non licensed, massage parlor here.”
It’s now his turn to chuckle. It sounds almost… surprised. Regardless, you get up from where you had been seated and roll up your sleeves.
”How would you like to do this? You can sit in front of me or lay on… my bedroll, I suppose. Unless you’re more partial to the floor, of course. Your choice if you want your shirt on either. I can do it over your clothes if you’d like.”
It’s a practiced offer on your part, but the options do seem to momentarily stun him. However, like always, he recovers quickly.
”It’ll take more than a single massage to get me under you in bed, darling. Not that much more, but still.”
You roll your eyes and move to pull forward a pillow and a small stool for the two of you to sit on respectively. Though it initially flustered you when your group first collided, you had since grown accustomed to his typical charms. It was just part of his persona, evidently, to call everyone ‘darling’ and end every exchange with an invitation to bed.
Why? As if you knew. Despite his pampered posturing, you had a hunch it wasn’t all spoil and sunshine in the city he came from. You had a feeling all of you were running from something and putting on masks to hide from it. You weren’t special in your suffering, nor his attention. Not as if you’d take him up on his offer of intimacy either if it was genuine.
If you had to choose between empty flirting and incessant whining though, you did favor the former.
You hold back on a joke about serving him your finest red to sweeten the deal, and instead sit on the short stool and gesture to the pillow betwixt your feet.
He still has that air of caution about him as he meanders over, as if you’ll whip out a stake right then and there. Instead, he sits on the pillow without much trouble, pointedly quiet between your legs. It was a little funny, looking at him like this. Certainly wasn’t a position you expected the two of you to be in, but here you were. He opted to leave his shirt on, but took off the exterior vest. Fine by you.
”Right, so where’s it bugging you the most? Between your shoulder blades? Higher? Lower?”
”Ah, just above, yes.”
He sounds almost… nervous about the whole thing and it’s surprisingly endearing.
You hum in acknowledgment. “Just let me know if I’m pressing too hard or not hard enough, yeah?” He gives a quiet little noise of approval, breath stuttering when your hands finally meet his shoulders. You then gingerly dig in with your thumbs and he groans.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, fine.”
Humming once more, you get back into the familiar groove of circling and smoothing around his upper back. Unsurprisingly, he is quite tense. You press harder without any protest from Astarion, working out knots and the like. You think you feel your fingers catching on little ridges under his shirt, but you do not question it or make comment.
Moments pass as you work, not a word shared between the two of you. A nag of awkwardness tugs at your gut. Was he enjoying it? Was this stupid thing to offer? Though you were always happy to assist your party members when able, the two of you weren’t exactly close. Amicable, sure, but only because you were so permissive of his wiles and woes…
That, and you never knew when or how to end a massage.
“Astarion?” You call gently, movements slowing.
He seems to stir a bit. “Hmmgh?” He groans indelicately. “Is something the matter?”
”Oh, no, was just checking in with you. Does it feel alright?”
A pause.
”Darling,” he says with much importance. “This feels heavenly. A much needed luxury on this barbaric journey.”
Relieved, the praise makes you grin. “See? I told you people sung my praises.”
”Yes, Yes, I’ll never doubt your accolades again. Now, would you please work back into that spot just below my neck?”
Any other day you might protest the sassy demand, but you’re feeling charitable at the moment. Damn you and your people pleasing nature. He sighs exaggeratedly as you resume, the noise likely questionable to anyone just walking by. You toil for a bit longer before your hands grow sore, broadly smoothing over his shoulders to finish before giving him a pat and removing your hands to shake them out.
“Whew, been a while,” you say cheerily as you massage your own digits. “Why don’t you stand up and tell me how you feel now?”
He grumbles at you for stopping for just a moment before doing as you suggested, rising to his feet and rolling his shoulders back. Upon doing so, he lets out another questionable sound of relief and sags relaxedly.
You also stand up, repositioning the stool and pillow to where they were and doing a little stretch as well.
”Better, then?”
He does a little spin to face you, expression light as if he had just fed. “Just divine, dear.” You hold his gaze, and he adds a quick “thank you.”
You feel your own face brighten. “Happy to help, Astarion. Maybe now Shadowheart can get some rest from you.”
He rolls his eyes. “So selfless. You do this just for her then?” He goads.
You shrug. “A little for her, a little for you, a little for me.” His expression flickers briefly before you finish. “I’m not sure how much more of your complaining I could take, haha.”
Astarion nods and hums. “Well, you’ve certainly shortened my list of grievances. I would make everyone else aware of that fact too, but I fear that may result in my private masseuse acquiring more clientele…”
That earns him a bout of laughter from you, the corners of his eyes creasing as well.
”That said,” he interrupts. “I find hunger edging its way onto that roster, so I will leave you be so I may hunt.”
”I see. Best of luck then. Don’t go tweaking your back and undoing my work, though.” As you speak, an offer you’ve been mulling over lingers on your tongue once more. ‘If you’d like, you could feed on me’.
It does not breach your lips.
Despite the fact you literally just gave the man a back rub, this offer seems leagues more intimate. Dangerous, too. You seemed to be in fair enough standing for him to not outright harm you, but what about when you were under his fangs? That, and the fact it might be interpreted creatively. To offer to let someone drink from you must carry some connotation, right?
You bite your tongue and shake your head as he turns to leave, nearly missing what he says on his way out of your tent.
“Really… thank you,” he says over his shoulder with an honesty unfamiliar from him.
Once more, you assure him it’s nothing. You get the impression it might not be to him, though.
With that, he is gone, and your hands ache in his abscense.