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“Hey. What are you fidgeting for?”
“Are you sure you want me to do this, my love?” The silver of the dagger shone as he swirled the handle with deft fingers.
“I asked, didn’t I?” Karlach only sighed, blowing a long strand of dark hair away from her face. Ticklish. She scrunched up her nose.
“Mmn… Well, yes, you did. Quite a few times.” Astarion’s pale fingers slipped through her black locks. The contrast to his skin and hair was mesmerizing. Truth is, he’d look at their interlocking limbs for hours instead of trancing - his little secret. His dagger firmer in hand, he approached the blade to the bundle of smooth darkness he absentmindedly caressed between his fingertips. But he stalled.
Karlach wasn’t a beacon of patience, and her lover’s hesitation was reaching the dangerous limit between endearing and annoying.
.
After the many ungodly months they’d spent roaming the desolation of Avernus, Karlach had little concern with keeping track of the length of her hair. But two days before they reached their destination, it inevitably happened. It was after they’d felled a particularly stubborn orthon, when she was running tired of the hours-long struggle. The damn hefty devil finally caught up with the lack of half his skull and dropped thunderously on the bloody mud. That’d taken a while.
But then that fucking cambion rose up. She was sure he was dead (he certainly lacked an arm), but alas, he was most definitely not. Quite energetic too, if the way he growled, lunged at Karlach and pulled her down by yanking her hair was anything to go by. The fucking long hair. It was just a matter of time, she knew, but never seemed to think about cutting it after they were done with the daily killings. Well, now she was quite aware of the dangers it posed in melee combat. The huge, red, leathery thing used his legs to hold her torso flush to the ground, and with his massive hand wrapped firmly around a bunch of her hair, pushed her head down on the dirt. Karlach’s face met a rock right in the cheekbone - so hard it got her dizzy. The cambion might not have had both arms, but his size and weight were no joke. A dying animal tends to be the deadliest - double so for a fucking devil.
However, things had changed for her - at least a bit (the important bit). She was not alone. And her partner was quick to make himself useful. Astarion immediately hissed with raw rage seeing the mountain of winged muscle topple his tiefling. He moved so fast one would be sure he’d used a misty step spell. His ever sharp dagger slashed the devil’s throat so deep he felt his fingers inside the scorching flesh. Unfazed, he slashed backwards, again. Overkill, perhaps, but as Karlach would wisely put it ‘fuck this guy’. He only let go of the remaining strip of muscle and bone that held the cambion’s head to his mangled body once he heard Karlach’s voice from below them.
“Ew, gross!” She spit repeatedly. “Fucking disgusting, I swallowed his blood, ugh!”
He could feel her body shift and push on the mass of dead meat atop of her. She was, indeed, drenched in red - which didn’t do that much to change her appearance, really. She always looked bathed in blood - and often literally was.
As he stepped back, Astarion could feel his muscles relaxing and the dread in his gut fading away. Relief. She was alright. She was always alright, the damn mad woman. “Are you trying to make me hungry, love? It’s working. I could kill for a meal.” A giggle.
With more appearance than effective help, Astarion ‘helped’ push the dead body off of her and away. It rolled on the ground like a sack of bloody meat. Not the tasty kind, unfortunately. Out of habit, the elf extended his hand to Karlach, who unmade her displeased face to open a small smirk at him.
“Soldier.” She briefly acknowledged his rescue as she rose up. It was nothing new, and it went both ways, almost daily. They had each other's backs and it had been so since Faerun. Thumb and forefinger pressed into her eyelids to clean the blood from at least some of her face. Her hair was drenched and she could feel her face throbbing, bruised. “Too bad?” Her chin raised a bit to show him.
His burgundy eyes scanned her entire body for injuries. Thankfully nothing major, just her cheek. “It will be. I guess it’s time we restock on some healing potions, my dear. It’ll make it heal faster.”
“Fuck. Ouch!” She poked her left cheek tentatively, to which Astarion only raised an eyebrow - a subtle ‘I told you so’. “C’mon, that’s not even fair. You don’t have enough blood to swell. This shit hurts!” She kept patting at the tender spot. “Aw, man… Bet I’m gonna look like a balloon come morning - I mean.”
He chuckled. Indeed, swollen bruising wasn’t something common for him. Even less common were mornings in Hell - for anyone. “I’ll take care of you, ballooned or not. Now let’s move. It shouldn’t be long. Hells know I need a break.”
Despite her ragged state, Karlach followed Astarion with a swing on her step. “Preach, babe.”
.
It was no wonder she’d wanted her hair cut as soon as they reached the House of Hope. She’d asked Astarion the day before, after they had soaked in the boudoir’s unreasonably large bath for hours. But he mentioned being exhausted, that he’d mess it up. It was quite understandable. They’d been on the edge, searching for possibly the only safe bit of Avernus for months. The fact that Astarion’s tiredness seemed to vanish when they’d finally laid down to sleep on a clean, soft bed did not go unnoticed. But damn the gods if Karlach was going to complain.
The awkward impasse the two of them were at now, though, was getting on the tiefling’s nerves. She turned to him from the place where she sat cross legged on the floor. Astarion could see her profile and her raised eyebrow spoke volumes. “Well, my dear. You see… I might not be the most skilled to do this, I’m afraid.” As he looked down at the fiery woman sitting between his legs, he hoped his next suggestion would seem innocent enough. “Perhaps we should just leave it. For now.”
“Astarion, I will cut it myself and you know that. I asked you because you’re good with your fingers… hands! Good with your hands! And stuff.” Gods. Could a red tiefling blush?
Too late. The smug grin was already spreading on his very satisfied face. “Oh, that I am, dear Karlach...” He reveled in the compliment for a long moment before remembering the topic was another. He cleared his throat. “But I’m not quite sure it extends to… hair styling.”
“…” Karlach turned more to watch his face. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. It was getting harder and harder for the spawn to hide anything from her. “Fuck it, gimme that.” A swift arch of her hand and she took the dagger from Astarion. “I’ll do it myself.”
She pulled all her hair over her left shoulder and was about to slice the bundle off at neck length when Astarion fumbled behind her and held her hand still with both of his. “Wait! No, no, no, don’t!”
“What the fuck, Astarion?” Ah. So he was indeed trying to have her not cut her hair. What was his deal? Did he like it? For a second she worried he wanted her to look more girly - but that was silly, it made no sense for him (he even often said how he liked her muscles). “Why don’t you want me to cut it?”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to. Well, not exactly.” His gaze did an entire round trip around the luxurious room. She was on ‘Astarion’ terms now (not her usual 'babe') - not the greatest sign.
“You saw what happened with the one armed guy. It’s gonna happen again. I can’t fight like this, it’s too big of a risk.” He still didn’t respond. “My hair’s not much use on a corpse, Astarion, no matter how nice it makes it look.”
“I know that!” He huffed in frustration. “It’s just…”
Karlach slowly brought the blade closer and closer to the hair still firmly held in her grip. She made eye contact with Astarion all the while. A threat.
“...That disgusting monster got to pull your hair!” He blurted out.
Wait - what did he just say? She looked on, but her hand went limp. “Excuse?”
It was quite a sight, the pale elf squirming uncomfortably on the chair as if the seat was prickly. He crossed his arms in protest and Karlach’s mind almost shut down when he unmistakably pouted.
“… Are you… blushing?” Her amber eyes widened so much she thought they’d pop right out of their sockets. The hand with the dagger rested on her thigh, forgotten. “Are you… fucking blushing?!”
“Oh, shut up! As if I had the spare blood to!”
Now that things were starting to make sense, his little tantrum was turning out to be immensely endearing. “You… jealous, babe?”
“Hah! Like I’d be jealous of that wretched beast!” He kept his profile to her but glanced over. Her grin was so wide her sharp white teeth were showing. From the higher angle, Karlach's eyes were half concealed by her lashes, both menacing and inviting. Ugh. Damn devil woman! What was she? Daughter of a succubus?
“Wanna grab and yank my hair too, babe?” She moved like velvet in times like this. Like molten lava. Dagger dropped on the floor, she turned to face him up from between his legs.
His eyes were helplessly attracted to the sight like a magnet. He felt the heat of her hands as she slid her long fingers up his calves, curving slowly around his knees and further up. Slow, deliberate and obscenely obvious in her intent. He couldn't hold back a shudder and it seemed like a good excuse as any to try and speak. “Aren't you a shameless woman…” When her wicked smirk only widened in response, Astarion dropped his act. The heat from her body was already at the crotch of his pants, which were rapidly growing uncomfortably tight.
Not saying anything else, but revealing much by the way her glowing engine and cat-like eyes switched to an alluring blue hue, Karlach raised her hands from his groin to wrap around his own. He let her, easily, uncross his arms and lead them.
Astarion had to take in a sudden gulp of air when she pulled his hands to either side of her head and sank them into her lush dark hair. He instinctively curled his fingers between the locks, tugging slightly - and throbbed. “Oh fuck...”
Karlach saw it - she never missed it - and, with a hum of satisfaction, was immediately back to her previous lewd endeavor. “Y’know, babe… Guess I can leave my hair long after all. Cut it only when we’re 'bout to leave our little vacation.” Her fingers worked with deftness that denoted quite some practice. “Bet you’d like that.”
Astarion was about to shoot a sassy reply but was hushed by the sound and feel of the lacing on his pants loosening, and Karlach's warm fingertips making contact with his cold pale skin. Damned devil woman.
He growled, fingers gripping and pulling. A firm and satisfied tug brought her head to his aching cock.
.