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Summary
“Or everyone’s favorite” he purrs, in his usual manner, only nauseatingly sweeter: “I love you”.
Your breath hitches in your throat and you can feel warmth on your hands, spine, the tip of your horns. You look at him, confusion tinting your burning irises.
You do not love Astarion and you know he doesn’t love you: your relationship is relatively new, though intense, forged on necessity and survival.
You’re certainly fond of each other, and that in itself should be enough to consider. This kind of jab leaves a sour taste in your mouth and reminds you of how terribly inexperienced he is, used to seducing victims and playing with prey, but not to intimacy and pleasure for and in themselves.
You might have to teach him a thing or two.
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After a false declaration of love from Astarion, you decide to bed him as he deserves it - in loving fashion, with adoration, even if you're not in love with him.