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It had been four days since the Nautiloid crash, and Astarion was starving. The people he travelled with were all very akin to bleeding, and every injury only stroked his growing hunger. Without his master’s command to not feed on thinking creatures acting as a failsafe, he didn’t know how long he could hold on like this without jumping at a neck.
And it’s not like he didn’t feed; in fact, the wildlife around them was a feast for him, but no matter how many rabbits, boars, or deers he exsanguinated, it was not enough. At best, he felt satiated for a few hours, but then the hunger would come back full force, leaving him in a worse state than before.
When they made camp that night, he was exhausted, sore and oh so hungry. The perspective of having to eat mortal food to keep suspicions at bay made his stomach churn in anticipation. He considered turning in early for the night, then sneaking away for a nightly hunt when everyone else would be asleep.
And he was just about to do so when he heard the telltale whistle of the “leader” of their adventuring group as he made his way towards him, his tail nervously swinging behind him.
He didn’t really know what to make of Axael. The tiefling was blind and used his bardic magic to locate his surroundings, a little like bats. The regular whistling had been annoying in the first place, but became more tolerable as time passed. He wasn’t necessarily a bad company, he was witty and sarcastic, even if a little too honest sometimes, but he also was calm and rational, and honestly it was nice to have someone around who could keep up with Astarion’s teasing.
But he was a little too kind, always trying to help others without necessarily expecting a reward, and from Astarion’s experience, such a thing did not exist. After 200 years of abuse and pleading for help, seeing a man going out of his way to save some refugees he didn’t know shit about was just not fair. It was infuriating.
Even to him he had been nothing but patient and kind. Why hadn’t them meet sooner? Unfair.
He straightened at the smell of his companion’s blood, a scent that seemed to linger on his skin since that morning, having taken a few nasty bites. Of all their companions, Axael’s blood seemed the tastiest. It had something to it that seemed to make it more...He didn’t really know what kind of “more” it was, but it smelled divine. Up close, the smell was even sweeter, and the blood seemed so much tastier, if only he could have a bite…
His companion brought him back to reality by waving a hand before his eyes.
“Excuse me darling, you were saying?” He apologized, hoping he was not salivating enough for it to be noticeable. And then he remembered Axael was blind so he was probably safe anyway.
The other man chuckled at his inattention. “It’s okay, I was just asking if I could borrow a comb or something like that from you?”
Astarion blinked, trying to focus on the demand, and not his ever lasting thirst. “For your hair I take it?”
Axael rolled his eyes. “No, its for the rabbit I found on the road, I want to shove it up it’s ass, of course it’s for my hair”
Instead of taking offense, Astarion went along with it. “I pity the rabbit. And I pity you, that braid of yours will take hours to detangle.”
“Tell me about it...So, do you have one I could borrow? Please?”
“Oh no, you’re not borrowing anything,” Astarion crossed his arms, the smell of blood was so close... “You’re going to come into my tent, and let me do it for you, else it will take you hours. Consider it repayment for this morning, that hyena would have taken a bite out of me if it wasn’t for you.”
Why did he offer that? The thirst was really doing a number on him, he couldn’t back down now, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself now...If he really surrendered to the temptation, he would be hunted to death by the rest of their companions...
Axael scratched the back of his head, considering the offer. “I...Alright, if you want to.”
Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit
Astarion was going to have to take it upon himself to not jump at the tiefling’s throat. He loathed himself for the thought, but maybe Cazador’s “teachings” about restraint were going to be useful now.
He lead Axael into the tent, making him sit down on a plush pillow before taking place on a stool behind him. He grabbed a comb and returned to the braid before him and...oh this was going to be a long torture...His hair was abundant, and matted with dirt and blood. Although, he couldn’t blame him, this had to be expected from hair that long during days of adventuring without a moment to pause long enough to do this kind of things.
Technically, Astarion didn’t need to breathe, so, maybe if he stopped, it would make the abundant presence of blood more bearable? So he stopped breathing, and quickly got to work, untying the ribbon that held the massive braid in place and untangling the strands with his fingers. He stayed focused on the hair between his fingers, doing his best to not get distracted by the throbbing pulse right below.
But even from his position, as he reached Axael’s scalp, he saw his eyes flutter shut, the rise and fall of his chest slowing...His prey was relaxed, falling asleep under his touch, and he only had to reach down, just a little bit…
A deep rumbling sound interrupted his thoughts, even, and perfectly matching Axael’s respiration, like...like a purr. He knew from experience that some tieflings could achieve that when in a deep state of relaxation, or while under a lot of stress. And while this sudden change of ambience briefly shook Astarion out of his reverie, it now focused his whole attention on the vibrating throat in front of him, with it’s strong pulse, and strong scent, and…
Before he knew it, his hand was on Axael’s mouth, preventing him from screaming when he sank his fangs in his throat. He barely heard the yelp of surprise from the bard as he finally, finally tasted blood. His legs wrapped around Axael’s midsection from behind, drastically limiting his movement, and trapping his prey.
The taste of the blood rushing into his mouth was heavenly, smokey like a finely cooked meat or a well aged wine. It tasted like memories, power, and music, and it finally quenched his thirst. He felt powerful, in control, happy.
He swallowed around the wound once, before Axael stopped debating, and downright tilted his head to allow Astarion more room. To his surprise, a hand flew to his hair, gently petting it, while another came his own hand, still clamped on his mouth. He felt a gentle caress on his knuckles, urging him to let go, and, in what was probably yet another fit of stupidity, he did. He should have be worried about him calling for help, but he was quite distracted by the sweet and succulent taste of blood in his mouth.
When he spoke, the vampire barely heard him. “I was wondering how long you would last before giving in, honestly,” Axael managed to whisper with a chuckle. How long had he known? “And while I do find your eagerness flattering, next time, just ask me instead of doing...Whatever that is. Please.” He finished his sentence with a scratch on Astarion’s scalp.
Did he come in here knowing what would happen? Surely he couldn’t be that stupid, could he? But any coherent thought left him when he swallowed around another mouthful. Gods this felt so good…
But all of this was cut short after a few more sips, when Axael asked him to cut it short. He let out a sound in between a growl and a whine in response, desperate to keep tasting the divine nectar flooding his senses.
“I know, you don’t want to let go, but I still need some blood to do things like, you know, living…” The hand in his hair scratched him again, more insistently, this time. “Astarion, we both know I’m not strong enough to physically push you away, don’t make me use my magic to force you away please…”
The mention of the use of magic on him made him sober up quickly, and reluctantly pull himself away from the wounds, but it was not enough to stop him from licking them clean each time a crimson pearl formed. He had to stop himself once or twice from sinking his fangs into his already bruising throat, and fully detached himself from his companion with a long lick when he was sure no more blood would drip from him.
Axael released his hair and hand in exchange and made a face as he felt the saliva left by the elf in his ravenous feeding. He quickly moved his hands, casting a prestidigitation spell to clean them both up.
When Astarion finally completely came back to himself, he sat down next to the tiefling. “Shit...I’m sorry, this was-”
Axael lifted a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “It’s okay, you were hungry, no need to apologize for that.”
“But I hurt you! A normal person would have staked me already!”
He smiled, a little tiredly, but smiled nonetheless. “And you stopped when I asked you to. People kill animals to feed, vampires kill other people to feed, and I don’t really see the difference anyway; if I had died from your hand that would have been natural selection, nothing less. So, as long as you ask me first,” He whistled, and put his hand on Astarion’s shoulder, “You can always come to me for this, alright?”
It took a few seconds for the information to find it’s way into Astarion’s brain, but he eventually regained his countenance. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
He seemed to think for a few seconds before talking.“Well, in case you still didn’t catch that, I’m clearly not normal, nor am I sane, but, I like “full of surprises” better.”
Astarion scoffed at that. No, this man was not normal in the slightest. “How long have you known?” He asked then, still a little dumbfounded.
Axael answered with a laugh. “I’m not blind, you know...Well, actually I am, but in a matter of speaking…” He sighed, clearly annoyed by his own poor choice of words. “What I mean, is that you’re not as discreet as you would like to think you are.”
“How so?”
Even blind, the gaze he shot in Astarion’s direction was still incredibly accusatory. “Oh! A boar drained of his blood on our way! How peculiar, surely, it was a vampire!” He said in an exaggerated imitation of Astarion’s own accent. “ But it was certainly not me, the one who’s touch is cold as death and who always smells of blood! Couldn’t be me! Also, I sniff people’s throats when I meet them, but that’s unrelated! ”
“I do not do that!” Astarion replied, offended, but he couldn’t help the smile that was forming on his lips.
“Oh so you only did it when you met me? I’m flattered.” His tone was playful, and his expression was more than smug. When Astarion met them. He stayed silent for a minute, reflecting on what had happened mere minutes ago.
“Thank you, for earlier.” He hesitated. “This is a gift, you know? I won’t forget it.”
Axael hummed thoughtfully. “I will ask for a repayment, though. Just this once,” And at that, Astarion started panicking a little. He kind of expected the other man to ask something in return, and had a little idea of the something in question, as sex was the normal reward he expected to be asked of him, but honestly he clearly wasn’t looking forward to it. Not that Axael was ugly or anything, if anything, if it wasn’t for his gauntness, he was quite easy on the eyes, but the perspective of sex wasn’t really appealing to him right now. But again, Axael couldn’t be described as being “normal”. “Could you finish combing my hair? Please?”
Astarion didn’t quite expect that, but quickly put himself back together, and offered him an easy smile. “Why of course dear, just turn around.”