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Love Bite

Summary:

The party is invited to have dinner with Cazador, it is the worst time for Gale to forget all his table manners. Or is it?

Work Text:

"So what you're saying is that Cazador bit you," Gale mused as Astarion nodded with a bored "yes". "He bit you, made you his spawn. But to become a vampire you'd need to bite him."

"Yes." As much as Astarion wanted to pretend he wasn't dragging his heels in getting ready for the song and dance that was dinner with his master, he absolutely was trying to put it off for as long as possible. "I need to drink his blood in order to be free of him."

"Huh." Gale rubbed at the stubble on his cheek. "Interesting."

The long and short of their situation was that they'd had to seek refuge in Cazador's mansion and set up camp there. Despite the tadpoles, it had become apparent that some of the compulsions Astarion had been under were stronger. As much as he'd wanted to rage and defy Cazador, he couldn't. Not at such close proximity. So he'd slipped back into his role of charm and fawning. When neither fight nor flight were an option, fawning and fucking it was.

Seemingly a gracious host, Cazador had invited them to share dinner. He'd had quite the feast put on, food piled high, with pitchers of wine and a couple set at the top of the table, a little apart that had something equally rich and red in them but not at all for non-vampire consumption. Most of the seats were already taken by the time Astarion and Gale arrived. Tav sat to the right of the head of the table where Cazador lounged. To the left were two more spaces and Gale, without hesitation or question, settled closer to Cazador, smiling up at Astarion. If he thought putting himself between the two was in any way protective, Gale was adorably ignorant. Still, the gesture was sweet even if Astarion's nose wrinkled in disdain at being pushed down in the social pecking order.

As they sat, everyone dug in. Food was good, better than expected. While Cazador poured himself a half goblet of fresh blood, Astarion didn't touch a thing. The past had taught him well not to take anything, even when temptation was dangled right in front of him. That kind of feast wasn't for him and he would do well to remember. It didn't stop Gale. With great simplicity, he plucked up the carafe of blood, took his empty wine goblet and poured a healthy amount in before plopping it down in front of Astarion.

"Dig in," he grinned and put the carafe down within easy reaching distance of Astarion. "Oooh, there's some ribs just within your reach, think you could grab me the plate please?"

As he passed the requested plate over, Astarion's eyes met Cazador's who subtly shook his head in warning. The goblet was taken between slender fingers and delicately swirled as Astarion entertained but not once did any of the blood get anywhere near his lips. Food was passed around the table and Gale kept asking to sample more things. It was almost rude, the way he piled plates around himself, only taking a little of everything but leaving them all within reach should he need it later. Perhaps it was just as well that Cazador and Astarion didn't need more space.

Slowly, Cazador's glass emptied. He eyed the carafe in front of his spawn but Gale seemed oblivious to his silent hints. In the end, he had to say something.

"Master Dekarios-"

"Gale, please. We're all friends here, right?"

"-would you be kind enough to pass the carafe back this way?"

Hands held up, Gale wiggled greasy fingers as he swallowed his latest morsel.

"It would be remiss of me to try, I've made quite the mess of myself I'm afraid. But please, don't feel rude to reach across me for it, I won't take offence."

Only centuries of etiquette stopped Cazador from rolling his eyes and sighing at the blatant disrespect. However, if he wanted more blood, he needed to serve himself. Standing, he leaned, arm outstretched to take the pitcher. Before his hand connected with the handle, there was a blur of movement. A howl of pain went up and the table froze. Cazador was pitched forward, arm extended and Gale was near enough hanging off it. The muscles of his jaw were clenched and blood trickled down his chin. As quick as he'd sunk his teeth into Cazador's arm, he was pulling away and turning to Astarion, eyebrow cocked and a grin threatening to spill more blood from between his lips.

"Don't you dare-" Cazador's rage went ignored as Gale and Astarion near enough tackled each other. Dishes were swept to the ground as Astarion's back hit the table, Gale on top and kissing him with fervour. Those with more sensitive hearing could hear the rasp of tongue against beard as blood was licked off his messy face.

"Astarion!" Cazador bellowed. "You stop that! Get to heel, boy!"

A hand wriggled out from below Gale and Astarion didn't bother breaking the kiss as he flipped Cazador off. There were no more compulsions tugging at him, forcing him to obey. He had Gale and that was all that mattered in the moment. One by one, the rest of the company returned to their meal, somewhat unfazed by the happy couple making out on the table. After all, they weren't the first to get caught up in a moment during dinner. And they certainly weren't going to be the last.

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