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It was absolutely infuriating, unhelpful, and frankly rude. She knew exactly what she was doing. She must.
Astarion watched you sparring with Lae’zel. She was by far the most serious when it came to training and would never hold back. While you weren’t always ready for that intensity, it had been a trying couple of days and you needed to blow off steam. Or at least that’s what Astarion assumed after watching you pace around camp nitpicking for the last 24 hours. It had seemed like a mercy when you had finally asked Lae’zel to spar. Perhaps your nervous energy would finally dissipate and the whole crew could breathe for the afternoon.
You were sparring a few yards away from the center of camp but still clearly visible. Your grunts, groans, and laughs carrying over to the fire pit. Astarion was lounging in a sun beam, book in his lap, and watching the exchange of blows idly. You both moved well. It was something of a relief to watch two warriors go at it without the usual life and death stakes that accompanied your party.
Lae'zel’s hard kick landed straight into your chest and you went flying backward hitting the ground flat on your back. In an instant, she was standing over you with a blade out, the flat of it toward your neck.
“Yield!” You lifted your hands weakly, “I yield.” A slim grin crossed the Githyanki’s face and she sheathed her weapon.
“Not a bad fight.” Shockingly high praise from her. She held out a hand and pulled you into a sitting position.
“You, are unstoppable, as always.” Your chest was heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Lae’zel handed you a water skin.
You took it and drank greedily. Your lips pursed around the spout of the skin, face flushed from the fight, chest heaving. Your eyes were closed and your head was thrown back with abandon, perfectly showing the column of your neck. It flexed as you gulped down the water, pulsing. In your thirst, water over spilled your mouth and droplets coursed their way up your jaw and then down that perfect throat until disappearing into the collar of your shirt. Obscene.
He hadn’t even been hungry before this, and now he was ravenous. Astarion tore his eyes from you to stare holes into his book. Images of you in the same breathless state— but this time splayed over his lap, that beautiful neck open to him and only him, eyes fluttering with yearning—floated in his head.
What the hells was happening to him?
“Another round?” Lae’zel pulled you up from the ground.
“No, no. I know when I am beaten. I’m going to take advantage of the river and clean up before we eat tonight. But thank you! I needed that.” You waved at her and turned to head back to your tent, already stripping off your fighting leathers as you walked. The sun was warm and inviting today, but after your tussle the armor felt heavy and hot.
“Oh, Astarion. Perfect, can you help me with this knot?” He pretended to drag his eyes from the page despite having tracked your steps toward him like a cat tracking a bird. You crouched near him with your back turned. Your hands were dug into your hair holding it aside, and he saw where the light armor was tied on with leather cord at the back of your neck. That beautiful, glistening neck. You fucking tease. He swallowed and readjusted his charming mask.
“Certainly, darling. It’s good you came to me, after all, I am quite good with my hands.” He leaned toward your ear with the last comment, and was gratified to pick up on a slight tremor in your breathing. He deftly untied the cord allowing the breastplate to fall from your torso. You dropped your hair as you caught the armor. The subtle smell of your hair wafting to assault him. You absolute minx.
“Thanks!” Your voice was cheery and you shot him a wide smile as you stood back up and strode back to your tent.
Astarion crossed his arms. Not even a moment of hesitation. Not even a longing glance or a shiver at his fingers. Had there ever been a crueler mistress? He attempted to casually settle back in with his book, but his gaze remained stubbornly on the front flap of your tent.
A few moments later, you reappeared, a bag over your shoulder, a basket of washing in your arms, hair loose, and wearing the light muslin camp tunic you usually wore to sleep on hot nights. The strong warrior was now transformed into something more feminine and soft. The high slits in the side seams of the garment showed off a delicious glimpse of your thighs as you started your walk down to the river bed. You had the audacity to wave at him as you headed out.
~~~
The river was down a small hill from camp, and it glistened invitingly at you as a single drop of sweat made it’s way down your spine. This would feel absolutely amazing. You had spied large flat stones near the riverbank, perfect for laying out clothes to dry, and it had cinched the decision to make camp here. Everyone needed a bath and a laundry day after the muck and blood they’d been working their way through.
You placed your load down on one of the flattest rocks and began sorting out what to start with. Several yards down stream, Gale sat with a fishing pole, attempting to catch dinner. You waved broadly at him and he raised a hand back before turning back to his task. You waded into the cool, clear water, a shiver running up from the back of your legs, until you stood waist deep. This would suit. You had a little protection from the current with the outcropping of rocks, and plenty of room to get started. You grabbed your blankets and cloaks first, knowing they would take the longest to dry.
~~~
Astarion lasted an entire 35 minutes before manufacturing a reason to go down to the river. Suddenly, the sun was too strong out in the center of camp. His tent was too stuffy. He didn’t want to listen to Wyll and Karlach chatter, and Lae’zel’s endless drills were giving him a headache. So, it really wasn’t his fault at all that he needed to go down to the river for some peace and tranquility. Besides, the camp needed more water, so he was being helpful.
He spotted you from afar first. Just a figure stretching out a linen shirt on the large, flat rocks. Most of the stones were covered in various items of clothing. Each were carefully splayed, drying slowly, and he recognized them as yours. Your small figure did a final assessment of the basket that you had been carrying, found it empty, stretched and allowed herself to fall back into the water, submerging completely. He was at the bottom of the hill when you broke the surface of the water to come up for air.
Hells.
The sun glistened off your hair and skin as water cascaded off of you. The tunic was soaked and sticking to the curves of your hips and chest in sensual ripples. If it had been a lighter color, it might as well have been see through, but the beige tone instead obscured your form just enough to made you look like some fine work of art. Your hair was slicked back from the weight of the water, giving an edge to your looks that he’d never seen before. Your face was tilted up to the sun and your eyes were closed, simply soaking in the day. You looked carefree, he realized. He had very rarely seen you look so… joyful. It was only after you dove back under the water that he remembered to breathe again. He schooled his face back into his curated smug smirk and approached.
The vampire carefully picked his way around your drying clothes to perch delicately at the edge of the largest stone next to your basket and bag of supplies and waited for you to come back up for air. You did in short order, slightly away from shore, and lazily backstroked your way to the rocks.
“Showing off, darling?” He called, impatient for your undivided attention. He saw you flinch mid-stroke and you spun to face him.
“Astarion! Hello! Have you come to enjoy the river, too?” You pushed water out of your face as you peered up at him with a pleased smile on your face.
“Just trying to escape the racket back at camp. Though I never thought my wandering would lead me to find such a bewitching siren so close by.” The words purred out of him, the flattery coming as easy as breathing. You scrunched your nose at the compliment and giggled lightly.
“Careful, I might just drag you down into the depths with me. Isn’t that what sirens do?” You reached a wet hand up to him menacingly.
“Ah, ah, ah!” He wagged a finger at you, “You try that and I’ll truss you up, throw you over my shoulder, and brag to the whole camp about the size of the fish I caught for dinner.”
“Oh better not then,” your face fell and you leaned up to him conspiratorially, “Between you and I, I don’t think Gale can handle you out performing him yet again.” You pointed in the direction of the mage still sitting downstream, not a caught fish in sight.
Astarion actually threw his head back and laughed and an impish grin overtook your face. You settled back in the water, pleased with getting such a reaction from the moody vampire.
“Are you going to join me for a swim, Astarion?”
“Oh no, darling, I’m just here for the view.” He looked down at you with a toothy grin.
“Well I’m so sorry to disappoint, but I’m afraid this is a functional swim for me, so there will be no bathing beauties posing for your lecherous gaze.” You stuck just the tip of your tongue out of your mouth, “But if you insist on being here, you can help me out. There’s a bar of soap in my bag that smells like oranges, could you hand it to me, please?” He dutifully dug through your bag and found it, handing it over carefully. “Thank you.” You lathered your hands up and he took the soap back, placing it to dry on the rock behind him. You began rubbing the soap through your scalp, massaging deeply to loosen several days of dust, sweat, and very possibly blood from your roots.
“You prefer the smell of oranges, then?” His voice was light, just making conversation, but his eyes stayed focused on your every move, ever the predator.
“Not particularly actually. I mean, it’s a very fine scent I suppose. But if I had my pick I’d choose something more… herbal, a lemongrass maybe, I’m not sure. This was all the trader had.” You were not about to tell him that the smell of rosemary and bergamot had taken up more prominence in your mind since you had caught it on him during his late night feeding sessions. You dunked your head, gently rubbing your scalp and finger combing the soap through your hair and away down the river. He was still looking at you, lounging on one arm, head cocked to the side and blinking lazily like a cat. You were relieved for the rinse to break eye contact for a moment. “I look forward to when we are close to a proper town with a proper bathhouse, so I can have a properly hot bath. This is lovely of course, but there is nothing like sitting in a bubbling pool and letting all the stress melt away.”
“You make it sound perfectly delectable.”
“Then it’s settled. When we have the chance, we’ll find you the finest bathhouse we can and perhaps hire a few attendants to wait on you hand and foot while you soak. Would you prefer they feed you red or green grapes, your lordship?” You grinned and gestured out to him in a mock courtier’s bow. In a moment, Astarion’s thoughtful face was gone, replaced with that feline smile of his. He snatched your wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, anchoring you closer to him.
“Oh, darling, I think you know I have a strong preference for red.” He lifted your wrist to his lips as he spoke, leaving a feather-light kiss on the inside of your wrist as punctuation. He felt the satisfied heat of victory flood his gut as your cheeks flushed pink at the kiss and he felt your pulse quicken in his grasp. He released his grip. You hurriedly slipped your hand away and dove down again, kicking away from the rocks. A few seconds later you broke the surface and lazily swam back. You stood then, firmly planted in the silt and began squeezing water out of your hair.
“Hand me the smaller towel from my bag?”
“Certainly, pet.” You patted your hair with the towel a few times before wrapping it up like a turban to get the damp mess out of your face.
“And the larger one…” your words faded out as you turned to look at Astarion, but he had already retrieved the towel and stepped down from the rock. He was standing on the shore with it held open between his arms, ready to help you. The blush you had just wrangled resurged in your cheeks. It was so… kind. The snarky vampire was not often kind. At least not like this.
You slowly waded your way out of the river, the water falling down your hips and legs with every step up the river bank. Suddenly, with him standing arms open and inviting, his eyes locked on yours, you felt shy. You were aware of your tunic sticking to your figure more than when you were in the water. It had floated around you before, and the water and the air itself felt like more of a barrier. But on land, it was just you and him. You took the last step out of the water and toward Astarion.
He flicked the towel— a light thing barely thicker than a sheet— around your shoulders. His strong hands clutched your upper arms and rubbed them gently. There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t place. There was hunger, that was clear, but also something more delicate that you didn’t have a name for. Before you could figure it out, the moment was broken when a breeze blew through eliciting a massive shiver from you.
“Come now, darling. Let’s get you in the sun to warm up.” He offered a hand as he stepped back up on the rocks, careful to make sure you didn’t slip with your wet feet. He guided you to sit down.
The dark rock was warm and inviting as its heat seeped up from where your legs pressed into the stone. You wrapped the towel tighter around yourself as you let the sunlight envelop you. Bliss. You let out a long relaxed sigh.
“Feeling better?”
“Immeasurably.” You didn’t open your eyes, as you tilted your head back to sun your face.
“What had you so on edge?”
“Just a dozen little annoyances, on top of the usual horrors. I needed to feel like a human again instead of a hunted animal.”
“Well I don’t know… there’s an awful lot of fun in the thrill of the chase.” Astarion’s voice was suddenly right next to your ear. You flinched and turned quickly to meet his red eyes just inches away. He had that teasing grin that always accompanied his quips and just the hint of a fang peaking out from his lips. You smacked his shoulder lightly.
“More fun for the predator than the prey, I think.”
“Oh and here I thought you enjoyed our little arrangement!”
“You know I’m teasing. After all, you always ask like a proper gentleman before you take a bite.” You snapped your teeth at him teasingly and began untwisting the towel that had half fallen out of your hair. You began to slowly finger comb your hair out, encouraging it to dry faster. Astarion sat across from you, watching with an eyebrow quirked.
“Well all you need to do is say the word if you want to spice things up, pet. I could stalk you around the camp fire, give you a five second head start and chase you through the woods, we wouldn’t want you getting bored.” He flicked some tiny speck of dust from his doublet and flashed a blinding grin at you. You rolled your eyes lightly.
“Maybe in the future, when all of this is over. When we aren’t being thrown into life and death struggles every day of the week. Then you can chase me to your hearts content, how’s that? But right now, I need things that are…” you searched for the right word, “predictable.” He snorted.
“You make our arrangement sound so perfunctory.”
“Astarion, really?” You left your hair to turn to him fully, “You drink my blood regularly by sneaking into my tent in the dead of night as if we are carrying on some kind of illicit tryst. I can hardly call that boring. Some might even think it wild and dangerous!”
“Point taken.” He held his hands up in mock surrender. But then his lips pursed with a thought, “Darling, can I ask you a question? Regarding our arrangement.” You had moved from your hair to rubbing your arms and legs down with the towel, the hot sun was already drying patches of your tunic, granting you some limited modesty.
“Of course you can.”
“What does it feel like,” his voice had lost his bravado and become thinner with genuine curiosity, “when I bite you?” You turned sharply toward him, searching his eyes for a joke, a tease, or even some kind of darker gratification, but it wasn’t there. His brows were knit together slightly like he was genuinely curious and slightly concerned. You let out a long breath and rested back on the heels of your hands, thinking for a moment.
“Well… it has phases.” You absentmindedly ran your finger tips along the partially healed bite marks on your neck and looked out over the water, pointedly not making eye contact with the vampire so as not to lose your nerve. “The bite itself is… well it’s painful. It’s a bite after all. And there’s also a few moments of… claustrophobia I guess. The pressure of your chin on my windpipe, it sets something off in me— like I can’t breathe. But that passes quickly.” You flicked your gaze to Astarion for just a second.
His jaw was set and he was watching you closely, his red eyes burned into you so much that you had to look away. “The actual drinking is… strange. In the beginning, it’s like I can feel everything more vividly, the pebbles under my bedroll, the breeze over my skin, the shine of moonlight or lantern light in your hair, it’s all in sharp focus. And there’s a pull to get closer to you, like my blood doesn’t want to leave and if we stay connected it won’t have to. That sounds absolutely insane now that I say it out loud.” You chuckle and rub the bridge of your nose, “then I start to loose sensation in my hands and feet, and my head starts to go foggy. I start to feel faint, and that’s usually when I try to push you off, if you haven’t stopped already. That’s the worst part actually. Your presence is gone and suddenly I feel untethered and freezing cold, like I’ve lost something but I can’t remember exactly what it is. Isn’t that silly? Maybe there’s some kind of vampire enchantment there to keep your prey from resisting. But anyway, it’s an odd feeling, but it’s not bad, just… disconcerting… depending on how hungry you are.” You nervously look to Astarion again, feeling sheepish. He had crossed his legs to sit before you fully, elbows resting on his knees and hands steepled in front of his lips and chin. There was a furrow in his brow but his eyes didn’t look angry, more serious and thoughtful.
The silence stretched out between you, and you began to feel like you had said something wrong. “Astarion-”
“No, no darling. You’re quite right.” He paused again, looking out over the river and then back at you, “You know, when I asked, I truly didn’t know what I expected you to say. A small part of me was hoping it came with some kind of… positive feeling for you, a high maybe.” He trailed off, eyes flicking back to the river.
You could read between the lines. Perhaps just a shade of guilt was sneaking into the conversation whether he realized it or not. You knew this just wouldn’t do for your vampire.
“Gods preserve me, Astarion!” You sat up onto your knees and made a show of placing your hands on your hips, “just because you are perhaps the most beautiful creature the gods have placed on the mortal plane in the last several centuries does not mean that even your bites don’t hurt. No one is that perfect.” He perked up at your lighter tone and the teasing compliments, shooting you a look with just a hint of gratitude that you weren’t dwelling on the implications of his line of questioning.
“Can you blame me, darling? After all, I’ve been told many times that my lips are positively addicting, so whose to say how intoxicating my bite might be.” His signature smirk was back and you relaxed, shrugging off the towel. You rose to your feet and picked up your basket. Astarion watched as you began collecting up mostly dry laundry from the rock. You grabbed smaller things first, like underthings, which you tossed into the basket with fast embarrassed movements that he still caught no matter how nonchalant you attempted to be, then shirts, breeches, and tunics. The blankets were still far too wet to collect. You frowned as you patted at them, disappointed they hadn’t dried more. When most of your things had been collected. You set the basket down again and took a step or two closer to the elf who had stayed sitting lazily.
You knelt and gently placed a hand on his shoulder just at the juncture of his neck where his cool skin peaked out. He tensed just slightly at the contact.
“Often the difficult and uncomfortable things are the most worth doing. I certainly don’t mind a challenge, if it helps someone I care about.” You rose before he could say some quip to hollow out your words, and began climbing down the rocks, “Fair warning, I’m going to bring Gale to prestidigitate the water out of those blankets. If you don’t want to be drawn into conversation about the minor arcana, you might want to make yourself scarce.” You shot a wink at him and turned to start walking down the riverbank. It took everything in you not to turn and see if the elf was still watching your retreating back; instead you focusing on the wizard that saw your approach and was waving a friendly hand.
The vampire did indeed wait and watch you for probably longer than he should have, and not just because your damp tunic still stuck rather nicely to the curve of your ass— though that was a nice bonus. No his thoughts were on your neck and your blood and your pain.
Feeding was different with you, not just because you were the first intelligent species he had ever drunk from, but also that it was the only peaceful feeding he’d ever had. Hunting animals was, well, animalistic. They struggled and squealed until the very end. There he was an apex predator. His mind was utterly focused on the kill. But with you, he was more of a man. Because you gave freely. He didn’t need his heightened senses, didn’t need to slink in shadows and pounce, pin, and tear until he was full. Feeding from you was more like sitting down to a plated meal. It was more refined. And, Astarion realized, perhaps he had been exhibiting exceptionally poor table manners.
The thought made him itch all over. The first time you had agreed to let him feed on you, he had left the encounter acknowledging to your face that what you had given him was a gift. Perhaps he had gotten a little spoiled.
Your figure next to Gale in the distance began to turn and Astarion knew it was time for him to retreat back to camp. You were always thinking of him really, even in small silly ways like this. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think you were playing the same game that he was: charm, ally, use. He slowly retreated back up the hill to camp and disappeared into his tent.
~~~
Gale indeed helped with the last few damp blankets and cloaks. He even used magic to buff out some of the older stains that no amount of washing had been able to truly remove. Coincidentally, he was getting ready to head back to camp too; you had been wrong about his success fishing earlier. He had caught quite a few healthy looking fish and was ready to start dinner. He very kindly (and perhaps slightly flirtatiously, you could never really tell the difference between the man being friendly or… more than friendly) had offered to carry your washing basket back up the hill and, leaning into your stress-less day, you agreed. He had chatted your ear off, but you didn’t mind.
You split at the edge of camp, you retrieving your laundry from his arms and heading for your small tent and Gale to the campfire to start gutting the fish. You carefully refilled the trunk you’d been using for your clothes and then remade the bed roll with the fresh blankets. It looked so, so inviting. Dinner wouldn’t be ready for another hour or so yet. The sun was still high enough to beat down on the tent, filling it with hazy light and heat. Perhaps you could just lie down for a moment. Just a moment and then you would do something useful.
You awoke with a start to Shadowheart’s voice and her small hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently. You pushed yourself up to glance around the tent, darker now, though the sun hadn’t set entirely.
“Shit. How long was I out?” You rubbed at your face.
“Not terribly long. Gale sent me in to wake you for dinner. Said something about how you were excited for fresh fish and wouldn’t want to miss it?”
“Ugh, I was out the whole time?”
“If any one of us deserved some extra sleep, it’s you. You go on every single mission. I can’t believe you haven’t had a break down yet. And an extra hour really isn’t that much.” The words could’ve sounded flippant, but her tone was kind, “Come on. You should eat.” You waved her off as you stretched your back.
“I’ll be along in just a minute. Just need to reorient myself. If things are ready, please start eating without me.”
“Suit yourself. But if you’re not out there soon, I would assume that Gale will bluster in clucking like a mother hen.” You both chuckled at the threat and Shadowheart retreated out the tent flap. You rubbed your face more vigorously in an effort to dispel your sleepiness. The nap had felt wonderful, but you did feel mildly guilty. There was more to do to prepare for tomorrow. You stood, wrapped a shawl around your shoulders, and pulled on your boots. You pushed out of your tent.
The party was all seated around the campfire, even Astarion, which was mildly surprising. He usually hung back, but he was perched on a stump with a goblet of what you assumed was wine.
“Ah, _______! Did you enjoy your well-deserved nap? Come join us!” Gale’s cheery voice piped up from where he was dishing up food. It smelled rather fantastic. You shuffled to an open spot to Karlach’s right.
“Yes, it was…” your eyes met Shadowheart’s, “useful. Food smells good. Those fish turn out alright?” The question kicked off a monologue from the wizard about the quality of the fish, the gutting process, and the exact cooking technique that he employed. All the while he made you a plate and handed it over. You sat back down and took your first bite.
It was phenomenal. The fish melted on your tongue and paired with a kind of hearty risotto. There were roasting herbs and just a bit of a kick from some kind of pepper. The fish had a citrus sauce and crispy skin. You felt tension leave your shoulders that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and you closed your eyes to savor the taste even better. He had to have used some kind of magic in this, there was just no way that the group’s supplies were enough on their own. You swallowed and opened your eyes to see Gale’s intense gaze looking for your assessment. His eyes reminded you of a puppy and you chuckled.
“Gale, this is so good it makes me want to cry.” You rapidly took another bite and then another. The wizard was positively beaming at you from the praise. At last, the camp devolved into light chatter, almost like there was a communal breath being held and it was finally released. The air was friendly and relaxed. Even as the sun fell, the campfire kept you warm, and you found yourself laughing along with your companions’ jokes. A few times, your gaze connected with Astarion’s. He was watching you, but being more obvious than his usual glances or tracking out of the corner of his eye.
It hit you why he was being obvious. He was hungry. He hadn’t fed from you in a few days. He’d been hunting, successfully you imagined, but still. He’d said there was nothing like thinking blood. You intentionally caught his eye and gave him the barest nod. His eyes blinked slowly like a contented cat and the corners of his lips quirked up in the shadow of a smile. You turned back to listen to Karlach’s outrageous story.
The sky faded into true night and one by one, your companions left the fire to settle into sleep. There were just the two of you left when Astarion came to sit next to you. He leaned toward your ear conspiratorially.
“Perhaps I can dine in my tent tonight instead of yours, darling?” A shiver ran down your back and goosebumps raised on your arms. He sounded so seductive and you were sure he wasn’t event trying. It was unfair.
“If that’s what you’d prefer.” You whispered back, fighting to keep your voice level. You hated the control he had over you.
“Then shall we?” He stood gracefully and held out his arm, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dying fire. You took his arm.
~~~
He pulled back the curtain of his tent, the red fabric contrasting beautifully with his pale skin, and led you inside. He had rearranged things since the last time you’d popped your head inside. The bedroll had been pulled from against one wall and supplemented with more pillows and draped with a heavier blanket. It smelled of rosemary and cognac, like he’d dabbed his perfume somewhere nearby. And he’d added lanterns giving the room a warm glow stronger than the one or two weak candles that he usually had going.
“You redecorated?” You glanced at him quizzically. He had placed a cool hand over your hand in his arm, keeping you attached to him. He smiled at you devilishly.
“You noticed. Here, sit down, get comfortable.” He had guided you to the nest of pillows. You awkwardly sat cross-legged into them, not quite sure what was happening anymore. This looked more like a lover’s nest than anything else. But, you weren’t exactly going to complain. He stripped off his doublet leaving him in just his ruffled under shirt. You swallowed hard. “Are you comfortable, darling?”
“Oh, um, I suppose. Yes.”
“Good,” he circled you and sunk into the pillows behind you. “I was thinking about our conversation by the river.” His dexterous hands gathered your hair and pushed it aside to leave your neck exposed. “You’ve offered your neck to me several times and never complained once. You’re too kind for your own good. I’d like to make things more comfortable for you.” He shifted so his legs extended on either side of you. If you were to inch back just a bit your spine would be flush with his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist pulling you to him. His frame felt strong against you and you blushed knowing he could now feel the shivers he sent down your spine.
“It’s really okay. I didn’t tell you those things to be a bother. I just told you the truth.”
“Oh my noble little blood donor. Let me do this. I want to.” He pressed his forehead to your temple, “Please relax, darling. Lay you head on my shoulder, and squeeze my hand if you start to feel weak.” He slid is right hand into yours loosely. You took a shaky breath and tried to follow his instructions.
He was strong. All of him, his shoulder, the arm at your waist, even his legs that had curled up under your knees when he had pulled you back, it all felt strong. You were surrounded by him, but it felt protective instead of caging. You released a breath, more steadily this time. His lips ghosted over the left side of your neck just barely hovering over jugular.
“Ready, pet?”
“Yes.” The word barely whispered out of your lips.
He bit cleanly and with purpose. The pricks of his fangs burned for a moment before the stinging ache you’d grown used to began. You could breathe deeply through the beginning for the first time, and you took deep, even breaths from your mouth. It helped to moderate the pain. The sharpening you had talked about began and you were keenly aware of him. Astarion was suckling at your neck, and you could feel the draughts of blood travel down his throat as it flexed against the back of your own. He let out little gasps between greedy gulps and his arm tightened around you. The thumb of his right hand seemed to absentmindedly trace up and down the side of your hand. The lantern light glistened on his things: his daggers and armor set in a pile, his useless mirror, piles of books with worn covers embossed with flaking gold lief. Your left hand twisted into the plush of a pillow; it’s tassel wove between your fingers with delightful silkiness. Astarion’s hair ticked the side of your chin, and you felt one of his sharp ears twitch against you. It fluttered.
Adorable. Like the tail of an excited cat.
The world looked so beautiful like this. It was a shame really that it would all have to come to an end soon. It was meditative, serene. This was much better than when your attention was focused on the rocks poking up through your thin bed roll and smoke from the fire wafting into your face. Perhaps Astarion was right and you should’ve advocated a bit more for creature comforts. Your slow thoughts drifted back to Astarion and his lips and tongue on your neck, the feel of his chest. Your next breath came in a little faster than the previous one. Your ears caught him sighing and a quiet mewl from back in his throat.
Astarion felt your chest rise and fall and your ribs expand with your steady breathing. He was going to whisper some comment on it in your ear, but as soon as blood broke the surface of your skin and into his mouth that thought was quickly swept aside by the ecstasy of feeding. Your blood was rich and dark and full. He craved the sickly metallic tang of it. He would never admit it, but occasionally the memory of its taste had invaded his trances and he had woken drooling. It was so complete. He could feel himself getting stronger as he drank, even a few mouth fulls seemed to leech vitality into his muscles. It was so easy to get lost in it—to get lost in you: your scent, your skin, the tickle of your hair, the heat that your body radiated to him. This position was far superior, he realized. He didn’t need to hold himself above you, straining to keep his weight from crushing you. Instead, he could wrap his limbs around you and just relish in his meal.
He would be lying to himself if he tried to claim that there was nothing special about your blood. He’d fed on fallen foes throughout your adventuring, but those were functional meals, bitten quickly before they could succumb to their injuries and sucked dry before their hearts stopped. Their blood was filling and empowering, but he was high on bloodlust and the thrill of battle. There was no time to enjoy, and he had barely a memory of the feel of them once his fangs detached. This was more like a five course meal. Feeding like this was languid and luxurious and it alighted all his senses. He was desperate for it. As he consumed, he was consumed.
He felt your hand lightly squeeze his, the signal that his meal was coming to an end. Your fingers felt clammy and your grip trembled slightly. He stopped sucking and squeezed his eyes shut to focus on these last delicious mouth fulls. He squeezed your hand back, his grip warmer than before, and continued to rub soothing circles over your knuckles. His tongue lapped at the small bite marks, unwilling to let a single drop go to waste.
“Easy, my dear,” he murmured into your neck, “give me just a moment. Stay right where you are.” His hand left yours and felt around for the bandages he’d stashed among the pillows. He languidly disconnected his mouth from your neck, adding a few small pecks to the bites as blood bubbled up. Finally, he pressed the cloth to the wounds with enough pressure to stanch the bleeding. His right arm laid heavy across your torso and pined your arm to your side. Somehow you found yourself mindlessly stroking his knee. Your head was heavy, and you were grateful he didn’t want you to move.
“You were right.” You mumbled out barely over a whisper. Astarion chuckled.
“I always am, but what specific account are you referring to, my pet?”
“That this could be more comfortable.” Your whole body shivered as the bloodless-ness set in. Astarion hummed in agreement as he checked the bandage and saw that you were clotting well.
“I’m glad the experience is more to your taste. If it helps, I quite enjoyed it too. As always, you taste magnificent, darling. How are you feeling? Dizzy?”
“Not too much. Just very cold at the moment.” Another shudder rippled up your back.
“Here.” He shifted you off his shoulder and against his right arm, hooking his left under your knees, and gently laid you among the pillows. You bit back a groan from losing his strong frame behind you. Astarion dragged a blanket over you and affectionately swept your hair back and out of your eyes.
He stood and retrieved a water skin and some dried fruit from a small table in the corner, and quickly returned to your side to sink into the pillows. “Shadowheart said that eating and drinking after blood loss can help you feel better.” You pushed off the ground and Astarion’s arm wrapped around your shoulders to help you up.
“You know I’m not that weak, silly vampire.” You grinned up at him as he held the water out to you. You drank deeply.
“Call it part of the experience. Here. Eat.” He held a slice of dried orange to your lips. Dutifully, you bit down and chewed. It tasted sweet and bitter at the same time. Just like him.
“How do you feel?” You asked between nibbles. Astarion let out a dry laugh.
“Darling, I feel…” He paused and took a deep breath, rolled his head back, and chuckled, “I feel positively wonderful.” He sounded almost tipsy.
“You getting ready to go hunting? Find a full meal?” He pushed a dried apricot past your lips. He paused for a moment at the question. He had a particular expression on his face. One that you couldn’t immediately characterize. He turned away slightly to inspect the bag for another piece of fruit.
“You said you didn’t like being alone after feeding, so I thought I’d stay. At least until you are resting and more recovered.” Even you could pick up on the affected nonchalance in his voice. He was trying so hard to seem indifferent, but clearly your conversation had stuck with him.
“Does that mean you would like me to stay right here tonight?” You nestled down a little deeper into the nest of blankets and pillows as emphasis. “After all, you’ve made it very comfortable.” Maybe it was a trick of the light, but you almost saw the barest hint of a blush rise in Astarion’s cheeks. You took another sip of water.
“Yes. I think that would be best.” He moved to push another slice of orange to your lips, but you plucked the fruit from his fingers and caught his wrist. For once, he was the one noticing your cold hands.
“Thank you for taking care of me.” You whispered, “I promise I won’t tell a soul.” And you placed a feather-light kiss to the tips of his fingers. You released his hand and stretched back over the pillows with a squeak and a sigh. It hung there for a moment as the vampire hesitated to pull away. Finally, he pulled his hand back into his lap.
“Yes. Well. Thank you for feeding me. Doing the difficult thing, like you said.”
“You keep this up,” you motioned to the blankets and fought off a yawn, “I’m not sure I can count it as difficult anymore.” You yawned again so wide this time that tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. “I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time, Astarion. Maybe you do have some kind of spell on me.”
He let out a low, melancholy chuckle, and stretched to reach the tome he’d been reading. After retrieving the book, he settled himself down in the pillows with you— not too close, not touching at all in fact, but near. “No spells, darling, just my enchanting company.” He shot you a wicked grin that was all teeth. “Now you rest. Don’t pretend you’re not fighting off sleep.”
“But…” He caught your hand and brought the back of it to his lips in a gentlemanly kiss. His blazing red eyes met yours over the contact and you felt yourself begin to blush. His gaze was steady and just a hint demanding.
“Hush. You’re not missing anything. Tonight’s dinner party is over, and I will see you in the morning.” You nodded just slightly.
“Okay… Astarion? Will you be hungry again tomorrow night?”
“Only if you’re on the menu, darling.”
~FIN~