Work Text:
Astarion stared at you for a moment, a frown resting on his pale features which were illuminated by the moonlight. Soft shadows drew the eye to all of his minor imperfections - creases and crinkles which showed a life lived before he was afflicted with his condition. Each told its own story. Happiness and laughter; sadness and loss; anger and fits of unending madness. A man taken through the very throes of existence. The throes of being. Passionate nights and shame-filled morning afters. Every single one was a part of the vampire spawn's prior life and you could see it all mapped out on his face. His eyes looked tired as they twinkled in the radiant moonbeam, darkness making his undereye look heavy with the lack of rest. You imagined that he didn't get much of it these days. And who could blame him? The creeping feeling that Cazador might be around the next corner would be enough to put anyone off getting forty winks.
His perplexed look served as a reminder to you that he wasn't used to being offered such things voluntarily. The elf's head tilted subtly to the right as he fought to get his words out. When he finally did speak, his voice was quiet - hushed as if he were speaking sinful thoughts no one should ever hear.
"You wish for me to... to bite you?" Astarion asked, hesitant to go on in case he'd misunderstood your intentions. But your nod confirmed it for him, causing him to swallow thickly, searching your eyes for any sign of deception and trickery. "You can't be serious. You understand the implications behind that, don't you?"
What was that in his voice? Apprehension? Anxiety? Fear? Nevertheless, you told him you were serious. Never more so, in fact. You wished for him to drink from you and you didn't care about the damned implications. You would deal with the consequences later. For now, Astarion was all that mattered to you.
The elf's eyes fell to the ground as he shook his head. "I haven't drunk like this before." He admitted. "I can't be sure that I won't let myself go mad with sanguine hunger. You don't know what you're asking for, my dear." He paused and looked towards you once more. He could see that you were determined. A heavy sigh fell from his lips. "You won't take no for an answer, will you?"
No.
"Very well... if this is what you really want then I suppose we had better make ourselves more comfortable." He approached hesitantly as you lay down on the bedroll laid out beneath you. He knelt down and looked you in the eye one final time. "This won't be pleasant to begin, but trust me, it will feel better... just try to relax. Your pretty little heart will do the rest. Adrenaline is wonderful for the senses." A smirk crossed his lips.
Leaning over you, his cool breath tickled your neck before a cold, sharp pain took control of you. A gasp was all you could muster as he began to suckle the crimson liquid from within your veins. Each suck brought forth a rush of adrenaline, the likes of which you had never felt. Like floating on a cloud, your body began to feel weightless, ascending to the very heavens above. Gods, if this was what a mere bite could do, what would it feel like to truly turn into a spawn yourself?
Astarion drank hungrily, having not felt such an ecstasy before, even when he was living. He felt his skin tingle, hairs standing on end as gooseflesh covered his entire body. He too was experiencing a rush that he never wanted to come down from. Hazy, his mind began to slip, all but giving into temptation. Lust and greed, two sins he knew so well, working in perfect harmony to sate his raging appetite. The hunger that burned deep within was becoming but a distant memory for the vampire.
Supping up every drop he could, Astarion finally, mercifully released your neck, a rivulet of deep red iron trickling down your now pale skin. To anyone else, you looked just as a vampire yourself, but you two both knew the truth. Lying back and allowing the gravity to return to your body, limbs finally feeling more than mere feathers, you trained your eyes on him.
My, how magnificent he looked in the moonlight, strong and reinvigorated. You thought this must be how he looked in his youth, and it was easy to tell why he drew so many people in. You would have followed him like a lost puppy all the way back to Cazador without a second thought had you been picked by him. But now you felt special - more than just a potential spawn for his master - you felt connected to him. Connected in the one way nobody else could be.
It is as they say... blood is thicker than water.