Chapter Text
Astarion did not listen to a word that came out of your mouth, but your mouth was what he stared at the entire time you spoke.
He knew that you had no idea that he had seen what had taken place with Gale earlier, the way the pathetic wizard had held your shoulders and kissed you, never once asking you if it was what you wished, never noticing the way your shoulders went stiff and your hands bent into fists.
Astarion had not meant to see what he saw, of course , he only meant to go to the river to wash up, but instead, after noticing the two of you standing by your tent, he had seen the way Gale had taken hold of your arm before dragging you out of sight. He had not meant to sneak between trees and stand in the shadows, but that’s what his body did. He did not quite know why, but he felt he needed to see, he needed to hear, and from the shadows, he watched as Gale grabbed you and forced a kiss on your lips.
It took considerable effort for Astarion not to appear next to Gale and rip his throat right out.
So he held his gaze as Gale held the kiss.
When Gale stopped, and you lowered your head, placed both of your hands on the mage’s chest, Astarion heard the “—no, I can’t” you whispered, before giving Gale a gentle push.
He took note of how long it took for him to release his grip on you, the subtle way his hands tightened before letting go, the longing in his gaze and the need in his voice when he whispered “—if you would just give me a chance”.
“I said no, Gale.”
Astarion watched, ignoring the feeling in his gut that told him to go to you, to do to Gale what he had wanted to do the mage every single time he had looked at you or dared lay a so-called helpful hand on you. But he stayed still, as you walked away and went back into your tent, Astarion stayed still, in the dark, and did not move until Gale left and returned to his own tent.
The river’s stream was cold and Astarion exhaled deeply as the water hit his face. If he were still alive, his heart would be beating hard in his chest, his blood would be boiling in anger, but he did not understand why. Why did he care?
The night you two had shared at the tiefling party had been to both of your benefits. The both of you had sought companionship that night, a moment for needs, her carnal needs and your need for something else, in the hopes of manipulating you into wanting and caring for him, his need for protection. Yet, since, although Astarion had not made any claim on you, on the contrary, he understood the appeal of keeping one’s options open, he understood the need for freedom, but something in him had shifted as the weeks went by and you treated him as an equal. As you wanted him for more than his body, as you sought his opinions and seemed to enjoy his presence, gods , as you treated him like a person with worth.
Astarion stared at the water where his reflection would have been 200 years ago, and he wondered what kind of expression was on his face now. 200 years of violence, of torture, of having to be empty inside as he did what his master commanded of him, as he fucked whoever his master commanded he fuck. Until now, until you, until hundreds of choices now laid down in front of him, until this very moment when finally someone listened whenever you said “no”, and whatever that meant to him twisted in his stomach when Gale slammed his lips onto yours.
The feeling never left him as he walked back to camp. Astarion’s tent, unlike Gale’s, or Wyll’s as a matter of fact, was nowhere near yours, but he had made sure to set it where he could directly see you, this too, he gave little thought. There was a lot he would do these days that he would do without thinking, always finding himself looking for you in the corner of his eyes, listening sharply whenever he heard your voice. He dismissed it all as survival instinct, as a force of habit, as having to keep an eye on you in case you’d change your mind about him, not at all having anything to do with that knot in his stomach.
The knot gave another nudge as Astarion entered his tent and saw you standing there, your back facing the entryway.
You didn’t hear when Astarion returned, you never hear when Astarion walks, yet somehow, as you stood surrounded by his things, staring at his bedroll, breathing his now familiar scent, in his tent, you almost jumped in surprise. But the sound of his voice almost sounded like it came from inside your mind, like a chant, a prayer, until his voice echoed a little too clear and you turned to see Astarion standing so closely to you that your arm brushed lightly against his chest and you had to take a step back.
“Well, hello.” he purred “Looking for a cuddle?”
You scoffed at him. “Sorry for the late night intrusion, Astarion, I was hoping you’d have an extra Rogue's Morsel I could have, I need to craft a potion and I’m out.”
Astarion’s eyebrow raised. “Rogue’s Morsel? What use do you have for a potion of healing at this hour?”
His question took you by surprise. You had come to Astarion when you would have gone to Gale for matters regarding the crafting of potions, but not tonight, tonight you could not go to Gale.
Before you could respond to him, something flashed in his eyes and the expression on his face turned to something not entirely unlike a scowl.
Astarion stared at you up and down, he looked at your arms and then looked at your shoulders, his arm slightly twitching towards you as if he had meant to reach out to you.
“Is there something troubling you, my love? Are you hurt?” There was urgency in his voice.
“Hurt?”
His jaw clenched. “Did the wizard— ”
“Gale?” You cut him “Astarion, I’m fine, I’m unharmed.” You wanted to laugh at the silly misunderstanding, at Astarion’s exaggerated reaction to what had seemed like a colloquial request, but his face was serious and when he spoke again, so was the tone in his voice.
“Yes, Gale, did Gale hurt you? Did that disgusting man do something to you? Do you need me to kill him? I usually like to take my time when it comes to matters of the flesh, but when it comes to killing, I can be quick, I can be very quick. I’d only need a second— ”
“Astarion!” you yelped “No! What?” You waved your hands quickly, hoping to distract the vampire from his thoughts. “Gale didn’t do anything to me! I’m not hurt, I swear!”
“You,” You saw him swallow hard, his jaw clenched once again. “You’re not hurt? You swear?”
“I swear,” You whispered.
There was a pause “Right” He said.
Astarion took a step and then moved around you to the table where you’d seen him stare at the non-reflection in his mirror more than once. He reached for his bag of holding and a small laugh escaped from his mouth. “Rogue’s Morsel, was it?”
“Astarion”
“Such a silly misunderstanding, this was,” he continued “found a deer, skinny little thing, I don’t think its blood is agreeing with me, I’m partial to boar myself but beggars can’t be choosers and— ”
“Astarion”
He stood, holding the plant in his hand and waving his other hand in the air, his lips were turned into a smirk and his eyes were on you but you could tell he was looking directly through you.
“—and these are interesting times.”
“Astarion”
“Yes, pet?” Fangs flashed at you as he smiled.
“Why would you think Gale had hurt me?”
Astarion’s smile dropped. “I,” It was odd for you to see the pale elf looking for words, pausing, cautious. Was it concern, could it be fear? His eyes shifted, he’d stare at the ground before looking up at you once more. His eyebrows formed a frown, his face turned serious again.
“I saw the way Gale put his slimy hands on you.” He let the plant fall on the ground and took a step towards you. As he got closer, close enough that the all so familiar scent of bergamot, rosemary, brandy, all but enveloped you. He lifted his hand.
“I saw the way he held you. Touched you,” his hand reached out and his fingers ever so slightly touched your arm, right where your shoulder begins. You trembled, not because his fingers were cold, they were , but because it was him. It was Astarion. “there.”
“You,” Although your eyes had dropped to look at Astarion’s pale hand, so close to you yet not quite touching you. You wondered; had he even touched you at all? Had you imagined his fingers connecting with your skin? “You saw?”
When you brought your gaze back up to look into Astarion’s eyes, you saw that his mind was entirely elsewhere, and his eyes were fixated on your lips. His expression was soft, tender, and distant. His fingers gently traced up your shoulder, caressing your neck. When the tip of his fingers grazed the biting wound he had left you with a couple of days prior, you trembled again.
You should have felt cold, but your flesh burned under his touch.
With one hand, Astarion cupped your face and placed a thumb on your lower lip, his gaze never wavering. His red eyes staring down at you through his white lashes, never blinking.
“Did that animal even ask before taking what isn’t his? Could he not taste it on your lips, the total absence of desire.” His thumb gently parted your lips. Warmth escaped from between your mouth, something else flashed in Astarion’s eyes, in his mind were hundreds of choices yet they shrunk with each of your breath. “I wonder,” he started to say, but never finished.
There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted to ask, so much that caused you confusion. But the feeling of Astarion’s hand on your face, and the way he was staring was too distracting to put words together.
“Astarion,” was all you could manage.
“Yes, I saw.” It bothered you that he had seen Gale kissing, that he had seen something you had not wanted to do in the first place. You wanted to explain, you hoped that he knew what you could not put into words as the red of his eyes kept you captive.
“I may not see the appeal, but, tsk,” He sucked against the side of his tongue to really emphasize his disapproval. “Gale isn’t entirely deformed. One could even find him to be a perfectly suitable mate, if desperate enough.” He made a face of disgust.
You closed your eyes, you did not want to talk about Gale, not right now, and not with him.
“Do you know how hard it was not to kill him? How hard it was to watch him press against you?” Astarion’s voice deepened. “Tell me, what did you say to our friend?”
Your eyes opened as you wondered what exactly Astarion meant. “What?” He had heard.
“I want to hear it from you. Here. Now.”
His eyes remained fixed on you, his face hard, but there was something urgent in his voice. After weeks of travelling with Astarion, of constant flirting and sarcastic back and forth, you’d begun to know the man behind the facade, grown to detect the difference between his teasing and the words that served to hide the vulnerability that he hid underneath.
“I told him that I couldn’t.”
Astarion’s index stroked your ear. “Could not what?”
You leaned against his touch. “Could not be with him. Could not want him.”
Making sure to keep his hand on your face, Astarion placed his other hand on your hip and moved you so you would turn. The first person to break eye contact was you when you felt your feet hit the base of his bedroll. You wanted to look down but you could not allow yourself to look away. With one hand, you tried to regain balance by feeling for something behind you, but all you felt was the soft fabric of Astarion’s tent. He’d pushed you deeper into his private quarters.
Your hands had no choice but to grab the bottom of his shirt for support.
“Tell me, then.” His head tilts slightly to the side. ”What do you want?”
Want? What about what you needed? The need for him to close the gap between your bodies, the need for him to kiss you, devour you until nothing else exists, no Gale, no Cazador, no tadpole in your brain or the threat of the world ending. Just Astarion consuming you like you’re the last drop of blood in Faerûn.
“You, Astarion.” Your heart gave a painful pinch. “You know well that I want you.”
Astarion’s lips parted, but before he could speak, you continued. “I understand that what happened between us, us sleeping together, was something for one night.” His eyes widened.
“I’m no fool, you know. I understand that the way you flirt is free of actual intent, that this is just the way you speak and carry yourself, that what that night meant to me was—” Your hands loosened their grip on his shirt. “—that it was different for you.”
“So, when Gale came to me tonight,” You tried to look away from Astarion but his hand kept your face still. “When he came to me to tell me that you were toying with me, that he could give me what you couldn't—did not want from me…when he kissed me, I could not not think of you. I could not not wish it was you wanting me.”
An expression of disgust appeared on Astarion’s face again.
“I care for you, Astarion. I don’t know why you slept with me, if you did because you thought you needed to, had to.” Your throat tightened at the thought. “I would never want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Unable to redirect your gaze elsewhere, his hold on your face unmoving, you closed your eyes. You tried to push back everything. Your words, your embarrassment, the shame and guilt you were feeling at the possibility that Astarion had forced himself to be intimate with you. That the few kisses you had shared, what had been pure ecstasy for you, could have been so tainted.
Since the moment you’d seen Astarion’s back, since he’d told you of Cazador, of what had been done to him, you’d been filled with love and rage. The desire to protect him from any further harm, the need to set his abusers on fire, to give them any taste at all of the pain they had caused him. You wanted him to be whoever he was, freely, as he should have been able to be. You wished you could give him all 200 years of your half-elf life so that he could live again.
“Look at me.” He said harshly. When your eyes remained closed, you felt Astarion’s face edge closer. “Look. at. me. ”
You looked at him. His red eyes had darkened, you struggled to read the expression on his face.
“What do you think it is that I want ?” His thumbs nudged at your lip. As he parted your mouth slightly open, his thumb made contact with your tongue, it was warm and wet. His finger was cold and salty.
He let out a sound, something between a sudden exhale and a gasp. Before you could think or ask him what it meant, Astarion’s lips were on yours and it was his tongue parting your mouth open now.