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Tagged by: @khywren Thank you for the tag! I've been enjoying Ysera's story so far from your WIP's I've read.

Here's one last unedited update from Chapter 1 of 'Slip Away Today' that I MIGHT be posting tomorrow, but at least in the next few days. Yeehaw, cowpokes!

He lifts a brow, curiosity begging to be indulged. Can he trust her? Her bounties say otherwise. But, emotions are a hell of a blindside when it comes to someone he once cared for. Cheekily, he taps twice at his fang. “And what’s my reward if I decide to engage?” World is in slow motion when her head pivots, craning her neck to regard him directly. Wintery blue eyes and sun-kissed freckles dabbled across her delicate rosy upper cheeks, welcome him from underneath her hat. She’s aged a bit, couple more smile lines added. Her weight gain has filled out her curves in a way that dampens his mouth.  Hells, how is she still so lovely? “I think you know what your reward is,” she simpers, tugging her scarf down to show him the surface level cut she made on the side of her neck.  Nostrils flare, transfixed by the coagulated droplets along the cut’s seam. “After this, we need to talk,” Astarion fans out shakily, somewhat keeping his composure. Bonnie blows him a kiss. “Don’t worry, I won’t slip away—not yet anyways.”  Least she’s being honest.

Tagging: @inkymoonbunny @xxnashiraxx @verbenaa @preciouslittlebhaalbae @busy-baker @zozoparsnips (not sure if you've been writing again yet!) @elinorbard

Only if you guys want to share anything, but no worries otherwise! ♥

Until You Chapter 17: Only Star

It is here. It is 20k+ words long. It broke my heart. I love you all.

Chapter Summary:

Bonnie and Astarion strangely reunite after five years of separation.

»»——⍟——««

Chapter 1: Eye on the Sparrow

Ao3

Next Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: Astarion x female western bard OC

CW: Language, Violence, References to Trauma

»»——⍟——««

Loud roars roll out of the Elfsong Saloon like thunderstorms tumbling down from the eastern mountains. The old fir building is abnormally packed for the beginning of the week, damn near every civilian poking around in Baldur’s Gate spilling out of its batwing doors. Oil lamps hang outside, blazing like devils around the raucous place. 

Astarion approaches the saloon, garnet eyes nearly aglow with want in the pitch dark night, lured by the faint scent of blood. Not just any bouquet, mind, but one that belonged to a woman named Bonnie Sparrows: enemy; friend; brief lover. It’s been nearly five years since he last saw the elf, having hightailed it out of her vicinity shortly after they finished what they set out to do, yet her aroma stuck around in his mind like a habit he couldn’t quit. The sweetest swill he’s ever had: honeyed milk and sugar violets. 

He runs his tongue along his upper gums, trying to alleviate the ache in his fangs without any success. Dangerous move, Bon, the vampire smirks to himself, knowing she’s brought him there on purpose as an open invitation he couldn’t refuse. See, that’s the thing about Bonnie, she did everything with intention. Foolhardy or not, she deliberately put all her thoughts and actions into whatever goal she was meaning to achieve. 

As his boots drag him past a few horses tied to a wooden hitch post, he hears them softly snort, sensing his existence as the predator that could feast upon them at any moment. He eyes the closest one, pupil shifting to the side to view it better. “Vile creatures. More prone to biting than I am…well, almost,” he mutters under his breath. 

“My, my, is that the renowned gunslinger Astarion ‘Crimson Eye’ Ancunín or do my eyes deceive me?” a high-pitched voice twangs, interrupting him from chastising the unsettled equines. 

Astarion lifts his head to see an amethyst-skinned tiefling leaning seductively against the outdoor railing, breasts giving him a generous greeting as they pour over the top of her silken bodice. She’s clearly one of the lost, a prostitute that’s seen too much, judging by the dark bags under her eyes. His stomach drops, wondering if he had looked as raddled as she does before his former master died. He reckons he was fortunate he couldn’t see his reflection anymore during that era, the last of his repressed humanity at risk for disappearing if he had ever gotten a glimpse of himself. Two centuries of brutality and starvation does something to a person that never does seem to leave their outer appearance, always embedded just beneath the pores. 

A silver curl peeks out from under a weathered black cattleman hat as he tips the edge at the lady. “Good evening, darlin’,” he replies politely.

The woman smiles wide, lifting layers of purple petticoats to curtsy. “Now how come I never see you at Sharess’s Caress with a mare or stallion in your lap, hmm? Handsome feller like you would be treated like royalty there!” 

Astarion can’t fault the whore for being attracted to him, he is a beautiful man, anyone with at least one good eye could see that. Head full of snowy waves, opalescent skin rivaling the moon’s luminance, and a sharp jawline, he’s as every bit of a refined-looking gentleman that immortality would allow. Not to mention, he possesses an educated mind with a debonair that easily beguiles others that is typically uncommon in western Faerûn.

Only hiccup he has to worry about is the populace discovering he’s a vampire spawn. Creatures like him aren’t well-received—perhaps understandably—especially in recent years. Taking up a vocation as a bounty hunter has allowed him space from people suspecting, tending to be more interested in his attractiveness and marksmanship than that fact that his accent seems to lack the same present day drawl or that he never exhibits an appetite for mortal food. 

Still, a frown falls upon his face. He understands the woman is just trying to make a living, enticing him for coin in exchange for her adept services, but the glint in her eye tells him she meant what she implied. It didn’t matter the amount of time that had passed since he was last forced to use his body for another’s pleasure—much like the soiled doves at the brothel house—folks still continue to view him as only a sexual object. 

He takes a moment to check the threading in his cowhide gloves while he rearranges his thoughts. “As much as I appreciate your tempting proposal, I am far too busy draining this city dry of all its bad blood,” he says, showing off his pearly white teeth.

The tiefling swiftly descends the stairs in front of the saloon, meeting him at the bottom. Her hand wraps around his bicep and she pulls herself flush against his chest. “Well, how about you take me inside and buy me a drink then? And if you’re feeling up to it later,” she purrs into his ear, dragging a manicured nail down his jawline. “you’re more than welcome to wet your wick inside me.”

His breathing stops.

No.

She’s pushing and pushing.

No.

Frisking the point of his ear.

No.

He doesn’t want this.

No. 

This isn’t okay.

No. 

NO!

Anger glazes over his eyes as he feels his body freeze from her touch. He focuses on an object, any object. There. Decorative beads hanging from her horns. That’ll do. The colors are dim at first, but then burst with vibrancy. He takes a breath, feels his chest rise and sink. Two men exit the building, singing a drunken ditty. They both come into clear focus as another puff of air enters his lungs. And then sound begins to break through the fuzz in his ears. Laughter. Words. The clinking of cups. Finally, a familiar heartbeat. Bonnie.

He is safe and he is here. 

He is safe and he is here.

He is safe and he is here.

Astarion doesn’t seek out the woman’s face, but instead snatches her wrist, yanking it back. “This is the only warning you’ll get to keep your hands off me,” he warns with a hiss. 

Her bronze irises dilate, shocked at his reaction. “Didn’t mean to upset you none,” she laughs nervously, flinching as though she were used to a man handling her in a rougher way than he did. “I—” her tone lowers, violet cheeks darkening with blush. “I can give you a fellatio, if you’d prefer. But please don’t tell no one. They wouldn't take kindly to knowing I did something like that.”

Nasty fluid burbles in his upper throat as he releases her. The woman scuttles a couple steps backwards and rubs her wrist. “Just…stop talking,” he manages, panic subsiding as his surroundings sharpen into view again. “I would suggest flying back to your coop for the rest of tonight.” He dips into his vest pocket to pull out a few gold coins, tossing them her way. 

With cupped palms, she catches the shiny discs. “Truly am sorry about what I’d done,” she apologizes, bending down to shove the gold into her boot. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll be waitin’.” She’s additional apologies and hair ringlets swaying as she delivers a courteous bow, gradually departing down the street back into the night that beckons her.

The pale elf pauses, allowing an ounce of pride to wash over him for setting a boundary. He’s getting better at buffering those intrusive episodes as they occur, inner wounds covering themselves in scar tissue, lessening the pain with every midnight chime. It’s a lonesome road he sometimes travels, struggling to counterbalance his trauma and daily life built up by thousands of former strangers’ hands gliding down his statuesque form like a cactus prickling at his flesh for a single night of passion he didn’t have a choice in. Touching him had been a death sentence. For his conquests. For his abuser. For his broken soul. 

Gruff men’s brays explode from the saloon when Astarion belatedly enters. Feathered fans open, intentionally tickling patrons' noses as their feminine owners entertain with songs and sparkling tasseled shoes. Liquor pours on end into glasses of all sizes. A slurred heated discussion concludes when a businessman lays unconscious on the floor next to his punched out teeth.

But, amongst the boisterous crowd, the vampire finds her. 

Bonnie is leaning against the bar with that coppery red hair resembling a fox’s fur, loosely cascading over her shoulders, with booze pressed to her lips like she’s been a regular since the place was built. Her worn pecan colored hat is pulled down enough to solely hide the top portion of her face, revealing only a pair of heart-shaped pouters as pink as sunbeams passing through a cloud. 

He’s admittedly apprehensive to approach the lady; they didn’t part on the best of terms. And life changes people, for better or worse. The Bonnie he knew may be lost to a past he would have to mourn in the dust. Was he prepared for that? To slough her from his memory like a rattlesnake sheds its skin. He furrows his thick brows, contemplating if he should leave before she notices him. No, he needs to properly face her. Put things to bed so they could both move on without any lingering questions.

Besides, unbeknownst to her, he’s there for far more than a trip down nostalgia lane or his lust after her crimson draft. Woman has warrants out on her name and a man has a bounty to collect. 

Spurs clank as he trudges along towards the bar, spiked rowels tapping the hardwood beneath him. Astarion offers a nod to the dancing ladies and buzzed buckaroos on his way, avoiding their conversations until he reaches his destination standing next to Bonnie. He billows out his jacket, positioning his elbows onto the countertop. 

“What can I get you, honey?” an older barmaid riddled with white sunspots inquiries as she cleans out a glass for him.

“You’ll break my cold heart if you tell me you don’t serve red wine in this fine establishment,” he replies, turning on his charm with a wink.

“We do try to keep folks happy ‘round here,” she chuckles, obviously falling for his flirtatious demeanor as his head carelessly props up on his fist. She searches a shelf behind her, procuring a green bottle, then pours the maroon drink into his cup. “Here you are. That’ll be two silvers.”

“Thank you.” He slides the change across the counter. “Extra for a tip.” The barmaid smiles at his charity, collecting the money, ready to serve another customer that’s walked up.

Bonnie’s heart starts pulsing wildly, a bison stampede alive in Astarion’s ears, knowing that she immediately recognizes his voice. She’s anxious. Bonnie “The Duet” Sparrows is anxious. Around…him. This is a woman he saw take down ten bandits while she hummed a piano sonata to herself without breaking a sweat! 

He can’t help but grin to himself, smug with satisfaction that he caught her off guard. Second time he accomplished the feat with her. First being when he unexpectedly fucked her on his mortal grave after Cazador perished. He never had something so godsdamned ethereal beneath him, with his bite marks adorning her peachy skin, claiming her as his own. 

Then, he ran. Leaving her a shivering babe on his unhallowed tombstone. Terrified to want. Doubtful his yearning for an intimate connection without sex would ever be sated. 

“Here for the show, cowboy?” Bonnie asks, smiling into her glass of whiskey. Her tone is peculiar: sultry; richer; an octave lower. Not what he remembers. 

Astarion chances a quick glance at Bonnie’s side profile, breath stuttering when he makes out the details of a turkey vulture feather tied into a short braid tucked behind her ear. After all the misery he brought on her, she kept that ugly thing like some memento she couldn’t let go. Maybe she’s forgotten about its significance and just likes it dangling from her strands, but that wouldn’t match who she is. She’s wearing it on purpose.

He doesn’t remark on the accessory, opting to leave their reunion unsoured. Instead, he recollects how she got that feather in the first place. Her gang was starving, food scarce on the frontier, and he assisted her in hunting down some vultures as a last resort. At first, he agreed for his own selfish reasons, needing to further manipulate her into trusting and caring for him so she’d help him smoke his master. Then, Bonnie had plucked out one of the bird’s feathers, telling him that the critters reminded her of him: lives circling, harbinging death, but hiding light in their wings. He told her his wings shattered ages ago and she squeezed his hand something sweet and thoughtful, murmuring that “stars shine brightest in the dark.” Astarion hadn’t ever been touched in a way without someone expecting relations in return. From that moment on, his feelings towards her were complicated. 

“I guess that depends on what kind of show this is and if it’s worth my while,” Astarion answers, nonchalantly sipping his wine. 

Bonnie wets her lips. “Mm. I think you’ll be fond of the main event, but it’s the grand finale that’s guaranteed to really shoot off.” 

He smirks, pleased that their coded exchanges haven’t altered. Though, he does briefly wonder if she brought him here to get rev—

“Not here for revenge if that’s what you’re thinkin’,” she clarifies as if reading his mind. Thoughtlessly, her fingertip traces along her glass’s rim. “Got other business that brought me here.”

A sigh of relief quietly sneaks through his lips. He turns, wine in hand, back now pressed into the counter as he scans the locals. “Then, I’m all pointy ears.”

Bonnie nods in the direction of an unkempt man and woman—drows—trying to avoid her gaze. “Two fleas with black bandanas and a red sigil stitched in.”

Scarlet eyes narrow at the couple, studying their behavior. They’re jittery, anticipating things to probably end badly. Astarion hears them chattering fast, but can’t make out what they’re saying amidst all the excitement. Helping Bonnie out of this would be the perfect way for him to capture her. He knows she intends to pay him, hence her blood she deliberately spilt to persuade him there. Feeding on her will get him close enough to tie her up, a flawless plan.

“What did you do for those roughnecks to trail you?”

“I lived,” she breathes out somberly. 

He lifts a brow, curiosity begging to be indulged. Can he trust her? Her bounties say otherwise. But, emotions are a hell of a blindside when it comes to someone he once cared for. Cheekily, he taps twice at his fang. “And what’s my reward if I decide to engage?”

World is in slow motion when her head pivots, craning her neck to regard him directly. Wintery blue eyes and sun-kissed freckles dabbled across her delicate rosy upper cheeks, welcome him from underneath her hat. She’s aged a bit, couple more smile lines added. Her weight gain has filled out her curves in a way that dampens his mouth. 

Hells, how is she still so lovely?

“I think you know what your reward is,” she simpers, tugging her scarf down to show him the surface level cut she made on the side of her neck. 

Nostrils flare, transfixed by the coagulated droplets along the cut’s seam. “After this, we need to talk,” Astarion fans out shakily, somewhat keeping his composure.

Bonnie blows him a kiss. “Don’t worry, I won’t slip away—not yet anyways.” 

Least she’s being honest.

“How are we doing this?” he asks, setting his barely drunk glass down. 

She rustles in her back trouser pocket, presenting a minted coin between her index and thumb fingers. “Remember how to do the ‘Whistlin’ Bullseye’?”

He scoffs at her, crossing his arms defiantly. “Really? That’s your grand strategy?! Why don’t I just convince them to join me outside and dispose of them the old-fashioned way: my teeth.”

A finger flies up to her mouth. “Shh, keep your voice down, will ya? Listen, I’m not looking to kill them, just…run them off. It’ll make things worse otherwise.”

His gaze softens. “Bon, I—“

“‘Starion, please,” she pleads, flicking her lengthy lashes up at him.

Astarion’s head is spinning, lost in her cool eyes. He never could say no to her. “Fine. We do this quick.”

She smiles big. Hopeful. Spirited, lovely, Bonnie. “You know the signal.” She rolls up her sleeves and squats down to pick up a fiddle case he hadn’t noticed, unlatching it to remove the instrument inside. The rest of her whiskey is shot down her gullet in a singular gulp. “Now wait here, I have a show to do.” 

He watches her hips sway—ones he had dug his fingers into for dear life as she moaned his name—leading herself to a neighboring table already occupied. One of the men seated respectfully allows her to hold onto his shoulder as she hoists herself up onto the furniture. The vampire stays put, patiently skimming his digits along his revolver’s grip stuffed into his waistband.

“Could I have everyone’s attention?” Bonnie hollers, waving that fiddle bow in the air. Head after head rotates in her direction, voices dying on imbibed tongues. A few wolf whistles rise and fall. Astarion rolls his eyes at that. Bastards are nowhere in her league. 

“Much obliged,” she says, tipping her hat. “I know too many women aren’t known for playing the fiddle out in these parts, but if you’d allow me, I’d love to play a song for y’all.”

“Sweetheart, you can do anything you want to us!” a random person yells aloud, causing the building to erupt with mirthful hysterics. 

In the racket, Astarion tracks the couple from earlier. They’re whispering harshly now, absorbed in a private argument. What is he up against? One…no…two measly pistols by his observation. Idiots. 

Bonnie is grinning ear to ear, pretending their pathetic attempts to flirt are funny. “Alright, settle down.” A wave of silence rushes through the crowd again. It’s been a long while since Astarion last heard her sing, longer yet since he listened to that chordophone in her hands. 

He waits, dislodging his ear canals of any interference. He waits, a twist of elation behind his ribs. He waits, desiring to be captivated with her nightingale song that once soothed his hurt. He waits and waits and waits, but she does not sing. 

What Bonnie does do, is furiously run that bow along the fiddle’s strings like an exorcism she’s committed to jigging out. It’s odd, unprecedented even, that she’s not purifying the room with a seraphic hymn. Usually, she belts out a chorus in between her fiddle solos, expanding her diaphragm that naturally soaks the spotlight. 

Astarion’s sight clings on the slightest twitch at her lips, quivering as it does when she’s mulling. Why isn’t she singing? He nips his inner cheek. There’s a begotten memory of her, a spell that breaks inside him in a way that history’s been rewritten. Could something awful have happened? Bonnie’s whole life is attached to music, to song. He could ask her, set aside their wavering qualms tangling them together, but he wasn’t sure it was wise to crack open that coffin containing their heartstrings when he didn’t know what else would spew out.

Boots are tip-tapping on top the table as she continues to play, maintaining her hastening tempo. The audience is clapping, encouraging her with praise. Sweat bolts down her temples and disappears beneath her shirt’s collar. Lit lantern twines are quaking as notes sporadically bounce from the ceiling rafters. Bonnie’s eyes raise from the fingerboard on her instrument, sweeping out to find Astarion. She winks at him, a cue that it’s time to let his silver fly. 

It’s the coin she tosses above her that kicks off the havoc. She whistles, shrill and crisp, then crouches low with her hands basketing over her ears. Astarion clutches his gun, ripping it from the front of its snuggled up place in the front of his pants, and shuts one eye as he aims at the coin.

Rhapsody. That’s what he calls the revolver. One of two he owns. Pewter and gold, rubies inlet into the frame. Cazador Szarr’s old weapon that Astarion nabbed, vowing to cleanse its evil sins by practicing being a do-gooder where it counts—somewhat. No one cares about murder when it comes to killing the right folks and he did enjoy the added tidbit of instilling a little fear that comes with being a gunsman.

Smoke plumes appear after the gun’s recoil, happening faster than the eye can see. Identifying the culprit seems less important than chancing death and the saloon soon ignites into screams. People scamper about like pill bugs until the place is cleared out, leaving behind half-filled spittoons and toppled liquor cups rolling gently in place. 

Bonnie hops down from the table, rushing to the doors to peer out into the evening. “Don’t see anyone lingering. Can you sense them?”

Astarion walks to the table, bending to retrieve the fallen coin. It’s warm in his palm, his gun’s bullet fragment lodged into the circular object’s engravings. He inhales a practiced breath through his nose. “The only scent I detect is yours, darlin’. Seems like your rats got scared away by your reckless scheme.”

She laughs. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I still believe my method would have been less sloppy, but seeing as we haven’t seen each other in years, think of it as a ‘welcome back’ gift.”

“Then, I guess I should count my lucky stars you showed up.” She saunters to the bar. He can hear her shuffling around, glass tinks echoing, whiskey pouring into a glass. She whirls, facing him with drinks in her hands, one being the wine he purchased earlier. “Have a drink with me while we chat? Before you get your payment. For old time’s sake.”

There’s something in the vacillating fog that separates them, warning him to decline. He should harden himself to her, seize her for his bounty, and leave. Praying to himself for the courage to ignore that kind smile and valor she retains. His mind doesn’t catch up until after he already agrees, shaking his head more eagerly than he expects. 

They sit across from each other at a fairly spotless table, Bonnie sliding his glass to him. “So, a bounty hunter, eh? Can’t say I saw that comin’.”

He places the glass rim between his lips, allowing the burgundy liquid to splash against his teeth. “Let’s not avoid talking about that little stunt you just pulled. Why is the Baenre Gang on your hide?” Astarion asks, intently staring at her. 

The gleam on her expression dissipates. 

“Did you think I didn’t know?” he persists, thinking about the cherry-red spiderweb sigil embroidered on the drow’s bandanas. “Baenre has been expanding their territory this past year, causing quite the panic throughout Faerûn.”

She purses her mouth. “I don’t particularly want to talk about them.”

Astarion glugs the rest of his wine. “No? Then, let’s talk about these warrants that are out for your immediate arrest. Since when did Bonnie Sparrows reduce herself to nothing more than an imprudent criminal?” he chides.

Bonnie blinks at him, tilting her head. “Why don't you remind me what crimes I’m being accused of?” she goads.

He holds his hand and starts to count. “Robbing a stagecoach, stealing a horse, arson.” His skin pinches together in the middle of his brows, distraught by the last offense he means to speak. “And the murder of the Harper Clan’s leader, Jaheira. I don’t understand, Bon, wasn’t she like a mother to you?”

Tears well up as she bites her lip. “How do you know I was the one who committed them?”

Astarion’s fist knocks on the table twice. “Eyewitnesses. Bullets similar, if not, identical to that peacemaker you’ve always been packing.”

“You believe the evidence?”

“It’s overwhelmingly pointing to you, unless you can come up with reliable alibis.”

Bonnie swivels her head, evading his scrutinizing glare. He thickly swallows, partially dreading what he has to do next. Rhapsody raises from under the table, aimed at her elegant neck. She slowly sails those almost translucent baby blues to the firearm and fucking smirks.

“I don’t care about most of your transgressions—hells, some of it even sounds fun—but killing the savior of the Shadowlands has turned the whole continent inside out and they want blood…your blood,” he says, clicking back the gun’s hammer. “Be grateful it’s me that found you and not someone else that would crucify you on the spot. Given our history, the very least I can do is be fair to you.”

The room begins congesting with her disruptive sardonic laughter, thrashing her head back, something tittering on denial and sorrow. She holds up her hands in the air. “Suppose I need to fess up! Sure, I did it and I enjoyed every moment of it,” she growls, suddenly throwing her peacekeeper and a knife onto the table. “Here. Confiscate them. Let’s get this over with before dawn melts your ass to a crisp and I’m blamed for your death as well.”

Astarion eases himself from his seat, revolver steady on his bounty. Gradually, he inches closer to her, watching—always watching—her movements. Have to expect the unexpected with a woman like Bonnie, no matter how tenderhearted she might be. He gestures the gun tip upwards, motioning her to stand, proceeding to unhook ropes from his wide belt. 

“Hands and legs together,” he instructs. “I think we both understand that if you try anything, it’ll end very badly for you.” Of course she knows; she’s been privy to his gunwork on several occasions. He’s a swifter, deadlier draw and if she tries to tempt fate by running, either his lead or fangs would get her.

She stands, kicking back her chair, putting her arms in front of her body as requested. The spawn decocked the weapon’s hammer, cramming it back into his pants. He shakes out one of the ropes, folding it in half, and sets forth on wrapping it around her wrists. 

He’s glad he has gloves on, skin to skin contact guaranteeing he’ll burst into flames as his fingers coast against her flesh. A cinch is formed in the middle when he brings the rope underneath, looping it back up until he knots it entirely into a perfect double column tie. He gives it a precursory tug, peeping at her through his unfurled black lashes. “Does it hurt?” he questions, deeper than intended.

“N-no.” That flush on Bonnie couldn’t be missed, descending from her face to her neck. She’s wholly dazed when she finally looks at him with half-lidded eyes. Astarion wonders if the abrupt fresh odor of mellifluous musk, delightfully invading his nostrils, is her arousal. His stomach flutters. “You know, I always did want to be tied up by you.”

Her admission inconveniently goes straight to his cock, making the poor neglected thing jolt behind his leathers. “Flirting isn’t going to get you out of this.” Astarion tugs the knot again, rechecking his handiwork. “But, I can assure you, it wasn’t for a lack of not wanting to. You just always managed to escape from my grasp,” he pokes in return, unable to resist a bout of coquetry. 

Sussing out the knots he should use on her ankles, he slinks southward onto his knees. The next rope binds her comparably to her wrists, squarely knotting it and making sure the bight is in a perfect position. Again, he pulls on the rope, testing for its security and her comfort. 

“Not gonna let me go this time?” Bonnie says softly.

“This time? What do you mean—” Pupils enlarge as he raises, organs contorting when he finds her gaze a wistful longing. Fragile. She’s all fragile. He grabs the knot at her wrists, grazing his thumb alongside it as if to console her. “Bonnie…I never meant to betray you.”

Ichor fiercely rushes to her parted lips. “Save it. I’m not interested in rehashin’ the past with you,” she spits.

“Then, why’d you come back? You’re not a dumb woman; you had to have known the law would be on you as soon as you entered the city. So, why?”

“Some things are more important than my wounded pride,” she whispers, boring her eyes into his. “I also had to see.”

“See what?” he inquires, feeling her heat rising from her skin.

“See if you would listen,” she responds flatly.

“Listen about what?” Something is amiss. Intentional. Remember, Bonnie is intentional. But, Astarion is ensnared by her warmth and her perfumed oils darting into his nose. Gardenia. Smoked tea. Desert moss. Oils that are drowning him in sleepy memories of her. 

Bonnie’s smile is crooked. Here it comes. “When I tell you that you’re a man that’s about to fall asleep in thirty seconds.”

Fuck.

Astarion plummets to the ground, limbs giving out. “Bonnie, godsdamned you!” 

She scoots back a few feet, balancing her bound body while avoiding his thrashing arms. “Angelic Slumber Potion. Perhaps you should’ve thought twice before drinking with someone you don’t know anymore.” The wine glass, she laced the glass!

He scratches the top of the table for leverage, sweating profusely as he tries to defy the potion’s effects. Oh, but sleep sounds nice and his eyes are heavy, drooping just so. Heavier than they’ve ever been. Dreams will come and maybe he’ll meet her there. The woman he can’t admit he ever…

Somehow he’s on his back, staring into his fate that’s coffee-stained beauty spots and suffocating in red-orange marigold tresses surrounding, surrounding, surrounding his vision.

Bonnie chucks his ropes onto his chest, attending to her sore wrists. “When you wake up, I want you to remember something: I’m the one you let get away.”

No wonder his love life is a mess.

Indelible Imprints

Chapter 11

Word Count: 6k

Summary:

-Erin has nightmares -Astarion stumbles across Erin doing yoga with Gale -He gets jelly but ends up joining -Erin is busy -Mutual Pining

Ao3

Previous Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Hey friends!

I had planned on getting this chapter out much sooner, but I was moving into a new place and celebrating my birthday (You could reblog or leave me a lil comment as a bday present, if you wanna 😜) a couple of weeks ago, so I got kinda busy. Now that I’m mostly settled after the move, I’m hoping to update more regularly again. (Sorry, I feel like I’m always saying that and then taking a month to update again 😬)

This chapter is a bit slower, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it! They needed some time to rest in camp and be confused about their feelings. 😅

Tag list: @roguishcat @thisisew

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Erin 

Erin could see the sun seeping through the fabric of her tent as she stared at the ceiling from her bedroll. Her dreams had not been restful the previous night, and she’d given up on trying to fall back asleep around an hour or so ago. She couldn’t tell how much time had actually passed. Without her phone working, or a watch or an alarm clock, all she had to give her an idea of the time was the sun. Most mornings she just woke to the sounds of the early risers in camp and the smell of Gale’s breakfast. 

She was tired. And sore. So sore. Even before last night’s fitful sleep interrupted with nightmares, she’d been having trouble sleeping most nights. Initially, the exhaustion of simply existing in Faerûn was enough to have her completely wiped by the end of the day. Unfortunately, her body had gotten used to it and couldn’t easily fall into a sound sleep anymore. There was a general sense of anxiety that she felt every night, so aware of the threat of danger all around her. Her sleep was always light, as though she’d need to be able to jump out of bed at a moment’s notice. 

Then there was the lying on the ground every night that she just couldn’t get used to. She missed her bed and the nights she washed her sheets, falling asleep on warm, crisp linens, the smell of her lavender laundry detergent filling her nose. Sleeping on a thin bedroll every night over the threadbare floor of her tent made her feel like the princess and the pea, always feeling something uncomfortable underneath her as she slept. 

None of those things were what kept her up last night though. Now that the sun was coming out and she could see a little better, she reached her arms out in front of her to inspect. She scanned them, twisting this way and that. Observing the unblemished milky skin of her inner arms and wrists, she ran her fingers over the places the hag had cut her yesterday. Or, made her cut herself. Shadowheart’s healing left no evidence of the wounds, but Erin could still feel the ghost of something there. Like a scar over nerves, not painful, but tugging at the skin. It was probably just in her head, but the nightmares didn’t help. 

I can tell you want her.   

She shut her eyes. 

Don’t you want to know what she tastes like, first? 

She shook her head, pushing her palms into her eye sockets. 

STOP, she commanded herself, trying to force the memories out of her head. 

Rolling to her side, she brushed her fingers lightly across the wall of her tent. Attempting to ground herself, she focused on the way the texture of the fabric felt underneath her fingertips. 

When the hag had possessed her, Erin had been so disoriented that she could hardly register the things Ethel made her say or do. The only thing she could really focus on was the pain. But things had come back to her as she slept. First, she’d woken to the sound of Shadowheart’s scream, and the feeling of her bones breaking beneath her foot. In the next nightmare, she’d been choking on hot, thick blood, running down her throat from the deep cut in her tongue as she laughed and it gurgled in her mouth. She could still taste the metallic tang of it in her mouth, and she couldn’t understand the appeal it had to Astarion.  

Astarion. 

God, the dreams of him were the worst. She still couldn’t fully wrap her head around everything that had happened with him yesterday. Why had he come after all? What had changed his mind? 

He probably just didn't want to lose his daily meals, she thought. Who could blame him when he'd starved for so long? 

He'd been so angry when she insisted on finding Mayrina. She remembered the way he snarled at her. 

That hag will rip you to pieces. 

It stung when he didn’t come with them. She worried about him being left alone, but she couldn't force him follow her. Even if she could have, she wouldn't have made him walk straight into danger with her. She wished she’d listened to him so he didn’t have to. It would have spared her each horrible flash of memory of what she did to him - what the hag made her do. The taste of his lips lingered on her tongue and she felt disgusted with herself. She couldn’t believe he’d agreed to hug her after all that. 

She could still feel the weight of him on top of her when she first broke from the hag's possession, growing heavier once the mask fell off and he relaxed his body over hers, pressing their foreheads together. 

His body above hers was so comforting, and she was so grateful, so she asked if she could hug him. After his reaction to her first hug that morning, she was prepared for him to say no. She hadn’t planned to hug him again since he'd seemed so uncomfortable. On their way to Ethel’s she’d been trying to think of something else she could do with him, like fist-bumping with Lae'zel. Something unique to him, like a secret handshake, if he'd entertain it. But she hadn't had enough time to come up with anything before that moment, and he was right there, and she really needed a hug. So she asked. 

Yes.  

He’d said it so quickly. 

She was so relieved. He shocked her when he returned the hug, still on top of her, lying there for so long she nearly forgot where they were. Her chest ached when Shadowheart came back to them and she had to let go. Probably just sore from him lying there too long. 

Things seemed normal again so quickly, but then she’d had her fit with Mayrina and her spat with Astarion about the monster hunter. She cringed thinking about the emotional little speech she’d given him after it all. Sincerity like that felt so… embarrassing. But he seemed to accept it and her apology without judgement. Well… as little judgement as can be expected from Astarion. Rubbing circles on the pads of her thumbs with her forefingers, she thought of the feel of his silky hair in her fingers yesterday. Closing her eyes, she thought of the way he’d closed his own, letting her fix his curls for him, and she felt her cheeks grow hot at the memory. 

Why did I do that?  

Sitting up, she tried to shrug off her embarrassment. Maybe if she didn’t acknowledge it or act differently around him, he’d forget. If neither of them brought it up, she could pretend it didn't happen. 

She sighed, falling back against her bedroll. Staring blankly ahead, she wondered how long she could get away with staying in her tent this morning. 

A soft, "ahem," outside answered the question for her. 

Pulling her blanket over her head as though it might make her disappear, she groaned. "Isn't getting possessed and fighting a hag a good enough excuse to sleep in a little?" Not that she was sleeping. But she didn’t feel ready to get up and talk to people yet. 

She heard Gale chuckle through the fabric of her tent. "It most certainly is, and the others have already decided to spend the morning resting before continuing on our journey. I only had something to ask of you, if you'd care to indulge me. May I come in?" 

Erin looked around her, grabbing the dirty clothes scattered haphazardly around the space and tucking them into a corner.  

"You can come in. I'm a bit of a mess, but I'm decent." It was true. Astarion had been right when he said she smelled gross last night, so she grabbed her toiletries and rushed to the lake to bathe as soon as they got back to camp. Too tired to braid her hair or wait for it to dry, she went to sleep with it wet. It was probably flat from wherever she’d laid her head and bumpy in all the wrong places. At least she was fully dressed, having changed into her university t-shirt and purple sweatpants before going to sleep. 

Gale's head popped through the flap in her tent as he let himself in. 

"My friend, if this is your idea of yourself as a mess, I'm quite curious to know how you dress up." he smiled warmly. 

"Ha!" she let out a genuine laugh. "You might change your mind if you smelled my morning breath." 

He chuckled, "I'll be sure not to sit downwind of it, then." 

Once Gale sat down, Erin crawled over to her duffel bag and started picking things from it. Satisfied she had everything she was looking for, she reached out to hand it all to Gale. 

"What's this?" he questioned, looking a little confused. 

“Some of the magical things we've picked up so far. I pulled them from the camp chest before going to bed last night so I could give them to you. I could have sworn there were more, but I was pretty tired and probably missed some things. That's why you're here, right? I hope it's enough." 

She'd handed him several rings and necklaces, pressing them into his palms, encouraging him to take them. Looking down at them, Gale's smile softened and he thanked her. 

"Your kindness is very much appreciated. But I must admit that my condition is currently stable and I didn't come to you for this." He started to hand the items over to return, but she only took his hands and pressed his fingers closed, patting them amicably.  

"Keep them anyway,” she insisted. “That way you can have them on hand when you do need them." 

"I'll endeavor to make the loss up to you,” he responded.  

She shook her head. "You don't owe me anything, Gale. We all found these things together. You’re entitled to them just as much as any of us." 

He nodded, “You’re too kind. Truly.” 

She waved the comment away, “Don’t worry about it. So what did you come to ask me, if not that?” 

“Oh, right! I’d nearly forgotten,” he brightened. "I was hoping you'd let me borrow your little device from your homeworld." 

Erin’s brows raised for a moment in surprise. "Oh, well... I don't know if you remember me mentioning this before, but it's not working anymore. It's out of power." She frowned, a bit sad at the reminder. 

"I do remember! I also recall you saying that it ran on electricity!” He leaned toward her conspiratorially, dropping his voice to a mock-whisper, “I don't know if you've noticed, but I have a bit of electricity at my disposal." 

Uncomfortable with what he seemed to be suggesting, she hesitated. "I don't think shooting lighting at it is a good idea, Gale. I know it's not working, but I'd still like to keep it in one piece." 

"You misunderstand me,” he reassured her. “I wouldn't dream of doing something so destructive. I'd like to study it a bit, and see if perhaps a small concentration of electricity would help to fix it. No bolts of lightning or anything so dramatic required." 

Erin considered his request for a moment. After her phone died, she hadn't expected she'd be able to charge it again in Faerûn. Still, it was sentimental, and she hated the idea of it getting irreparably damaged. She studied Gale’s face. He seemed considerate, and she trusted he'd be careful. Making her decision, she dug into her duffel again. 

"Here," she handed the phone to him, then the portable charger. "If you wouldn't mind practicing on that before you try anything with the phone, I'd appreciate it. They're different, but they both run on electricity and I'd miss the smaller one a little less if it got ruined. There's a small bulb here," she pointed at the charging indicator, "it'll light blue if it's got a charge - if it's working, I mean." 

He accepted the items with careful hands. "Of course. I'll take great care with your treasures, my friend. Thank you for indulging me." He stood up to leave. "I'll let you get back to resting now." 

"Wait,” she stopped him, realizing she didn’t want to be left alone. Not with her nightmares still so fresh in her head. “Are you up for a bit of stretching? I promised to do some morning yoga with you yesterday." 

"Are you sure? I thought you wanted to sleep in?" 

She shrugged. "I'm already up. Give me a minute and I'll meet you by the campfire. Should be plenty of space around there." 

"Well then,” he smiled. “I'll see you in a moment."

Astarion

Erin was in her hideous purple sweatpants again. It was the first thing he noticed when he stepped outside of his tent that morning.  

The second thing he noticed, was that she was lying on her back, legs spread wide open as she gripped her feet and pulled her knees to her chest. 

The third thing he noticed, was the wizard, sitting on his knees in front of her, watching her intently. 

That uncomfortable feeling he’d been getting lately whenever he saw her being friendly with the wizard roiled inside him. He couldn’t explain the twisting he felt in his gut whenever she smiled at Gale, or hugged one of their companions. Didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. 

As he glared at the wizard, Astarion noticed him move forward to press Erin’s legs further up. Nostrils flaring, Astarion appeared in front of them before he knew what he was doing. It was too late to rethink and turn back though, as they’d already noticed him and looked up from their strange position. He attempted to feign nonchalance. 

"In the middle of camp, for everyone to see? Bold of you." His tone came off a bit clipped, and he hoped Erin didn’t notice. 

She looked up at him quizzically, as though he were the one behaving strangely in this scenario. "Astarion, you're the only other person out here." 

Was his presence alone not enough to discourage… whatever this was? 

"So you thought you'd give me a private show?" He asked, attempting to mask his incredulity with a tone he hoped was casual. 

Erin and Gale exchanged awkward glances before she looked back to him and asked, "...What do you think we're doing?" 

He couldn’t stand this. "What in the bloody hells am I supposed to think you're doing?!" he demanded, out of patience. 

Erin stood up. "Would you like to join us so we can show you?" she offered. 

"Would I- excuse me?" 

It wasn’t as though it was a completely foreign proposition to him. The offer was very familiar. He'd just never expected Erin to suggest such a thing to him. And he certainly didn’t want to participate in any joining that involved Gale. He was clearly misunderstanding something, and he ran through their conversation in his head, searching for an explanation. 

He must have taken too long, because Erin reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, as though to calm him. Looking down to where she touched him, his face relaxed a little and she apparently took it as a sign to explain further. 

"Remember when Gale said he liked to stretch yesterday?” she asked, “and I said we'd do yoga?" 

He did remember. He just had no idea what 'yoga' was or what doing it entailed. 

His voice came out colder than he’d intended when he answered. "I suppose I didn't imagine you were offering something so salacious." 

Her mouth dropped slightly, and her voice raised a little, clearly offended. "Excuse me? There is nothing salacious going on here, and I don’t appreciate the suggestion that there is.” 

Shit.  

She was angry with him. Again. 

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to backtrack, and pressed her further instead. "Then what?" 

Her eyes were wide with disbelief, and he couldn’t understand how he’d become the villain in this scenario. Irritation becoming more and more evident in her voice, she continued to explain as though she were educating a toddler. "Stretching,” she said. “That's literally it. I was just showing Gale different stretches that are popular where I’m from. We were just doing a pose to help get rid of tightness in the hips. It was all perfectly innocent. The pose is even called, 'happy baby,' it doesn't get much more pure than that." 

Happy, indeed.  

His eyes shifted toward the wizard and narrowed. "And that's why Gale was studying your crotch so intently?" 

"I was not!” Gale blustered. “I was studying the pose so that I might replicate it. I'm merely a pupil observing his teacher.” 

Astarion snorted. "Yes, such an observant little student. And a rather hands-on approach you have to learning."  

Gale blushed and stammered, embarrassed, but Erin cut in. 

"I asked him to do that,” she defended the wizard. Astarion’s face pinched in disgust, not wanting to hear what she asked Gale to do to her. She ignored his expression and continued, “I was showing him how another person can help you get a deeper stretch. I've been sore as hell with all the walking and fighting we've been doing and this is helping me just as much as it's helping him." 

Astarion looked at her skeptically.  

Meeting his gaze, she shrugged, apparently tired of trying to convince him.  

"You should join us,” she suggested. “You're the one who was telling me I needed to loosen up yesterday.” She paused, then gave him a cheeky little smirk. “Let's see how loose you can get." 

Wait… Is she… flirting?  

He was stunned for a moment.  

Where did this come from?   

She’d never reciprocated his own flirtations, let alone initiate any of her own.  

No. She was probably only teasing, unaware of how it sounded.  

Still, the challenge stirred something inside him. If she was going to get loose, he wanted to watch. And he wanted to join her. 

"Show me," was all he said.

*** 

Astarion had to admit, if only to himself, that he felt much better after following Erin’s instruction. Some of the positions she’d guided them in felt a bit ridiculous, but every time he looked up, prepared to refuse to continue, he saw her smiling widely at Gale for following her movements exactly. 

Teacher’s pet.  

The thought of being shown up by the wizard, whose knees cracked louder than the lightning he shot from his fingertips, was not something Astarion wanted to entertain. So, he followed Erin’s movements precisely and was quick to assist when she wanted to demonstrate a partnered modification to a stretch. He felt a smug sort of delight in preventing Gale from touching her again and forcing the wizard to watch as he touched her instead. Her reactions to his assistance were a reward all on their own. 

Ah, yep, that’s perfect. If you wouldn’t mind holding that for about 30 seconds for me? Ahhh, thank you, that’s great.  

The nearly breathless way she’d praised him, so full of relief, send a thrill straight to his core. When she’d let out that first little sigh, he had to fight against the shudder it sent through him. He hadn’t quite expected it, and it threw him off for a moment. That’s when he decided he wasn’t going to let Gale have another turn to assist her under any circumstances.  

Despite what her little noises did to him, there was something oddly respectful about it all. Trusting, even. Touching someone in that way felt strangely intimate and chaste all at the same time. She instructed him on where to touch her and when he followed, nothing else happened. She didn’t wriggle suggestively underneath him, and his hands never wandered or groped. Gale was watching the entire time, of course, but something about it made Astarion think it wouldn’t have mattered if he wasn’t there at all. In those moments, he didn’t feel like anyone else existed around them. 

There were even a couple of instances where he’d allowed Erin to assist him in achieving a deeper stretch. She asked permission before touching him each time, and respected it the few times when he managed a polite, ‘no, thank you.’ When he did allow it, he understood her sighs of relief. It truly did feel nice. He was nearly overwhelmed by it. Being able to touch someone and be touched in return - to make their bodies feel good without it leading to sex was… a revelation. And to not feel utterly disgusted and filled with self-loathing afterward? A miracle. 

It had been a lot to process, and he excused himself to his tent shortly afterward, muttering some excuse he couldn’t even remember now. He could hear Gale sighing his own thanks and relief to Erin from where he sat, suggesting they make it a daily practice. While he found himself mildly annoyed at the wizard’s participation, Astarion felt a flutter of excitement in his chest at the idea of doing this with Erin again. Alone in his tent, he allowed himself to smile at the thought. 

He wondered at his initial reaction to seeing Erin and Gale together that morning. Originally, he had been leaving his tent to go and talk with Erin. His trances were rarely restful, but he didn’t even try to trance that night, too consumed with everything that had happened yesterday. He hadn't been prepared to find her so close to someone else. 

He felt sick for it, but he couldn’t stop replaying the moments when she’d pressed her thumb into his mouth and licked across his lips over and over again in his mind. They weren’t her actions, he knew; They were the hag’s. But that fact couldn’t keep him from imagining what it might have been like if it had been her, under different circumstances, of course - no hags involved. He wondered if she was even aware of what the hag had made her do. Could she be imagining what it would be like, to do it all on purpose, too? 

Is this what a friend would be thinking about? he wondered.  

And we’re still friends? she’d asked him yesterday.  

In truth, he didn’t know. The thought of having a friend was appealing, if a little novel. But something about labeling Erin as a friend was dissatisfying, and thinking of her applying the label to him was even worse. For whatever reason, he couldn’t quite warm up to the idea - despite feeling pulled to her, wanting a connection. 

He didn't even know if he wanted to pursue the seduction anymore. She'd shut down his flirting so early on, he didn’t know how to move forward, and everything was moving so slowly.  

Playing the rake was all he knew. He'd never spent so much time with one of his victims before. Never had to think past the initial charm. 

No. She is not a victim. Thinking of her in that way, even just for a moment, made his chest tighten. He forced himself to take deep breaths, attempting to settle himself by focusing on the unnecessary action. 

She was his friend. Perhaps companion was a better word? She was something to him. Someone. He can't remember ever having someone. It made him want to protect it, whatever it was. There was also another part of him that wanted it - wanted her - only for himself. It was the part that made his stomach sink when he saw her with anyone else. She was his friend. His. 

But she seemed to want to be friends with everyone, so he was no more special to her than the rest of the group.  

If he could get her to care for him, fall for him, maybe he would be.  

To what end, though? She was already giving him her blood. Looking out for his safety. Everything his original plan of seducing her was supposed to ensure. She was just giving it to him. 

There was no guarantee she'd continue to give, though. She didn't know the things he’d done, what a monster he was. There were things about his past he needed to tell her, and soon, just for the sake of practicality while they traveled. Encountering the Gur had made it clear to him that he was being hunted by his master, and they'd need to be prepared. He was dreading the inevitable change in the way she looked at him once her told her, though.  

He was surprised she hadn't pushed him for more information about his past already.  

Perhaps she simply doesn't care.  

He knew the thought wasn’t true. More likely, she was respecting his privacy because he'd been snappish and cagey about sharing details about himself with her before. She never pushed the cleric, either. Everyone was allowed to keep their secrets with her. Still, he found it easier to think of if he imagined she didn’t care. Even if he wanted her to.

*** 

The group had chosen to take the day to rest after yesterday's fights, and Astarion decided he would use that to his advantage. He planned to whisk Erin away under the pretense of additional archery lessons so he could talk to her about everything that's happened. Not to mention she’d improved much faster than he’d anticipated, and it made him nervous that she might decide she didn’t need him anymore.  

Why on earth had he told her that the bow he'd given her was enchanted? It didn’t have a trace of magic in it as far as he could tell. She’d just been so reluctant to accept the damned thing. He knew she’d been insecure about her abilities, so he thought telling her it was magical would entice her to just take it already. But now her aim had improved and she thought it was because she had an enchanted bow. He’d have to make sure she practiced relentlessly or risk the stupid lie falling apart.  

It was her fault, really. All she had to do was take his little gifts so he wouldn’t feel so indebted to her, take them and think of him fondly, like a dog receiving treats. But she never just simply accepted, she was always asking him why or where he got it. As if any of that mattered. He sighed and left his tent again, already planning on having her shoot at targets until she couldn’t hold her arms up anymore. Maybe longer.  

It seemed he would have to wait, however. Out in the middle of camp again in her stupid purple pants, apparently staying in camp to rest meant not getting dressed for the day, Erin was doing lunges with the other ladies of the group. Karlach counted aloud, timing the duration of their movements for the others with ease, while Lae’zel went through the motions effortlessly and Shadowheart determinedly followed suit, a slight sheen of sweat starting to form on her brow. Erin was breathing heavily and he could hear her heartbeat from where he stood.  

Well, she would clearly tire out soon enough. It wouldn’t be long before she was unoccupied again, so he decided to take the opportunity to go to the lake and wash a few of his things, maybe mend a few tears he’d noticed in his clothes.  

After about an hour, his clothes were impeccable and he was convinced she would be free once he made his way back. Instead, he didn’t see her out in camp at all. He walked toward her tent, assuming she’d gone to rest after the exercise, but as he passed by Shadowheart’s tent on his way he’d heard a set of giggles from within. He stopped for a moment, unsure of what to do. Perhaps he’d just call for her, tell her she wouldn’t get out of practicing archery so easily. 

More giggles. 

Whatever they were doing in there, they were certainly having fun. His stomach twinged and he decided that it was because he was hungry. 

He walked back toward his tent and spotted three fresh bottles of blood. Erin must have filled them and brought them to his tent while he was at the lake, since he’d already drank everything she’d given him before. 

Stupid girl. 

After all the blood she’d lost from the hag cutting her up yesterday, what was she thinking? 

The unpleasant memory of her lying dead and drained beneath him only a few nights ago came unbidden as he stared at the bottles. Guilt soured his stomach and he looked away, walking toward the forest instead. Perhaps a hunt would be a good distraction. He never wanted to see her like that again. 

It was dark when he returned to camp, and he had clearly missed quite the guest, as the entire camp now smelled of sulfur. It seemed everyone had already retired to their tents for the night, but he could hear the light, intermittent pluck of strings coming from Erin’s tent. He cleared his throat as he approached and it was silent for a moment before he heard the soft plunk of the lute being set down and watched her stick her head out of the flap of her tent. His chest clenched at the sight of her swollen eyes and blotchy, wet cheeks. She’d been crying. 

“Oh, Astarion. It’s just you. I feel like I haven’t seen you all day,” she said as though she didn't look the way she did. 

She held the flap open and he crawled inside her tent and looked at her. Whatever this was about, he could at least allow her to tell him with a bit of privacy. 

“What happened?” he asked, brow furrowed in concern. "You were giggling when I left camp." 

She deflated, and it looked like she might burst into tears all over again. He moved closer and brushed the wetness from her cheek with his thumb, hoping to keep further tears at bay. He wasn't used to comforting someone, and hoped he was doing it right. 

“Tell me,” he said softly, then added, “it’s alright.” 

That was it. The dam had burst and she was crying again, breath stuttering as she tried to tell him what happened. Caught up in her emotions, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as she sobbed. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped, at a loss for what to say. Clenching and un-clenching his fists, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her in return, trying to will the stiffness out of his limbs. 

“It’s all my fault,” she sobbed. 

He seriously doubted that. 

There were a couple of dirty shirts lying nearby, so he took one and reached it out to her. Her nose had started running as tears streamed down her face. 

“Go ahead and wipe your face with that. I’ll wash it for you later.” 

She took it and wiped her tears, blowing her nose into it roughly when she was done. 

“Thanks,” she said, setting the ruined shirt down beside her. “I’m sorry. I feel so dumb for that. I thought I was done crying when I started trying to play that to distract myself.” she nodded toward the lute he’d gifted her.  

“Why don’t you tell me why you were crying and I could tell you whether it was dumb to do so or not?” he asked with a teasing tone he hoped would lighten her mood. 

“Um, well, I still don’t fully understand everything that happened, but I guess Wyll is a warlock?” 

Astarion had suspected as much when he noticed the Blade of Frontiers had more than just a blade at his disposal. The eldritch blast was a good indicator that he had a patron. That certainly explained the sulfuric smell left in camp from what was apparently a visit from the devil he’d made a pact with. Just like a righteous do-gooder to be completely full of shit. Hadn’t the hypocrite gone on and on about the dangers in trusting devils when he was trying to convince the group to help him kill Karlach? Typical. 

He simply made a small tsk of disapproval and Erin sniffed, nose still slightly runny. 

“So his boss, sorry, patron. His patron came to camp and uh, punished him for not killing Karlach. It was awful, I could feel some of it through the tadpole, and I don’t know how he’s still alive after what she did.” 

Astarion nodded. “From what I hear, devils aren’t known to be forgiving. If he’s still living, and not turned into some disgusting creature, it sounds like he got lucky.” 

He’d clearly said the wrong thing, because tears started spilling past her cheeks again. She covered her eyes as if to hide her crying from him, but Astarion just moved closer and reached for her dirty shirt to wipe her tears with a corner that hadn’t been soiled yet. She leaned into the touch, and before he could think of what to do next, she leaned further into him, hugging him tightly and pressing her head into his chest again. 

“I don’t think he’s disgusting, but she did something to change him. He’s got horns now, and it’s my fault.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “How on earth could it be your fault?” 

“I didn’t do anything to stop her from doing that to him, I could’ve- 

“No,” he cut her off. “You couldn’t have done a thing. I know the way things work here are unfamiliar to you, but a warlock pact isn’t some trifle. If Wyll went against something in the terms of his agreement with his patron, there is nothing you could have done. No one could have done anything.” 

She sniffled into his shoulder. “That’s what everybody said. Even after Wyll wanted to be alone, Gale told me that. But-” 

“But nothing. Much as I’m loathe to say it, Gale was right. Eugh.” 

She gave a soft laugh and smiled up at him. “You could be nicer to Gale. He’s your friend too, you know. He kept talking about how great it was to have friends to stretch with this morning.” 

“Ugh,” Astarion groaned. “I think he just meant you, darling.” 

“No, he said friends. Plural. You were included.” She teased. 

He was relieved to hear the slight shift in her mood and unthinkingly slid his arms around her waist to hold her where she leaned against him. “Well who needs more friends when I’ve got you right here?”  

“Oh, no, it’s too sad to only have me for a friend. I’m not nearly enough to satisfy anyone’s social needs.” She laughed into his chest. 

“I don’t know,” he teased, smirking down at her. “You’re quite the handful.” 

She chuckled softly before going quiet again.  

“I hope he’s okay.” She whispered. 

“He’s a grown man, dear. He’ll be fine.” 

“Pain doesn’t become any easier to deal with just because you’re grown. Some things hurt worse.” 

Astarion didn’t know what to say to that. He knew it was true, so he didn’t say anything at all. He just remained there, holding her in the quiet of her tent.  

After a few moments, he noticed her heartbeat slow into a steady rhythm and her breaths come deeper. She’d fallen asleep. 

So much for talking about yesterday. 

He started to adjust, getting ready to move her to her bedroll so he could leave. She stirred and gripped him tighter. 

“Stay,” she whispered, still mostly asleep. “Couldn’t sleep last night… please stay.” 

Ah. So she didn’t sleep last night either. 

It drove his thoughts back to yesterday and last night. He wondered if it was for the same reasons he couldn’t trance. He could feel her tongue on his lips all over again and then her hands in his hair as she told him he was perfect. 

Stop thinking about that while she's in your arms, you fool. 

She’d already fallen back asleep and he sighed, reaching over to grab the blanket from her bedroll. 

Gently lying her down and adjusting himself to lie beside her, he draped it over them both. He tucked her pillow beneath her head before lying his own on it and wrapping his arms around her.  

What am I doing? 

She’d asked him to stay. He was simply helping a friend. That was all this was. 

Chapter Summary:

What happened five years ago?

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Story Summary:

He’s admittedly apprehensive to approach the lady; they didn’t part on the best of terms. And life changes people, for better or worse. The Bonnie he knew may be lost to a past he would have to mourn in the dust. Was he prepared for that? To slough her from his memory like a rattlesnake sheds its skin. He furrows his thick brows, contemplating if he should leave before she notices him. No, he needs to properly face her. Put things to bed so they could both move on without any lingering questions.

Besides, unbeknownst to her, he’s there for far more than a trip down nostalgia lane or his lust after her crimson draft. Woman has warrants out on her name and a man has a bounty to collect.

-☆ -

Chapter 1: Goodbye, Little Darlin', Goodbye

Ao3

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Word Count: 7.7k

Pairing: Bounty Hunter/Cowboy Astarion x female western bard OC

CW: Smut, PTSD during sex, language, blood

-☆ -

Five Years Ago

Astarion never cared much for flowers. Trite growths existing for a short time, only to wither til they’d completely dried out—similar to his mortality that his undeath leeched. Thirty-nine living years stolen by his master’s vampiric kiss. Then, two centuries walking with a husk of his own desiccated blood and organs like the top of some dusty mesa.

But, having Bonnie Sparrows sprawled out on his grave resembling sunbathed petals, shushed those thoughts six feet under. 

A month had passed. The Reverend Szarr was plenty dead, and aside from the compelling power he held over his spawned children rupturing for good, there was no trace left behind. Not even a single speck of ash lay in his wake for them to find. Course, that’s what he had coming to him. Reach too high with the devil’s contracts trying to crow like a rooster, one may be liable to end up as a feather duster.

Astarion and his fellow spawn never found who killed Cazador, neither did they unearth any clues as to what happened to the bastard. Fingers were pointed for a while, but they soon realized none of them really had the means to accomplish such a thing, especially being under his thrall. Szarr’s death meant “The Rite of Profane Ascension” had been halted, with seven-thousand former would-be sacrifices turned loose. The house spawn guided them, feral and bloodthirsty, down into no man’s land of the Underdark, where they worked diligently to give them some sort of new life. 

Seemed almost a waste that Astarion’s plans, created with a bunch of questionable heroes hankering for revenge to end his master’s eternal life, never came to fruition, but then he would have never met Bonnie. His Bonnie. She waited, patient and supportive, while he dealt with the unexpected emptiness scraping at his soul because he wasn’t instantly filled with relief or happiness untethered to his tormentor. Justice that felt unfairly denied that he hadn’t been the one putting the Reverend to a final rest. Eventually, when Astarion was good and ready to seek Bonnie out after he made work out of burning Cazador’s pervertible bordello—prostitution house—down, it finally appeared like he may be a free man once and for all. 

The night sky burdened the Western Heartlands with navy and indigo blues, lush with a shimmering tapestry of white jewels the day Astarion decided he would have Bonnie. He showed up on her doorstep, nervous with mysterious passion in his non-beating heart, and pecked the top of her hand as he asked her to follow him to the city’s outskirts. 

He whisked her away under the bloating moon to a bone orchard long forgotten, save for the occasional preacher man wandering by with prayers to redeem its silent residents from perdition. Most of a sun blanched wooden fence, barely protecting the place, laid helpless in the grass. Engravings on nearly all the headstones had succumbed to algae’s decay, serving them a hearty banquet.

“Here we are,” Astarion said, quickly inspecting their surroundings for any possible interruptions. 

“A graveyard?” she smiled, confusedly scanning the burial sites. “You know, when you asked me to take a walk with you tonight, I wasn’t expectin’ such a gloomy place for our first official outin’.”

“Considering I’m a vampire, I prefer some things to remain classics for a reason,” Astarion chuckled. He anxiously cleared his throat. “I-I actually wanted to show you something. Something I haven’t shown to anyone.”

“Better not be a corn cob hidden in your pants again,” Bonnie teased, “Or any other piece of food for that matter.”

He pulled her into him, resting one hand on the side of her waist as he continued holding onto the other as if they were about to dance. “I don’t remember you complaining.”

She stuck her tongue out. “Cuz I let you get away with it.”

“More than you realize,” he murmured, thinking about the lies he had yet to fess up to her. Lies that took advantage of her good nature to serve his benefit. How does a man turn a blow into a subtle breeze divulging something like that? He didn’t know and it sure as shit didn’t come naturally to him. Tonight though, he would tell her. Clear it all up. She deserved that much…and more. “Come. It should be over here.”

Looming beneath a large maple tree, sat a sole tombstone, fairly tired with age. He brushed away crawling vines and leaves claiming the darn thing, with a sadness striving to moisten his eyes. That tree was probably the only living thing keeping the grave company these days, with no indication anybody visited to put memorial trinkets on it. Astarion was grateful for that in a sense. Coming upon a wilted flower basket may have done more damage than good to what was left of his mental state, having plumb forgotten everyone he used to know. Most of them were probably dead anyhow.

“This tree wasn’t as big the last time I saw it,” he reflected, looking above them to admire its boughs. “When I reached the surface, coughing up congealed blood and dirt, Cazador was waiting with this maple as a ‘gift.’ He told me he planted it so I would never forget that it would continue to keep growing and living on—unlike me. And that’s why I needed him, to guide me in those ways through eternity.” He paused, exhaling a choppy breath. “From that day on, I belonged to him, and became livestock for his needs.”

Bonnie gasped, swiftly lowering herself to her knees to place a hand onto the cool stone. The date of his passing and name were read aloud, as she swerved a finger into the elegant markings. “Hang on a tick…this is your grave?!”

“Yes, it is.” The pale elf sat beside her. “There’s nothing inside except for a vacant coffin,” he sighed dolefully, running a hand through those silver locks. “The man I was has laid here, dead and buried. I can barely remember who he used to be aside from some greenhorn magistrate who’s name is carved here under a tree that was meant to be a mockery of me.”

Couple of minutes passed in silence. “I-I’m so sorry, Star,” she whispered hoarsely, balling a fist against her chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

What he failed to mention, was that he didn’t take her there for her to pity him. No, he brought her there because he didn’t want at least one person to forget he lived. Really lived. And Bonnie constantly jabbered away at him like she was grateful he was there at all, even as a sanguinary vampire spawn. Nobody had ever cared about him in a way that made his belly ache with confusion and a longing for their presence. 

He hooked a finger below her chin, urging her to face him. “You have nothing to be sorry about, my dear. In fact, I should be thanking you.” 

“Thankin’ me? But, why?” she inquired, canting her head. 

“For the last six months, you’ve stayed by my side through all this anguish—this horror—foolishly trusting and caring about me, even when your life was put in danger.” Astarion sweetly caught her wrist, grazing her fingertips against his lips to peck. “You feel like home. A safe home where I feel seen,” he answered, fidgety nerves biting like minnows at the back of his throat.

Hindsight being what it tends to be, it was hard to believe Bonnie was the same woman he almost led to her demise half a year ago. It’d been a time since he went after a beautiful victim to bring to Cazador—typically sticking to drunkards and petty criminals since they were idiotic enough to manipulate—but then she came galloping in on that spotted horse of hers through the city, with a sabre at her hip and a long barrel peacekeeper aimed at those who were doing wrong. Though she was part of some fearless vigilante gang called “The Balladeers”, he had never met someone so tough and as gentle as a babe in his entire life. 

Astarion had followed her to some forgettable hole-in-the-wall saloon, desiring a vixen instead of pests to stave off his usual boredom, and wasn’t prepared for Bonnie to give him a run for his money. She’d been eyeing him the whole evening until she mustered up the courage to buy him a drink. He’d turned up the dial with his flirting, using his best lines and all, but she just wanted to get to know him. Come to find out, she liked people. Genuinely, liked them, giving them proper dignity and a listening ear where it was due. And that’s why that drop of honey in a world full of bad seeds had so many fluttering to her.

Eventually, he learned that Bonnie wasn’t the type to sleep around with just anyone, making it impossible to lure her back to the bordello. She liked that sorta “getting swept off her feet” romance that was a slow burning fire between two individuals. So, when she denied his advances during that initial encounter, his curiosity eventually turned into a side project to scheme and work her into helping him escape his master’s clutches. 

Then, he fell for her. A falling star smacking right dab in the middle of a solar globe.

“Don’t sell yourself short! I just happened to be rollin’ on by wishin’ to offer some kinda hope that you didn’t have to go at this alone.” A rosy blush bathed her cheeks. “You,” she began, turning his hand to peck his knuckles in return, “are one of the strongest men I know and I admire you for that. You strove to keep goin’, even when our plans to kill the Reverend were at a dangerously critical point of bein’ found out.” She pointed a finger, booping his nose. “‘Sides, turns out I winded up fancyin’ your sophisticated ass.”

“My ass is sophisticated, isn’t it?” Her wrist found a kiss pressed into it, as he mischievously found her gaze under his dark lashes. “Tell me more.”

A dainty sigh left Bonnie’s lips. “Fishin’ for vanity?”

“Always,” he admitted, smirking into her skin. “I do love hearing about me after all, but if you’re feeling a bit envious, I suppose I could pay you a few compliments in return.”

“Lords have mercy, I’m not feelin’ envious!” she cackled, jokingly sniping her hand back. 

He caught her by surprise when the pin in her hair fell unceremoniously to the ground after his lithe hand snuck to remove it. A coppery dawn just for him to marvel as her mane settled around her shoulders. “No? So, it wouldn’t make you feel good if I told you how ravishing you look with your hair down?”

She reached out to brush her fingers along his crow’s feet, intently staring into his garnet irises. “Only about as good as me tellin’ you that your piercin’ eyes make me feel both intimidated and shy.”

“I like making you feel shy,” he said, tucking strands behind the pointed tip of her ear.

“D-do you now?” Bonnie stuttered, blood swelling her lips.

“Very much so. Especially when your lips are flushed as they are now.” Astarion licked his thumb, swiped it across her lips, then put it back into his mouth to briefly suck on it. “Mmm. Sweet.”

Oh, but that wasn’t the only thing that was sweet: Bonnie was dripping for him. 

He had a mind to tell her how delicious her pussy smelled, let that demure reaction consume her entire body for him to gloat about. But, before their first time, there was a certain innocent doting he wanted to preserve for a little while longer that was frequently seen in new lovers. The kind where anticipation produced excitable giggles and nose rubbing kisses. Small affections he never experienced with anyone prior to her.

However, Astarion couldn’t stop Bonnie propelling herself forward, finding his lips to knead and desperately relieving some of that heated tension that had been baking for months. Her hands twisted into his shirt, preventing him from flying off if he got it in his head he needed to scoot. Tender kisses led to hazy seconds slipping on, until she lightly sucked on his bottom lip as a promise for more. An electric bolt shot straight to his groin when the tip of her tongue accidentally bumped his fang, him wondering for the millionth time if her blood tasted as sugary as he fantasized. 

“S’rry,” she panted against his mouth, loosening her fists to slightly lean away. Could her embarrassment be any more adorable thinking of his comfort first and foremost? 

Astarion cupped the fullest part of her cheek, softly prodding her to look at him. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

An unbridled exhale from her nose warmed his face when he closed the distance to slot his lips against hers, mouth all but begging to be ravaged. His eyes shut, honing in on her delightful mewls she tried to hold back that only incited him to continue. She gripped his elbow, using him as a pillar to steady herself from probably melting in a puddle—which he understood because he felt it too. Astarion poured everything he wanted to tell her into those kisses. Every lie. Every emotion. Every undead and human part of himself. Capturing her breath over and over to suck her living spirit into him. It didn’t make sense how damned perfect their lips fit together, only that his need to wholly have her was increasing by each beat of her heart drumming in his ears.

Lingering kisses soon turned into satiny ticklish pecks, slowing their tempo enough for him to playfully shove her giggling form backwards to the earth. He seductively climbed over top of her, a hemovore beelining it for his prey, wedging himself in the middle of her partially spread legs. As he hovered above her flustered body, eyes flickering to her plump, swollen lips that were happily smiling at him, the vampire thought about how smitten he’d become with Bonnie. When did he start to really notice those first niggles turning his sentiments underside? The turkey vulture hunts? Their first kiss in the corn field? Or maybe it happened eons before, fate wiggling its way in the first night they met.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Bonnie asked, frosty eyes concerned. 

He lowered himself to kiss her forehead, her eyelashes. “It’s only that sometimes when you smile at me, it’s hard to believe I may be the one bringing that about.”

Her stare became magnifying glasses, rummaging through the meaning of his affectionate admission. “I lov—” she began to mouth, then stopped herself as if it weren’t the right moment. Her arms vine crawled behind his neck, instantly toying with his baby fine nape hairs. “Kiss me again and maybe I’ll consider allowin’ you to keep on doin’ so.”

Astarion quirked his brow. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh, um,” she hesitated, “I meant to say that I love spendin’ time with you. Fangs and all!” 

Cute.

The side of his mouth curved up, decidedly searching the shell of her ear. “You make me want to devour you.”

Bonnie squeaked when he pecked her lobe then affixed his wetted lips to her porcelain neck, sucking a purplish bruise into it. She reflexively tangled her digits in his curls, tugging him closer. The tip of his tongue slithered out to run down her cerulescent jugular vein, worshiping her pulsating crimson he had yet to indulge. 

His hand reached her thigh, hooking her leg around his slender waist so he could give her one very languid hip roll showcasing how absolutely hard his erection was. He grunted into the crook of her neck, prompting her to tremble into the dirt beneath her. 

“Hngh. Astarion, wait,” she whimpered as he kissed the column of her throat. “Are you sure about this?”

At the apex of her thighs, he prodded his aching cock against her again. “Darlin’, can’t you tell that I’ve been dying to have you.”

She shifted under him, pushing at his shoulder. “No, need you to look at me.” He craned his neck to provide eye contact. “Do you want this? I’d like a solid answer and not just some of those honeyed words you use.”

Bless her for asking, truly. Bonnie knew about his past dealings as a sex slave and the autonomy refused to him. Didn’t change her mind about sticking by his side, but she nevertheless made it a habit to search out every nook and cranny regarding his true feelings about whatever the subject may be. 

Astarion did want to have sex. And a gal like Bonnie was more to him than a one nighter that’d never see the light of day again. There was a knowing that sex would reshape their relationship, moving from a forbidden courtship they had to sneak around with like youngsters, into something more tangible. Nothing strange about that, was how all real couples connected on a deeper level, but he desperately wanted to give her this part of himself he hated. It was the only way he knew how to prove he could be with her, to demonstrate the yearning he’d felt for months. The allure of it all was enticing in a way that made him feel possessed.

He truly held onto the belief that if her faith in him miraculously led to Cazador’s death, it could also heal his mutilated soul.

His softened eyes met hers. “Yes, I want this. With you and only you.” Honesty. This was honesty. He was ready. He had to be ready. With her, anything was possible, right? Had to be. 

Bonnie blew on a stray curl that fell into his eyes, maintaining her goodness for him even during such a serious discussion. “Keep in mind we can stop at any moment, no questions asked. You start feelin’ discomfort, that’s that. Same goes for me. Y’hear?” 

Astarion honored her sympathy with a kiss. “Thank you.” He clutched the meat of her thighs and impelled his iron rigidity into her writhing physique, earning him choked expletives from her mouth. “Now, where were we?”

“Do we need…ahh, gods…to worry about anythin’?” 

Halting his dry-humping into her clothed center, he reluctantly lifted himself up on his elbows. “I assume you mean diseases or getting pregnant?” 

She nodded fast. “I don’t mean to make this unromantic, but…”

“Somehow it coming from you, is romantic.” He gingerly kissed her, quelling her concerns. “But, to answer your question, we both have nothing to worry about. Perks of my affliction is that I can’t get you sick and vice versa.” His hand slid down to roost on her belly. “As for pregnancy, my seed is dead. So, no surprise dhampirs crawling after my boots.”

“Okay, good.” Bonnie grabbed his collar, yanking to crash her mouth into his. She parted her lips, inviting his tongue in. “I need you,” she wheezed.

Course, who was he to deny such a tantalizing request?

He gave her lower vermilion a precursory lick, then tunneled his deviant tongue into her open orifice. Their tongues intertwined, eagerly discovering a lazy rhythm that he knew made her cunt gush. 

She wrapped her other leg onto his lower torso, grinding herself against his dick to stimulate her core. “Please,” she begged, “Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Her pleas went straight to Astarion’s tip, precum gathering in preparation. Something about having a morsel of control over her pleasure, tightened his balls, and he almost threw away his gentlemanly manners to bury himself in her straight away.

“I know, my sweet. You’re being such a good girl for me, but I need you to hold out for a while longer. Do you think you can do that?” It was such a simple request coming from him, but the power it had over her was a sight to behold.

Bonnie flashed him a lustful gaze under her furled lashes. “Yes. I’ll do anything for you.”

To reward her, he coolly pecked the corner of her lips. “There is,” he started, brushing the backside of his fingers on her jaw, inching them just so to skim her exposed collarbone, “a question that has been bothering me for months I’ve needed an answer to.”

“Yes?” she clasped his forearms, giving them a meek wrench as she waited for him to answer. 

Her breathing sped up as Astarion nestled kisses into her clavicle hollow, winding a trail to the roundness of her heaving bosom where her clothing interrupted him. Bonnie donned a corset cover buttoned up past her cleavage with feminine lace sewed into the thin arm openings. Usually, it wasn’t proper for a lady to walk about sans multiple layers exposing so much skin, but she didn’t care. Woman was an unconventional rarity, but Astarion liked that about her. That edge she possessed, that somehow demanded respect from even the most religious of men, had him sickeningly enamored with her.

The cover’s buttons popped open one by one until her corset was unveiled. Pretty thing was teal, constructed with cotton and a busk for easier removal. He carefully unclasped the busk, taking his time to enjoy her erratic breaths fanning out in patient fervency. When he folded back the garment on either side, he grinned at her pebbling nipples curiously seeking attention through her chemise. His index finger circled a clothed bud and she hissed, arching into his touch.

Sensitive minx.

Bowing his head, Astarion’s teeth seized the lace chemise’s neckline, dragging it southwards to reveal her torso’s nakedness. What met him were two mouth-watering tits that caused his shaft to strain against his trousers. Breasts weren’t normally his favorite feature on a person, but hells, Bonnie’s came bouncing out practically demanding to be bitten.

“Mm.” He pinched her nipple, salaciously witnessing a flurry of goosebumps invade her flesh. “Pink. I wondered what color they were,” he reported.

She watched, half-lidded and unbearably aroused, when his tongue darted out to swirl her peak. He gave it one obscene suck that hollowed his cheeks and released it with a lewd pop. Heat sweltered throughout her pores as he suctioned his chill plush lips around her nipple to savor it with modest nibbles, her cry rapidly forcing its way into the universe. To soothe her, his tongue kitten-licked her raw teat, humming as he coated it in his spit.

Noticing he neglected to tend to her other breast, he started fondling it in his free hand, struggling to fit the mass of it in his grasp. He squeezed it, areola puckering from the applied friction belonging to his palm. 

“Ngh,” she fidgeted, winded from his mania on her tits. “You’re makin’ me crazy!” 

He nabbed her waist, suppressing her need to squirm. “Keep moving around and I may accidentally bite you,” he warned in a low growl. 

Bonnie’s hands sailed to the crown of his head, casually massaging his scalp. “I-I wouldn’t mind if you did,” she bashfully offered.

Man almost came in his pants right there. 

Now, drinking from Bonnie had nothing to do with a lack of an actual want on his behalf, but everything to do with not being permitted to sup from humans by his former creator. Was one of the cocksucker’s commandments that all vampire spawn had to abide. Break those rules and the next year being “pampered” with torture devices became a regular routine until the offender was broken in well and good. 

Still, Astarion lusted in his daydreams after that first burst of thinking creature blood hitting his gluttonous buds, wondering if the gaminess he tasted in smaller animals was replaced by a delicacy more refined. And Bonnie? Gods, he couldn’t even fathom what her life essence might resemble. Perhaps some combination of sunlight and the floating heavens. 

“A-Are you sure, darlin’? I’ve never done this before—with a thinking creature I mean. You would be my first.” He couldn’t help but be in awe of this woman, never ceasing to surprise or revoke her trust in him. 

“I trust you,” she reassuringly smiled.

A bout of thrilling unease jumped into his larynx. “I know where to bite, so you won’t be harmed. It’s only that my practice has been limited to—”

“Hey,” she poked his cheek, “said I trust you.” 

Astarion swallowed, brushing his fingers along the velvety span of her neck. “Would your neck be okay?”

“I think so? Yes?” she tittered. “Won’t really know until we get to that point, but I’ll tell you if it becomes too much.” Suddenly, her hands were scritching at his shirt. “Can we take this off? I want to feel your skin on me while we do this.” 

Guilt weighed on him like a horseshoe as his thoughts trotted to and fro. He needed to confess his sins to her before they continued. Make good on his silent promises to this angelic savior. As their intimacy was increasing fourfold,  Astarion recognized that biting without sapping her dry would be a sensual experience that most vampires didn’t share with mortals. Engaging in something so special without first clearing his slate, wouldn’t be fair to her. 

What minute color was left in his face, drained out. “Bonnie, we need to—” 

A finger tapped against his lips. “Shh. Unless you need to stop, whatever you have to say can wait. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” she spoke softly. “Promise.”

He had to believe her, right? She wasn’t one to regale him with tall tales and dishonesty that was unbecoming. In the end, his bucket of dayshine would be there for him. Waiting. Always waiting for him to fall into her arms.

“Right, well, I—ahem—don’t want you thinking I don’t care about you is all. Because I do,” he sheepishly averted her sight. “Quite a lot, in fact.” It may not have been the agonizing truth he wanted to tell her, but it was a truth nonetheless. And if presumably his sincerity was by chance remembered in a compassionate light later on when he did get the opportunity to spill the rest, all the better for him! 

Blossoming red patches splashed her entire self. Dew glazed a thin veil pane across her eyes that Astarion was wanting to get lost in. “Feels like I’ve been waitin’ a lifetime to hear that from you.”

He pecked her palm several times, cherishing her good heart. “I wanted to take my time with you tonight, give you as much pleasure as time would afford, but I don’t think you understand how long I’ve wanted this—wanted you.”

She invitingly bit her lower lip, moving to untuck his shirt out of his pants. “Then, have me.”

Buttons on his shirt loosened as he facilitated her movements. He chuckled at her serious expression when she endeavored to unstick a button and shooed his hand away when he tried to aid. A simper adorned her as she took her time, intentionally appreciating his abs contracting with titillation as her knuckles scraped against them.

“Enjoying yourself?” he teased, finally shimmying out of the shirt.

“Damned right I am!” Bonnie gawked indecently at his planes of lean chest and ab muscles. His skin virtually glowed in the moon’s beams as he canopied her figure. “You’re so handsome…“

Astarion distracted her with a roguish kiss, moving to wrangle her skirt and petticoat past her thighs. Suffering with her blood singing a hymn to him through her vibrating vein thumps and his need to have his cock inside her tightness, he was becoming desperate to move their interlude forward. 

“What are you doin’?” she puffed out.

A fang arduously clipped her lip, all but drawing blood. “I thought I would make this enjoyable for us both. Do you object?”

“Touch me,” she ordered, legs inherently spreading wide to his predatory touch.

His hand drifted up Bonnie’s quivering inner thigh, her hurriedly babbling a prayer when he reached the section where her thigh met her outer lips. “Gods, you’re bare,” he noted, purring low into her ear discovering she had foregone her under drawers. “Can I check?” 

“Check what?” she rasped into his ear as he left a brisk kiss on the side of her neck.

“To see how wet I’ve made your pussy.” Astarion didn’t wait for the wood elf’s reply, instead he ran his index finger in a straight line down her folds, drenching it in her sopping juices. “Oh, darlin’, is this what I’ve done to you?”

Bonnie shook her head to affirm, hands finding respite on his shoulders. She must’ve remembered him confiding to her that he didn’t quite like having the scars on his back touched because she never let those kind fingers of hers cross his invisible boundary once. He was grateful, cadaveric heart swelling at her consideration for him even during such a carnal moment.

Astarion’s finger soared to her clit, mindful of his claw-like nails harming her by mistake. He found her nub swollen and enlivened as she contracted her slit. His finger traced a halo, circling it, paying blissful tithes to the rapacious spot. The way she moaned his name made him bask, pride filling his ego as a man that could confidently brag he brought satisfaction to a woman like Bonnie. Then, his digit stroked her clit directly, spreading her slippery labia to ensure that little bundle of nerves got the attention it deserved. 

“Oh my gods…right there!” she wailed, sweat beading on her face.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised, compressing his stiff dick into her thigh for relief. 

She shivered when his weight pinned her tits to his naked chest and he began to hump her thigh in succession with every pass he made over her throbbing clit. He bit back a filthy grunt as he chased after his ecstasy on her leg, images of that depraved mouth of hers gorged with his rock hard girth. 

“I want you to make me cum,” she deliberately whined, tongue dipping into his mouth to twirl round the tip of his. He presumed she must’ve gotten a taste of the mint leaves he chewed earlier because she crept her tongue further in and massaged along the topside of his tongue with an audible “mmm.”

“When I do,” he roughly hissed on a notable buck into her thigh, letting her catch her breath, “you’re going to look so exquisite coming undone on my fingers.”

The tip of his finger edged along her whetted inner lips until it found her gaping pussy hole. He inserted an inch into her, testing the scalding snugness. A tight fit, but he already knew she would take his cock so well when the time came. He groaned, practically drooling when she automatically clenched onto him. Bonnie sobbed, positioning those hips to rock further on the inches he had yet to stick in. 

As he sensed her climax growing closer, he skirted his razored cuspids across her taut neck, signaling he was going to asphyxiate his fangs in her blood. Bonnie smirked and angled her head for him to settle his mouth onto his preferred area. He licked a particularly salivating region, marking the balmy pastel blue vein frantically chirring.

The pallid elf nuzzled his lips into her, aware of her nervousness. “Breathe,” he cooed. 

Drawn out deep breaths puffed from her puckered mouth one after the other until she shut her eyes. “R-Ready.”

Astarion’s jaw unlatched and his icy teeth sank and sank and sank into the delicate peel of her flesh. At that precise moment, he had two revelations: thinking creature’s blood had to be the most addictive substance in the world and Bonnie’s cunt was as greedy to be fucked as his need to feed. 

Was there ever a lovelier sound than her gasping when he plunged his fangs and fingers into her at the same time?

Syrupy nectar flooded his mouth and he could have sworn he was already intoxicated off a singular gulp. His five senses sharpened, two hundred years worth of forced malnutrition morphing into what could only be described as happiness. That crimson combusted throughout him, igniting his body with heat. He proved himself wrong believing his shaft couldn’t fatten anymore than usual, but gods, one sip from her and it was viciously tenting his trousers.

Yet, somewhere in the crux of his ravenous appetite being sated, he thought he heard a shrill voice echoing mummified orders. Astarion tepidly retracted from his feast, unconsciously lazing his lunges into Bonnie’s wetness. Blood dribbled down his chin like some famished mongrel as he adjusted his hearing to zone in on the sounds.

He peeked at her face, lost to the throes of pleasure. Didn’t she hear it too?

“I’m going to cum soon,” she cried out high-pitched, snapping him out of his thoughts. Bonnie’s vaginal walls were quaking, fixing to orgasm the instant he crooked his fingers.

“Hmm? Yes, darlin’, cum for me,” he replied, struggling to redirect his salient thought-wandering.

Vulgar words exited her mouth while he burrowed his fingers inside her, ushering her pressuring climax. Canines latched back onto the wounds he created and nursed a few more mouthfuls of blood. His fingers pumped at a slightly faster speed while gently thumbing her clit, rising from her neck only to sweetly encourage her. And when her pussy convulsed, she sang his name and praises with a prolonged moan that accompanied the torrential liquid bombarding his fingertips.  

Admiration for Bonnie’s form in his arms as he roused her orgasmic glow, should have filled him with a kind of joy bringing about an otherwise loving experience for the woman he’d fallen for, but instead, he felt nothing. He quickly blamed it on that distracting muffled voice stagnating on the precipice of his tried and true fears, hellsbent on giving himself a fair shake to try sharing pleasure with her again.

Astarion slid his soaked fingers out as her intensity subsided and eased her to sit upright. “Did that feel okay?”

Gradually, her vision refocused, tremors reducing to mini bouts of gooseflesh. “Are you kiddin’? I don’t think anyone has ever made me cum that hard in my life!”

He clicked his tongue. “I guess they weren’t trying hard enough.”

She tousled his snowy waves, amused at his brief frown mussing up his coif. “Or maybe it’s because it was you.” 

“They ain’t call me the ‘Buckin’ Bronco’ fer nothin’, lil’ lady,” he jested in a fake thicker accent.

“Literally no one calls you that,” she snickered, rolling her eyes. “And if they did, you’d knife them.”

He kissed her temple, snorting into her hairline. “I hate to admit you’re right, but gods, it is rather awful, isn’t it?” 

Bonnie stretched to tickle his chin, drying blood adhering to her nail. She ironed it between her inquisitive finger ends. “Oh! Hold on.” Collecting a bunched portion of her skirt hem, she spit on it, proceeding to dab it on his chin. “Blood smears.”

Lines crumpled his browline. He cautiously pawed at the puncture marks. “Speaking of, how bad did it hurt?”

“Would you think me a freak if I said it felt sorta…nice?”

A dramatic hand flew to his chest. “Bonnie Sparrows, did you just admit to being turned on by being bitten?!”

For a beat, her suggestive glance flitted to his deviant smugness. She vacuumed in her lips to wet them, mindfully resuming her labor on his chin. “I sure did.” Wanton thing couldn’t hide her desires even if she tried—which she wasn’t. 

The bulging outline in his trousers was still firm when he navigated Bonnie to stall her caretaking to caress it. “Aah. You’re certainly not the only one,” he replied with a pained exhale.

A flush plagued the expanse of her décolletage as she gave his erection feather-light pats, obviously unsure of how he liked to be touched. Hiding his increasing impatience, needing friction like something fierce, he kissed her, bowing her back as he coaxed her to lay onto the grass once more. Bonnie balanced herself onto her forearms, bare breasts shuddering with anticipation. 

Astarion sat back on his knees and unbuttoned his fly, accidentally ripping one of the buttons clear off in his jittery haste. “Hmph. Guess I won’t be needing that,” he acknowledged lightheartedly. 

Double bouts of barreling laughter conjoined, temporarily breaking the ice. 

He sighed. “You would think I’ve never done this before.”

“Well, you haven’t with me.” She squinted at him, scanning his expressions. “Um, do you still want to—?”

Bending to grab her knee, he pecked the inside. “I need to. I want to.” He needed to be healed. He wanted to feel different.

Trousers lowering to his hips, he winced as his pre-cum covered swollenness bobbed out. Cock head was a feverish pink, warmed by her blood coursing through. He spit into his palm for extra lubrication and stroked his tip a few times, boastfully smiling as he watched her study his impressive member. 

Stars were higher in the sky by now, the lulling breeze grazing their bodies seemed to cradle all their dreams and fondness for each other on its gusts. He lined himself up to enter her, gripping his shaft to impeccably angle it into her on that first thrust. They pressed their foreheads together, Bonnie arcing herself onto his shoulders, and moaned in unison as his crown stretched her inch by agonizing inch until he was fully rooted inside. 

His jaw and lips were bombarded with an onslaught of kisses, babbling endearments that made him dizzy. He slowed his undulating hips, allowing her pussy’s creaminess to smother him as she adjusted to his girth. 

“Ungh, Bon…B-Bonnie…so tight and,” he warbled, taking half of his length out and shoving it back in, “deep.”

She kissed his brow above his right eye. “Are you…okay?”

A blissful shiver crawled down his spine. “It just…ngh…feels different. Fuck, it feels—” 

“Beautiful” was what he wanted to say. What an odd word to describe how their intimacy felt, like it was a sensation he was being introduced to for the first time. Yet, to him, it was perfect.

Astarion glued his eyes shut, there was no bile wanting to spew from his stomach pit nor were there those loathful drudgeries digging holes into brain. Being inside her, connecting in this manner, was pure delight. 

“Feels different…haa…for me too,” she said on a jagged intake of air.

Astarion couldn’t comprehend what she meant by that. She wasn’t a virgin, having taken some men and women into her bed during her one hundred and forty-five year lifespan. Could have been the sex itself and finally having each other. But, when he chanced a peer into those white water blues, he thought he saw a glimmer of an unconditional emotion woven into her irises that filled him with a percolating doubt.

To rid himself of his ideations, he nested into the crook of her neck, bathing in the scent of soapy remnants on her flesh, and drove into her a few more times to evaluate her comfort. She reacted with more clamoring sobs, embracing his prick with her hot slit. Then—

“Yeowch!”

He immediately ceased. “What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“Stop for a minute. I think a stick is tryin’ to make its way into my butt,” Bonnie giggled. She reached behind her naked ass to pluck out the offending intruder. “Aha!”

Taking the stick from her, Astarion tossed it in a direction he wasn’t paying attention to. “Hopefully that will be the last interruption because,” he wreathed her legs around his waist, tenderly kissing her breast valley, “I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

She beamed at him, as innocently as she could pretend, running a finger along his ear’s helix. “You can cum inside me if you’d like.”

“Gods…” His dick flexed inside her, spurred on by her treacherous invitation. He was damned near ready to explode as it was, but hearing her utter such a shameless appeal made him want to fuck her as hard as she’d allow. 

His thrusts began anew, this time going quicker than previously. Astarion glided his hand between his thighs, giving her over sensitive clit a gentle swab. Bonnie’s walls quivered as he filled her, a stocking ungracefully sliding down her leg while her heels dug into his lower back. She wailed when he found her nipple once more, heartlessly punishing it with added suckles. 

“‘Starion?” Bonnie implored, legs shaking like a leaf. 

He led a crusade of kisses to her mouth, all the while pounding in smooth drawn-out propels as her hands scrambled for purchase in his hair. Sweat pooled in the tragus above her plump lips, tresses wild with tangles from rubbing against the earth. Her skin was a bright red, freckles standing out as teeny brown constellations inked across the sky that was her face.

Bonnie cupped his cheeks, shifting her eyes back and forth, and Astarion knew what she was going to say before she said it. “I-I love you, Astarion.”

He’d seen that exact phrase swirling around her pupils like a dust storm earlier, unable to properly prepare himself for it. But, did he love her? Could he unabashedly admit that he loved this woman named Bonnie Sparrows that treated him as an equal and someone worthy of love in every imaginable way possible? Had everything they went through led up to this finite moment where he realized that he felt love for another person again during these unending decades that he spent in misery and isolation?

Yes. Astarion was, without a doubt, madly in love with Bonnie.

He stared back at her, leaning to mouth his confession against her lips. “I lo—”

“Boy, you are a fool,” a piercing tone shot through his thoughts. “She doesn’t love you. She loves what pleasure your cock can bring to her.”

“No. No. NO! You’re dead! You’re fucking dead!”

“Insolent boy! When will you learn that no matter if I am dead or alive, I will ALWAYS be with you,” the Reverend’s voice stated. “How about you slice open that pretty neck of hers so I can see how much she bleeds! Ahahahaha.”

Despite Astarion’s liberation, he still had a distinct fright of what lurked beyond the shadows.  Incanted sordid commands and rotsome hands pushing him ‘neath dark waters that were likely a trick of the mind. Cazador was as dead as a doornail and whatever hubbub his psyche was muddling his head with, Bonnie wasn’t for his master, she was for him! 

Red. Red. Red. Everywhere red. Bonnie’s throat slit. Bonnie a corpse at Cazador’s feet. Himself fucking every dick and cunt between here and there. All for the master. Kennel chains rattling. Starvation. Weakness. Torture. He wasn’t free. HE’D NEVER BE FREE!

Astarion wished to tell her what was going on, bade her to run, but the words wouldn’t come. They were lost to him, as lost as his autonomy remained. 

That numbing dysphoria he’d grown accustomed, dispersed into his pores, shielding him from his stressful visions. He autopiloted, elevating his lover’s lower half so he could fuck into her at a speed that would make him cum and end it all. 

Bonnie gurgled out more “I love yous” as he rammed into her, tits barbarically bouncing. Damned woman was a half-wit! It wasn’t true. She could never love a damaged man like him. He was beyond repair.

She screamed his name and he screamed inwardly. Then, he came, groaning and stuttering his hips as his release emptied inside of her.

They laid in silence. Astarion stared unblinking at Bonnie while she herded away each wiley clump of curl that clung to his forehead. She didn’t look disappointed he didn’t tell her he loved her in return—maybe giving him a berth to chew on it—instead humming to herself in a state of joyful tranquility oft seen after sharing intimacies and all. 

“That was nice,” she whispered, blushing up a storm. “Did you feel okay during all that?”

He finally blinked, masking his sorrow with enthusiasm. “It felt wonderful! You are wonderful, darlin’.”

Astarion guided out his limping cock, putting it behind his trouser’s fly. Unable to do anything more than a clinical cleaning, he used his shirt to clean her whole body down from head to foot, dusting sweat and wiping away mixed bodily fluids. He was downright ashamed of himself, barely able to look at her.

Bonnie clasped her corset, adjusting its cover with concentrated effort in lieu of the yawns now seeping out. She threw her arms round his middle and squished him tight. “Love, I think I am all tuckered out! Mind if we rest here for a bit before that sun starts rising?”

He kissed the crown of her head, cradling it into his chest. “I’ll stand guard in case any hooligans wander by. Trance for a while. I’ll wake you when it’s time to head out.”

After those subsequent yawns, it didn’t take much until she was snoozing peacefully in his lap. He let the clock tick away hour by hour for as long as he could, imprinting her scent and slumbering noises into his memory, until he reckoned he should get a move on. 

He wasn’t certain if he was making the right choice, but he knew it was the compromise that may save them both. Didn’t matter how far he was willing to go to prevent it, Bonnie still became a victim—an unknowing victim to his trauma at that. And through that sickness that struck him, Astarion was all too aware that he could probably never provide her with the life she deserved.

He shepherded her head to lay on his crumpled up shirt and gave her a tearful kiss on her hand, a hushed ode to love murmured into her skin. “Ai armiel telere maenan hir. You hold my heart forever, my love.”

When he glanced back a final time at that orange chrysanthemum in the shape of a woman he cared for, laying exposed as a vulnerable lamb in the chill air, he knew their delicate feelings that brought life to his grave for one night had been love. 

The phantom of Cazador Szarr may consume that same love he felt for her, but his leaving meant his master couldn’t consume hers too. And the only kind of love he ever deserved, would always be at the end of a whip.

Snippet Sunday Tuesday?

Thank you for the tags, @roguishcat and @kalmiaphlox! I loved your WIPs!

I’m never on time, so here’s a little bit of Chapter 12 of Indelible Imprints now instead of Sunday lol.

Chapters 1-11 on AO3 and the pinned post on my blog!

Enwebbed

Summary:

Eve awakens in a grand, unfamiliar city, confused and covered in blood but without visible injuries. Disoriented and struggling with fragmented memories, she wanders the streets in search of answers, haunted by the sense of time lost. Her primary focus is finding Astarion, the one person she remembers clearly, as she tries to unravel the mystery of her missing past and what has happened during her absence.

For chapter 10 of Indelible Imprints, I really loved the scene I wrote for the hag fight and have been really proud of it since I posted it.

I wanted to do something special for it, so I finally got my first commission ever from @bby-bel and I am so beyond happy with it!! They're such an incredible artist and you should definitely reach out if you've been wanting a commission! 💖💖💖

Look at my baby Erin, all possessed and evil 🥰

OMG!!! There they are!! 💖💖 This is beautiful, OP!

promo piece i decided to do for the fanfiction im illustrating for by @preciouslittlebhaalbae , Indelible Imprints!!! Astarion and Erin having a silly little moment 😌 go check it out, it’s so wonderfully written!!

WIP Wednesday!

Thank you @xxnashiraxx for tagging me (your WIP was so good - I'm so excited!) and everyone who has tagged me over the past Snippet Sunday and WIP Wednesday! I love getting to see all of your WIPs and I'm always excited to actually have something to share on the actual day lol.

Here is part of a WIP for chapter 13 of my bg3 isekai, Indelible Imprints! 💖

You can read chapters 1-12 on Ao3 or through the pinned post on my blog!

Tagging 💖: @justabiteofspite @elinorbard @ladyduellist @bhaalsdeepbat @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @sashitf @roguishcat @kalmiaphlox @chaoticbardlady99 @celaenamyers if you all have something to share! 💖

Mauria (Tav) and Astarion are so broken, they deserve each other. 

WIP Whenever

💕Thank you so much for tagging me @xxnashiraxx, @obsessedwhyyes, @lanafofana! 💕

It is not August but here is a bit from Augustarion DILF (Astarion x fReader), which is finally FINALLY almost done.

You yawned and closed your eyes, content to stay like this a little while longer.

“Oh fuck, these two are fucking again!”

Your eyes snapped open.

“Astarion, you said that they wouldn’t be back!” you hissed, pushing him as you tried to pull the covers up to preserve some modesty.

“Well, excuse me! It’s not my fault that they decided to barge in without knocking!” he complained, levelling Karlach and Shadowheart with a look and giving them a sneer. “Honestly, some people have no manners at all!”

No pressure tags: @clazberryk, @inkymoonbunny, @verbenaa

@preciouslittlebhaalbae, @fangbangerghoul, @silent-words,

@marlowethebard, @honeybee-bard,

@ladyduellist, @khywren

Indelible Imprints

Chapter 13

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary:

-Astarion is jealous and a lil angsty for half a second

-Astarion, Gale, and Erin do some stuff in the Blighted Village

-Erin agrees to let Astarion try feeding from her directly again

-Erin is confused (so is Astarion tbh)

-SPOILER: A tiny bit of smut. As a treat.

As always, comments & reblogs are very appreciated! If you like this chapter, PLEASE for the love of GOD tell me because I AM SO NERVOUS about it. Have pity on my poor soul. 😭 (It’s my first time posting smut).

Ao3

Previous Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

Tag list: @roguishcat @thisisew @chaoticbardlady99

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

GORGEOUS COMMISSION DONE BY @bby-bel OF A SCENE FROM THIS CHAPTER AT THE BOTTOM!!!

Astarion

Astarion stared at the ceiling of his tent. After watching Erin and Shadowheart lying together for however long he’d stood in their doorway, there hadn’t been much else for him to do but go back to his own tent and brood. He couldn’t stand to look at them any longer anyway. 

This was stupid. What even was there to brood about? He’d been foolish to let himself get swept up in some fantasy simply because he’d spent one night in her tent with her. She’d been upset, in need of comfort, and he was just a warm body. Well. A body, at least. It could have been anyone. There was no reason to think that night had been anything more than that. Nothing had even happened. 

Maybe this was for the better. He had been so uncertain about his plans to seduce her, and with her freely giving him her blood and protection, there was really no need. The cleric was even the one who had been helping her draw blood for her little donations. He glanced at the bottles of blood Erin had left for him the other day, unopened in the corner of his tent. Shadowheart would probably agree to help her protect him, if she asked. Probably.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the pang of disappointment. Now he’d never get to replace the memories of when she’d put her mouth on his against her will with a moment where she was herself, and willing. 

Not just willing. Wanting. He realized with a sting in his chest that he wanted her to want him. To want to kiss him. To touch and hold him like she had last night, when she’d been too emotional to care about being embarrassed. He didn’t know why, but he did. He wanted her to seek comfort in him, just like she had in that moment. 

Now that she was with the cleric, she probably never would again.

Sitting up, he looked back at the blood jars. He should drink at least one of them. The animals he’d been feeding on the past few nights hadn’t filled him much, and he could feel an emptiness gnawing at his stomach. Still, something within him twisted even more than his hunger at the thought of taking any more of her blood from those bottles. They only reminded him of why she wouldn’t let him drink directly from her in the first place, and he didn’t want to think about that.

But then what was the point of all this, if she was giving him exactly what he wanted and he couldn’t bring himself to take it?

This is what you wanted. Why can’t you just drink it??

Lying back down against his bedroll, he tried to ignore his hunger. He’d just save the jars for an emergency. He didn’t want them yet. If he focused on that thought long enough, maybe he’d believe it.

***

Once everyone had finished breakfast the next morning, it was decided that some of the group would go on ahead to scout the goblin camp before they all went in together. The rest would stay behind to thoroughly loot the village for anything useful in the fight ahead. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart would go ahead, while Erin, Gale, and Astarion stayed behind. 

Astarion was relieved to see Erin agree readily to the split, with no attempts to keep the cleric close. It did make sense for Shadowheart to leave with the scouting group. She was the healer, after all, and they’d need her there more than they would at camp if the group ran into any trouble. Still, he watched them closely to see if they were disappointed to be separated. They didn’t seem affected at all. Had the night before not gone as well for them as he’d thought? They certainly weren’t acting like lovers who had just consummated their relationship. What had he seen last night, then?

He couldn’t help himself. Just as the scouting group had gotten out of earshot, he leaned toward Erin and spoke low in her ear.

“What? No goodbye kiss for your new lover?”

She jumped, clearly startled by his sudden appearance behind her. She was far too easy to sneak up on.

“Shit!” When she caught him smirking, she smacked his chest, but there was no real effort in it. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that. I’ll have a heart attack.”

He chuckled at her overreaction. “We can’t have that, can we?” 

Settling from the shock, she asked, “Sorry, what were you saying before I jumped out of my skin just now?”

“I was asking about your new lover. I thought the two of you might have been more inclined to stay together after your tryst last night.”

She looked confused. Her brows shot up, creasing her forehead when she asked, “My… what?”

His expression dropped. Was she purposely being obtuse? “Really, darling. It’s not as though the entire camp didn’t see you leaving the same place this morning for breakfast.”

Realization finally set in her eyes, but instead of blushing she made an annoyed snorting sound.“Oh my god. You’re just as bad as she is.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“About?” he prompted her, attempting to mask his frustration.

“Making assumptions about my sex life, apparently. Nothing like that happened last night.”

His heart lightened. “Oh? Did you want something to happen?” he asked, hoping she’d say no.

She rolled her eyes. “Again, you’re just as bad as she is. No. She’s my friend and I don’t see her that way. You guys act like we don’t have anything else to worry about,” she added, sounding a bit incredulous. “Sex has kind of been the last thing on my mind with these worms in our brains, and all.”

 “You poor thing,” he teased, grinning wide. “So repressed you can’t even distract yourself with the simplest of pleasures?”

A small offended noise escaped her mouth and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m not repressed,” she protested, “I’ve had plenty of se-“ she stopped herself and glared at him. “You know what? I’m not talking about this with you.”

He grinned even harder, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so much. “Oh no, do go on!” 

She crossed her arms and turned, walking away from him. “I’m leaving. Bye.”

He chuckled to himself as he watched her go. The thought of her being with others wasn’t exactly his favorite, but he was in too good a mood to dwell on it. Besides, he liked seeing her flustered. The blush that spread to her face was adorable, and reminded him of the blood coursing underneath. 

She and Shadowheart didn’t have sex. He was more relieved than he should have been.

Erin

Erin was watching Gale stir ingredients into a pot, trying very hard to listen to him as he narrated the steps he took to brew the healing potion he was making. It turned out that one of the houses in the village had belonged to an apothecary, and most of their stores seemed untouched. Gale had been delighted, immediately noting they had enough to make potions to last them a while. Erin had asked him if a person needed magic to make potions, and when he said it wasn’t necessary, she asked him to teach her. Since she was the least capable of the group in a fight, she figured the least she could do was learn to make a few potions so she could help keep them stocked. Besides, she was more prone to injury than the others and it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra healing potion or two on hand so they wouldn’t have to worry about her.

She also needed a distraction. After her chat with Shadowheart last night, she couldn’t stop thinking about Astarion. She’d dreamt of him again, and she tried to convince herself it was only because Shadowheart had kept teasing her about her attachment to him. All the talk about sleeping with him just put it in her head. It wasn’t her fault that he ended up in her dreams. Again. 

But she couldn’t stop thinking about the things Shadowheart had said. Did he really look at her so differently than the others? Was it so obvious?

Of course he does, you let him drink your blood. Shadowheart even said it, he looks at you like he wants to devour you. You’re just a meal.

She blushed, embarrassed for letting Shadowheart get to her head. He was her friend. Just because he teased a bit didn’t mean there was anything else there. He’d even spent the night in her tent without anything happening. Surely someone as flirty as him would have actually made a move then, if he’d been interested. 

No, he was just being a good friend, comforting her while she was sad. Guilt tugged at her chest, convinced that she’d made him feel trapped into doing so, unintentional as that was. Being close to people didn’t seem like something he was actually comfortable with, but there she was, constantly forcing proximity. He didn’t seem to begrudge her for it though.

It wasn’t fair, that stupid hag had put all of this into her head. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him in ways she shouldn’t since that day in her den. They felt like nightmares at first, flashes of her licking his lips in her dreams in the aftermath. But, that night he held her in her arms, her dreams were softer, sweeter. Their hands were in each other’s hair as they sighed into each other’s mouths. Those dreams played out more like fantasies, and the way he touched her in them made her chest feel warm. It felt good. She tried to ignore it.

But then Shadowheart had to insist on talking about them like they were a couple last night, stoking the fires of Erin’s dreams no matter how much she denied them while awake. She’d had a genuinely nice time with Shadowheart that night, comforted to be close to a friend, but as she drifted into sleep, the arms holding her became his again and she didn’t mind it at all. 

When Shadowheart woke her this morning, she panicked for a second, as though she would somehow know what she’d been dreaming about and judge her harshly for the unbidden fantasies that came to her while she slept. 

Everybody has sex dreams. They don’t mean anything. Shadowheart was talking about sex last night so of course that’s what you dreamed about.

Astarion wasn’t helping. The way he’d lowered his voice when he spoke into her ear this morning had shocked her, and sent a spark of heat into her belly. And all to suggest she was sleeping with Shadowheart? If this was the way he teased her over things that didn’t even happen she was grateful he couldn’t see the things she dreamed about. She’d probably die.

“Erin, are you listening?”

“Hmm?” She looked up to see Gale watching her, waiting for an answer. “Oh, I’m sorry Gale. What was the question?”

“What ingredients do you need for this potion?”

“Oh, that’s easy, she answered. “Rogue’s morsel, which is the weird phallic-looking mushroom, and salt.” 

Gale blushed. “Ah, close, but no. Firstly, it’s salt of Rogue’s morsel, and second, you need to add it to a suspension.” He paused, turning a slightly deeper shade of red. “Um, and the mushroom you were describing was actually Bonecap. Rogue’s morsel has a cap that looks more like a pointed hat. It’s not as, ahem, phallic… as the Bonecap.”

“Ha!” Her eyes lit up. “Not subtle with naming your plants here, huh? BONE-cap?” she cackled. 

Gale rolled his eyes at her immaturity and gave her a lighthearted shove. “All right, that’s quite enough. At least until I have better knowledge of your own world to tease you with.”

“Ask me anything,” she gave him a mischievous grin. “We have mushrooms shaped like dicks over there, too.”

“Duly noted,” he chuckled.

“By the way,” she started. “Have you figured anything out with my phone yet?” She didn’t want to seem impatient, but she was hopeful that he might get it to work again soon.

“Ah, not quite yet,” he gave her a sympathetic smile. “Given that I’ve only got a couple of chances, I’m taking my time with finding a solution. As you said, I don’t want to just ‘shoot’ lightning at it.”

“Oh,” she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Still, she was grateful he was being careful. “No worries, Gale. Take your time.”

Astarion burst out of the apothecary’s house, excitedly hurrying to where they stood over their potion at the campfire.

“I found a secret cellar. Someone come with me so we can raid it for good wine and dirty secrets.” He said, downright giddy.

“What makes you think there are dirty secrets to find?” Erin asked him.

“Please. A hidden cellar is hidden for a reason. It’s probably positively depraved.”

“Let Erin go with you, then,” Gale said, winking at her. “After our little discussion, she’d probably love it.”

“Don’t be a Bonecap, Gale.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Astarion looked back and forth between the two of them. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

“You never tell me anything,” he scrunched his nose at her. “You’re no fun.”

***

The cellar turned out to not be particularly depraved, but it did seem to contain a few secrets. While Astarion raided the stores of wine and dug through various notes, Erin looked through the shelf of books and desk nearby. She found a key in a drawer and slipped it into her pocket, in case they found a locked door later. There was suddenly a ‘click’ and the sound of stone dragging. She looked up to see the wall ahead of her sliding open and called out to Astarion.

“Astarion? Was that you?”

He appeared out of the corner he’d been digging in. “Yes, I found a lever behind those crates, and what do you know? A secret cellar within the secret cellar.” he laughed that high-pitched, airy laugh that Erin was growing fond of.

“It’s cute, the way your fangs peek out like that when you laugh,” she blurted out before she could think better of it.

He stopped laughing, eyes widening just a little as he looked at her. He didn’t look unhappy, but she was a little sad to see his smile gone so quickly.

“Anyway…” Pivoting from the awkwardness she’d just created, she nodded to the room the hidden door had just revealed. “Shall we?”

He cleared his throat before answering, and his expression looked normal again as he gestured ahead of them. “After you, darling.”

Erin immediately noticed a small grate that looked like an old prison door and walked up to see what was inside. It was a small room, with nothing but a book sitting on a dusty stone table. She looked down at the padlock on the door and pulled out the key she’d found earlier, ready to unlock it.

“Before you do that, mind if I check for traps?” Astarion asked from behind her. “Something about it being the only locked door in this house makes me think we should err on the side of caution.”

“Oh,” Erin felt a little stupid. “Yeah, that makes sense. Go ahead.” 

He knelt down before her, inspecting the door and the floor below it. “Aha. Go ahead and step back a moment, darling. Just to be safe.”

She did as he said as he pulled his tools out of his back pocket. She tried not to watch his hands too closely as he worked.

“There we go,” he said after a moment, standing. “You can go ahead and use that key now.”

She slipped the key in the lock and opened the door. She looked down at the book. It was disgusting. The cover looked like it had been bound in the skin of someone’s face and she really hoped it was just a really gross, albeit detailed, leatherwork design. She tugged her sleeve down to cover her hand so she wouldn’t have to touch too much of it and pulled the book from the table. Sitting on the floor, she set it down and looked at it, wondering why it had been locked away and guarded with a trap. 

Astarion leaned in close, looking at the book over her shoulder.

“That looks terribly heavy. Why don’t you let me carry it for you?”

She smirked at how obvious he made it that he wanted the book. “Here,” she handed it to him. “It’s yours. A gift for finding that trap and saving my life… again.”

“Of course,” he took the book from her and slipped it in his bag. “I’m happy to save your life if it means I keep getting books and favors.”

“And not my company? I’m hurt.”

“Well that goes without saying.”

“Does it?” She looked at him, surprised.

He met her gaze and then looked away.

“Well I suppose it does now.”

His expression almost seemed shy, despite that being one of the last adjectives she’d use to describe him. 

*** 

After they’d cleared out what they could from the basement, Erin and Astarion walked back to put it all in the center of camp for organizing. After spending a bit of time going through it all, they decided to take a short break so Erin could eat and take care of the rest later. Gale had been taking inventory of everything, scribbling what they had and how much of it there was in a small book. He told Erin he’d write some recipes for a few basic potions that she could follow later in it as well as they ate. Astarion had gone to his tent, and she remembered she had found something she wanted to give him yesterday.

She excused herself from lunch with Gale and went back to where she and Shadowheart had slept last night. After finding her duffel bag, she reached in and dug around for the headband she’d found on one of the ogres they’d fought when they got to the village yesterday. Pulling it out, she gave it a quick look for any blemishes she could wipe clean. It looked alright. More than alright, it was extremely pretty. It was made of silver, with small branches sticking out and surrounding a cracked blue stone. The crack didn’t take away from its beauty, and after she’d cleaned it yesterday, she couldn’t help but think how nice it would look on Astarion. She hoped he would like it.

Approaching his tent with the headband in hand, she called his name. 

“Hey, Astarion? Can I come in for a second?”

There was a pause, and then he answered. “Sure, darling.”

She ducked under the flap and crawled inside his tent. He was sitting with a small chest in front of him. He picked the chest up and set it aside. She looked around, a little shocked at the mess inside. He had empty bottles everywhere, and rags stained with blood scattered around the floor. Instead of a bedroll, there was a wooden plank in the corner of the tent with a single dirty blanket that didn’t look big enough to even cover him comfortably. Her heart suddenly ached to think he was living like this. Why did he keep all of his nice things outside of his tent? Surely he could have brought a few of the pillows in here and at least thrown out some of the trash to make it a little cozier in here.

“Did you need something, dear?” he asked, sounding slightly anxious as she stared at the plank of wood on the floor.

“Oh, no,” she said, looking back to him. “I just wanted to give you this.” She handed him the headband she’d been holding. 

He took it, then squinted at her. “Why?”

She sighed. “Aren’t you the one who told me I should just take the gifts you’ve given me? I just thought you might like it.”

“You don’t want it?” 

“To be honest, I think it would look much nicer on you.”

He smirked, “Yes, well most things do.”

She rolled her eyes, ready to tease him for being so full of himself, but her eyes landed on the bottles of blood she’d given him, still full.

“Hey, isn’t that the blood I gave you? That was a few days ago, why didn’t you drink them? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, no, everything’s fine.”

“But, you said animal blood wasn’t enough? Is there something wrong with what I gave you?”

“No, nothing! I just… It’s a bit odd to drink it this way, honestly.”

“From a bottle?”

“Yes… I suppose it just feels a bit unnatural. I’ll drink it when I need to.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” She paused. “Do you want to try drinking from me again?”

“What?”

“From me. Like you did the first time. Well, hopefully not exactly like the first time.”

“You trust me enough to try it that way again?”

“Astarion, you’ve saved my life enough now that I can’t imagine not trusting you. I mean, you were starving the first time. I can understand how you ended up going overboard. But you’re not starving anymore. We can try again.” 

“Really?”

“Yes. Just… eat something beforehand. Probably best for you not to try this again on an empty stomach.”

“Of course, darling. I can go hunt now if you wont mind trying once I get back.”

“Sure. Just meet me in my tent when you’re back.”

Astarion

He stood outside her tent, almost unable to believe she’d invited him there. That she was allowing him to drink from her again. After what he’d done the first time, he was sure he’d never get to do it again. Now that he was about to, his fangs ached at the thought of sinking into her skin. As soon as she’d left his tent, he downed the bottles she’d given him as quickly as he could, wiping the drips that had spilled past his lips with a stray rag before he left to drain the first animal he could find. 

Now he was here, outside her tent, waiting for her to meet him. She’d gone off to grab a snack when he’d come back and met her by the campfire. When she came back, she had a banana in her hand and a book under her arm. She held the tent flap open for him and followed him inside.

“Good book?” he asked.

“It’s pretty fun, actually. Gale loaned it to me. ‘The True and Impossible Adventures of Tenebrux Morrow.’ She’s had some very interesting adventures so far.”

“Oh, yes, that’s a good one. She applies the word ‘true’ to her tales a bit liberally, though.”

“Don’t ruin the illusion for me. She was on her way to being my new hero.”

Astarion laughed and she smiled.

“Alright, so how do you want to do this?” she asked, setting the book and the banana down for later. 

He hesitated. “I… I want to try something, if you’ll let me. I think it might prepare the flow of your blood better and make the initial sting less painful for you.”

“I mean, if you’re worried about blood flow, I could always take a quick jog? Or do some jumping jacks.”

“Oh no, I believe this will be quicker, and a little less inconvenient for you.”

“If you say so. So what is it you want to try?”

“Would you allow me?”

“Um, sure. Should I move?”

“No, no. You’re perfect right where you are.”

He crawled to sit behind her, crossing his legs rather than spreading them around her and pulling her into his lap like he’d like to do. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pulled her closer, so he could access her neck. She was awkward and tense, clearly trying to avoid leaning against his chest or touching him in any way. 

Gods, but he wanted her to. He ignored the thought and carefully pulled her hair away from her neck as she tilted her head to the side for him, caressing her skin with the tips of his fingers under the guise of brushing the hairs away. As he watched the trail of goosebumps follow in the wake of his touch and heard her heart skip a beat, he couldn’t help but think how much he wanted to caress her skin with no pretense at all. He didn’t want to need a reason to touch her. He wanted to be able to do it simply for the fact that he wanted to. 

“So what now?” She asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hm,” he started, unsure of how he’d explain it to her. “Well, it may be easier for me to just show you. You can stop me at any time, of course.”

She tilted her head further in assent, so he leaned forward and pulled her a little closer. His lips hovered above her neck, and he longed to drag his tongue up and down the length of her throat, just to hear the way it might make her gasp. Instead, he gently placed his mouth over the juncture between her neck and shoulder and gently started to suck the skin without biting, keeping his tongue respectfully still.

Her heart skipped another beat, and at the sound of her breath hitching, he sucked a little harder, willing his tongue to stay still against her skin. 

Suddenly, she pushed herself forward, breaking the contact. She whipped her head around to look at him and he tried to hide his disappointment when he asked, “Something wrong, darling?”

“That was your idea? Giving me a hickey?” She reached up to rub her fingers over where his mouth had just been and he noted the way they lingered over the small bruise instead of wiping away the moistness he’d left there. 

“Well,” he fidgeted with his hands a bit. “I thought it would be a quick way to warm the area up a bit and increase the blood flow…”

“You could have at least told me you planned on leaving a mark. I’d have had you do it to the side of my neck you’ve already bitten. How am I supposed to explain a random hickey if someone asked?”

“Why do you care?” he asked.

“People might get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea is that?”

“That we’re… you know what it would look like.”

“So what? What’s so bad about that?”

“Besides the fact that it isn’t true??”

“Would it be so horrible if it was?”

“What?”

He leaned closer. “Would it embarrass you so much? To have been with me?” He whispered, nose nearly touching hers.

“No, I,” she swallowed hard, and he could hear the way her heart was thundering in her chest now. She turned to look away from him and her eyes landed on something behind him and she squinted at it.

“Wait,” she said, and he watched her crawl toward the stack of clothes he’d left in her tent last night. She pulled the shirt lying on top into her hands and looked at him questioningly. “What’s this?”

“That would be a shirt. Blouse, if you prefer. A more general term might be garment.”

“No, I know what it is…” she tenderly brushed her fingers over the embroidery that had been added.

“Did you do this?” she asked him.

“Yes, well. I told you I’d wash it for you the other night.”

“And this?” she pointed to the embroidery.

“It’s nothing, really. You had holes that needed patching up. Really, darling, you’re terrible about picking at fabric. Don’t you dare pull on that embroidery.”

“Oh, I guess I am… I’ll take care of it… Thank you.”

“See that you do.”

There was a pause, and while she stared at his embroidery, he cleared his throat to break the silence.

She looked up from the shirt and met his gaze. “Oh, right,” she set the shirt down and moved to sit in front of him again. “Where were we?”

“You were chastising me for leaving an extra mark on your skin. Would you like me to try over the bite mark instead?”

“Yes, that would be better,” she breathed.

He held her gaze as she nodded, then dipped his head to the other side of her neck, pressing his tongue against his old bite mark and taking her skin in his mouth again. He sucked harder than before, and when a small gasp escaped her lips, he swirled his tongue around the tender flesh of her neck as he sucked, throwing aside the restraint from before. He groaned in spite of himself and leaned further into her, pushing her lower and caging her beneath him with his arms on either side of her. Hoping to hide behind his hunger, he pulled back to bare his teeth, preparing to bite, but she stopped him.

“Wait, Astarion.” she said. 

He was disappointed, but not surprised. Of course this was too much, something she didn’t want. Slowly, he lifted his head from her neck to meet her gaze, but she didn’t say anything. She reached out to touch his cheek and guided him closer, his face hovered above hers. She brought her other hand up to cup his cheek, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones, and looked at him in a way that made him shiver, despite the warmth of her hands. 

Everything went quiet, and all he could hear was her slow breaths as she looked into his eyes, her brows canted slightly upward, a cute little crease forming between them. She’d never looked at him like that before. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want this closeness to stop. So he lowered his face toward hers, searching for a sign that she didn’t want it to stop either as he brought his lips just above her own. Their noses brushed ever so slightly and they were so close that when her heart skipped a beat, it felt like his did too.

Suddenly, she brought her hands to the nape of his neck and pulled him down to her, closing the gap. Her lips were soft and warm against his as they pressed together slowly. 

She was kissing him and he was kissing her back and it felt so good. What had started soft and slow grew quickly heated and urgent, as she threaded her hands in his curls, pulling him impossibly closer and gently scraping his scalp and he nearly moaned at the sensation. He grabbed her waist, needing to touch her, and let his hands roam up and down her sides. 

He swept his tongue against her lower lip before pulling it into his mouth and gently nipping at it, careful not to cut her on his fangs. She let out a soft little “mm” and he gave her lip one last suck before slipping his tongue into her mouth. She let him in and circled her tongue over his in a way that made him want so much more. She was running her hands down his sides and as they settled on his lower back he brought his own up to cup her cheek.

He started leaving a wet trail of kisses from her mouth down her neck, and she gasped, but before he could go any further she pushed against his chest, stopping him. Her heart was racing and she was out of breath. He looked at her mouth, pink and shiny from their kissing, and wanted desperately to keep kissing her. 

Why did she stop?

Confused, he looked down at her and saw only shock in her expression. 

“Darling?” he asked, “Is everything alright?”

She pushed herself up but turned away from his face, as though she were suddenly unable to look at him. 

“Yes, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“What?” He didn’t understand what could have changed in such a short moment. Couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong.

“We should not have…” she paused, still looking anywhere but at him. “I shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t do this,” she said again, then voice trembling, “I’m sorry.”

He was too stunned to say anything as she got up to leave, so he watched her go and sat in her tent alone. 

Erin

What the fuck were you thinking?? That was so stupid. You’re so stupid.

She ran back to the room she and Shadowheart had shared the night before, hoping Astarion would eventually leave her tent on his own. She couldn’t think of what possessed her to kiss him like that. What was wrong with her?

And he kissed her back. Somehow that made it worse. 

What she’d said to Shadowheart the night before had been true. She couldn’t do this. Eventually, she was going to get home, and she couldn’t start something that she knew would only end. And she definitely didn’t want anything casual. With someone as beautiful as Astarion, that would only end up with her getting hurt. 

She liked Astarion. He was rude, but he was also funny and just fun to be around. He was the only one in their group of companions that she truly felt she could talk to. Besides maybe Shadowheart, but he’d shared far more about himself with her than she had so far. She could fight with him, because he’d fight back. He challenged her, and because of that she felt like she could be honest with him. He’d saved her life multiple times and she hasn’t known another person she’d been more grateful to have in her life. He never held what had happened with the hag against her, even though it would have been so easy. 

He was her friend. She didn’t want to fuck that up.

She brought her fingers up to her lips, and she could still feel his kisses there. She dragged her fingertips down where he’d left a trail of kissed along her neck and shivered.

He had kissed her back. 

***

Astarion had left her tent at some point while she was gone, and she was grateful she didn’t have to face him when she came back for dinner. She had a nice chat with Gale about the book he’d given her and he quizzed her on some of the more basic potion recipes he’d given her earlier that day. It was fairly quiet without the others back yet. After dinner, she said goodnight to Gale and went back to her tent to sleep. With only three of them in camp, it didn’t feel safe for her to spend her night too far away, so the bed was out of the question.

Unfortunately, being in the tent where she’d kissed Astarion only hours ago made it very difficult for her to stop thinking about that kiss. The way he’d been so careful with her, even when he nipped at her lips, sent a shiver through her body. And then the way he pushed his mouth harder into hers, as though he were hungry to kiss her, more than he was for her blood, grabbing her waist so firmly it made her ache inside.

She was becoming flustered all over again. 

It’s just because it’s been a while. You’re stressed and pent up. 

Closing her eyes, she reassured herself that that’s all this was. She just needed to do something to relieve the stress a bit. She told herself that maybe this would help her sleep. She pushed all thoughts about him out of her mind and repeated these things to herself over and over again as she slowly slid her hand beneath the waistband of her pants.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she whispered to herself as she lightly scraped her nails against her underwear.

She tried eliciting something, a tingle, a shiver, anything. But her ministrations along with her repeated mantra was too clinical. She couldn’t do it like this.

Maybe she could drop the mantra to allow space in her head for something a little sexier…

White curls and pale skin came to mind.

No! Think of a celebrity or a character from a movie like a normal person!

She continued her touching while she tried to summon an adequate fantasy.

Why couldn’t she think of anything? It was like every man and woman she had ever found attractive had been wiped from her mind. Fine. She’d focus on the actions, the feelings, instead of the face.

She dragged the hand that wasn’t in her pants up, skimming past her stomach and up to her breast, pushing her shirt up and out of the way. Without a blanket covering her exposed skin she felt a chill, and suddenly imagined cool hands spreading across her body.

She dipped a finger into her folds and the coldness of it was a relief, finally sending a thrill through her as the nipple under her hand pebbled at the sensation. She sighed and slid the finger up and down to spread the slick that was growing with her arousal, undulating her hips slightly into the rhythm. she rocked into her hand until she ached so much she couldn’t stand it and dipped her finger deep inside.

It was at that moment she’d realized who the cold hands she’d been imagining belonged to, as an image of Astarion above her, his hands touching her bare skin, came rushing into her head. 

“Ughn,” she whined into her shoulder.

No! Not right now!

She closed her eyes, but that only made the image clearer. She felt the pressure rising inside her core and didn’t want to stop and lose that feeling.

Keeping her pace, she searched for something to replace him in her mind. Nothing would come. Frustrated, she whined, and when she did, an image of him smiling down at her, amused by her pathetic sounds came to mind.

Fuck it.

She stopped fighting the fantasy.

Astarion

He’d heard her whine from inside her tent.

It was the middle of the night and he could hear Gale snoring from his tent. She was alone tonight.

Worried, he came closer. When he was just outside of her tent, he heard her again. Not a whine. A moan. A muffled moan. 

He stood there dumbly as he realized what she was doing. Now that he was closer, it was obvious. He could hear her heart starting to race and the slick sounds of her fingers working.

Oh gods.

He heard her sigh and he felt an ache deep in his core.

He should not be here. He should go. Leave her to her own business. He could ignore the growing tightness in his pants, or take care of it in his tent, but he should go.

But then he heard it. The slightest whisper released into a sigh, barely perceptible, but he heard it.

“Astarion…”

He didn’t ignore the throb in his cock this time. He palmed himself and inhaled quietly, thankful that his lack of need for air gave him incredible breath control for involuntary responses like this. He crept behind her tent, fully out of view of the camp and softly lowered himself into the grass beside it.

“Ahhh,” she whined.

She sounded muffled and he imagined her moaning into her shoulder, bared and naked, as he loosened the ties of his trousers. He thought of her undressing, slipping out of her pants and pulling off her shirt before she touched herself. 

While she thought of him. He had to fight the moan that threatened to escape him at the idea that she was thinking of him while she fucked herself. 

Oh gods, he wanted to lick every inch of her skin. He wondered what her blood would taste like mixed with her sweat and slick as he freed himself from his pants. Taking himself in his hand and pumping slowly, he listened to the rhythm she set for herself and tried to match it. Closing his eyes, he leaned onto the ground and let his head roll back as he thrusted into his hand. 

Why was she doing this to him? If she wanted him like this, why did she stop their kiss? He could have done so much more to her than she could achieve with those little fingers. 

The thought of her hands slippery and wet from touching herself, wrapped around his cock as she kissed him soft and slow like she did earlier in her tent sent his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

He imagined skimming his fingers down her sides, making her shiver while she sat on his cock and he rolled her hips into her. 

She was working herself faster now and he could her her heartbeat speeding up in response. In the fantasy playing out in his head, she was riding him fast and hard, chasing her release as he felt every part of her he could touch and lick and kiss. 

Quickening his own pace to match hers, imagining it was him thrusting into her instead of her fingers, he felt himself getting closer. Then, she gasped, her breath stopping for a moment even while her fingers kept going. Just imagining the feeling of her walls clenching around him was enough to push him into his own climax. He forced himself to stay quiet, riding it out while he listened to her shuddering exhales in the aftermath of her own release. 

He wiped his hands on the grass beside him and lied there beside her tent, listening to her breathing. After a while, he heard the tell-tale sounds of her slow breath and steady heartbeat, letting him know she'd fallen asleep. Lying there a little while longer, he wondered if she looked flushed and pink in the aftermath while she slept, and wished she sleeping in his arms again. 

Why isn't she? he wondered, as he put himself together and got up to start walking, not quite ready to go back to his tent.

She could have been sleeping in his arms now. She could have kept kissing him earlier today in her tent, and he would have let her, kissing her back until both their lips were raw. He couldn't think of a time when kissing someone had felt so good. He didn't want it to stop.

But then it did. She did. He was sure he'd fucked things up somehow, replaying it all in his head, looking for where he went wrong. For a moment, sitting there in her tent, he'd wondered if he'd forced her into it, caging her beneath him and getting close like that.

It was her that closed the gap, though. She kissed him.

So why did she stop?

In that moment, he'd have kissed every inch of her skin if she'd have let him. Let him. He nearly laughed at the thought.

He'd spent so many years wishing for a day he'd never have to touch or be touched by another person again. Done so many things to bring others pleasure while he wallowed in disgust and self-loathing. And here he was, wanting to do so many of those things to her. She'd just brought him pleasure he didn't think he was capable of experiencing anymore and she didn't even know it. She hadn't even touched him to get him there.

What in the hells was wrong with him?

His aimless wandering brought him standing in the room where he'd found her lying with Shadowheart the night before. Although he knew now that they weren't romantically involved, his insides still twisted into knots as he thought about the closeness they'd shared. He wondered if she'd let him get that close to her again.

Sitting on the bed, he realized it still smelled like her. He crawled to the side where her scent was the strongest and laid down, pressing his face into the mattress. Staying like that, inhaling her, he let himself drift into sleep, hoping he'd dream of her.

Behold! The art I commissioned from the incredible @bby-bel of Astarion and Erin after their first kiss!! Behold it!!

New Chapter - 4

Birdhouses

Bored at camp is a dangerous proposition. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Kiss scene from Chapter 13 of Indelible Imprints accompanied with commissions from @bby-bel of the scene!

You can read the full chapter on Ao3 or through the pinned post in my blog! 💖

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

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AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he pushes past her entrance, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and powerful, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her arching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him to fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”

AO3

๋࣭⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Fics ⭑ ๋࣭⭒๋࣭

✧˖ With Stars to Fill My Dream: Main ongoing long-fic isekai story following the events of the game. Releases every other Sunday!

A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid?

Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

🗡Chapter 1: Chasing Rabbits 🗡Chapter 2: Known Me, Broken By My Master 🗡Chapter 3: But It Was a Trick and the Clock Struck 12 🗡Chapter 4: Behind a Broken Frame 🗡Chapter 5: Close Your Eyes and Hear My Secret 🗡Chapter 6: My Thoughts You Can't Decode 🗡Chapter 7: From Now Our Merge is Eternal 🗡Chapter 8: Born in Blood I'm Not Like You 🗡Chapter 9: Darkness Helps Us All to Shine 🗡Chapter 10: Let the Dystopian Morning Light Pour In 🗡Chapter 11: Try to Keep the Truth From Showing Up 🗡Chapter 12: Coming October 20th...

✧˖ Kinktober 2024: Small collection of fun prompts featuring Astarion and Ofelia from my main fic.

🗡Prompt 1: Incubus Astarion 🗡Prompt 2: Soon...

๋࣭⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Lore ⭑ ๋࣭⭒๋࣭

✧˖ With Stars to Fill My Dream Art: My Art: Character Portrait & My Art: Ofelia Portrait WIP)

✧˖ Ofelia's Playlist: #1 Mitski ,

✧˖ Extra Screenshots: Astarion & Ofelia Meeting, Karlach Meeting,

✧˖ Ofelia Lore: OC Smash or Pass, OC Insight: What Kind of Love Are You?, OC Patron Saint Game, OC Deep Dive:Ofelia, All About Your Tav/Durge and Their Romantic Interest, 30 Questions Ask 1, 30 Questions Ask 2,

✧˖ Extras: Ofelia Moodboard 🖤🩸

✧˖ Future Scene WIPs and Drabble: Potential Future Smut Scene,

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the new tag list!

✧˖Tag List: @khywren

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

divider here🩸

AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he sinks inside, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and warm, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her arching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

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AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he pushes past her entrance, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and powerful, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her arching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

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AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he pushes past her entrance, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and powerful, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her arching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”