The pause feels like an opportunity to catch her breath again, albeit a shuddering one. Her head is spinning enough for some alarm bells to ring, and she notices a few more details in a rush of input.
One of her hands have migrated to the back of his skull, fingers sunk into his soft hair. The other is at his collarbone, fingertips against bare skin. She's wrapped her tail around his waist - hells, what is she doing over here? Get it together.
"I think I'm dizzy," she rasps out, since he's paused to hear her out. She's not dizzy, she's yearning. In his lap and yearning, like some sentimental fool. Maybe it's the nature of this place, where there is so much darkness and past sorrow turned into a curse, that she thinks being held close by Astarion (while he feeds) is a ray of light.
She is a fool. Her old Guildmaster accused her of it, called her out on the fact that she can be sentimental and it gets in the way of getting the job done. What's the job right now that needs to get done? Return to Baldur's Gate, or listen to whatever the dream guardian tells her she must do. Not wonder which of her companions will want to stay at her side when all is said and done, not think about the next adventure, not want to hoard them all - as if friendship and connection is treasure, and she's a dragon.
"Ignore me," she murmurs, "I'm likely to say some foolish things..."
Oh, she is something alright. Even though he's only seen her thusly 'compromised' before, he knows the signs well. The way she holds onto him, the way her body leans into his. It isn't just the rapture of the bite, as Astarion knows that's more on his end of the deal. But it is something.
Ea had given him a choice despite her own needs...the needs she's clearly trying to pretend she doesn't have right now. Her tail definitely says otherwise.
Astarion gives another hum of acknowledgment before he releases her neck, feeling the loss of her blood flowing freely into his mouth. But he's had enough to sustain him reasonably for a few days and, hells, he's gone on much longer without. He doesn't intend to drain her dry as tempting as the idea might be. The last thing he needs is the rest of the camp haranguing him in the morning for nearly killing their dear leader.
Besides, she's...decent company. He can admit that much.
"You often do," he murmurs into her sick before giving the wound an unceremonious lick. Waste not. (And it is definitely on purpose.) "And yet I indulge you anyway, my dear."
Astarion pulls back more fully then so that he can try to catch her gaze. "Are you asking me to be bad?"
To some degree, every companion who noticed where she was going the night after the party with the tieflings was quick to warn her about him. Some while admitting to seeing the appeal, others while failing to see why Ea saw the appeal, but each one acting as if she'd thought she can fix him.
She tells him now what she more or less implied then.
She meets his gaze, holds it for a moment. "You forget, I like it when you're bad."
He's not a broken thing to need fixing. She doesn't want to fix Astarion, she likes him as he is. Interesting, a bit of a fussy little shit, and unapologetically himself.
But liking and wanting are two separate beasts, and Ea knows which one growls loudest, especially with Astarion's face this close.
She removes her hand from his hair, and brushes her thumb over the corner of his mouth, where a drop of her blood is already drying off.
"Don't waste me," she murmurs, and because it's not weird - not weird at all! - licks her thumb clean in front of him.
Astarion certainly doesn't think he needs fixing, even with acknowledging how broken he is—it's the world that needs fixing, he just doesn't believe it's possible. Operating within the paradigm means using everything and everyone around you as best you can. To trust no one. To be able to cut ties as soon as they become dangerous.
Yet he doesn't like the thought of being alone. As much as Astarion may posture otherwise, he would much rather be in this little camp amongst these fools than be out and about wandering in the sunlight by himself. And he knows that admitting such a thing would be truly the most ridiculous thing he can do.
But what does he say about the woman in his lap? Making a play to his very nature. And even he can't stop his pupils from dilating when she licks her own blood off of her thumb.
Their hunger may of two different kinds right now, but he wonders if he doesn't owe her some kindness in turn. Even if she said it wasn't necessary.
"Perish the thought." He regards her with a slight cant of his head. "How bad would you like me, hm? How badly do you need me?"
Because he's fairly certain he knows what he actually wants, she just won't ask for it after absolving him of such duties a few moments before.
There are limits to how much she can resist the pull towards the pale elf, and he puts them to the test even now.
How badly do you need me?
Her resistance snaps, and she lets out a shuddery breath, admitting softly, "Badly."
She may not fully realise it's a shared sentiment, but she doesn't want to be alone either. This is why there have been many people over the years - twenty or so, to his two hundred - to be invited into Ea's bed.
Every time she's craved touch like a flower craves the sun, she's found someone attractive and willing and given them a night, two, or however long she was in the area for. She'd never expected to linger in anyone's heart longer, she knows better than that.
Years back, maybe among the first of her lovers, someone had taken the tiefling for the pure pride of having bedded all ancestries, but the seduction had been so thorough that Ea had expected it to be a relationship.
She remembers their words, as they walked out of her life. Oh, sweetheart. Who would love a thief? You're a good lay, Ea, take pride in that and move on.
She is going to have to move on, eventually. From the little camp, from all the companions who have goals beyond her in Baldur's Gate, from Astarion - and the deeper the bonds she forges, the harder it'll be.
Maybe she's a masochist. She hasn't leaned away from him yet. The only sign of distance is that she's loosened her tail from around his waist and let it fall behind her on the pillows, between his legs.
Oh, her resolve crumbles so readily. Astarion could laugh, but he doesn't. He could pat himself on the back of a job well-done as well, but he doesn't, even if this is technically playing into his hand the way he always intended. The way that he knows he can ply the people around him. To be useful.
But the question she asks him, heated though it is, feels posed in a slightly differently light—would he like her to show him?
The obvious answer would be 'yes' to keep up with the banter, but Astarion does give it a moment's pause. Because Ea had given him a gift greater than the blood she offers—she gave him agency. She said he doesn't need to get into bed with her if he doesn't want to.
So for the first time in two-hundred years he asks himself...does he want to?
He could say 'no'. There's a thrill to it, turning people down. To rejection. But the word doesn't form as easily on his lips as he thought it might. This strange woman has a hold on him much tighter than her tail had been, even if he doesn't fully realize it yet. But it manifests just enough for Astarion to consider that maybe now that he feels more of is vigor returning thanks to a meal, the idea isn't one he hates. And it's one he has the power to choose.
Astarion takes hold of her chin, pressing his thumb to the space right below her bottom lip. He closes that scant space between their mouths in a surprisingly chaste kiss, but lets his lips ghost hers when he speaks his consent,
For a few charged moments, she holds her breath. He should be able to tell, she does it as soon as he takes hold of her chin, until he leans in and ruins all her fucking resistances. Obliterates them. Walks across them with iron boots - and more apt metaphors for the fact that she's a bit of a mess.
Her eyes flutter closed for that chaste kiss, reopening to half-mast, only wide enough to see him - catch his lips moving, hear the words, and dart up to those wine-red eyes. She leans in and flicks her tongue over the bow of his upper lip, and closes the scant distance between them for another kiss.
Need is a persistent drumming in her chest, it's her heartbeat racing, it's her toes curling in her boots, her hands coming to cup his face so tenderly. It's the brush of her lips against his once, then twice, and then deeper. It's the restraints coming off, and her little hum of pleasure when she tastes him - in lingering notes, also tasting herself on his tongue.
Need could set this whole tent on fire, if an archdevil had stolen Ea's heart to replace it with an engine too - thankfully, she's been spared, so Astarion's tent remains intact and safe for now.
After what feels like a good decade spent just kissing him (it is half a minute, but be melodramatic, Lowkey), she breaks it because she needs to breathe, which is very much unfair.
"Surpriiiise," she says, voice low and a little raspy from the effort. There's a question in there somewhere.
He lays the groundwork and she takes a mile—he's okay with that. He's okay with the way she holds his face, wanting but not demanding. Not holding him so he can't move or turn away if he wants. And the heartbeat that he had been so in tune with just a moment before is still audible to his sensitive ears, reigniting a different sort of hunger in him...
No, no. Astarion forces that back down. He has enough to keep his stamina and good mood for a couple days, and longer to simply be sustained. The monster in him may be a greedy, starving thing, but he's better than that. Stronger. A person with agency who chooses his meals and his company because he has a plethora of both.
Or well, maybe not the meals part. But Astarion could have reasonably taken his chances with any of their other compatriots. He didn't. Ea seemed the most sensible target to strike a bargain with...
And that's all this needs to be, right? Of course. She's a means to an end, even if she's decent company from time to time.
Astarion kisses her back, but mostly lets Ea lead the dance. Her touch is warm, but not hot, the kind of ambient heat that radiates from living beings. His own flesh is starting to warm as well thanks to her blood and her touch both. His hand drops from her chin, letting his fingers drag gently down the length of her neck before they fall to her clavicle. There they rest until she pulls back—he has no need to breathe, after all.
But he knows that voice and the unspoken question. Astarion lets his hand, and voice, drop a little lower.
"I can take you where you need to go, darling," he says against her lips. "If you'll allow me to taste something else of you..."
His touch sends shivers rippling down her spine to her tailbone, and it just so happens that when she breaks apart to catch her breath, she does it with a soft gasp. Not too far away, not enough to put any proper distance between their lips beyond a scant one. It makes it easier to lean in and kiss him softly, chaste and brief, on the centre of his lips.
Then the distance, enough that she can look him in the eye. Her eyes are coloured different than elves, this much is true; dark schlera and bright neon green and purples around the iris, making her intense and strange in the sunlight, but fitting right in in the Underdark. In this cursed land, where there's no joy to be found, no mischief or levity?
Regardless. Different than your average humanoid or not, there's a heady quality to them. They're closed to half mast, lavender pale eyelashes fluttering slightly as she regards him. Considers all the choices she should be making, and all the ones she wants to make instead.
"Alright," she finally says. "Alright, fuck it, let's just have some fun." She doubts there will be more fun to have, in the following days, as long as they're here. "How do you want me?"
They are different, yes, and remind him a bit of the way lamps in Baldur's Gate stand out against the night sky. There's a familiarity in that, having now existed so long under the blanket of darkness, whether he will it or no. Fitting or not for their circumstances, they do have a quality he chooses not to define. Because ultimately it doesn't matter.
She's their leader. His key to success. And it's simply a fringe benefit that she's attractive. A happy accident.
"On your back," he instructs as he brings his hands down to her thighs. Dragging his lips down her jawline and back to her neck, but on the opposite side of where he drank just a moment ago. Astarion starts the motion of laying her down, but he doesn't do it fully without Ea's permission and assistance.
There is something as appealing to the kiss he leaves against her neck as there is to the way he moves to lie her down. It makes her fold very easily; past hedonistic tendencies come back in full swing. She misses having people to be physical and affectionate with - not beloveds, but lovers. Casual, temporary, consenting arrangements that on paper sound dry and boring, but didn't stop them from being hot and heady.
There is no bad wine running through her veins this time, unlike at the party the tieflings threw for them near the grove. There is no Astarion giving her bedroom eyes in a meadow and purring about how he's been waiting to taste her, to have her.
Well - to a point. He is incapable to not having bedroom eyes when in his literal on-the-road bedroom. Either way, it's a sober affair and yet dizzyingly nice. She reaches behind her to catch herself on the way down, leaning against her hand then going to her elbow, and moving the rest of the way to lie down. She wants to respond with something sensual, has her lips parted to start saying it, when -
riiiiiiip
- her left horn catches on one of the many cushions on the ground, ripping the fabric apart and sending feathers fluttering. Her eyes widen at the sound - and then the feathers - and catch his for a millisecond before she snorts and covers her mouth with one hand to muffle her laughter.
They are practiced motions for Astarion, decades of finding the right ways to maneuver another body while getting comfortable himself in whatever position is necessary. This is no different, especially not with a body that he is already acquainted with. Ea had been malleable enough in the first, so this should be—
"..."
Astarion does pull up from where he was moving down her clavicle, red eyes widening a bit as they dart between Ea's horn and one of his (many) beloved pillows.
"Yes, yes you will." He doesn't hide the annoyance in his voice even though it is an honest mistake. He doesn't have horns to manage, you see! Which means this was a bit of an oversight on his part. (So much for decades of experience.) But he will still blame Ea because that's easier.
He reaches behind her to shove the pillow away, raising his brow when his gaze returns to her face. Of course she finds it funny. He...well, it is a little funny.
"If you want to tear something helpful, my dear, you could remove your trousers."
She can work with a little funny. She can work with a lot of things, she's resilient that way. If he is willing to give her another night - if he wants it too - then she's going to make sure it's an impossibly good one, given their circumstances.
"Let's not tear those, I think it'll be a problem if I walk around camp with my ass out," she banters back, amusement tinting her tone. Banter is all fine and dandy, but she reaches down to unlace her trousers anyway, digging her heels into the ground for leverage when she lifts her hips and pushes them smoothly down to under her ass.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2025-12-27 10:02 am (UTC)One of her hands have migrated to the back of his skull, fingers sunk into his soft hair. The other is at his collarbone, fingertips against bare skin. She's wrapped her tail around his waist - hells, what is she doing over here? Get it together.
"I think I'm dizzy," she rasps out, since he's paused to hear her out. She's not dizzy, she's yearning. In his lap and yearning, like some sentimental fool. Maybe it's the nature of this place, where there is so much darkness and past sorrow turned into a curse, that she thinks being held close by Astarion (while he feeds) is a ray of light.
She is a fool. Her old Guildmaster accused her of it, called her out on the fact that she can be sentimental and it gets in the way of getting the job done. What's the job right now that needs to get done? Return to Baldur's Gate, or listen to whatever the dream guardian tells her she must do. Not wonder which of her companions will want to stay at her side when all is said and done, not think about the next adventure, not want to hoard them all - as if friendship and connection is treasure, and she's a dragon.
"Ignore me," she murmurs, "I'm likely to say some foolish things..."
no subject
Date: 2025-12-31 06:44 am (UTC)Ea had given him a choice despite her own needs...the needs she's clearly trying to pretend she doesn't have right now. Her tail definitely says otherwise.
Astarion gives another hum of acknowledgment before he releases her neck, feeling the loss of her blood flowing freely into his mouth. But he's had enough to sustain him reasonably for a few days and, hells, he's gone on much longer without. He doesn't intend to drain her dry as tempting as the idea might be. The last thing he needs is the rest of the camp haranguing him in the morning for nearly killing their dear leader.
Besides, she's...decent company. He can admit that much.
"You often do," he murmurs into her sick before giving the wound an unceremonious lick. Waste not. (And it is definitely on purpose.) "And yet I indulge you anyway, my dear."
Astarion pulls back more fully then so that he can try to catch her gaze. "Are you asking me to be bad?"
no subject
Date: 2025-12-31 07:40 am (UTC)She tells him now what she more or less implied then.
She meets his gaze, holds it for a moment. "You forget, I like it when you're bad."
He's not a broken thing to need fixing. She doesn't want to fix Astarion, she likes him as he is. Interesting, a bit of a fussy little shit, and unapologetically himself.
But liking and wanting are two separate beasts, and Ea knows which one growls loudest, especially with Astarion's face this close.
She removes her hand from his hair, and brushes her thumb over the corner of his mouth, where a drop of her blood is already drying off.
"Don't waste me," she murmurs, and because it's not weird - not weird at all! - licks her thumb clean in front of him.
no subject
Date: 2026-01-02 05:17 am (UTC)Yet he doesn't like the thought of being alone. As much as Astarion may posture otherwise, he would much rather be in this little camp amongst these fools than be out and about wandering in the sunlight by himself. And he knows that admitting such a thing would be truly the most ridiculous thing he can do.
But what does he say about the woman in his lap? Making a play to his very nature. And even he can't stop his pupils from dilating when she licks her own blood off of her thumb.
Their hunger may of two different kinds right now, but he wonders if he doesn't owe her some kindness in turn. Even if she said it wasn't necessary.
"Perish the thought." He regards her with a slight cant of his head. "How bad would you like me, hm? How badly do you need me?"
Because he's fairly certain he knows what he actually wants, she just won't ask for it after absolving him of such duties a few moments before.
no subject
Date: 2026-01-02 01:01 pm (UTC)How badly do you need me?
Her resistance snaps, and she lets out a shuddery breath, admitting softly, "Badly."
She may not fully realise it's a shared sentiment, but she doesn't want to be alone either. This is why there have been many people over the years - twenty or so, to his two hundred - to be invited into Ea's bed.
Every time she's craved touch like a flower craves the sun, she's found someone attractive and willing and given them a night, two, or however long she was in the area for. She'd never expected to linger in anyone's heart longer, she knows better than that.
Years back, maybe among the first of her lovers, someone had taken the tiefling for the pure pride of having bedded all ancestries, but the seduction had been so thorough that Ea had expected it to be a relationship.
She remembers their words, as they walked out of her life. Oh, sweetheart. Who would love a thief? You're a good lay, Ea, take pride in that and move on.
She is going to have to move on, eventually. From the little camp, from all the companions who have goals beyond her in Baldur's Gate, from Astarion - and the deeper the bonds she forges, the harder it'll be.
Maybe she's a masochist. She hasn't leaned away from him yet. The only sign of distance is that she's loosened her tail from around his waist and let it fall behind her on the pillows, between his legs.
The flower craving the sun, still.
"Would you like me to show you how badly?"
no subject
Date: 2026-01-05 06:41 am (UTC)But the question she asks him, heated though it is, feels posed in a slightly differently light—would he like her to show him?
The obvious answer would be 'yes' to keep up with the banter, but Astarion does give it a moment's pause. Because Ea had given him a gift greater than the blood she offers—she gave him agency. She said he doesn't need to get into bed with her if he doesn't want to.
So for the first time in two-hundred years he asks himself...does he want to?
He could say 'no'. There's a thrill to it, turning people down. To rejection. But the word doesn't form as easily on his lips as he thought it might. This strange woman has a hold on him much tighter than her tail had been, even if he doesn't fully realize it yet. But it manifests just enough for Astarion to consider that maybe now that he feels more of is vigor returning thanks to a meal, the idea isn't one he hates. And it's one he has the power to choose.
Astarion takes hold of her chin, pressing his thumb to the space right below her bottom lip. He closes that scant space between their mouths in a surprisingly chaste kiss, but lets his lips ghost hers when he speaks his consent,
"Surprise me."
And so he chooses.
no subject
Date: 2026-01-06 06:54 pm (UTC)Her eyes flutter closed for that chaste kiss, reopening to half-mast, only wide enough to see him - catch his lips moving, hear the words, and dart up to those wine-red eyes. She leans in and flicks her tongue over the bow of his upper lip, and closes the scant distance between them for another kiss.
Need is a persistent drumming in her chest, it's her heartbeat racing, it's her toes curling in her boots, her hands coming to cup his face so tenderly. It's the brush of her lips against his once, then twice, and then deeper. It's the restraints coming off, and her little hum of pleasure when she tastes him - in lingering notes, also tasting herself on his tongue.
Need could set this whole tent on fire, if an archdevil had stolen Ea's heart to replace it with an engine too - thankfully, she's been spared, so Astarion's tent remains intact and safe for now.
After what feels like a good decade spent just kissing him (it is half a minute, but be melodramatic, Lowkey), she breaks it because she needs to breathe, which is very much unfair.
"Surpriiiise," she says, voice low and a little raspy from the effort. There's a question in there somewhere.
no subject
Date: 2026-01-13 05:46 am (UTC)No, no. Astarion forces that back down. He has enough to keep his stamina and good mood for a couple days, and longer to simply be sustained. The monster in him may be a greedy, starving thing, but he's better than that. Stronger. A person with agency who chooses his meals and his company because he has a plethora of both.
Or well, maybe not the meals part. But Astarion could have reasonably taken his chances with any of their other compatriots. He didn't. Ea seemed the most sensible target to strike a bargain with...
And that's all this needs to be, right? Of course. She's a means to an end, even if she's decent company from time to time.
Astarion kisses her back, but mostly lets Ea lead the dance. Her touch is warm, but not hot, the kind of ambient heat that radiates from living beings. His own flesh is starting to warm as well thanks to her blood and her touch both. His hand drops from her chin, letting his fingers drag gently down the length of her neck before they fall to her clavicle. There they rest until she pulls back—he has no need to breathe, after all.
But he knows that voice and the unspoken question. Astarion lets his hand, and voice, drop a little lower.
"I can take you where you need to go, darling," he says against her lips. "If you'll allow me to taste something else of you..."
no subject
Date: 2026-01-16 08:53 am (UTC)Then the distance, enough that she can look him in the eye. Her eyes are coloured different than elves, this much is true; dark schlera and bright neon green and purples around the iris, making her intense and strange in the sunlight, but fitting right in in the Underdark. In this cursed land, where there's no joy to be found, no mischief or levity?
Regardless. Different than your average humanoid or not, there's a heady quality to them. They're closed to half mast, lavender pale eyelashes fluttering slightly as she regards him. Considers all the choices she should be making, and all the ones she wants to make instead.
"Alright," she finally says. "Alright, fuck it, let's just have some fun." She doubts there will be more fun to have, in the following days, as long as they're here. "How do you want me?"
no subject
Date: 2026-01-21 06:11 am (UTC)She's their leader. His key to success. And it's simply a fringe benefit that she's attractive. A happy accident.
"On your back," he instructs as he brings his hands down to her thighs. Dragging his lips down her jawline and back to her neck, but on the opposite side of where he drank just a moment ago. Astarion starts the motion of laying her down, but he doesn't do it fully without Ea's permission and assistance.
no subject
Date: 2026-01-21 08:54 pm (UTC)There is no bad wine running through her veins this time, unlike at the party the tieflings threw for them near the grove. There is no Astarion giving her bedroom eyes in a meadow and purring about how he's been waiting to taste her, to have her.
Well - to a point. He is incapable to not having bedroom eyes when in his literal on-the-road bedroom. Either way, it's a sober affair and yet dizzyingly nice. She reaches behind her to catch herself on the way down, leaning against her hand then going to her elbow, and moving the rest of the way to lie down. She wants to respond with something sensual, has her lips parted to start saying it, when -
riiiiiiip
- her left horn catches on one of the many cushions on the ground, ripping the fabric apart and sending feathers fluttering. Her eyes widen at the sound - and then the feathers - and catch his for a millisecond before she snorts and covers her mouth with one hand to muffle her laughter.
"Shit - sorry."
So much for smooth. "I'll replace that."
no subject
Date: 2026-01-29 06:14 am (UTC)"..."
Astarion does pull up from where he was moving down her clavicle, red eyes widening a bit as they dart between Ea's horn and one of his (many) beloved pillows.
"Yes, yes you will." He doesn't hide the annoyance in his voice even though it is an honest mistake. He doesn't have horns to manage, you see! Which means this was a bit of an oversight on his part. (So much for decades of experience.) But he will still blame Ea because that's easier.
He reaches behind her to shove the pillow away, raising his brow when his gaze returns to her face. Of course she finds it funny. He...well, it is a little funny.
"If you want to tear something helpful, my dear, you could remove your trousers."
no subject
Date: 2026-02-02 01:07 pm (UTC)"Let's not tear those, I think it'll be a problem if I walk around camp with my ass out," she banters back, amusement tinting her tone. Banter is all fine and dandy, but she reaches down to unlace her trousers anyway, digging her heels into the ground for leverage when she lifts her hips and pushes them smoothly down to under her ass.
"How's that, helpful enough?"