#BrishFics

[ficbrish]

Threadbare

[AO3 Link]

[Here we go! @flufftober Spring Edition 2024! Thank you for the prompt 🥰 March 11th - New Beginnings]

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

tw/cw: Sexual content, blood, blood drinking, past abuse, cptsd, choking kink, interrupted masturbation, alcohol, light hurt/comfort

Late in Act III, Astarion finds Vistri cuddling with his old shirt alone in their rooms at the Elfsong.

LATE ACT III SPOILERS!

“...And gave him a taste of a flaming fist! ” Karlach howled, leading the whole tavern in laughter.

Other mugs echoed her pounding on the bar with a dull, banging rhythm. Little golden drops of mead spilled over the tops, dripping down the glasses and mixing with condensation.

Astarion personally never tired of this story of hers. A Flaming Fist had been inappropriately whistling at Shadowheart, and Karlach responded by knocking the man flat on his ass in one swing. While Astarion smiled quietly and nostalgically at her recollection of those events, the other tavern patrons, who’d never heard it before, were an eager and raucous audience.

Shadowheart’s face turned Karlach’s color. Shouting over the Elfsong’s laughter, she protested, “I could have handled it myself. Really!”

Wyll threw an arm over her shoulder, “Come, come, Shadowheart. Was it not a bit satisfying for such a gallant devil to step in and exact your revenge?”

A huge smile spread over her face, “Galant devil could describe any of us.”

Astarion raised his glass, “Cheers!”

Wyll met his delicate wine glass with his own burly mug of mead. Unprepared for how much enthusiasm Wyll would use, Astarion ended up with red all down his front. A collective groan sounded along with wild laughter.

“It’s all right,” he assured Wyll, whose eyes were apologizing faster than his mouth could move.

“Astarion, I’m so—”

Funny thing, how such a sight affected him. Astarion wasn’t used to apologies. Or friendships for that matter. Wyll’s genuine sorrow over such a small inconvenience was like a hearty meal to a starving soul. He couldn’t let the apology continue. It was too painful to witness.

“No, no! It’s all right,” Astarion insisted, “Please don’t put yourself out. I’ll just go change. This tunic is hideous anyways.”

It wasn’t. It was a pretty blue thing with silver thread. But there was a prettier blue thing with silver scales waiting for him upstairs in their rooms, one he was eager to get back to.

Vistri was having a lie down. She wasn’t sick, just exhausted. Her body was fine, but her mind was ragged. Astarion was only reluctantly dragged from her side through her stubborn, repeated insistence to be left alone for a little while. He had the sense she’d been saying it more for his sake than hers. She didn’t want to be the reason why he didn’t spend time with the others.

“You say no one else has my heart, but they do!” she’d said, “You do!”

He’d frowned at the way she used his own words against him. Especially so inaccurately. Astarion was right, there was no one else like her. He’d stand by that forever.

“That’s not—!”

“Yes, it is! Go down there and have fun. Let them earn your trust as I have.”

Raising his brow, he left her with one last tease, “Certainly not in the same way you have?”

His charm wasn’t enough this time. He was dismissed.

Let the others in .

Well, he’d gone down with the others, had a bit of fun, and now he was covered in wine. He had the perfect excuse to go back up and check on her. The fretting in his stomach turned into excitement. 

So much had changed in so little time, after two centuries of endless, torturous consistency, spilled wine was now just spilled wine. He would just change his clothes, maybe wash up a bit, and there would be more waiting for him to wear. Choices.

Sewing was a skill Cazador forced on all his spawn. Keeping them all as cheaply as possible, they had to make every article of clothing last. No matter the care, or the tending, their clothes always ended up degrading into rags and tatters. Astarion was almost jealous of the way his outfits got to age and die. They had a temporal escape, while his torture was bound to be endless.

It also had the side benefit of shame. Sewing was for servants. It reminded the spawn of who they were.

Now that was all over. Cazador was gone. Ended by his hand.

And he had so many new clothes.

He had choices. How bizarre! Astarion was sure he’d forgotten how to make them.

And then he chose her.

A smile brewed on his face just at the mention of her in his thoughts. He took to the steps three at a time, surely looking absolutely ridiculous. He didn’t remember much from his life before undeath, but the more time he spent away from Cazador, the more he realized how much his desire to avoid appearing foolish was part of the weight of those old chains. If he tripped and fell on his face, he would probably laugh from the rebellious feeling of it.

The tadpoles brought him the sun and then Vistri. She helped him find love, true freedom, and then true love.

He decided looking a fool was worth it the moment he stepped through the door. His eyes found her immediately on one of the sofas by the fireplace. The dancing reflections of the flames rolled over the silver scales on her brow in waves. He could see it from the door. She was lying down; her eyes opened at the sound of his entrance.

She seemed a little shocked, “Astarion!”

“Hello, dear!” he greeted with open arms and a wide smile. It felt like ages since they’d been in the same space.

Although, reading her expression, he was a little worried she wasn’t as happy to see him.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, “Are the others—?”

“Just me,” he stated, then dramatically drew attention to his ruined shirtfront, “I’ve been decorated with libations! I need to freshen up. Is that all right?”

“Of course it’s all right! Don’t be silly.”

Vistri was a sorcerer; she was used to her thoughts becoming reality. But her mind was reeling from his sudden appearance. Like he’d stepped from her thoughts, but with an entirely different attitude. The Astarion in front of her was all lightness and soft good-humor. The one in her head was a whole other, harder side of his.

Their storage trunk was near the fireplace as well, by the other sofa. As Astarion walked towards her to rifle through it, she slowly removed her hand from between her legs, careful not to let the movement show under the blanket, which wasn’t even a blanket, but his old shirt.

Gods! It couldn’t be more embarrassing.

He came over to her first, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on her damp forehead. Astarion looked at her curiously, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Vistri nodded, humming a high-pitched, “Mmmm-hmmm.”

His brow was all questioningly screwed up, but he decided to drop it, and started unbuttoning his tunic.

Vistri subtly wiped her fingers on her thigh, then sat up, “Here, let me help you.”

“I’ve got it love,” he insisted, “You just lie down. Say… Why aren’t you in our bed?”

The way she smiled and repeated the words, “Our bed,” in that bright tone allayed all Astarion’s fears in an undead heartbeat. He was welcome. She was just as happy to see him as he was her. Poor love was just worn out.

He sighed and bent back down to kiss her. Her pulse pounded, he could feel it rush at the brushing of his lips. A rumble brewed in his middle and his fangs ached. She gave a little moan without meaning to, losing herself in the power of his affection.

“Don’t get too excited,” he teased, “I’m only here for a moment.”

“Why only a moment?” she asked genuinely.

With a smile, he tucked her braid behind her ear, “Didn’t you want to be alone?”

Her eyes were wide, like a begging dog, “I can be alone with you here.”

Astarion froze. He swallowed heavily, then giggled, “What a silly idea! Doesn’t that defy the whole concept of being alone?”

She pouted, and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he scoffed, sitting down next to her, “I can be—Hang on!”

Upon reaching for her hand, he finally noticed her blanket. Her expression filled with panic at his recognition, and too late, she tried to hide it.

He chuckled with sinister delight, “Why, is this my—?”

“No!” she stubbornly refused.

“Bloody liar! ” he laughed.

“It’s not!”

Vistri was cuddled up with his old shirt. She must’ve taken it out of the trunk and sat down nearby.

“That’s why you’re not in bed! You came over here for my shirt!”

Blushing deeply, Vistri was struggling to accept her fate. She couldn’t get out of talking about her feelings now. Eventually, she admitted, “...I did.”

His query was meant to tease, but there was something… raw and needy in his voice that made it something entirely different, “You were…”

She was nuzzling his old rags like they were something precious. Intentionally. Used her alone time to fish it out of the stuffed trunk, and secretly treasure it. While he was just downstairs in the tavern, missing her, she was up here longing for him.

“You were holding onto my old shirt?”

Vistri rolled her eyes and groaned. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed.

Astarion made a “tsk” sound and smirked, “Aw, don’t reject it now, darling. My poor shirt! You’ll hurt its feelings.”

“No! I don’t want that!” she whined, as if that were something possible to really do.

He held it away from her reaching grasp, “Nuh, uh! Apologize first.”

“Astarion!”

“That’s my name, dear. Not an apology.”

Vistri frowned. Astarion leaned in and kissed it into a smile.

“I hate you!” she giggled, playfully pushing him off her.

“I hate you too,” he said lovingly, “Now! Walk me through the process of deciding to take out my shirt. Was this before or after you shooed me away?”

“Must I?”

Savoring the look on her face, he nodded, “You must, dearest.”

She bit her lip, “Okay. Ugh. Fine. You left and I…”

“You what?”

“I missed you! ”

“Hah!” he boasted.

“Arsehole!”

“An arsehole you love to kiss,” he grinned, “Shall I call you butt breath?”

“No!” she protested, laughing, “Please no!”

“Here,” Astarion handed her his old shirt, “Hold this.”

He stood and finished undoing his tunic, then threw off the soiled shirt underneath. Bare-chested, he climbed over to her side.

“Scoot over,” he demanded.

“There’s no room!” she laughed.

He pulled her tight once his body was flush against hers, “We’ll make it work.”

Vistri felt dizzy. Like she was flying.

“Okay.”

Not letting it go, Astarion asked, “So you missed me, and then what happened?”

With his fingers absently drawing figures on her waist, Vistri had no fight left. Sighing, she continued to expose herself, “I started thinking about… When we met, and I first saw you.”

“How you adored me instantly?”

“No, actually. How much I despised you. Like really, really just wanted to… shake you.”

“That’s so romantic.”

She chuckled, “I’m sorry. It’s horrible, but it’s true. But then… I also…” She shifted so they were chest to chest, and she could look at his face as she spoke. Without thinking, her nose nuzzled his as she admitted, “I really liked you.”

He sort of snorted and sighed and called out in the same second, like a baby that didn’t know if it was hungry or tired or perfectly content. That didn’t know whether to coo or cry.

“You did?” he asked, heart on his tongue.

Nodding, Vistri admitted it all, “I think I’ve come to learn… It wasn’t you I was mad at, but everyone else you reminded me of. And part of me knew that, and the unfairness of it made me hate myself more.”

“Wanna know a secret?”

“What?” she chuckled.

“I hated myself and liked you too.”

Grinning, she humorously exclaimed, “And that’s why we had sex!”

Astarion gave a hearty laugh. It was rich and deep, and sounded like relief from a long-ago burden.

Instead of joining his mirth, Vistri’s expression grew more serious, “I don’t believe there’s a single thing I could hate about you. Not now that I know you.”

“Not a single thing?”

“Impossible.”

He caressed the length of her ear, gentle like a caretaker, then kissed her cheek.

“So what was that you were saying, about thinking of how much you hated me when we first met?” he whispered, stroking the side of her face with the tip of his nose.

“I didn’t hate you, I was falling in love. That’s what I was thinking of. Falling in love.”

“With me?”

She laughed, “Who else?”

He kissed her forehead, waiting with bated breath for her to continue.

She breathed deeply, leaning into his kiss, “I wanted to run down and get you, but we can’t be together all the time.”

“Who says?”

Chuckling, she shook her head, “We can’t!”

“And the next best thing was my shirt?”

“The one I met you in.”

He’d almost thrown it out. Now that he had new clothes, he no longer needed Cazador’s old rags.

But he couldn’t. And he was glad he didn’t.

“And then you just decided to relax here? And daydream about me?”

“Uh…” she said way too awkwardly for him to just accept.

Brow raised, Astarion repeated, “‘Uh? ’”

“It’s just so incredibly lame!” Vistri looked horrified.

“Then I have to hear it!” he giggled, thrilled to have her in this little trap she set up herself.

“I was… Oh gods! ” she rolled her eyes, “Can I just… tadpoles?”

He laughed, “It’s so embarrassing you can’t speak it?”

“Yes.”

Laughing even harder, he agreed. He put his forehead to hers even though they didn’t need touch for brainworm-to-brainworm communication. Relaxing into his embrace, she let her memory play out through his senses.

Vistri was thinking of him, and Astarion found beauty in himself he could only see through her eyes. Like freedom, it was overwhelming. A goodness he could drown in. That she could drown in. He was her, and she was him.

Knots in her stomach, tied like strings of fate, spelling his name in her blood.

Rushing, pounding, flowing. Her heart.

Stillness. Serenity. Bliss.

After lying down on the couch, she held his shirt to her face and breathed into it. Even washed, it smelled like him. Like his heat and his lusts and his heavy soul. She kissed its loose threads like it was his chest, where his heart was. Imagined his arms around her like they were now.

Astarion felt Vistri loving him; fell into her blurred line of desire and devotion. He could taste it on her tongue as he kissed her now and felt her love him through that too. Past and present blended, and they shared all of it like one being. In her memory, her hand traveled between her legs at the thought of his laughing face. Then there was the sincerity in his eyes as they both kneeled over his grave. I want you, spilling out of his lips. She was touching herself, thinking of him, adoring him, with the shirt she’d met him in clutched to her throat. As they lived through it together on the same sofa, he kissed her again and again.

She didn’t even mean to break the connection, but his mouth was too distracting. He just couldn’t help himself. It felt like coming home after two centuries.

“How rude,” he muttered, “I seem to have interrupted.”

“It’s fine,” she said breathlessly, “I’m glad you came back.”

He chuckled warmly, “Darling I was just downstairs. At your insistence!”

“I know,” she said plainly, holding him tighter.

His heart ached, still absorbing what he’d just felt and seen through her memory, “You… Thinking about me–how you love me–makes you…?”

Unable to look at him, she buried her face in his chest, “I told you it was lame!”

Helping her out of hiding, he lifted up her chin, “I don’t think it’s lame.”

His tone sounded like he thought it was the most extraordinary thing. A miracle that couldn’t even be perceived, even with it plainly in front of him. It tore her heart open, but filled it rather than took.

Astarion kissed her neck, “I think it’s quite hot actually. Makes me want to finish what you started.” Vistri felt the heat of her blush again, and he moaned, “Fuck! I love when your blood rushes.”

He scraped his fangs hungrily against her skin. Her heart grew heavy with the weight of his need. She wanted to be the reason he felt better. Stronger.

“Go ahead, Astarion,” she said comfortingly, “Have a bite.”

He kissed her neck, from her chin down to the base of her throat, and bit into the muscle that connected her shoulder. Vistri gasped, surrendering to the sharp pain, and to him, leaning into his bite. Her blood dripped between them as it rolled messily off his lips.

Just allowing himself a taste, Astarion released Vistri from his fangs, licking up the remnants and kissing her wound until it closed. The hunger wasn’t sated, but he was dizzy with power nonetheless.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked, still concerned despite knowing how much she loved it.

“More than all right! Are you—?”

He met her warm smile with one of his own, “More than all right.”

“Good.”

No other partner ever cared. Neither had ever been asked genuinely what they wanted or who they were. No one else but them, making such questions a lyrical aphrodisiac for them to exchange.

Astarion could read her arousal in a thousand different languages. His tongue could feel it in her frantic heartbeat. His teeth could smell it in her glistening sweat. She was a meal ready to be devoured, prey begging to be taken. His hands traveled along her waist, and she twitched pleasantly. All the places that usually tickled made her shiver with want.

Vistri was always so ecstatic that it was him touching her this way, and no one else, that her skin would cry if it could. He could have clumsy hands and awkward touches, and still his embrace would make her shake. Astarion could easily bring ecstasy to her, even if he didn’t know what he was doing, just because it was him.

But gods did he know what he was doing! He played her body like it was one of her instruments, and all he did was fondle her torso.

His fingers lingered just under her waistline as he rubbed his arousal against her thigh. Throbbing under his pants, Astarion let his hand dive into her knickers. The wet lace made him groan.

“You’re soaking,” he sighed, licking his lips, “Might I have another taste?”

Whimpering as he teased her sensitive skin with brushing fingertips, Vistri pleaded, “Yes!”

First, he undressed her one article at a time, unwrapping her like a gift.

It was better than being alone. The whole purpose of her rest was to not think. She didn’t want to disappear, not anymore. She wanted to be present, but out of her head, and this was so much better. However, her heart still ached and missed him. Demanding more touch, more feeling. 

Being wanted by Vistri was the prettiest sight. Astarion had only ever known admiration, not adoration. Images of her in her memory ran through his mind; and with them came echoes of her emotion as she’d nuzzled into his old shirt, desperate for his lingering smell, pretending it still held his warmth. As the monster in his head screamed to devour her, he slid a finger up and down her soaking slit.

Following the roll of her hips, he almost lost himself in their rhythm as he teased her clit. Her desire was one he’d never known, a love he’d never felt. Vistri gave herself to everyone, but never like this. It was the same for him. Everyone had him, but no one knew him like this. Between them, old habits were entirely new.

Crawling his way down her legs, he had another taste. Vistri’s hands caressed his head and her fingers wrapped around his ears in a way that made him hum with security.

She cried out at every lash of his tongue.

He whined licking her, the rushing blood just under her skin overwhelmed his senses as much as her taste. It made him feel alive. Pangs of need made his fingers tremble as they pushed into her, stretching her. She moaned, a song promising this would always be his. He wanted to fuck her until he saw stars.

And it felt good to want. The desire he felt was his. All his.

“Astarion,” she called out his name in a breathy voice, her body tensing with pleasure. Even without tadpoles, he knew how close Vistri was.

The next words from her lips yanked his heart out of his chest and brought it to his sleeve.

“Yours. I’m all yours.”

He’d planned to pleasure her in so many ways, but those words took away his will to perform. They didn’t need ecstasy as much as each other. She’d touched herself thinking of his laugh and his expressions; of his being, not his figure. Vistri just wanted him.

Lifting his head up, he asked, “Can I—?”

“Get back here!”

She pulled on his shoulders as he rushed to her lips, climbing her torso. She was so small, but it felt like miles. Ages until they were face to face.

His mouth was like a bully, commanding hers about. Vistri struggled with things like self love and acceptance, but could adoringly savor her taste on his tongue. It was so sweet mixed with his underneath. Astarion took her by the wrist to rub her hand along the outside of his trousers, almost growling as rutted into her palm. Being used by him was the best thing in the world, just as being used by others was the worst. Her ecstasy from it was as sharp as her bruised soul.

One long, deep, “Uuuuh,” from Vistri was the final snap in Astarion’s composure. One hand went to her neck as the other started undoing his laces. 

He licked along her jaw, and spoke in the crook of her throat as it called to him, “Do you know what it means? When you say you’re all mine?”

“I know what it means,” she looked him squarely in the eyes, seriously, which was unusual for either of them, “I say it because I know what it means.”

When there was enough give, Astarion pulled his trousers and pants down in one motion, just far enough to reveal himself. He spread her thighs apart and rubbed his aching cock along her belly to show off how deep he’d go.

Writhing, wanting him, she uttered, “Fuck, I love you.”

Astarion buried himself in her, saying he loved her too. Vistri screamed his name so loudly it probably answered what was taking him so long to change to the others downstairs.

“Wait, is the door locked?” he asked, suddenly remembering.

Vistri groaned, realizing it wasn’t, “Shit. Nooo.”

It was a rare occasion for their rooms at the Elfsong to be empty of everyone but them. Anyone could come back at any time, and they were in the middle of the room.

“Well, we don’t want to make an unsuspecting audience out of Shadowheart’s parents. Do we?”

Cackling, she suggested, “Or Withers.”

Astarion giggled, “Old bastard might try to join.”

Vistri’s laughter made her shake and pulse so pleasantly on his cock, he didn’t want to leave.

“Go lock it,” she could barely get the words out, overtaken by hilarity. Like she was wearing that cursed amulet again. 

Sighing with frustration, he reluctantly pulled out of her and got up, tearing the rest of clothes off of his legs. Her slick covered his whole length, making the air cool on his dick as it bounced with his steps.

At the sound of the lock snapping shut, Vistri stupidly called out, “Please!”

He stood by the door smiling with his arms crossed, “Please, what?” The crimson-violet scream of his skin, his retreated foreskin, and the precum pooling at his tip betrayed his casual nature.

“Fuck me!” she begged.

He smirked and held up two fingers.

Vistri buried her face in the side of the sofa to hide her laughter, “I cannot stand you!”

Wishing to see her face again, Astarion dropped his game and broke into a full run. She squealed as he leapt to her, and then cried out as he tore through her again. He savored the look on her face. Her eyes spilled the truth of her heart. Their expression exposed her even though she wasn’t trying to hide anything. Vistri belonged to him, gave herself over to him to use and take care of at whatever whim. As long as she was his .

“What was that about not being able to stand me?” he smirked, distracting himself from the pleasure shaking his spine like a tree in a rough storm. He wanted Vistri to find ecstasy at least once before giving into his.

Running her hands along his chest and stomach made him almost whimper. Vistri licked his earlobe and kissed his ear before whispering, “I lied. I actually adore you, and want you all the time.”

Roughly, he pushed her down into the sofa. He wrapped a big hand around her delicate neck and held it firm, like a brace. Slowing his thrusts to an unbearably slow pace. A teasing rhythm.

“Do you adore me now?” he asked. It was impossible for even Astarion to tell if he was asking out of seduction or sincerity.

“Even more,” she promised.

A devious smile tugged at the corner of his lips, “Turn around.”

After tucking pillows, and his old shirt, under Vistri for a better angle, Astarion playfully bounced his hard cock against her ass. They both laughed at the smack, but grew serious as he began to touch her from behind. She rocked back into his palm so deliciously he had to angle himself against her. With a slight push, he was covered to the hilt. They shivered in tune with each other. Vistri felt ripped open at his thrust; his hands firmly holding onto her hips grounded her.

She reached back for one of them, and his finger twisted around one of hers as they met.

He froze, “Is this still what you want?”

“It is all I want,” she answered, caressing his finger.

Even though Vistri couldn’t see his smirk, she could hear it, “Then let’s give the others an update on our whereabouts.”

He roughly pumped his hips, angling deep.

“Astarion!”

He wanted them to hear it, everyone her voice could reach; hear the news that she was his. Going faster made her louder.

“Astarion! ” 

“Yes,” he groaned, as he felt her tightening around him, “Yes.” It was a word he wasn’t used to meaning, and the truth of it felt like the sun tingling like home on his skin.

Gasping through the edges of death, in unison, too quickly, they cried out.

Astarion wanted to see the stars, and there they appeared behind both their eyes. They never really knew why it was called a little death before they met. It became clear the first time they transcended flesh and spirit together under the thrall of an all-consuming ecstasy. In that bliss, they were gone from the world, and in coming back to it, were reborn into their shaking embrace.

He rocked his hips gently, even when there was nothing left to spill into her. Just because he didn’t want the moment to pass yet.

As Astarion sat back on his knees, Vistri turned around and covered his face with a flurry of breathless, grateful pecks. He chuckled, and wrapped his arms around her. Vistri threw hers over his shoulders too and pulled him tighter.

“Never leave me alone again,” she half-joked.

Astarion was so happy his words had a sobbing laugh under them, “Oh, I’m never leaving you alone again!”

They squeezed each other even closer at the same time. Never wanting to let go.

Miraculously, nothing got on the couch. So all they had to clean off was each other. After freshening up, they crawled into their bed. Which wasn’t really their bed. It was rented. But, unless tents and bedrolls counted, this bed was the first sort of home they’d claimed together.

“This is my favorite part,” she said as she nuzzled into his chest.

“What are you talking about?”

Vistri hummed happily and sighed, running her fingers along his arm, “This.”

Smiling, he bent to kiss her head. She gave another happy hum.

“You’re perfect,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Looking up, she poked him on the nose and refuted his denial, “Yes, you are!”

Astarion smirked and made a show of trying to bite her finger. Vistri squealed, laughing.

“No, don’t bi—”

A series of loud, rapid bangs on the door snatched them from their lighthearted moment, and instinctively, they got ready to fight. Each made a protective gesture over the other. Astarion sat up and pulled her closer by the waist, as she positioned her body in front of his.

Drunken shouts answered them before they could call out and ask who was there.

“—en it!”

“‘S’locked! ”

“OY! WHY’S THE DOOR SHUT?!” That would be Karlach.

Vistri smirked at Astarion.

Brow raised, he remarked, “Looks like this time, we forgot to unlock the door.”

She snickered, “Ready to let them in?”

He made a show of thinking about it for a moment as kicks and insults shook the door, “Hmmm, I don’t know. I think we should make them wait.”

The burst of laughter that left Vistri was loud enough for the others to notice, and the muffled shouting now included their names.

Astarion rolled his eyes and got out of bed, “You’ve done it now, love.”

As he walked to the door, he took a look back at Vistri, who had sunk back into their bed, holding her sides in a laughing fit. He felt as free as she sounded, and so full of happiness Astarion couldn’t feel his feet on the ground.

Vistri was wearing his old shirt. She’d insisted on changing into it when they got dressed. Telling him she didn’t want to spend a second without him wrapped around her.

The sight made him smile so broadly his cheeks ached.

#fluffspring2024 #day 1 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #vistarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #vistri #flufftober 2024 #full fic #BrishFics #threadbare fic #smut #fluff #light angst #lemon #bg3 spoilers

[vistarion-astri]

✨ that little smile ✨

✨ the contentment ✨

The way she looks at him 😭💗

Astarion's grinch soft face 😭😭😭😭

The epilogues are making me WEAK and FERAL 😱

#vistarion #vistri #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #BrishFics #bg3 spoilers

[ficbrish]

Smoke Rings

[AO3 Link]

[Here we go! @flufftober Spring Edition 2024! Thank you for the prompt 🥰 March 13th - Spring Cleaning]

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

tw/cw: Sexual content, cptsd, blood, alcohol, weed/mushrooms, smoking, sex while high, post-battle scenery, gore, death, hanging reference, an unserious small dick joke, vague reference to past incest and CSA

After the game, but before the epilogue, Astarion and Vistri find a new home in the Underdark.

END GAME/POST-CANON SPOILERS!

Exhausted and ragged, they looked at each other in disbelief and clasped hands.

Their last enemy had been cut down; the fortress finally won.

“I believe we have a home now, darling.”

Astarion’s voice was strained from shouting, and moisture clouded his ruby eyes. His words echoed hollowly, but they were real.

A home, in the Underdark. That kind of life had been snatched from Vistri at the vengeful end of a serving fork. Dear Uncle Hurzeth really should have learned to shut his mouth, but like most religious men, he wasn’t known for his humility or impulse-control.

Vistri’s name and birthright burnt to ash upon his funeral pyre; stuffed in the gullet of his perverse corpse. In seizing justice, retribution wrapped around her own throat like an executioner’s noose, diminishing her to the life of a wandering Surface vagabond. Never to have a home in the violet gloom again.

Until the Nautiloid came along playing matchmaker and diviner of fate.

Their homecomings were each other’s exiles. As she reunited with the permanent dark, Astarion was banished to it. All that illithid nonsense allowed the sun to lovingly grace his skin without burning it to cinders. Now sans tadpoles, or the sacrifice of seven thousand other vampire spawn, his bright star once more turned to poison.

Luckily, Vistri was all the sun he ever needed. She dwarfed the real one in comparison to how she brightened his days and left a pleasant tingling on his skin. Its daylight cast shadows, while her spotlight chased away all shade. Its radiant touch whispered and dissipated rather quickly, hers shouted and echoed endlessly.

And even when it was the other way around, Astarion turned Vistri’s prison into a sanctuary. Maybe it was Sune herself who blessed them, for the love they found taught them the true meaning of home.

Standing back to back in the blood-soaked corridors of their brand-new ancient fortress, all they’d really gained was an address.

And a place to keep their stuff.

And host parties at.

…And for teaching and protecting all the others who’d broken from Cazador’s heavy chains.

Tiredly they turned and fell into each other’s arms, bracing themselves against their weariness. The rush of battle still flared through every muscle as their heightened senses filled with nothing but the other. Relief vibrated into a livid need, so furious at death that it came alive.

Her whimper wouldn’t have been half as charming if she wasn’t so completely oblivious to it building in her throat. He dwarfed it with a moan, taking her lips tenderly between his.

Breaking apart, she sighed and swore, “I’d let you take me over these corpses.”

“Wouldn’t be very sanitary though, would it?”

She giggled senselessly and twirled from his embrace to survey the room. Unsuccessfully clearing the ecstatic happiness from her lips with a smirk, she said, “It’s a fucking dump.”

Astarion threw his head back and laughed with such relief it sounded like sobbing.

Having carved a path of carnage all the way from the gates to that final corridor, they had a clear way back to the others. The halls seemed a lot longer when they were fighting their way through them. And populated with more vampires.

At some point along their macabre stroll, Astarion suddenly stopped them. “But where are all the spawn?” he asked warily.

“Perhaps they’ve met up already?”

Uneasy shivers skirted his neck. He felt them despite being just out of reach. It was enough of a warning for him to suggest they continue carefully, slowly. Even if there was nothing to worry about, a little caution couldn’t hurt.

The reason for his misgivings became apparent as soon as they approached the courtyard. Apparently everyone had met up already. A veritable feeding frenzy played out before them. Ravenous spawn were covering the cadavers like carrion. It was like the Shadowfell had descended, warping them into a Domain of sickness. The risen dead devouring a small village.

They thought they’d learned everything to know about the Dhampir, but clearly their education was just getting started. Astarion was one vampire, and that’s all they were used to. This was a horde. No stranger to the sight of him ripping off a bandit’s head and drinking from it like a chalice, Vistri still froze in fear at the scene before them.

Growling instinctively, Astarion stepped in front of her. Territorial feeders, the spawn were spaced like pieces on a freshly set lanceboard. Even so, the crowd was denser over by the gates, where most of the carnage was concentrated. His siblings feasted among them. He couldn’t help the sense of superiority that dawned on him at the sight.

He might not have ascended at Cazador’s death, but in observing his brethren’s lowly acts, thought himself lord of them all. The blood they supped on was dead and dull, no matter how fresh and warm. Astarion had Vistri. He didn’t steal, because she gave. She came to him willingly, and her blood ran with drow and dragon, so vibrantly full of life it was as powerful as a storm.

Vistri pitied them. How hungry and desperate, how alone they all were. She looked at Astarion in a new beloved light. He was the one who brought them together, the one who would guide them all to be better. 

Astarion was the first one to get away, to learn to control his nature. He was the one who killed Cazador. He was the one who broke their chains, giving them another chance. He was the one who had something to teach all the rest.

He felt such a bitter disgust; none of them should ever be this desperate, this starved. Feed, he thought proudly, looking out, Feed to your fill. They’d do better than animals and cooling corpses soon enough.

Realizing they were senseless of anything but the bleeding bodies stacked in front of them, Astarion scooped Vistri into his arms like a bride to carry her across the courtyard.

“You will not be afraid in your own home. I’ll make sure no one gives you a reason,” he said it so surely, it was more a statement of fact than a promise.

As he walked past the growling, slurping spawn, Vistri hid her face in his breast like a nervous child. The world was dangerous and threatening, but she was safe in his arms. Still, the relief she felt was full-bodied when they passed under arches and retreated into the fortress.

He carried her though the blooded halls of time-forgotten stone, unsure of where he was headed. Just somewhere else away from the others, away from the marks of battle. Astarion searched until he was satisfied he’d found a corner that could be entirely theirs. It took him far down the corridors, climbing stairs where he saw the opportunity.

Arms aching, he gave up on perfection and settled for what seemed like it would do. As they crossed the chosen chamber threshold, he kissed Vistri’s cheek and said, “Welcome home, my love.”

She giggled as he set her down with an, “Ooof! ”

The room was too spacious to be a closet, and contained no hints of its purpose. There were chairs everywhere, some broken, none matching. A desk was placed haphazardly near the middle, or maybe it was a table. Wooden crates were stacked to the side in a disorderly way, like they’d been quickly stashed and forgotten. Vistri wanted to open them immediately. She spilled out of Astarion’s arms and tumbled towards them.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here!” she said, rubbing her hands together. She hit one with an ice cantrip.

“Careful!” he chuckled as the air around them chilled and wood cracked.

The crate didn’t open, the side just sort of froze.

“Blast!”

Spotting the way Vistri frustratedly pulled her foot back for a kick, Astarion picked her up and pulled her away. She fussed in his embrace like an angry cat.

“By the gods, you’ll break whatever’s in there,” he chuckled, “Let me do it.”

Vistri crossed her arms, “Fine.”

Alas! There was wine. After he put her down, he pried the crate open with one of his knives, revealing dozens of bottles inside.

“I could have done that!”

He chuckled warmly, “My dear, you would have shattered them.”

Hopefully it was good wine, because every bottle was the same. Knife still in hand, he twisted off the cork and tested the first sip. 

His face screwed up with bitterness, “Just give it a little time to breathe.”

Tittering at his reaction, Vistri yanked the bottle from his grasp and took an impatient sip. “It’s not… entirely rubbish,” she said, warily giving her judgment with a thoughtful expression.

“Give it a minute!” he laughed.

Defiantly, she took another sip.

“You little minx,” he smirked, snatching the bottle back. After setting it down on the floor, Astarion looped his fingers with hers. He sighed against her lips before kissing them. Vistri forgot all about the wine, even as their tongues tasted of it.

“Astarion,” she said, and he thought she was just saying his name until she continued, “Is there something else I can offer you to drink in the meantime?”

Her offer brought to mind the courtyard below. He was better than that because she allowed him to be better. She barely let him say it first, always begging to be drunk. In the way that other lovers would ask, Have you eaten today? Vistri tilted her neck and inquired if he wanted a bite.

Resting his forehead against hers, he said, “I am feeling a bit peckish.”

Vistri jumped blissfully into his arms. Her heart beat ecstatically in anticipation as Astarion brought her over to that table in the middle of the room. She felt like a cloth being draped across it. Her legs opened as he climbed over her.

Before he pierced her with his fangs, she pulled him into a rough kiss. His thigh pushed hers wider apart. He felt himself grind into her, his hips swaying in tune with hers. Their song eventually spilled off her tongue, and Astarion moaned too, making it a duet.

“Bite my lip,” she suggested.

Smiling, he submitted to her suggestion, as gently as he could. With the point of his fang, he sliced her open, groaning as the first drop of blood hit his tongue. Astarion feasted like a king among peasants. Vistri wriggled willingly, longingly under him. She kissed him as he sucked her lip and nibbled it, coaxing her nectar to trickle forward. While part of him reached a point of satisfaction, another starved. Ravenously, he pushed into her mouth. They passed her blood back and forth on shivering tongues.

“Astarion,” she sighed as he let go of her lip, and this time she was just saying his name.

Their fingers tumbled with their lacings; their knuckles clashing together in the rush to free themselves from their leathers.

“Can—?”

“Yes!” she pleaded.

It felt like laying claim; to each other, this fortress, their power, and life itself. The tight, stretching ache of one another ripped through their senses with the thrust of his hips. Pleasure sighed through every pore, rushing like a white river over their skin.

Ecstasy erased their sense of self, dissolving them together in its realm. They were safe now. They could spend their lives this way. They were home.

Free.

Little did they know that table had been stashed there over a weak leg. It gave out from the power of their movements, and the whole thing collapsed. Shrieking as they fell, it turned to laughter as they realized neither were hurt.

“Are you okay?” she laughed, and he kissed her in response.

“I almost broke my dick!” he cackled breathily.

Vistri got up first, still giggling, and offered a hand, “Careful, you’re surrounded by wooden stakes.”

She was little help with how weak her limbs were, both from the edge of fulfillment, and their sudden shock that’d blossomed into overwhelming hilarity. They burst into another round of it when he slipped and almost fell back into a broken table leg. Vistri had to catch him with her spectral mage hand.

Stumbling over the trousers they’d pushed down to their thighs, they chased each other to another corner of the room. Astarion caught her and spun her around into an innocent kiss that easily descended into depravity.

His arms felt like mush and their muscles begged screaming for some rest, but Astarion lifted Vistri up again anyway to push her back into the wall. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, taking care not to leave bruises as others did. He hadn’t asked for that yet. But at his command, she’d tighten into a vice-grip and leave behind a physical reminder of their embrace.

Gravity turned the wall into a bed. Like the arches bearing their new home, they found a force and a balance when pressing together that held up their wary, rutting bodies. Staring into Vistri’s violet eyes, Astarion found himself falling into the abyss.

“Wait,” he absently whispered, slowing his movements.

Caressing his cheek, worry infecting her tone, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

His chuckle was a growl, “More like too right.” He kissed her and groaned, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Trapping her hips against the wall, he held them still and started to gradually rock his. Only allowing as much as the tip was a delicious torture.

“More,” she groaned.

As her desperation serenaded his ears, Astarion could feel her tightening and shivering around him, begging to fill her completely. He wanted to give in as much as she did. Controlling her was sweet, but controlling himself was even sweeter. His denial was power, and it subjugated both of them.

“Cum for me first, and I’ll give you more.”

Faster, he pumped in and out, growing in tempo until her screaming rang painfully in his ears. She was already on the verge of it, and seemed to let go at his command. Her pulsing pleasure was rough on his tender head, overly sensitized from repetitive penetration. Love and vice sparked through him and a wonderful pressure built behind his eyes.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. As Vistri surrendered to ecstasy, she dragged him along like a sweeping wave. She was still tapering off the feeling when, unable to wait, he finally buried himself to his root.

Unintelligibly crying out at his thrust, they quickly lost themselves. Gazing eye to eye, they saw past reds and purples into the depths of their exposed hearts. It overwhelmed them, like a cleric beholding their god. Together, they fell into fulfillment with a swooping terror that felt like losing one’s balance, and crashed into a brand-new plane of existence that banished all fear and held only the two of them.

Once they were back to reality, within these unfamiliar walls of their new dwelling, they sunk and sat up against the wall, holding each other tight. Vistri nuzzled her cheek against his and sighed with spent contentment.

“…You know you don’t have to stay,” Astarion said, his voice a shaking heart, “I-If you no longer wish to.”

The dreams already dying in his eyes in anticipation of his fears made her chest physically ache. Vistri caressed his beloved face without thought, just a need to save him from the horror.

“Oh, Astarion,” she chuckled sorrowfully, “Oh, my love.”

He closed his running eyes and felt her lips land softly across his cheekbones.

“I want you,” she whispered on his face, “All I want is you. Only you.”

Unable to bear witness to more of her affirmative words, he stopped them with a long, thankful kiss.

Her rare heart sat clearly in her expression. It was gift-wrapped, tied with red string, and addressed to him lovingly; his name written along the side.

“How dare I doubt you?”

“Exactly,” she giggled, “How dare you!”

Others still haunted their ability to convey and receive messages of genuine love. Having already pushed their limits, they sat embracing one another in pleasant silence.

Until Astarion muttered, “Almost forgot!” and got up to grab the wine they’d left over by the door.

Vistri excitedly ran after him, light on her feet like a fey.

Raising the bottle high between them, he toasted, “To our home.”

She took a smiling sip, then passed it back to Astarion. Swallowing felt like making a vow.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked, no bitter flinch present in his expression after his swig.

“You were right,” she smirked warmly, “Some things are all the better for waiting.”

v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v

They figured the hard part would be the conquering, but that was more like Spawn City Tutorial. After the initial looting and corpse-burning, there were some celebrations. Then the real work came. Starting with turning the captured fortress into a real home. Scrubbing, mapping, sweeping, dusting, assessing masonry needs, livestock needs, stocking, mopping—Cleaning! Cleaning!

“Cleaning! Enough cleaning!” Astarion exclaimed one evening.

Vistri giggled wildly as he wrestled her for her scrub brush. Their excited shouts bounced sharply across the barren, ancient stone. Successfully snatching it away, he chucked it out of the nearby window.

Running over to the sill, she chuckled, “Darling, we’ll have to fetch that.”

He scoffed, “I’ll make Petras go fetch it.”

“You can’t always bully Petras,” she laughed.

“Yes, I can!”

Turning to Astarion with a cheeky smile, she leaned against the window and asked, “Do you remember this chamber?”

His pout overturned into a devilish smile. He knew exactly which chamber this was.

“Oh, I think about it daily,” he smirked, joining her over by the window.

He couldn’t read the expression in Vistri's eyes, they were so far away, but her distance seemed filled with possibility instead of escape.

“We have a house,” he repeated, just to hear it out loud again.

“We do! We have a house!”

Flinging an arm over her shoulder, Astarion looked out and surveyed the scenery below with his beloved.

“Well,” she stated shakily, “We did it.”

She turned to him with a beaming expression that shined so bright it was like the sun sat right here in the Underdark gloom. More than joy, there was want and adoration screaming through her eyes. To be its witness, no, to be the direction in which it was pointed, made his undead heart skip happily.

Their old tower loomed over the glow of wild mushrooms like a proud lord. Who knows how many had peered through the same window. Who knows if they would be the last, or if others would eventually come to conquer them too. Who would they be? And what would they think, looking out over the same shades of grey?

“I like it because it’s ours,” she said. Astarion shrugged her closer and blessed the side of her forehead with a rough peck.

He pulled something from his pockets with his free hand, “Do you have a light, my dear?”

Gale and Halsin weren’t the biggest smokers, but they were inventive ones. What started as a few collaborative pipe blends turned into a shared hobby, and they took to it with the enthusiasm of two middle-aged men who had recently discovered model chariots. Before parting for the Underdark, Waterdeep, or the Shadow Curse-no-more Lands, they’d left the remaining team with tears, bear hugs (figuratively and literally), and a few packets of pre-rolled parting gifts.

Instead of filling for a pipe, their masterwork blend was artfully wrapped up into a smokable stick, like a cigarillo. The casing was as well-crafted and loved as their herbal fungi blend, made of dried fruit peels and layered in with rose petals that were kept magically fresh.

Vistri asked them what the blend comprised of many times, and although it was no secret recipe, she’d always ask once the stogie was already lit. There was a bit of timmask dust in there for sure, but the herbs were lost to the blurry memory of their excitedly recited list. The elevated joy that sparkled in Gale and Halsin’s eyes as they spoke stood out to her more than their words.

“You have the most brilliant ideas,” she smiled.

“I know,” he smirked, placing the stick between his lips.

Astarion leaned over as she snapped her thumb, making a small flame shoot out of it in the way Karlach taught her. Cupping his hands around it, he met her fire and inhaled. Tufts of smoke blew out the end of the cig, and drifted in tendrils from Astarion’s nose like a dragon’s breath.

Taking it between two noble fingers, he passed the gift from his lips to hers. Vistri smiled and took an eager pull. She coughed on her exhale, making Astarion giggle.

More than euphoria, the instant effect brought a giddy sort of security. Nothing was wrong with them or the world, a state they’d only found in each other’s embrace. It was nice to live in for a little while, and taught them existence isn’t inherently bad or painful.

Looking out the window, Astarion remarked, “I don’t think Petras could even run that far.”

Vistri’s chortle was so sudden she almost snorted, “Of course he can!”

“Poor fucker would get lost and need a break every few steps. Unless he had Dalyria with him, of course. Then maybe the five minute walk would be such, and not turn into a tenday’s journey across the yard.”

Too thick in the midst of giggling to answer, Vistri went for another puff and ended up choking on the smoke.

“Heavens! Are you ever gonna learn how to hit that?”

Over a series of coughs, Vistri fought to speak, “Astarion! ”

He grabbed the open wine they’d snuck into their cleaning session and handed it to her, “Have a drink of something. You sound awful!”

Suppressing another cough, she took a defiant swig.

“Good. Now pass that my way—Not the wine! You keep that. That funny, little cigar.”

As he took another puff, Vistri regained her breath and said, “It’s too small to be a cigar.”

Astarion, being Astarion, heard small and cigar in a sentence, and jumped on the cliche, “My, my! Imagine being told its too small to be considered a willy.”

“Astarion!—And don’t you dare take another jab at Petras! Poor Petras.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about Petras in that regard!”

“Because you know,” she said, raising her brow and reaching for the cig, “I bet he has a big—”

“Can we not talk about my brother’s Todd Johnson?”

She could barely breathe, “Todd Johnson?! ”

Wrestling her for another smoke, Astarion fell into her laughter until his ribs started to ache. Growing weak from it, he gave up the fight and sat back wiping his eyes. Vistri finally passed it over, grinning victoriously.

He placed the dwindling cigarillo between his teeth and flashed a smile to meet hers. Then with a cat-like pounce, suddenly bent to throw her over his shoulder. 

Upside-down her cackling reflected off the floor and continued bouncing between the ceiling and walls. Most of the furniture that was in the room previously had been dumped or moved elsewhere. Sound carried louder and longer than it had the day before, making their laughter haunt the stone like specters.

They could have been a thousand lovers.

“Sit with me, darling,” he cooed, his words slurred with the cig still tucked between his teeth. Halfway gone, it was now just a little longer than his fangs when fully-retracted, about to bite.

Two other chairs remained, but he chose their favorite. Its upholstery had a fresh, weathered look that reminded them of Astarion’s old clothes. Well-tended to with a consistent, loving hand, its rich fabrics held on despite their decay. It made them wonder which discarded body in the courtyard those hands had belonged to.

At least their life’s work wasn’t wasted. Lovers now took it as their preferred perch. They sat so lazily on it, it seemed to swallow them.

With another puff, Astarion released a thick ring of smoke into the air in front of them. Vistri rewarded his trick with kisses to his cheek and a round of applause, delighted by the way it slowly floated by.

“Every day your mouth shows me new wonders.”

“Does it?” he asked, leaning in for a kiss with a raised brow.

“Mmmm, it does.”

Placing a hand along her hip, he commanded, “Face me.”

Moving to straddle him, Vistri turned and settled over his lap. Her thighs spread wide over his; her knees sunk into the cushion cracks. The way she centered her balance over his middle sent another kind of high coursing through their senses. Reaching for the stick smoking in his hands, she wove her fingers into his to smoothly steal it.

A glint in her eyes, she inhaled. Letting the smoke slowly crash over his face, she leaned in to place her mouth on his and blow the rest of her hit into it. Astarion moaned, tasting her under the heavy scent of burning plants.

“How considerate of you,” he exhaled, grinning.

“I try my best.”

Pushing her hair back, Astarion looked suddenly thoughtful, “Do you ever wish it were just us?”

“All the time,” she chuckled, “But they need us. You know they do.”

He raised his eyebrow, “To their credit, none of them have tried to steal a bite.”

“I think that credit is due more to my magic and your promised fury.”

“Maybe a little of that too,” he smirked.

Warmly, she planted a kiss on his forehead. A silent, I’m so proud of you.

As reluctantly as Astarion played it, Vistri knew he relished his new role. It was important to him to be better than Cazador, but more than that, she knew he needed them all to get better together. That’s just the type of person he was, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

Another smoke ring danced in the air above their heads. Then a series of smaller ones.

Vistri was beaming at him, “Look at you, love. So amazing.”

“You’re very high.”

She snickered, “No, I’m not!”

“It’s okay, my dear,” he chuckled, “I’m right there with you.”

They broke into ugly laughter that clashed like two very different songs being played poorly on the same stage. Their ridiculous levity sounded like the echoing cries of some cursed reptilian god.

The stone thanked them for silence when Astarion took her lips between his. With gently rocking hips, he showed Vistri the extent of his desire. She was wanted, needed. Craved.

“You make me feel like a king,” he whispered along the crook of her jaw. Then chuckling, he continued, “I know how it sounds, of course. But I don’t know other words to say it. Not now.”

Her hands glided over his chest, rubbing it in absent-minded patterns, “I am a most willing subject.”

“Are you, now?” he asked, knowing the answer from the warble in her voice.

At the nodding of her head, Astarion untied his laces. He watched Vistri take another inhale of their dying nub. Cool air defied the heat he felt in the oven of their laps as he pulled his twitching dick free of his breeches.

The old robes she wore allowed for easy access, and she adjusted them to tent over their laps. Pulling one hand in through her sleeve, she caressed his cock. Pressing his silky skin against her rolling hips, Astarion gasped pleasantly at the brushing of her lace knickers. He brought a hand of his own to keep under her robes. His finger gently traced its patterns, feeling her labia thicken under it from his gradual strokes.

Vistri hadn’t planned for a moment like this. She figured she’d feel better wearing such plain rags if her finest knickers hid beneath them. The delighted surprise in his expression almost disappointed her. He should really know her better by now.

Rubbing each other under her robes, they passed the last of their treat back and forth with their free hands. On the final pull, Astarion brought her close to share it. Her exhale turned into a kiss; his tongue shyly met the tip of hers.

“Is it all right?” she asked, “We’re quite intoxi—”

He didn’t even mean to interrupt her. The consideration in her query was a splash of oil on his fire, further igniting the blaze.

“It’s all right,” he kissed her, “Are you all—”

“Yes,” she nodded, still unbelievingly grateful for his returned care.

Her eager hips rolled into his teasing finger. Arousal coated the inside of her knickers. It was beginning to soak through to his skin. He moaned, and pulled the bunching lace tight so her folds spilled over the sides, swallowing the string of lace between them. Grabbing his cock, he rubbed his head against her wet skin and the rough line of lace that ran down her middle.

“I could burst just from this,” he sighed.

His finger slipped under the lace, pulling it taught like one of his bows. Upon releasing it, her cry sounded in tune with its smack. She was caught prey, waiting only for death.

Placing her roughly used knickers aside, he lined himself up against her soak. As he pushed in, Vistri lowered herself to take in his length. Gasping from the squeeze and stretch, their high made every familiar ecstasy ten times brighter. Riding each other’s waves, they sunk into multiverses of gluttonous sensation.

“Shit. You feel like magic.”

“I am magic.”

Chuckling together in their embrace, their rutting didn’t cease.

It got faster. Harder.

Deeper. Like they were digging to the core of each other, prying open the gilded chest that housed their very souls.

Climax came over them so strongly it made their lips pull back and shiver. Pulsing together, their shouts dissipated to whines; bliss stuffing their throats.

Fighting overstimulation, they maintained a slow rocking of their hips. Not wanting to stop. Ever. His seed started to spill out of her from their movements and pool over his balls. From whence we came, we shall return.

Astarion thought the joke was too delicious not to share.

Pointing to the mess, he recited, “From whence we came, we shall return.”

Vistri laughed so hard, she tripped going to fetch them a fresh rag.

They made out after casually cleaning each other up.

Passionately, like lovestruck teenagers who’d just discovered it. Loving words and adoring vows came tumbling out of the hot ache. Promises for this new life; dedicating joy to each other’s names.

As sudden as it started, it stopped. Their furious need became a tight embrace, like fingers grasping the edge of a cliff. Beating together in sorrowful song, their hearts found an impossible happiness; a new music.

“I think I rather like this room,” he said in a tone that was light despite its heaviness.

Humming pleasantly, Vistri nuzzled into his chest, “Let’s make it ours then.”

A room of their own. Their chambers.

“We already have," Astarion chuckled, "A couple times, in fact.”

#fluffspring2024 #day 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #vistarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #vistri #flufftober 2024 #full fic #BrishFics #smoke rings fic #smut #fluff #angst #lemon #bg3 spoilers

[ficbrish]

You have my Bloody Heart

[AO3 Link]

[Here we go! @flufftober Spring Edition 2024! Thank you for the prompt 🥰 March 12th - Banter, Joking, Fun]

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

tw/cw: Sexual content, blood, blood drinking, past abuse, cptsd, choking kink, alcohol, food, hurt/comfort, light injury

Late in Act III, Astarion and Vistri sneak out for a date night.

LATE ACT III SPOILERS!

The others were asleep, filling the room at the Elfsong with silence and snoring. Astarion and Vistri, however, were wrapped around each other in their bed, wide awake.

“Let’s sneak off,” he whispered, stroking her hair.

His voice sent shivers from Vistri's ear to her neck, then traveled down her back, flipping her stomach like a coin. The sensation was familiar and terrifying, like she was preparing to cast some new higher-level spell. She held back her laughter, trying her best not to be too loud. The Elfsong provided real beds, but less privacy, and they’d already been yelled at too many times for disturbing everyone’s slumber.

Turning around to face him, softly, Vistri exclaimed, “Race you!”

As she sat up to get out of bed, Astarion pulled her back in. Bringing her into a close embrace, he traced her jawline with a delicate finger then slowly kissed the silver scales along her brow. Vistri sighed, and he answered it with a kiss. Long and gentle.

It left her dizzy, and devoid of all sense but him. Astarion took advantage of the opportunity to get a head start.

Forgetting the need to be quiet, Vistri laughingly shouted, “Bastard! ” and chased after him on shaking legs.

A sleepy Gale frustratedly groaned on the other side of the screen, “Mystra’s tits… ”

Withers silently and dispassionately watched his pawn and her distraction make their way towards the exit in a whispered, giggling rush. He wasn’t worried the world might fall, but noted it as a possibility.

Wyll and Shadowheart jumped at the slamming of the door, even from opposing sides of the room. Almost like it was choreographed, they suddenly sat up, reaching for the knives stashed under their pillows. Realizing it was nothing, just those damn elves again, they fell back asleep.

“I won!” Astarion bragged as they hurried down the tavern stairs.

Vistri leapt onto his back and lightly nibbled the point of his ear, “You cheated!”

“Ow!” he laughed.

“Oh, did that hurt?” she gave it an adoring peck, “Is that better?”

If she kept doing that, Astarion was going to have to sit down for a little while. He never knew touch could ignite so many feelings. Lust and a deep sense of safety never went together before. He never knew he could have both, until she came along.

“Much better,” he said with a bit of a sigh.

He walked through the rest of the tavern with Vistri on his back, but had to let her down once they stepped outside.

“Nooo!” she protested as he squatted to set her down, “I wanted to ride you!”

Astarion smirked, “I know you do, dear.”

“Not like that!” she chuckled freely.

“Sure, you don’t,” he teased, smiling brightly, “But I’d rather hold that lovely lavender hand of yours—Take a stroll by the water? Side by side?”

Wriggling his fingers invitingly, Vistri took hold of them in happy disbelief. Like it was the first time. His hands were a miracle she could twist her fingers around.

How could something so exciting be so calming at the same time?

Touching, hand-in-hand; everything was good in the world.

“Thank you,” he brought her fist up to his lips, kissing along her knuckles like a prayer. He adored the way she still blushed after all these tendays.

With quite a bit of city between the Elfsong and the docks, a habitual quickening lurched in Astarion’s stomach. Old thoughts warned him not to stray too far from sanctuary this late into the early morning hours, lest the sun come up. Knowing that wasn’t an issue for him anymore made it easy for him to shake off such worries and relax. Then he tensed up again, remembering the problem would return once they rid themselves of the tadpoles.

Unless… No.

Hope was the ultimate poison.

Vistri must have noticed his mind wandering, for she called out, “Hey, Astarion!”

He brought his attention back to her. Vistri was smiling so widely, obviously delighted. He noticed her pointing towards something off to the side somewhere.

…To a stack of hay.

A scoffing groan and rolling eyes vented his instant regret upon turning to look. They were almost entirely compatible, the only caveat being Astarion hated puns.

“I hate puns,” he’d complained in those early days of knowing each other.

Vistri couldn’t help herself, and shrugged through her response, “Guess you’re just not a punny guy.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake …”

They weren’t immediate friends.

In getting to know her, Astarion learned she poked him so he’d fight back. It wasn’t from a mocking impulse to cut him down by the tendon. Vistri wasn’t getting a rise out of him to punish him for his reaction. It was a plea for his attention. An invitation to assert his power, to take it from her. A plea for his affections.

Astarion pulled her closer, tight against his chest in an embrace that would have been threatening with anyone else. Her wrists he held firm behind her back, pushing her further into him, so very tightly. He took them into one hand to roughly grab her chin with the other, forcing her to look up into his eyes. The cool night air breezed passed them, but the heat between them didn’t dissipate, only grew.

His stare laid bare her soul, his tone both a knife and a feather, “My dear, I do believe that merits some pun-ishment.”

Vistri humorously cried out, shocked and delighted that he played along for once. Astarion stole a kiss from her open mouth. She whimpered as his lips wrapped around hers; his tongue reaching out. Taking hers.

Astarion sighed, losing himself in his own trap. Always, always that seemed to happen with her. Pulling away, he twirled Vistri around, releasing her with a cheeky smack to her bum.

Giggling like fools they reunited their hands.

A passing cat delayed them in their journey to the seafront. It was so fluffy, grey, and glorious, how could they not stop for a chat? Vistri cast Speak to Animals, and reached out to Astarion’s tadpole, letting him into her mind so she wouldn’t have to translate cat to elf.

The floof had a majestically deep voice; a rumbling, theatrical roar, “Good Evening. Would you happen to have any ham?”

Smirking at Astarion from the corner of her eye, Vistri gave the feline a little bow, “Forgive us, good fellow. While we’ve been known to ham it up, we have none upon us at the moment.”

“Blast! The gods are cruel tonight. To set such a heavy heart on the hunt for warm ham.”

“Deepest apologies,” she said hand to heart, “If I knew you were looking for ham, I would have lowered my voice and given it a bit of a warble before greeting you with something like, 'Mighty night stalker! We have been honored by your graceful presence! Is there any way poor souls such as us could hope to please thee? ’”

The cat slow-blinked in response, purring in delight at such a wonderful display of servitude. 

Astarion leaned in, whispering to Vistri, “Might I offer a bit of sausage?”

“Do you really have some? Or is that just a euphemism?”

“Oh, I really have it,” he answered suggestively, stroking her arm. It sent more of those shivers through her. Then plainly, he stated, “But I also do happen to have a bit of it in my pocket.”

“Oh, you’ve got more than a bit in your pocket, my dear,” she smirked heatedly. Then frowned, “But really! You can’t give sausage to a cat! It’s not good for them!”

“It’s not?” he asked bawdily, “Come now, I thought sausage was an excellent thing to give to a pussy.”

Vistri tried her best not to let her amusement show on her face, “Well, if I wanted to come now, that would be just the thing.”

Astarion pulled a bit of sausage from his pocket, “I wasn’t kidding.”

As she burst into laughter, he broke some pieces off the top of the link. Kneeling, he offered them to the cat.

“Do you like sausage?”

“Mm–I love sausage!” it purred, eating from Astarion’s palm.

The wet, hot breath and fuzzy nose of the creature felt so delicate. Trusting. As if he were someone gentle and worthy of it. Tadpoles still linked, Vistri could feel his heart flutter in her own chest. A sense of preciousness and renewal overcame her through him.

Sated after his nibbles, the cat parted ways. First allowing them to indulge in a few chin scratches. Astarion, already at cat level, was given permission initially. Then Vistri was invited in to even out the other side.

She laughed as they continued towards the docks, asking, “Why on Toril do you have sausage in your pocket?”

“I figured… In case you got hungry…”

That tickled Vistri so much it stole her breath away, snatching the sound from her laughter. When she caught it again, her voice was strained, pitchy, “You were gonna feed me sausage?! ”

Swept along by her current of laughter, Astarion’s features joyously softened.

“It was a set up for a bit,” he admitted, his expressions free, thus very silly.

Moonlight glittered across the water when they approached it. The image quieted and then stilled them. Hand in hand, they admired Shadowheart’s new goddess, and the sea raging calmly under her glow.

“I love you,” Vistri said without looking away from the distance.

Astarion turned to face her, and feeling his gaze like a blush on her cheeks, Vistri turned to face him too.

Squeezing her hand, pouring his heart into her eyes through his, he whispered, “I love you too.”

It was peaceful.

After a while, Vistri began swaying their hands in a childish arc; back and forth with more enthusiasm than rhythm.

Amused, he asked, “What’s on your mind over there?”

With the smile of a fey, she proposed, “Let’s go do something naughty.”

The something naughty Vistri had in mind was a game. She called it, “Let’s go find an abandoned house to break into.”

He smiled widely, reborn at her suggestion. A greed that lusted after defiance more than the forbidden rumbled through his chest. Delicious enough for him to sink his teeth into. Skirting rules together was a breaking of chains, a reclamation.

Strolling down the streets, arm in arm, they pretended to be house-hunting. Pointing out every derelict building they passed. Exchanging questions like some vapid patriar couple. 

“Do you like that one, dear?”

“Oh, no, dear! How dreadful!—What about that one over there?”

“Gods, no! Would you want to emerge every morning smelling like fish?”

Until they found the perfect one.

It didn’t reek of blood or the undead, and was barely noticeable. Like a dilapidated honeycomb in an otherwise thriving hive, it was crowded by the surrounding buildings. Something about it felt forgotten, swallowed up.

“After you, my heart,” Vistri said, inviting the expert to handle the lock.

Expert indeed, Astarion had the door open at what seemed like just a touch. He waited suavely by the door, weight balanced on one hip as he leaned into the open door frame, feet cheekily crossed.

Inviting her in with a wave, he said, “Now you, beloved.”

Astarion scooped her into his arms as she passed him to carry her across the threshold. She squealed, and they both laughed themselves breathless.

The room inside was dusty and spattered with decaying furnishings, but there were no corpses or squatters in sight. At least on this floor level. Its hearth looked like it had been neglected for generations. But there was a charm, like what rotted in the shadows was bright and warm in the light.

Vistri kissed his cheek, “It is perfect, my love!”

As Astarion set her down, she noticed he couldn’t help staring at her neck. His hunger was like an intoxicant, luring her to his mouth. Vistri ran her palm along his chest, just over his eager heart. Their blood rushed together as predator and prey. Ready to steal; to surrender. Astarion closed his eyes to lean into the sensations of her gentle strokes. From his sternum, they went lower, until she was gently brushing along his belly.

“Does it ache, my love?” she asked tenderly, heated.

“It aches,” he begged, his tone warbled with yearning.

Battling her own desire, Vistri savored his. Bringing her neck closer to his mouth was a temptation for both. Astarion retracted his upper lip, letting his fangs show, almost touching her skin. Vistri moaned, running her hands through his silver curls. Her pounding pulse was so near he could reach for it with his tongue.

Standing on the precipice of fulfillment, Astarion fought ravenous impulses. The longer he waited, blind with his bloodlust, the more he proved who was in control. It was a strangling effort, but worth it just to show Vistri she was someone worth protecting. Cherished. That he was the man, not the monster.

His whining groan broke over the crook of Vistri’s jaw in a hum. Its explicit nature pulled the longing thread at Vistri’s core. Astarion was trembling, desperate to give in to the curse inside.

A series of sharp, jagged gasps escaped him at her caress of his damp face. Vistri grinned, committing his twisted features to memory, “Did you forget to eat today, love?"

He licked his lips before answering, “Yes. May I?”

“May you what?”

“Eat you up.”

Vistri pressed her neck flush against his open mouth, pushing tender flesh into sharp teeth. Still waiting for verbal confirmation, Astarion refrained from biting down. He cried out, and it turned to a low, rolling growl.

“Good boy,” she purred, her words brushing his sculpted cheekbones.

A pause. An eternity.

“Now take,” she finally commanded.

His teeth sunk into her veins with such fury Vistri was stung with a shock of fear. Like vertigo, it blurred reality, dizzying perception. Instinctually, she whimpered.

Pulling away at her flinch, Astarion searched her expression and gently whispered, “Hey.”

Vistri saw so many things before her sight settled entirely on him. He smiled kindly into her shocked expression, grounding her mind as it reeled with past and present.

“Are you all right?”

His tender tone was a salve, ceasing her spiral. Bringing her back to the present. Finally perceiving his beloved face, she chuckled, relieved and grateful.

“I am now,” she answered, nuzzling into his neck.

Astarion’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight. He planted a series of pecks in her hair, and she felt seeds of worry in them.

“I’m okay,” she insisted, unwilling to budge even a little from his adoring embrace.

“Hold on, love. You’re bleeding quite a bit.”

Lightheaded now he mentioned it, she let Astarion fuss over her. He examined her neck, frowning. Then he tore off his shirt to wrap it around the weeping bite. Putting pressure against the wound, he looped the ends across her, and tied them together under her opposite arm.

“Is that too tight?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m so sorry, darling. It looks like a nasty cut. Perhaps I tore away too quickly.”

“I don’t know why I...”

He took her hand, “It’s all right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Vistri. Look at me.”

She saw her friend. Her lover. Her companion.

“Good. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Okay.”

Overwhelmed with a wave of affection, Vistri pressed her forehead into his. Astarion was a dream constantly coming true. She nestled the tip of her nose against his; he shut his eyes in contentment.

“I love you with all my heart,” is what he wanted to say, but he meant it too much. So instead, he teased her.

“Gods! You bleed like a geyser!”

Vistri’s laugh broke over his face. Astarion could taste her on his tongue.

“I do not!”

“Just look at us, dear,” he said, referencing the bloody mess between them that spilled down both their shoulders.

It came from her, and rubbed off on him. Vistri loved the way it painted his skin crimson-black. Her life was his, and here that fact was artfully displayed.

“Sit still a moment!” she demanded, overcome with a sudden idea.

Curiously obedient, he waited.

Vistri dipped a finger into the blood drying on his shoulder, coating its tip. She brought it to clean skin, painting something on Astarion’s chest.

“What are you doing?” he chuckled warmly.

“Hold on!”

She licked her fingers in an attempt to freshen her “paint” and resumed her tickling strokes. Astarion kept laughing and twitching, and she kept giggling and telling him to hold still. The moment, like a cosmic opposite to the night Cazador carved his poem, knocked out the past for the present and set a new future.

“Now take a peek,” she said proudly, wearing an expectant look.

Astarion looked down to see a crude drawing of a heart. It was surprising how deeply the gesture touched him. He was prepared to be pleased, not so affected it filled him with awe.

“You silly thing,” he said thankfully, presenting himself for a kiss that she happily accepted.

“Now for you to sit still.”

She nodded.

He also bathed the tip of one of his fingers in her blood. Then put it to her lips. Vistri felt the curve of a heart. One side of her lip then the other, converging down into a point near her chin.

“There,” he said, eyes bright.

“Is it–?”

“A heart,” he nodded, “To match mine.”

Gently, he took hold of her chin. Cradling it, caressing Vistri like treasure, Astarion leaned forward to lick the bloody symbol. Kiss after kiss, he washed it away. Reaching first with his tongue; sealing each touch with his lips.

Vistri was hypnotized, enthralled. She forgot to breathe until he stopped.

Astarion opened his eyes to hers. He didn’t even have to search for her reaction, the emotion was so clear in her eyes. Bearing witness to her exposed soul was narcotic. He longed to melt into everything he saw.

Speechless, they stared at each other. Tadpoles weren’t necessary for them to share each other’s thoughts. Astarion knew the exact tone in her mind’s eye as she expressed every adoration pouring out of her countenance. Vistri similarly could spot the ache in his gratitude, casting a dark cloud over his hard-fought peace.

Heart pounding, she broke their busy silence, “No use in all this good blood going to waste…”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“But–”

“Astarion,” she interrupted. He paused, waiting for her to continue. Nodding, she said, “Trust me.”

Without further hesitation, he pulled her close by the waist. Caressing her throat with sure, shaky fingers, he leaned closer to smell her neck. His previous attempt mocked the man and the monster both. He knew he was better than that. Determined to live up to his self-expectations, he unraveled his soiled shirt from around her to reveal her gift.

She laid herself out for him on a forgotten, fraying carpet. He crawled over her, just like that first time. But unlike then, he took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly as he leaned in to strike.

Just before reopening the wound, Astarion stopped himself, asking quietly by her ear, “Are you ready for me, love?”

“Yes,” she pleaded.

By the gentle scrape of a fang, her blood ran fresh. His tongue met its icy warmth, and he gasped at the taste of a favored meal.

Vistri cried out at the pain. Moaning, “More,” so he wouldn’t stop.

Growling, he licked up every dirty inch. She writhed under him as he lapped her up.

“More. I want more of you,” she muttered.

When he hit the line he wouldn’t dare cross, Astarion stopped. Not daring to steal a drop more than he already had, he kissed the ragged bite marks closed. At first, he felt guilty at her gasping and twitching, assuming it was due to pain. His guilt was absolved at a glimpse. For he saw right away she was overcome with a different kind of ache.

Drunk with the power of her blood and by the possession of her desire, Astarion longed to play her parts like a symphony.

“Oh, my dear,” he said warmly, “I think I remember mentioning punishment.”

“Pun-ishment,” she corrected, stubbornly provocative despite her dizzying need.

“And now you’ve reminded me why,” he smirked, running a hand along her thigh.

She sighed at his touch, and rolled her hips as an invitation.

He watched as she unbuttoned her tunic and trousers. Her knickers were plum-red in the dark of the room. Then he helped her out of them, and stripped off his bottoms. When he crawled over her again, they were skin to skin. 

“Are you ready for me?” he repeated, this time with his cock nestled against her begging sex.

Repeating herself like a season, she pleaded, “Yes.”

Her body welcomed his so enthusiastically, a rough thrust took just a simple suggestion of his hips.

Vistri’s shouts broke into fragments, consumed by the pleasure building between them, “…Star…”

Pretending displeasure, he chided, “Is my rut not worth my full name?”

“No. It is! It is…”

He needed more, and took it with a faster rhythm.

“Astarion!” she cried out, every vowel and syllable of his name clear as diamonds while she tightened and pulsed around him.

It would have been so easy to let go too, but he wasn’t done. He bit his lip with a roaring sigh, and didn’t slow the roll of his hips until he was sure her ecstasy had tapered. Watching her incoherently mutter sweet nothings brought a boasting smile to his face.

“What was that, dear?”

“Thank you,” she repeated louder.

So sure of himself, he flipped her onto her side and wrapped around her. His mind played through the moment he’d bust into her with such clarity that his skin sang with remembered sensations. He shook his head to clear it as he pushed himself between her thighs.

The way she rode every thrust at that angle made their faces screw up tight. They cried each other’s names, chanting them.

“Vistri… Gods, Vistri…”

“Ah–ah–Astarion… Astarion…”

They gave in to it together; their bodies seeming to shake off their souls. If this was death, there was nothing to fear.

The possession of ecstasy refused to let them go, coming in waves that bore new waves. Maybe they’d set a new record. Maybe just a second had passed.

Neither was willing to break their embrace.

Panting, Vistri tossed her head back and sighed stupidly, “Could fuck the whole Underdark and never find that.”

Astarion filled the derelict room with a full-bodied cackle. Senses returning, they were able to finally let go.

Most trespassers would have sensibly left after making so much noise, but they weren’t most. To be fair, they had intended to leave, but got swept up in the moment. What started as simple quipping while getting dressed, evolved into a full on game of playing house.

Pretending to be a married couple getting ready in the morning, they exchanged remarks about the new day.

With no idea that it actually was a new day. All the windows were shuttered tight, and their attention was so focused, they managed to miss the cracks of sunlight.

“Do remember to go to the bank today, dear. We don’t want to be late on rent.”

“Rent? Are we poor?” Astarion asked, breaking character.

“Rent doesn’t mean poor!”

Looking off to the side with a raised brow, he muttered, “Oh, yes it does.”

Vistri laughed and gave the tip of his nose a peck before chiding, “Play along!”

After getting dressed, they had “breakfast”. Vistri poked at the empty hearth and Astarion brought over “tea”.

“Your toast is ready,” Vistri said, wiping her hands on an invisible apron, “Please refrain from soaking it in jam again. Your doctor spoke to me personally this time.”

“Perish the thought! I’d rather an early grave than go a day without a handful of your homemade jam.”

Astarion motioned like he was serving them tea.

Vistri accepted her mimed cup with a, “Thank you, love.”

“Say, do we have anything other than toast?”

Meeting his eyes directly, she answered, “Yes, sausage.”

To them, it was the funniest joke in the universe. They collapsed laughing on weak knees, and wiped tears from their eyes.

Then they noticed the cracks of sunlight.

“Shit,” Vistri whispered, realizing no one knew where they were. No doubt the others would be searching, possibly worried.

She looked to Astarion, who’d come to the same conclusion. He shrugged, tossing them back into a shared fit of hilarity.

“Guess we should get back,” he laughingly suggested.

“Gods! They’ll be raging!”

#fluffspring2024 #day 2 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #vistarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #vistri #flufftober 2024 #full fic #BrishFics #you have my bloody heart fic #smut #fluff #angst #lemon #bg3 spoilers

[ficbrish]

Stay A While

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 21st - Hair Pulling, Masturbation]

[[TW/CW: Cptsd, blood]]

Summary: Astarion wants to linger the morning after one of their initial trysts.

Takes place in Act I.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

“Where do you think you’re going?” Astarion’s droll tone harbored a tinge of excitement.

Vistri froze in her tracks, but answered with her back still to him, “Surely the others are waiting.”

He clicked his tongue with a slow shake of his head. “Back to camp,” he observed dryly, drawing out the word camp, then giggled, “How droll!”

She turned to face him; not an agreement to stay, just to hear him out. His pointy-toothed grin charmed her more than she’d like to admit.

“What’s the rush, darling?” he asked mischievously.

The only rush she felt was her pulse, but she couldn’t say that even if he already sensed it. Admittances such as those were for late nights spent together—Well… They said those sweet things all the time, and to anyone, but it was different when they actually meant it. Truth belonged to the midnight hours and their illusions, where it could hide in the dark. But it was simply out of place under the sun.

Vistri crossed her arms, suppressing a creeping smile, “I’m guessing you have other ideas?”

Admittedly, Astarion was curious. The tadpole gave him freedom, a new lease on undeath, but Vistri opened up entirely new pathways of pleasure. He woke up feeling the best he’d ever felt after drinking her blood. Only to be topped when they added a fuck into the mix. In a bit over a tenday, Astarion had a few of the best mornings of his life. He didn’t think it was possible to feel any better. Unless…

Light filtered through the trees, adorning him in spotty shadows. Rays of sunlight hit the side of his face, making one of his eyes sparkle like a rich ruby as the other was cast into darkness. He held up his hands innocently and made a show of looking side to side, “I don’t see any search parties.”

Ah, to never be found. Oh, to stay in this little grove and fuck ‘til death.

Vistri raised her brow, tentatively interested, “Say there were. Just how disappointed would you be?”

That was his cue to walk towards her, “Be careful of the way you talk to devils, girl. You might entice one. The sun may be high in the sky, but you’re never safe alone with a monster.”

The word, monster, stuck itself in Vistri’s mind like mud on a boot. She tried to scrape it off and put it on Astarion, but she couldn’t. She looked into his scheming, slanted eyes and said, “I’m not afraid of you under the moon either.”

He uncrossed her arms and wrapped them around his waist, “You little fool.”

His mouth was so close to hers, Vistri felt dizzy, “I’m no fool.”

They were nearer to each other now than they’d been all morning. Vistri always fell into her trance on his chest and came back to the present with her face against dirt. He never held her after the sun rose, never kissed her good morning or farewell. It wasn’t like he’d set a clear boundary; he just never did any of those things, and she wasn’t going to be the first to do them. Whatever this was existed for the sole purpose of trading themselves for a bit of ecstasy, and they were simply each other’s catalyst. And that was fine. It’s the way she wanted it to be. It’s the way things always were. There was nothing special about this time, about him.

Astarion smirked. She tried to move away but he held her forearms against his sides in a firm grip.

“You’ve only survived thus far because I chose it.”

She continued fearlessly to meet his gaze. It was a misplaced confidence, like she had no concept of a reality where he’d actually ruin her. So much trust she laid on his unworthy shoulders, if it wasn’t foolishness, it had to be self-destructive.

She laughed at him. A real bitchy, mocking laugh, “Oh, you chose it?”

He grabbed her throat, tilting her head back with his thumb, “Yes. I chose not to rip you apart. Every. Time.”

“Pity.”

“No, not a pity,” he purred dangerously, “You’ve been so worth it.”

Vistri fought herself and lost. Swept up by a sudden rough current, she immediately gave over to drowning. She just let go, let it happen, and took a terrifying leap at his kiss.

Astarion moaned in pleasant surprise. He had a few more moves queued up before going there himself, but he didn’t mind the way she leapt in first. Her tongue was otherworldly, like it had been spilled out of Sune’s gossip at Loviatar’s tea party, salacious and indecently lush.

Nothing in the world compared to the way he felt. Like the sun, he colored all the greys in Vistri’s world. He felt like everything fascinating, and thought she was worth keeping alive. Someone, who felt as good as he did, deemed her worthy of life.

He was so grateful to himself for obeying his impulses. Astarion didn’t know whether she’d deign to touch him like this in the daylight. Come to think of it, she was the very first person he’d touched in 200 years under the sun. Yes, he’d pulled a blade on her then, but she was still the very first. And his first true drink. And the first fu—

“Oh, shit!” Vistri pushed him away, remembering herself and their unwritten rules made of habit, Sorry!”

Their kisses were only meant for teasing, their touches only meant for petting. She wasn’t supposed to love him at the end of her lips. Unless it was for pretending.

“Don’t be sorry,” he muttered, bringing her mouth back to his.

She felt her knees grow weak. Stupid knees. Backstabbing cunts.

“I kissed you,” she protested.

“And I kissed you back,” he went in for more.

Vistri eventually broke away again, “But we don’t kiss in the mornings.”

“And I usually don’t drink in the mornings,” he spoke into her neck, “But I think… I think we can do whatever we want. Don’t you, darling?”

He could take her blood, “I want you to drink me.”

He could take her body, “And ravish me.”

He could even take her heart, “Just make it hurt for me, lover. Would you?”

He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled it until she cried out. His voice dripped with a bright, shiny toxin, “Oh, I can make it hurt, if that’s what you like.”

She tried to nod, but his grip was too tight on her scalp, so she just begged, “Please.”

Astarion licked her neck from base to chin, then crashed into her mouth after whining, “Gods but you make a mess of me!”

Lines like that were usually bullshit, it’s why he said them so readily. But as it tumbled out of him now, it felt real. Maybe he was just that good of an actor, and he’d really begun to believe his part. That would be so much more convenient if it was. He picked her up, overcome with a desire to possess her. He didn’t own her, didn’t belong to her, but he could steal her away from gravity. She wrapped her legs around him, and he moaned deeply; tangled in her lips, in her hair.

The others were definitely going to have to wait. That or just start the day without them.

Vistri felt her back press into a tree, just like on the first night. She kissed him and felt every star she’d ever seen. That night, she thought it had to be a fluke, a trick of the bad wine. But Gods! It was still there. It was screaming. Her heart broke whenever he pulled away, and mended only when his lips were back on hers.

He chuckled, “I’ve got you right where I want you, little pet.”

“Where’s that?”

“At my mercy.”

“You did try to warn me.”

“I’m not a nice man to be alone with.”

Her smile messed up the kiss. He was so adorable. And he was right. So right. Vistri shivered as he nibbled at her ear. It felt a lot like love, but it wasn’t. Great fucks pierced the soul like great works of art. But that wasn’t care, it was an appreciation for expertise. Sure, Astarion felt indescribably right, but that didn’t make him her god. She’d just finally met her match.

He unbuttoned her corset to fondle her breasts. She twitched whenever he brushed her nipples delicately with his fingertips, and he giggled like a naughty fey each time. The line between reaction and performance was beginning to blur. She didn’t know anymore whether she twitched on cue because he touched her or because he liked it.

“I don’t want you to be nice. I want it to hurt.”

He pulled her hair again, smirking as she let out a sound that was something between a moan and a yelp. The harder he pulled, the more she felt like his. She didn’t want to want that, and yet it possessed her, like a sob forcing itself out.

“More,” she pleaded.

“More?”

“Aren’t you a bad man? And I a fool alone in the woods?”

He let go of her hair and spoke onto her lips, “Oh, you’re not alone, darling. You’re very much not alone.”

His hand took hers and brought it to the front of his trousers. Grasping and gasping, she felt him. How hard he was; thick enough to break her. The anticipation made her shiver as he kissed her again.

“Use me,” she sighed, “However you’d like.” It was the only way for her to say, I’m yours.

She gave herself so willingly, it was intoxicating. Not like it was anything he wasn’t used to, but it was new, startlingly so. He melted into the feeling of being wanted by someone who knew what he was, of being wanted by her. The world grew smaller, more manageable. All he had to be was the salve to her desires. Hers wasn’t an itch; it was a death wish.

Astarion felt something pull on him, and for a moment froze, thinking of Cazador’s compulsions. Noting his twitch of fear, Vistri took her words for the cause. Fuck. Simultaneously, they asked the same question through their eyes; Have I been found out?

“Touch yourself,” he commanded, saving them both any need to explain.

“Will you watch?”

“As I hold you tight,” he offered.

It was overwhelming. Astarion didn’t want a performance, not the kind she was used to, but something candid, completely her. He wasn’t asking her to curate his pleasure, he demanded she create her own. She never showed anything like it to anyone before. Accustomed to one type of role, she stepped into something unfamiliar. And not even a role, but the actor in their bed alone at night.

Vistri’s hand travelled between her legs. She felt Astarion spread them further apart, holding her steady with a grip on each thigh. She was close to him again, held and admired; the only thing he wanted in the moment. Her fingers traced his lustful expression onto her soul, encircling herself in his web with every stroke. Determined to trade her life for a little death, she exposed her aching need to be coated in his poisons.

She closed her eyes.

“Open them, darling. I want you to watch me, as I watch you.”

Her breath skipped with her choking heart as she met his gaze. Astarion looked as raw and exposed as she felt. His eager fangs rested on pouting lips. She leaned forward to lick them.

“No, no, dear. You’ve got to earn that,” he cooed, “With your ecstasy.”

She moaned stupidly, “Okay.”

Vistri was everything his hand had been slapped away from these past 200 years. She ran through his thoughts entirely on her own. His body forced him to comply instead of the other way around. Sure, he was using her at the end of everything. She was by no means the first to surrender, but there was something sweeter about hers, and not just because she was his to savor. This time he was actually having fun.

“Does it feel good, dear?” he grinned.

She tossed her neck and sighed. Her eyes closed for just a moment before snapping open again to obey him, “Yes.”

Astarion kissed her neck, and she moaned, leaning into it. He whispered into her ear, “You think you’re in control, but I’ve got you tangled up.”

“You do,” she panted, “You do. All yours.”

“My, but you put on a show,” his warm tongue wrapped around her lobe. His breath gently broke over her skin.

It was like watching her layers peel back in a way he hadn’t seen before. Reading her eyes, Astarion watched them become saturated with the whole of her. The void in them brightened from her dim presence, and the light grew with her gratification. Shy at first, she stepped and then stomped into herself. Until there it was in those violet depths, the core of her on a silver platter, ready for him to devour.

 Vistri let his name slip lazily from her lips.

“Do you call out my name when you’re alone?” he chastised.

“S-Sometimes. Once. Accidently.”

Astarion licked her throat, desperate to eat her up, “I’ve yet to call out yours. But I’ve thought of you.”

Her free arm tightened around the back of his neck. Her breathing got faster.

“That’s it, my darling. You’re so close. Now give it to me. Be a good pet and cum for me.”

Astarion could feel his own blood throbbing as she fulfilled his wish. His eyes were open, greedily watching, but seeing nothing. There was just a great feeling, like when their tadpoles bent reality to the other’s experience. Her eyes were shut tight as if in begging prayer, and all he could do was stare blindly into her abandon.

Her cries, only loud for being close to his ear, pierced his heart. At the end of them, he finally allowed himself to kiss her. It was his turn to let her name slip slowly out of his lips.

“I earned it?” she asked happily.

He nodded, chuckling, “Yes, I think you’ve earned it.”

Vistri closed her eyes and kissed him again. She felt him undo his laces, then helped him pull down his trousers. Alone in the woods with the naughty rake indecently arrayed; she knew she was wiser than that. Giving herself to Astarion was a decidedly stupid thing to do, and that only made her want to disappear further inside him.

He nestled himself against her soaking, warm, soft, “Oh gods…”

“Astarion!” she cried out as he tore through her with a hard stroke. Her lips trembled from the sanctity of his name. It was a spell that brought everything out of her chest, even the dust tucked between her ribs.

He cracked her open.

The more they took, the less they were sated. He wasn’t near enough. He wasn’t in her skin.

Maybe they’d never go back to camp. The others would have to carry on themselves while the two of them stayed here, tangled up in each other until they inevitably sprouted tentacles, out of the artifact’s reach. And what would that matter? Astarion never wanted to be anything other than buried inside Vistri ever again. That was his new identity now, just his pulsing cock deep between her thighs.

“Drink me.”

“In a moment, love,” he said, then tousled a little with her tongue, and spoke again, “I quite like this as it is. Feeling you.”

It was more the desperate growl in his voice than the words themselves that made her tremble. It sounded like she meant something to him, even though she didn’t. Pretending it was real made her eyes roll back. Or no… it had to be the devilish thrusting of his hips. It had to be—

“Astarion!” she shouted so suddenly; birds took off in terror from their branches. Her staccato cries and their warning calls formed a cacophonic duet, like ritual music for the purchase of her soul.

He sunk his fangs into her neck, just below her ear, as the squeezing and pulsing around him coaxed his throbbing self to bursting. He rolled deeply into her as he let himself go, overtaken by a blinding wave of ecstasy. It felt like it would never stop, stunning them both, wave after wave. Even after it stilled, Astarion tenderly moved himself in and out of her. The mess he made dripped between them. Regardless of any overstimulated shiver, he savored the feel of his spill in her.  

“You’re my little slut, aren’t you?”

She nodded emphatically, panting as her breath fought to settle her pulse. He rested his forehead against hers, and they lingered there, head pressing into head. They were both so dizzy, they had to get hold of their bearings, remember who they were.

How long could they stay there like that until the other had something to say about it?

It didn’t matter that his arms grew tired. They could fall off before he let her go. Astarion shut his eyes against welling tears. His disobedient forehead softly nuzzled hers; subtle enough to sneak passed his own notice. Catching himself, he cleared his throat.

“Time to go back?” she asked, tone heavy with a sense of sorrow.

Astarion reached for one more kiss. Saying goodbye until their next, inevitable tryst, they clung so vehemently to each other it couldn’t be paid attention to; couldn’t even be muttered about.

Arms wobbling, he finally set her down.

She immediately started to collapse under her weight. He stopped her fall.

“Easy now!”

“I’m all right.”

“You can’t even stand.”

She smiled dazedly, “Bloodless times two.”

“Gods, you’ve gone all silly. Look at you! You’re barely alive!”

“No, you’re barely alive.”

“Ha-Ha. Very funny,” he huffed, scooping her into a bridal carry.

“Weeee!”

He couldn’t stop himself laughing. It wasn’t even funny.

“You’re ridiculous—Stop squirming! I’ll drop you, and if I drop you, I’m leaving you.”

“Arsehole!” she pouted, “You’d leave me behind?”

“I’m sure Karlach or someone would come get you, but I’m tired. We can only do our best, darling.”

“You’ve had two separate helpings of my blood, you’re not tired.”

Vistri closed her eyes for a moment, just to savor this rare occasion of him holding her after. His arms felt as solid as she was wibbly. His chest felt like the stars as a pillow.

“You put me to work just now. I’m exhausted, and on top of that, now I’m carrying you all the way back to camp.”

“Whose fault is that Mr. Fangs?”

“Yours!”

“Mine?!”

“You turned back ‘round when you should have marched on.”

“You asked me to!”

“Darling, I’m a villain!” he chuckled, “You’re supposed to say no. Right my wily ways.”

“I quite like your wily ways.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him the way she did now, with lackadaisical joy in their eyes.

“Astarion?”

“What?”

“You’ve stopped.”

“What?—Oh, right. There was a stick.”

“A stick?”

“Had to maneuver around it.”

“Took a while.”

He blushed, “Sounds like somebody wants to get dropped.”

“No! Please! Don’t drop me,” she giggled.

“Drop you?”

“No! Don’t drop me.”

“But you said please so nicely.”

“No!” she laughed, “Don’t drop me!”

“Shush! I have to pay attention to our surroundings, my dear. I want to give a good description for the others to find you.”

Vistri squealed, hysteric. Astarion crushed her tight against him.

“Silence, girl!” he teased in a booming voice, “Otherwise I’ll observe no great detail, and the only landmark the others will know to look for is ‘somewhere by a tree that has leaves on it.’ And then they’ll never find you, and then I’ll never get to shag you again. Would you like that tragedy to come to pass?”

She blushed in his arms, “…No.”

“Good. Then leave me to my concentration.”

She nodded her agreement and didn’t utter a sound.

“Oh, never mind that! Please say something. I grow bored so easily.”

Vistri chattered away as Astarion brought them out of the woods. Totally wrapped up in conversation, they forgot what a sight they made when they eventually showed up midday.

“Where the hells were you?!” Karlach growled. She’d be happier to see him if Vistri was walking vibrantly by his side rather than carried like a ragdoll with two big bite marks on her neck.

“Don’t light your pants on fire,” Astarion said, “Where’s Shadowheart?”

The cleric tore out of her tent, “What have you done to her?!”

A huge smile broke over Vistri’s face, “Shadowheart! Come give Mummy a kiss.”

In a fury, she grabbed hold of Astarion’s tunic, even with Vistri limp in his arms, “I will repeat myself only once, Spawn. What have you done to my best friend?” Her voice was lethal.

Vistri’s was not, “Bloodless times two!”

Shadowheart let go of his shirtfront to bury her face in her hands and sigh deeply, “Just put her on the ground.”

“That’s a good cleric,” Astarion smirked.

She glared up at him, kneeling to treat Vistri’s condition, “Good clerics stake vampires.”

“Then let’s call you… a good, nuanced cleric!”

“Whatever.”

Vistri sat up like a galvanized corpse once Shadowheart muttered her spell.

“Wow! Thanks, Shadow. Owe you one.”

“Owe me plenty.”

Vistri chose to ignore her and smirked at Astarion, “My, my… You look more powerful than ever before. My blood suits you so well.”

He gave a little turn, “Doesn’t it?”

“Very,” she confirmed, surveying his form. She lost her train of thought until Shadowheart elbowed her side.

“Right!” Vistri said, addressing everyone, “Let’s go slay a hag or something!”

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #prompt fill #vistri #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #full fic #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #stay a while fic #BrishFics #smut #angst #fluff #lemon

[ficbrish]

A Tumble

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 19th - Biting/Scratching, Piercings, Marking]

[[TW/CW: Injury, cptsd, blood, gore, alcohol, food, scar trauma]]

Summary: Vistri falls in battle, and Astarion wants to savor her survival.

Early in Act II, a while before the confession.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

“Vistri!” he shouted her name so sweetly the other night, and now it crawled out of his mouth as something misshapen and wretched.

It wasn’t the first time Astarion saw her fall during a fight. She was a sorcerer; her type only ever brought robes and the raw, unlimited fury of the weave to battle.

Dropping to his knees, he sent another fiery arrow after the shadows and knelt beside her fallen form, like a paladin at the altar of their god. Vistri was crumpled like a rag, unmoving.

The others could handle themselves—She needed someone now! Astarion left the rest of the fight for them to finish up, wrenching the pack off his back and reaching into it with trembling hands.

Too many scrolls. So many fucking scrolls! There was one for poison, another for grease traps—for gods damned spiderwebs!

None for revival.

“Get up! Gods damn you!” he cried, still searching through his pack, “Get up!”

There was blood on her neck, but it was wrong. It wasn’t from his fangs at her invitation. The shadows did that to her.

The darkness in these woods was of a different kind; thick and overbearing, like the moment just after something horrible happened. The very air around them clung to their throats with every breath, coating their airways with heavy gravity. Such a perpetual night was hard to get used to and threw off all their senses, even for the vampire and the drow.

A ragged draw of breath by his knees stopped Astarion’s heart mid-beat. Vistri’s stillness had been deceiving. Quickly, he stuffed the scrolls back in and pulled out a bright-red potion instead.

Gingerly, reverently, he lifted her head up into his lap, mumbling prayers to gods who never answered. Astarion dabbed a bit of the serum onto Vistri’s lips, coaxing her to drink the rest. As she did, magic and dragon blood rapidly closed her wounds.

A bit of color came back to her periwinkle cheeks.

Vistri coughed, “Hello dear.”

He sighed into the sight of her living eyes and bent over to kiss her. Their lips were upside-down, and despite the inherent silliness of such a position, Astarion kissed her with ever grateful fervor. Vistri laughed and kissed him back as if she hadn’t just been ripped open and unconscious.

Feeling something creeping up behind him, Astarion unsheathed a knife from his thigh and excused himself, “Wait here a moment, love.”

He set her gently to the side and rose quickly with a twirl. His blade stuck immediately into the belly of a shadow cursed Harper, burrowing deep in its gut, and twisting for a mortal wound—Or mortal again. Face to face with the old corpse, Astarion stared into its blank, rotten eyes. The death on it was rank, stinking of at least a hundred years. Not having seen his reflection once these past two hundred, it made him wonder whether he had those same dead eyes.

One glance back at Vistri allayed him of those fears.

“Come back to my side at once,” she pouted, arms crossed.

In his rush to oblige, Astarion stabbed the undead creature through its brittle skull. Its face shattered and the whole decayed body shook with renewed lifelessness, collapsing on its own weight. It toppled over and crashed into his shoulders like a perverse greeting.

Regaining his balance on his back foot, Astarion pushed the rotting cadaver off him with a disgusted, “Eugh!”

His trousers were going to tear at the knee if he kept sliding on them, but it got him to Vistri’s side that second faster.

Which was worth it, “You blasted!” He kissed her about a million times, grumpily and gratefully, “Hag!”

“Hey!” she protested as he clung to her cheeks.

Astarion interrupted his flurry of pecks to chastise her, “Stop dying, then!”

“I didn’t die! Exactly...” she stubbornly insisted, refusing to ever take anything serious, seriously. “I just fell over!”

“You almost died!—Not that I care anything about it.”

Vistri couldn’t help but smirk at the way he turned his face away like a miffed housecat. His tones and expressions overflowed with shifting emotion, painting the loveliest picture of his heart, before settling into bitter denial. She might not have many memories, but Vistri was sure she’d never had this much fun with anyone else before.

“There’s something so dashing about the way you pout.”

Her little compliment made Astarion’s expression shift dramatically once again. He tried his best to frown, and faced her again just to turn his nose up, “Don’t try to flatter your way out of my concern.”

“Thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t!” he scoffed.

“Oy! Children!” Karlach called out, emerging from the gloom with her flaming greatsword flung lazily over her flaming shoulder, “Lend a hand next time, will ya?”

She and Wyll were strutting towards them out of the near dark, obviously smug about having felled the last of the foes on their own.

“I am no child!” Astarion spat, “I’m over 200 years old!”

“Act like it then,” she winked cheekily.

Ally or not, he was ready to jump up and fight until Vistri reassuringly squeezed his hand. Reaching to him through their tadpoles, she explained, Karlach’s only teasing for fun, love. It’s a rough and tumble thing! She wouldn’t be teasing if she didn’t respect us.

Astarion dropped his shoulders. He knew that sort of thing. That’s how they all talked to each other all the time. But something about the way she said children reminded him of a much colder heart. If it weren’t for Vistri’s interference, he would have acted out of line.

Perhaps out of embarrassment at that recognition, Astarion decided to compensate with an extra level of what was expected of him.

“You hear that, my dear?” he quipped, sheathing his knife, “Karlach thinks we should act more… adult.”

Demonstrating his obvious innuendo, he scooped Vistri by the waist to bring her closer. In full view of the others, Astarion had his way with her tongue.

“Ah, love,” Wyll remarked dreamily, pretending to appreciate their display.

“Don’ know if I’d call that love,” Karlach groaned, “More like bragging if you ask me.”

With a teasing grin, he countered, “What is love if not life’s greatest braggart?”

“Should write that down, mate.”

“Really?” Even though it was only in jest, Wyll was a bit flattered, “You think so?”

Karlach winked, “I’d say you were a poet, and ya didn’t even know it.”

The lovers paid their banter no mind, hearing nothing but the breathing and humming singing across one another’s lips. There was nothing else in the world. To Astarion, it was all taste; savoring Vistri’s very existence. She’d come so close to disappearing; her soul slipping though his very fingers...

Her lips were warm. They were so warm.

“Um, guys?” Wyll cleared his throat, “Can we go now?”

Vistri hummed dreamily as she tore herself away, and spoke still gazing into Astarion’s flustered face, “If I can yet stand on two feet.”

“If you can’t, I’m sure prince charming down there would be happy to carry you.”

Karlach guffawed, the very idea of him carrying anyone absolutely hysterical to her, “As if!”

Astarion stood up abruptly with an offended stomp, “As if?!”

“Come on, Fangs! Be real about it! Carry someone? All the way back to the inn?”

Before she knew what was happening, Vistri found herself swept up and thrown over Astarion’s shoulder like a heavy sack. She squealed with a mixture of terror and delight. Her head still light after her injury, the world spun.

“I’m not as useless as I may seem!” Astarion grumbled, tossing her around a bit as he adjusted his hold.

Exchanging raised brows, neither Karlach nor Wyll argued. But they were irritatingly smug about their silence.

Shrieking was common in the Shadow Curse lands, but Vistri’s was startlingly out of place. It had laughter and happy shock ringing brightly through it, “Your face is right by my bum!”

“Is that a bad thing, darling?”

“But what if I fart?!” she asked, breathless with laughing abandon.

“Don’t you dare!” he scowled.

Her ribs felt weak, “Quit jostling me about then!”

Knowing their antics could go on forever, Wyll accepted that their leader was distracted and turned to lead the way. As they walked back, he and Karlach stuck close, leaving the lovers to trail behind them in their own world.

He leaned in with a teasing comment, “Aren’t they sweet?”

Snickering, Karlach nodded back in sardonic agreement.

In a sense, they were sweet, both all charm on the surface and poison underneath. They just fit!

Mirrors don’t always fall in love, but those two fools obviously had. Everyone but them seemed to accept that fact. They were too smart to be clueless, but if they were aware, they stubbornly fought it like doomed fingers desperately grasping the edges of a cliff. As dangerous as they seemed to think it was, the worst that could happen was happiness. Such a blessed doom was sweet.

But they were loud! A constant buzz, bickering by daylight and shouting by moonlight. Annoying as they were, it was a good thing they were easy to poke fun at.

Impressively, Astarion managed to carry Vistri the whole way. She may have cast Feather, but they left out that detail when he bragged about it to the others back at Last Light. He was determined to prove everyone wrong about his strength—They should see how he was normally, before the tadpole traded away some of his powers for sunlight. He was a fearsome thing, and everybody should know it!

Vistri thought it was quite an impressive feat regardless. She’d smiled the whole way over, bouncing awkwardly, enjoying the warmth of his back. His hands strongly grasping the back of her thighs was a bonus.

She also managed not to fart.

After he paraded her around like the village braggart toting fresh-caught venison, Astarion finally set her down. There was a strong sense of regret when she left his arms, as if they’d lost something precious. Trying to pay that no mind, they stood blankly across from each other. Not knowing what to say or how to address one another.

“Well… Thank you,” she said, breaking their brief silence.

“For saving your life, or for carrying you?”

“Oh, there’s a list?” she chuckled.

His smirk was equal parts mischief and self-satisfaction, “You’ve been incurring a lot of debts lately, my dear.”

Vistri pretended to be startled, “Have I? Oh my! However shall I endeavor to pay them?”

Lifting a thoughtful finger to his chin, he mused, “Hmmm, what a dilemma!”

Imagining what naughty thoughts hid behind his sly, teasing eyes made Vistri shiver with something delicious. Her feeling wasn’t apparent from the outside, but Astarion had a sense of her growing anticipation regardless. He made her wait for as long as he could bear, then said, “How about I think on it a while? Best not to make any rash decisions.”

“Take your time,” she giggled, “Just make sure to get back to me with something goo—” Her stomach gave a loud, obnoxious growl.

She blushed at its interruption.

“Oh, dear,” Astarion said, “We should fix that, shouldn’t we?”

When they returned to camp, Vistri noticed he was being uncharacteristically subservient and sweet. He refused to let her do anything other than sit by the fire while he fetched her a bowl of something hot. He even brought a blanket to throw over their legs and sat there with her as she ate.

Vistri gazed at him, startled.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head to clear it, answering, “Nothing,” and started eating.

It was a very plain stew with fish and beans, but it was everything to her on a night like this. Or was it even night? They had no sense of time in the Shadow Curse lands.

Astarion dipped his finger into her bowl and licked it.

“Hey!”

“Just wanted a taste.”

Her glare turned into something heated at his smile. Looking at him now, you’d never think his face held any worry. Well, minus the dark circles. And the haunted depth of his eyes… Whatever! In little flashes like this, he was brand new. No more heaviness. Vistri may have grown up with a sorcerer’s might, but she never felt more magical than when such an expression sat on his face.

“Oh, I’ll give you a taste,” she stated suggestively, tilting her neck to be perfectly clear about which kind.

Astarion was practically salivating.

“Oy! You two!” Karlach warned, “No blood where we eat—Including robes, Gale!”

“It was one time! And it was only a splatter on the hem!”

She rejected his excuse with an arm-wave and a chuckle.

Again paying their companions no mind, Vistri and Astarion remained locked in a stare. Sharing a paradox, their look was as intense as it was casual. It said, I’ll eat you up, as much as it whispered, Hey there.

“Make room for me,” Shadowheart demanded from above, standing over them with a bowl of stew in hand. She placed her spoon between her teeth, waiting for them to scoot over.

They moved to the side, so she could come sit in the middle.

“Thank you,” Shadowheart said, taking her place. They all worked together to adjust the too-small blanket across them. Once they were comfortable, she turned to Vistri, “Heard you fell out there.”

“She did!” Karlach answered before anyone else could.

Shadowheart pretended to be shocked, “And to think she insisted on leaving the cleric back at camp!”

“Fangs was there though. Quick responder, that one was.”

Shadowheart turned to him, teasing, “Are you blushing, Asti?”

“No,” he scoffed, “Vampires don’t blush!”

Everyone could see that he was contradicting his point.

Vistri mischievously chimed in with, “Yes, they do.”

Karlach and Shadowheart burst into laughter.

“Yes, yes! It was very dashing of me to save you!” Astarion rolled his eyes, “Want me to regret it?”

“You know,” Gale started, “It is a quite common misconception that vampires don’t blush. Cursed undead they may be, but!” His finger shot up on the word, but, “They still have all the same systems they had when they were alive. How they work though, now that’s the tricky part of it all. Because it’s different per classification of vampi—”

“Gale!” Astarion interrupted.

“What?”

“You’re not helping me, my friend.”

“Ah, right.”

Vistri found his irritation too delicious to drop, “Blood rushes to other places of yours, darling. Why not your face?”

Astarion leapt across Shadowheart to tickle her in payback. Shrieking, Vistri wiggled away from his reaching hands. Stuck in the midst of their struggle, Shadow’s bowl got knocked to the ground.

“Children!” she shouted in grief over her spilled stew.

Gale sighed, standing up, “I was getting seconds anyway.”

“Oh no! Shadow! Your stew!” Vistri gripped apologetically.

“Yes, Vistri! My stew! Your antics murdered my stew!”

“I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t upset her,” Astarion scolded, “She almost died today!”

Everyone paused to stare at him, startled by his voracious outburst. His tone came out of an aching heart, and there was a sorrowful tremor to it. Vistri was shaken by his sincerity; Shadowheart by his audacity. The others were just vaguely thrown by his display of giving a shit about anybody who wasn’t himself.

He cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“I’m fine,” Vistri insisted to throw the focus off him.

Pretending he was totally cool this whole time, Astarion smirked, “I made sure of that.”

She scratched her nose to hide her smile behind her palm. It wasn’t right that everyone got to stand there and watch them have feelings.

Shadowheart, still trapped between them, had suffered enough, “I’ll just go catch up to Gale.”

“Really now! That’s not necessary!” Vistri protested.

“Yes, it is,” Astarion said, grabbing her close as their friend vacated the space between them. With his arms around her waist, he covered her cheeks in a series of pecks.

She squealed delightedly, “Get off! I’ll drop mine too!”

“Balance, dear. You’ve got this.”

“No,” she shook her head laughing, “No, I don’t!”

“Fine,” he let go of her.

She leaned against him, and he threw an arm around her shoulders. Vistri loved the relaxed weight of it. The pressure on her shoulders seemed to calm her, and his warmth, the magic of how he always felt—Against his chest, under his arm, nestled against him—

“What are you smirking about?”

“Hu-What?”

“You’re thinking about something, I can see it, but I can’t hear it. Care to tune me in?”

She really, really didn’t.

“Maybe I was thinking about you,” she smirked.

“Hah!” he tossed his head back, “Good one.”

It was a tried-and-true trick of hers. Wave a secret in people’s faces, and they go searching for anything but that. She silently congratulated herself.

Vistri attempted to sound cheekier than relieved or self-satisfied, “Hah, indeed!”

“Say you were thinking about yours truly…”

FUCK!

“What would you be thinking about?”

Arsehole!

Vistri made a show of pretending to think really hard about it, to buy herself some time to think of a way around it, “Hmmmmm…”

Astarion, just trying to make a bit of a game, helped her out, “Could it be my… mesmerizing stare?”

Hoping to distract him, Vistri tackled his lips.

He chuckled as she broke their kiss, “You taste like fish stew.”

“I hate you!” Vistri shrieked happily, slapping his arm.

Even with that scowl on her face, she leaned into him just as before. Nobody really bothered them, so they just sat there as she ate, staring distantly at the fire. They spent the rest of the evening (if it was really evening) like that, peacefully snuggled until it was time to wash up.

Because of his scars, Astarion preferred to bathe alone. Once Vistri learned about them, however, he altered his habits to allow for one companion.

Alone in the shallows of the shadowed riverbank, his heart ached on his lips and found hers. Moaning, groaning, teeth, and tongue.

It was, take me and you’re mine. It was life again after centuries of destitution.

“Fuck,” Vistri muttered as he pulled away.

Astarion’s eyes were serious, “Do you desire me?”

“Yes,” she stated it so vehemently, it was half a laugh. She gave a serene sigh as he cradled her chin.

“And what do you particularly desire?”

To be loved by him across centuries. To never want or need anything else ever again because together they’d be whole. They’d keep each other safe from the world, and the world safe from them.

“I want you to take and take until there’s nothing left of me.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

He shook his head slowly, “I’d like to leave a little something for later, if it’s all the same to you.”

She moaned as he kissed her again. His hands traveled from her waist to her thighs.

“I’m hungry,” he growled. Nestling the bridge of his nose into the crook of her throat, Astarion could already feel the warmth of her blood on his tongue in anticipation. He reached out for her skin, tasting her on the tip of it.

On the side with her tattoo, that blue rose.

“Darling, have I ever mentioned how much I love this?”

It set her trembling in his arms. It wasn’t just his touch, and gods, was his touch… Vistri shivered. Astarion’s tongue reached out and kissed her skin. His warm breath melted her like chocolate over a raging fire pit.

And his words rang in her ears, bouncing around between layers of consciousness, “... how much I love this…”

This dhamphir was in her head. Louder than the other screams.

“... lovely blue rose…” he muttered, referring to her tattoo as he kissed it.

She could feel his tongue tracing it. Lingering over every line. He first kissed the petals. Licked along them like a painter, bringing their design into existence with his warm, wet strokes; Vistri his groaning canvas.

And it was torture for him too, to linger on her neck like this. His fangs ached for a taste of her beating heart. Drowning under Vistri’s spell, he longed to sup on her lifeblood like it was coming up for water. Astarion refused his reflex to indulge, burying her groans under his.

With his hands snaking up her back, Vistri sighed, surrendering herself to his embrace. Throwing her head back in delight, exposing her neck, she called out his name, “Astarion.”

He kissed her throat. The side of her neck.

Vistri begged, “Bite me.”

“Let me ask you this,” he said, just to linger there a little further, “A riddle.”

She whined, just slightly, under the spell of his torturous anticipation. It made his smile wider.

“What is it that every rose has?” His voice broke directly over the one inked on her neck.

“I don’t know,” she murmured thickly, guessing, “Thorns?”

“Yes,” he moaned, eliciting a moan from her in response. Clinging to his body, shivering. He had Vistri exactly where he wanted her.

He wanted her.

“I think yours is missing a few. Would you like me to add them?”

Throwing back her neck a little further, stretching it as far as it would go, she echoed, “Yes.”

He knew he could fuck her, right there and now. Vistri gave herself completely.

In whatever way he wanted.

Tracing down the stem, licking every line of leaf, just as he’d done with the petals, Astarion worked at making their longing worse; determined to drive them both to madness.

He swallowed, and licked his lips. Aligning his mouth along the stem, he dragged his fangs across her goosebumps so they sat in place. Then he sank himself into her, drinking down the trickles of her heart’s river.

His bite left two weeping crimson thorns along the rose’s stem.

“Shall I add more?”

Vistri shook her head, “I think we should get back to your tent as soon as possible.”

Squealing with poorly withheld laughter, they rushed out of the shallows, their movements slowed through water’s thickness.

Approaching the shore, they were almost shoulder-to-shoulder, with Astarion a bit ahead. He cheated anyway, despite already winning. As his knees broke the surface of the bank, he gave her a playful shove backwards.

“Bastard!” she shouted, and it was met with a high trill of laughter from Astarion, who was halfway across camp by the time she made up the stolen distance.

He took one look back to catch her delicious frustration, then closed in on his target. Breathlessly, he yanked open the tent flap.

She was sitting right there.

“Misty Stepping is cheating!”

“Shoving me backwards is cheating!”

Growling, he tackled her. They laughed as they rolled, still naked and dripping, over his tattered blankets.

For some reason, Astarion’s mind superimposed the brightness of her current expression with the shocked stillness of earlier this evening. It sunk all his features and dulled the sensation of power he’d just drank from her.

“Astarion?”

He smoothed the hair off her forehead with two damp palms. It looked like he was about to say something important.

Then he kissed her. Diving ungracefully forward, catching his lip on her tooth. But he didn’t care, and righted his mouth between hers without further thought, with the same intensity.

How fragile life was. It was easy to forget that after two hundred years of wishing to be rid of it.

It took just a slight tap of his thighs to spread hers wide apart for him. He reached down to drag a nail slowly up the inside of her legs. They obeyed his every touch, belonging to him.

“Fuck me and have another bite,” she offered, grinding against him.

Who was he to argue with that?

His hand clamped over her mouth as she cried out. Its sound broke muffled by his fingers. In almost the same movement, Astarion turned her head to the side and gave her rose another pair of thorns.

Vistri licked and sucked the fingers held against her lips as he drank her down. Her head grew lighter as his thrusts grew rougher. Until the sensations made her eyes roll back in her head. Until his sides were red and raw from her grasping scratches.

I love you, rang so loudly across her consciousness that it whispered into his. Too many feelings, guilt and a long-dead dream among them, stirred up from the dust of his heart for Astarion to pay it any attention. Instead, he sharpened his focus on the familiar rolling of their hips.

More of her blood would stain his blankets, but they didn’t care. Her neck dripped past their notice, leaking down the side of her rose and pooling behind her.

Astarion just wanted to take what he didn’t lose.

“Cum for me again, pet.”

Like a spell’s evocation, his words had a physical effect. Vistri started pulsing around him, clenching her legs around his waist in a vice grip.

“Shit!” he sputtered. His control ran away with hers. The push and pull of his hips started to slow, lazy with pleasure as he spilled into her.

Locked in their embrace, they both shook from a mighty force, like blades of grass trembling in a rough breeze.

Coming back to reality, they looked around at everything but each other.

“Are you all right?” Astarion remembered to ask.

She was grinning stupidly, “Great.”

He smiled back until he noticed the mess.

“You’re like a leaky peach!” he scolded her in concern. Haphazardly, he grabbed the nearest sufficient bandage, and pressed a stained, silk pillow to her fresh wounds.

“Don’t fret,” she insisted, “I just need a bit of wine.”

Halsin fussed at him about that a few days ago, but what did the wood elf know about that anyway? A druid too? Health freaks, the lot of them! Halsin be damned, wine was good for anything! Astarion turned hurriedly to fulfill her request, grabbing a nearby bottle.

“Thank you,” she said after he popped the cork and passed it to her. She took a deep sip.

“Better?”

Vistri still felt rather dizzy but nodded anyway, hoping to ease his concern. Then, suddenly struck by an idea, she adopted a playful tone, “Although…”

“What is it?” he asked, eager to make her more comfortable.

“I could be better,” she smirked.

Astarion was happy to play her game, but a bit confused about where she was going with it. Vistri seemed satisfied enough, even though they’d been a bit brief tonight. She frowned, and he tried so hard to read it. Her pout was teasing, but not in a heated way. Her relaxed eyes were dreamy with affection and twinkled with fey-like mischief.

“I don’t know what it is, but I’m missing something.”

“Oh?”

“Hmmm, maybe if you moved a bit to the side?”

His version of “a bit” was a very conservative estimate. Vistri frowned. So Astarion inched just the same but in the other direction.

“No! The other—That’s it,” she directed, “A bit more. No, more.”

Scooting closer and closer at Vistri’s behest, Astarion was eventually pressed up against her side.

“Better?” he asked, grinning with amusement. Still wondering about her intentions.

“Yes, but not quite… Better, but I could be better.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

“Please! Now, lift up your arm.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, but stop making that face.”

“What face?”

She chuckled, “I don’t know, whatever that face was you were just pulling.”

“I was not pulling a face!”

“You were! Now shush and lift your arm back up!”

Vistri did the same thing, beckoning Astarion to move further and further into a position she had in mind. Pretending it wasn’t quite right and adjusting him until it was.

Until he held her tight, his arms around her shoulders.

“Better now?” he whispered.

“Better now,” she said. But her words caught in her throat, and she coughed at the end of them.

“You okay?”

“Throat’s just dry,” she nodded, sitting up, “Pass me the wine again, love.”

“You have it next to you.”

“Right.”

He took a swig after her, and they both settled back into their cuddle.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked.

Vistri nodded. She wrapped her arms around his, pulling him tighter and sighed, “I feel better now.”

This time, they let the moment sit for a while. At least until it was too painful.

“I know your secret,” Astarion whispered naughtily against her shoulders.

She panicked, wondering what manner of secret he knew.

He giggled before he got his words out, “You farted on the way over.”

Blushing and laughing at the same time, Vistri struggled in his arms, shrieking, “You liar! I did not!”

The more she struggled, the firmer he held his grasp, “Yes, you did.”

“No!” she gasped, kicking at the air, “I did not!”

Even his tone was smirking as he teased, “A little toot by my ear.”

“I hate you!”

Astarion ceased his own laughter to plant kisses along her spine, on the back of her neck. Enough of them stilled her. Instead of fighting, she melted into him.

“Do you hate me now?”

“No.”

“Good,” he said. Then he took a risk, “Because I don’t hate you either.”

His words gave her wings, but she ripped them right off.

“You should.”

“Yeah, well… That goes both ways. Next time you run into a vampire, hate it for your own sake.”

Vistri chuckled, “That goes both ways too! Next time you camp with someone who dismembers a bard, run!”

They giggled. Then silence took over again, neither knowing what to do when they weren’t fucking or killing anything.

Speaking about nothing was more bearable than anything else. So they traded mindlessness back and forth. It looked like a conversation, but nothing was said. But speaking just to speak, they were discovering, was its very own thing.

His head nestled against hers, Astarion began casually nibbling on her earrings as she droned on and on about the creepy shadows. He closed his eyes, savoring the sound of her voice, not really listening. He was at peace, and so was Vistri, with the white rabbit on her shoulder nibbling away at her ear.

The gentle pressure calmed her. Vistri hadn’t ever felt anything like it. Eventually, she liked it too much to speak.

Focusing on the sensations of each other turned into its own type of meditation, which eventually faded into proper trance. Not a typical reverie or void, they recovered from the day within that awareness of one another.

Astarion existed through the slight breakage of breath across his wrist.

Vistri was the cursed heartbeat at her back.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #prompt fill #vistri #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #full fic #astarion x durge #durge x astarion #a tumble fic #BrishFics #angst #smut #fluff #lemon

[ficbrish]

Kinktober Update!

Just a few things 🥰

I've updated my fic's work title on AO3!

When I first posted, I hadn't fully committed yet to doing all of the one shots with Vistri and Astarion. But now I am!

It went from

"EverythingIsAlreadyKinky - Kinktober 2023 with FicBrish"

to

"EverythingIsAlreadyKinky - Kinktober 2023: Oops! All Vistarion"

(very small, self-satisfying change there lol)

Also! Two new one shots have been added!

Both featuring Tav, or non-Dark Urge/Nurge, Vistri.

"Stay A While" [AO3] [Tumblr]

"The Truth of It" [AO3] [Tumblr]

Snippets below! (18+ only; Explicit)

"Stay A While"

(Act I - Forest - early into first sleeping together)

“Will you watch?” “As I hold you tight,” he offered. It was overwhelming. Astarion didn’t want a performance, not the kind she was used to, but something candid, completely her. He wasn’t asking her to curate his pleasure, he demanded she create her own. She never showed anything like it to anyone before. Accustomed to one type of role, she stepped into something unfamiliar. And not even a role, but the actor in their bed alone at night. Vistri’s hand travelled between her legs. She felt Astarion spread them further apart, holding her steady with a grip on each thigh. She was close to him again, held and admired; the only thing he wanted in the moment. Her fingers traced his lustful expression onto her soul, encircling herself in his web with every stroke. Determined to trade her life for a little death, she exposed her aching need to be coated in his poisons. She closed her eyes. “Open them, darling. I want you to watch me, as I watch you.” Her breath skipped with her choking heart as she met his gaze. Astarion looked as raw and exposed as she felt. His eager fangs rested on pouting lips. She leaned forward to lick them. “No, no, dear. You’ve got to earn that,” he cooed, “With your ecstasy.” She moaned stupidly, “Okay.” Vistri was everything his hand had been slapped away from these past 200 years. She ran through his thoughts entirely on her own. His body forced him to comply instead of the other way around. Sure, he was using her at the end of everything. She was by no means the first to surrender, but there was something sweeter about hers, and not just because she was his to savor. This time he was actually having fun. “Does it feel good, dear?” he grinned. She tossed her neck and sighed. Her eyes closed for just a moment before snapping open again to obey him, “Yes.” Astarion kissed her neck, and she moaned, leaning into it. He whispered into her ear, “You think you’re in control, but I’ve got you tangled up.” “You do,” she panted, “You do. All yours.” “My, but you put on a show,” his warm tongue wrapped around her lobe. His breath gently broke over her skin. It was like watching her layers peel back in a way he hadn’t seen before. Reading her eyes, Astarion watched them become saturated with the whole of her. The void in them brightened from her dim presence, and the light grew with her gratification. Shy at first, she stepped and then stomped into herself. Until there it was in those violet depths, the core of her on a silver platter, ready for him to devour.  Vistri let his name slip lazily from her lips.

"The Truth of It"

(Act I - Mountains camp - Vistri's first time being vulnerable and opening up about herself to Astarion)

The way she shivered was her answer. Astarion grinned and stroked her throat with the tip of his nose. From the base of it to her chin, and sealed his gesture with another longing kiss. She was his. Even if it meant degrading herself. Being his little slut, bent over and drooling. He moaned on the next stroke of her tongue, overcome by the whim to fuck her senseless. His mind reeled with possibility. Just how far would she go for him, out in the open air, with the others just off into the distance? How could he give her a taste of a life that was worth living? “Get yourself off for me, dear.” “Here?” Vistri asked, grinning. Her heart pounded faster than it already was. They weren’t exactly discreet, but only ever touched each other tucked away in the woods or his tent. Here, out on the cliff where anyone might see… It was like he was claiming her. Like maybe some small part of his mind, or some feeling deep down, knew how important she was going to be to him once he realized his truth. That if he asked her to cum in the open air under the evening glow, she was worth something. “The sun is disappearing, and I’ll cover you.” Her grin grew wider, even reaching her eyes. She tried to tug one of her arms free from his grip. “Ah, ah! No hands." She looked at him curiously. Maybe he’d changed his mind about her. Maybe he had a delightfully naughty idea. Maybe this was the start of his attempt to toss her off the cliff. He unwrapped one of her legs from around his, and slid his thigh between hers, “Use me.” “Okay.” Showing her how to proceed, Astarion rubbed himself against her middle. She bit her lip and began to roll her hips. Her obedience was like a drug, and they passed it with their tongues where it melted into them and infected their minds worse than those tadpoles ever could. “Good,” he praised, just above a whisper. He fondled her neck, and the hand he let go of shot to his curls. His fangs throbbed, so ready to take her that he gasped as if biting into something hot whenever they touched her skin. She made a sound he had to shush, it was too personal and way too explicit. “I can block you from view, but I cannot stop your sound.” She nodded, sighing and rocking against his thigh. “All the pieces come together,” he said as she pleasured herself on him, “You’ve always given yourself to me so willingly. Let me bite you. Now I know why.” Vistri tossed her head back, craning her neck, and sighed, “There are worse things than dying in the arms of someone pretty.” “And if I had killed you that night?” “I hope you would have drunk me up.” A full, wanting, warm acceptance of himself—Not just his charm, but the monster, the ugliness in him. She wanted all of it, treasured all of him. He’d never been good enough for anyone before, just a disappointment under an illusion. But she made him feel like a god. He groaned, composure slipping, “Ohfuckme…” “Okay.”

#vistarion #fic update #BrishFics #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #stay a while fic #truth of it fic #smut #lemon

[ficbrish]

Flufftober Spring 2024 - "Safe, Seen with You"

Ao3 link: here | Prompt list: here

Table of Fluff-tents 🌼🌷🪻

Day 1: March 11th - Tav (smut)

"Threadbare" Ao3 link: here | Tumbr link: here Prompt: New Beginnings | When: late in Act III Astarion finds Vistri cuddled up with his old shirt at the Elfsong.

Day 2: March 12th - Tav (smut)

"You have my Bloody Heart" Ao3 link: here | Tumblr link: here Prompt: Banter, Joking, Fun | When: late in Act III Unable to sleep, Astarion and Vistri sneak off for a nighttime adventure in Baldur's Gate.

Day 3: March 13th - Tav (smut)

"Smoke Rings" Ao3 link: here | Tumblr link: here Prompt: Spring Cleaning | When: post-game, pre-epilogue They've conquered a fortress in the Underdark. Now they have to make it into a home.

Day 4: March 14th - Tav - wip

"The Pale Elves" Work in progress | Coming soon! Prompt: "Let me take care of you." | When: late in Act II Vistri's come down with a magical flu. Astarion wants to help.

Day 5: March 15th - Durge - wip

Working title = "A Good Day for a Picnic" Work in progress | To be posted Prompt: Honey & Bees | When: early Act III, Rivington The gang decides, "Fuck it! Let's have a picnic!"

Day 6: March 16th - Tav - wip

"The First Night" Work in progress | To be posted Prompt: Sharing a Blanket | When: Act I, first night Astarion and Vistri have too much on (and in!) their minds to sleep. Why not get to know each other a little?

Day 7: March 17th - Tav - wip

Working title = "Bloodstones" Work in progress | To be posted Prompt: Giving someone a Present | When: Act I, post-grove Vistri has a fun little gift for her new lover.

Day 8: March 18th - ? - wip

Working title = none Work in progress | To be posted Prompt: Breakfast in Bed | When: ??? lolololololololololol (to be figured out)

Day 9: March 19th - Durge - wip

Working title = none Work in progress | To be posted Prompt: Daises | When: Act III, Rivington Astarion teaches Vistri embroidery.

Day 10: March 20th - ? - wip

Working title: "A Taste" Work in progress | To be posted Prompt: Iced Beverage | When: ???? something something drinking Vistri's ice blood

Day 11: March 21st - Tav - wip

"Epilogue Prologue" Work in progress | To be posted Prompt: Enjoying the Fresh Air | When: pre-Epilogue Astarion and Vistri arrive at the Surface.

Day 12: March 22nd - Tav - wip

"Epilogue Epilogue" Work in progress | To be posted Prompt: Claiming, Clingy, Possessive | When: post-Epilogue, later that night As the party wears on, they get hungrier for each other.

Day 13: March 23rd - Durge - wip

Working title: "Bath" Work in progress | To be posted Prompt: "It's still too cold." - "No, it's not." | When: Act III, Elfsong They have a nice bath.

Day 14: March 24th - Tav - wip

Working title: "Adventures in Babysitting" Work in progress | To be posted Prompt: Putting Down Roots | When: years post-canon Shadowheart and Penance need Vistri and Astarion to watch over their young son for a tenday.

#fluffspring2024 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #vistarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #durge x astarion #astarion x durge #astarion #astarion ancunin #vistri #flufftober 2024 #fic list #BrishFics #fluff #smut #hurt/comfort #wip #will be updated

[ficbrish]

The Truth of It

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 20th - Thighfucking]

[[TW/CW: Cptsd, blood, suicide (mentions, ideation, past attempts—girliepop goes through it), death mentions, self-hate]]

Summary: Vistri opens up about her suicide ideation.

Act I - Mountains camp - After the failed zaith'isk/Githyanki cure

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

“Vistri?” Shadowheart called out her name a second time; right next to her, on the same bit of seating, and she still didn’t answer. Not even her favorite people could shake Vistri from the mood she’d fallen into, bog-like and hollow.

The back of her neck stung hot with Astarion’s consistent frown. His eyes, sharp with professed concern, had stalked her ever since she’d messed with the Githyanki’s purification device. It wasn’t the first time she almost died in front of him. With that face, if she were gone, he could easily find another bedroll to slake his lusts. Vistri didn’t know why he was pretending to be so bothered about it! Her disappearance should be a non-issue.

A general or an artist would be able to point it out, someone who could look at the lay of the land and positions of its people, and read stories. While everyone else was gathered in a group circle, passing around open hearts, laughing smiles, and shared bottles, Astarion stood in front of his tent, glaring at his lover who could hear nothing but the displeasure in his eyes.

As Shadowheart called her name for a third time, Vistri stormed off with a growl.

She’d been a puzzle to Astarion for most of the day, but this really took the cake. It was alarming to see her blink Shadowheart out of existence like that. Sure, they’d all known each other for only a few tendays, give or take, but from the outside, those two could have grown up together. If Shadowheart couldn’t take control of her storm, Astarion had no idea how his ship would fare it. All raging waters, she stomped in his direction like a 50ft wave.

Before he could get a word out to question why she marched over in such a fitful state, she huffed, “Stop it.”

Something in her tone and approach immediately ruffled his feathers. The sheer unpredictability of her made his anxiety appear before she spoke, and whatever it was that got under his skin, spiked it. He didn’t expect these kinds of feelings to ever be molded by her hands. It was always quite the opposite.

Betrayed, he swallowed, then bit back, “Excuse me?! Stop what?”

“Augh!”

Astarion clicked his tongue and lightened his tone, “Oh, dear. Did you misplace your charm? Because I do miss it ever so much.”

Thankfully, none of the others were nearby to witness Vistri’s moment of disgrace. They were all sitting around the old cistern, laughing and having a pleasant evening. Even Lae’zel, who popped a vessel every time they stopped to rest and whose “cure” turned out to be a lie of her people, was unusually animated. She kept egging on Karlach to ask Gale more questions about his grandad. Vistri was more likely to elbow a dear friend out of the way for a better view than sit there unresponsive. Her favorite thing to do was fuck around, and she hated being serious.

So, again, what was she doing bothering him for? What-the-fuck did he do?! He was used to getting in trouble, made a habit of it actually; all he wanted was to know was why.

Astarion raised his brow, pointing to the merriment she’d left behind to come fuss at him. Then it knitted with the other one, “Are you sure everything’s all right—”

“No! That! Stop that!” One more version of, Are you okay? from his so obviously deceptive lips and Vistri swore she’d jump into the campfire.

“I’m sorry?”

“Augh!”

“Do you…? Do you need to sit down? Or?”

“I do not need anything. I’m fine! Please, spare me your false concerns.”

“False con—! Oh, I’m sorry! Did I dare to give a shit for once? Fuck me, I’m never doing that again.”

Frustrated tears began to well up in Vistri’s eyes. A crater opened up in her stomach, “No!”

“No?”

Because the thing was that nobody cared. No one who fucked her ever asked if she was okay, because Vistri was always fantastic, and even if one doubted that for even a second, all they needed to seek relief was just to sit back and enjoy her show. The audience may gasp at a particularly nasty fall, but she always shot up afterwards with a grand smile and confetti rained down on her head. Astarion asked without really being the first person to ask. He said the words, his brow screwed up, but there was no way in any of the hells that he meant it. And if she could just say, You scare the shit out of me because none of it can be real, then maybe he’d be able to clear things up for her.

But all she could articulate was, “Augh!”

Astarion sighed to calm his excited rage, “I’m lost. Am I speaking to Vistri? Or is this some sort of residual, pissed-off-tadpole effect?”

She bit her tongue to stop herself from spitting back with something truly nasty she didn’t really mean and would forever regret. Astarion looked like he was doing the same. His eyes were as sharp as his smirk, and there was something dangerous in his air. Like he was ready to fight to the death, and by the gods, so was she.

Vistri balled her hands into fists, so wanting to break whatever laid at the root of his giving a shit. To snap it like a twig, and watch it die in his eyes.

It was the only thing she deserved.

The tender glint in his eyes sliced through her, sharp like papercuts. She would lose his frowning lips, and the memory of her would disappear as others sucked them. Vistri wanted to kiss them before it was too late. Tangle herself in his tongue and his arms and his chest, until she was nothing but raw heat, just something for him to take. So the rage had nowhere to go.

She blinked back her revulsion, and the overflow spilled down her face. Embarrassed, her voice cracked, “My head…”

Astarion’s defenses shut down. His heart seemed to obey her voice; whereas before it raised his shackles and grit his teeth, it now stilled his rage and broke it down into tenderness. He stepped closer with the care he’d just promised never to show again. Instinctively, he caressed the sides of her head, as if touch could cure it. The gentleness of his gesture, its complete lack of hesitation, tore Vistri’s heart in two, with one side empty as the void and the other full to bursting.

“Did that wretched Githyanki device hurt you, love?”

She nodded. That wasn’t it, but it was an easier story. Besides, if everyone believed in it enough, maybe it would become true.

Astarion sighed, “I think you deserve a good lie down. Why don’t we head inside my tent?”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to be inside.”

He lifted her chin up with his finger to peer inquisitively into her face. Astarion’s eyes met hers with kindness, forgiveness, “What about a walk to clear your mind?”

She nodded her head gratefully.

“Then we’ll take a quaint little stroll around the cliff,” his voice was soft and a little cheeky, “Would that be nice?”

It was embarrassing for Astarion to act with the patience of a paladin, and even more so for Vistri to act in a way that required it. They wore those roles like ill-fitting clothes. With that awkwardness lingering around them, making the air sharp, they took a step forward. He led her to another part of camp, away from all the others and their merriment. To get uphill, they had to first walk a decline. He carefully guided her passed rocks that stuck out and ground that slid, like she was someone frail. A ghost had more presence than she did at the moment.

Discordant bits of laughter from the group carried over on the wind and hit their backs like mocking jeers, even though it had nothing to do with either of them. The only rooms they’d ever known filled one’s absence with group whispers. Astarion swallowed such blaring thoughts. Willing them away, he turned to the task at hand and gently brought her to the spot they claimed for themselves the other night.

“Care for a roll in the hay?”

She’d clicked her fingers, and about three bales of it exploded into existence around their feet that night. The proud cockiness in her smirk was too delicious not to lick up, and he’d devoured her with a similar pride. Guilty lusts settled in now with those memories. Astarion shook his head to clear it.

“Come sit,” he insisted, his tone harsher than he meant, “We wouldn’t want you falling over, and you seem rather dizzy.”

“Better?” he asked as she did.

Vistri nodded, but he saw it for the lie it was. Astarion knew more than most that sometimes there was no better. He sucked his teeth and sat down next to her.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm?”

“Your head, darling. Does it—?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

The way she blew off his rare kindness brought him right back to his previous rage, like he’d never left it. His mood visibly soured.

“You’re doing it again,” she muttered.

Astarion scoffed, “Pray tell, what am I apparently doing again?”

She shook her head, “It’s so silly.”

“I could use a laugh.”

Vistri sighed, admitting bashfully, “You’re… You keep frowning at me. Like you care what happens to me—Or something! I don’t know what you’re playing at, but we both know what’s what here and I’d rather that than be played a fool.”

Her words struck his heart, and reminded Astarion of who he really was.

“Well… That wasn’t very funny. Try again.”

Vistri laughed, “You prick!”

For that second, he wasn’t a leech, and she wasn’t an empty glass. They stepped out of their roles to be Astarion and Vistri sharing a joke together. Then reality set in.

“I don’t like to see you hurt,” he said out loud, trying it on for size. It wasn’t wrong either. He felt like rats had been chewing through his veins as he watched her twist and shriek in the grasp of that alien machine.

“Afraid of the goods getting damaged?”

He smirked, “Obviously.”

Vistri pulled apart a bit of hay, watching it break between her fingers without seeing it, “I don’t know how to take… I mean…”

Astarion waited for her to continue, but more words never came. His hand reached for hers, “Vistri, I—I don’t want bad things to happen to you.”

That desperate look in her eyes pleaded for truth, but Astarion was lost as to what that was. A chill ran through him. She deserved so much more, and all he had to offer was himself, a falsehood.

He watched her try her best to believe in his words, and squeezed her hand, “Do you think it brings me pleasure to see you in pain?”

Vistri raised an amused brow.

Astarion chuckled, “Yes, of course that, but it’s not the same, is it?”

She smirked and scratched the back of her neck, “No.”

“Even with that, it’s not so much seeing you in pain, as it is seeing you let me do it.”

“Seeing me let you do what?”

His smile was devilish, “Anything I want.”

A bit of shyness colored her agitation. The more he watched her expression, the more it seemed to change to sadness. There was so much beauty to take in from the distance, but Vistri was staring out at nothing.

“Yeah,” she said.

Astarion brought her knuckles up to brush them with his lips. And kissed them bump by bump.

“My pretty pet… What is it that bothers you so?”

Vistri sighed, “You’re being nice outside of the bedroom and it’s weird.”

He scoffed and dropped her hand, “I’m nice!”

She leaned in and raised her brow.

“Don’t look at me like that. You make me nice.”

“Why?”

“Why? I don’t know why. It… Ugh! Maybe it rubs off!”

Uncomfortable with the heaviness, Vistri joked, “Gods know we do a lot of rubbing.”

He chuckled, looping his fingers through hers.

She looked out into the distance again. So did he.

As they sat there, Astarion played back every word and interaction he’d had with her that day, the day before, and basically any time they’d ever spent together. He was trying to figure her out on his own, and the more he contemplated, the more vileness crawled up his throat like bile. Every detail he went through made her more vulnerable, which made him more of a monster.

“What is it about this time?”

He was surprised she spoke. It had been a while since either of them said anything, “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes. I’m asking because I really want to know.”

“Now, now, darling. We don’t bite without asking.”

Vistri smirked her apology.

“I didn’t know I was being any different. Except… Why did you jump into that thing? That device? Wait—Don’t answer that, just listen. Because then I thought… That’s not the first time I’ve seen you jump in like that. Countless times… And then there’s me. And that’s the thing that explains it all, isn’t it?”

“What are you on about?”

“I think you’re hoping something’s going to come along and finally kill you. Like you died ages ago, and the moment to pass on keeps running by and you’re just… Well, maybe you’re just trying to catch up to it,” Astarion spoke plainly, without any weight, just a statement. He cleared his throat upon finishing his last word.

Vistri dropped his hand and laughed, “Silly boy!”

They’d held on for so long, letting go felt like losing a limb. Their empty, damp palms were chilled by the air as it breezed by.

“Right. Silly me,” he said with the absence of amusement.

“What do you want here?”

“What do I want? I don’t want anything,” he made a grand gesture with his hands, “I’m simply revealing my revelations.”

She scoffed, “What? That I’m just waiting for death? Aren’t we all?”

He sighed, “Forget I said anything.”

Vistri felt her lips tremble. She felt so stupid, “That’s it?”

“I was concerned. I said my bit. We can move on if you don’t want to discuss it further.”

She sat there and raged. Who the fuck was he to pretend to know her?

“You don’t care.”

“I never said I didn’t,” he didn’t know if that was true.

Biting her lip, Vistri tried to pull herself together. She needed to breathe, but a big wave of something ugly threatened to slip out with every bit of exhale. Her past was like an octopus, and the constant vibratory tension from his worry ripped a hole through the steel walls neatly containing it in a forgotten corner of her mind. Like a clean, empty facility, it was abandoned, yet well-tended to. His queries poked through the hole and reached around inside, and if even one tentacle got wind of the crack, all eight arms could slip out, and its head would follow like liquid. 

Astarion could see she was on the verge of telling him something but needed a bit more encouragement. He grabbed her hand, “I think I do care. At least enough to wonder what that’s all about.”

Again, he didn’t know if it was true, but it felt… not like a lie.

“Promise me you’ll laugh?” she asked.

Astarion sighed, “If that’s what you want, I’ll do my best to oblige.”

“All right, then,” her smile was unnerving. It wasn’t just out of place in the moment, it was equal parts ‘grimace as a silent shriek’ and ‘grin of a delighted fey’, “I could tell you the story of what I was doing before the Nautiloid snatched me up. Does that sound good to you?”

“I guess…”

She still wore that same horrific expression, “I was on a cliff just like this one, trying my best to jump right in, as you put it before.”

As shocking as that was, it really wasn’t. He might’ve placed his bets on someone else if he’d have guessed, but he also wasn’t that surprised. Of course he was drawn to another soul as wretched as his. In the best of cosmic jokes, Astarion picked a mirror to play Cazador to. 

He answered slowly, carefully as if navigating a minefield, “Yeah?”

Vistri pouted, “You promised to laugh!”

Astarion gave a weak, “Ahahahaha…”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing, “It’s funny!”

“Sure it is.”

“Whatever.”

“While the thought of you going splat is endlessly amusing, your delivery was all wrong, love.”

“What a critic!”

“Try again.”

Vistri cleared her throat, ready to be dazzling, "Okay, Hold on... It was a day just like any other day—”

“Gods! Not like that!” he teased, “We’ll be sitting here until the sun rises again.”

She glared at him, “I see you expect perfection.”

“I accept,” he spread his fingers and collected them back with a sweeping wave, “No less.”

She smirked at him slyly “There once was a Drow named Vistri, who some say was quite the mys-try!”

Astarion nodded his approval.

She proudly continued her improvised little song, “She went to jump over a cliff, but it was a miss. She took a step forward, oh my she was tortured! Then down from the sky came a very bad guy, and a tentacle scooped her up northward!”

Astarion couldn’t help but actually laugh with her this time, “It’s not funny! But—While you were stepping over the edge?”

“Yes! One foot hovering over the abyss,” she giggled, “Then poof!”

“If that would happen to anyone, it would happen to you. Or me, come to think of it.”

Vistri wiped the tears from her eyes, “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s truly amazing, is what it is.”

“It never works for me, you know,” she said, “Any time I try to… Well. You know. It’s something in my magic, I was born with the powers of an old dragon I didn’t do anything to earn. My magic is always there—I didn’t ask for it, and more than just a survival instinct, it’s like a vengeance of life.”

“A vengeance of life? I can identify with that. I think I survived those two hundred years just out of pure spite. A stake through the heart felt like letting him win.”

“No matter what I try, it’s always okay in the end,” she continued, “I can’t even take myself seriously after a while. More than half the times I’ve… I’d be going over plans in my head of what to do later that evening. And after all those times, I’m still here.”

“I don’t hate that you’re still here.”

Vistri scoffed, “Yeah?”

“No, I mean it. I’m glad,” he took her hand back, “I benefit, at least.”

She smirked, but her eyes were dead. They filled and ran without noticing, just sitting there in her skull, barely looking out.

One “Ha” of a laugh escaped him that was more like a huff, “And immediately after, you had to fight for your life.”

“What?”

Astarion pointed to his head, “Tadpole. Big ship? Took us up? Remember?”

She chuckled, but it was so empty, “Shut up.”

“Do you really want me to? Or can I ask you another question?”

“Go on,” she said weakly.

“It’s rather broad, are you all right with that?”

She shot him a suspicious glance, but the accusation quickly melted into something else, “All right.”

Astarion sighed, and then simply asked, “Why?”

Like a child, she brought her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin in the crook of them. Her expression was thoughtful, not refusing. She looked like she was going to answer, and was just deciding how.

And then she didn’t. She just sat there and stared ahead.

The broken way he eventually said, “Oh, my darling…” pulled at her thread that was holding everything together.

“Don’t!”

Vistri was stiff as the rock around them. So unmoving, she was shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said very calmly, “Is there anything I can do?”

She shut her eyes tight, and began rocking, “No. Stay there. Shush.”

He nodded and waited for her signal to do anything other than watch and freeze. The timelessness of the hells fell over their heads. Gravity felt steeper. Now was forever.

“Okay,” her voice broke the spell, and she looked up at him, nodding, to repeat, “Okay.”

Astarion flew around her, and for the first time outside of a whoopsie in battle or moment of fun, held her tightly, so tight, for the sake of his own aching heart. He kissed the top of her head reflexively. Warming her back with one hand, he cradled her face against his neck with the other. He genuinely wanted to do it, felt no ulterior motivation, but at the same time, a part of his mind marked his victory. Catching her up at a vulnerable moment, and being the shoulder she leaned on, would bind her to him like a warding enchantment.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered senselessly, “I’m so sorry.” He had no idea whether he was apologizing for whatever she couldn’t say, or himself. Perhaps both. Perhaps a bit more for his own wrongdoing.

Only it didn’t feel wrong. And that scared him. Frightened him.

Vistri knew she was crying but couldn’t feel herself doing so. She knew she was being held by him, but rather looked out and saw it from above and off to the side. She thought she looked terrible, and he looked so fine. Dashingly picturesque and tragic.

Nobody ever held her the way he did now. She never felt such warmth, and they were both such cold people. How was it possible? Was it some dream?

She started speaking, “We’re more similar than you know.”

Right then, Astarion predicted the gist of what she was about to say. He could tell by the look on her face and the way her tone itched at his brain, she had her own Cazador. She also walked around weighted by invisible chains held by a very nasty man. Same prison, different jailor; he was understood. He found a home there in that knowing. Still, he’d give her his own rusted shackles just to lighten his burden, even if it meant crushing her under them. Anything to soothe the wound.

He’d warned her so many times; he was a thing that ate. He had real no say in the matter, the curse that fueled his undead life was a restless jaw. If Vistri was looking for a guide to a kinder world, she wouldn’t find it in his arms. They belonged to another very nasty man. Even though it was different this time, he’d take her with him to Cazador’s lair and someone would die. If only one of them were to make it out of this mess alive, well, he was a scrappy survivor, and she was the type to ball up and welcome oblivion. Anything to be free.

“Yeah,” was all he said, and it was so warm. Like an embrace, it held her softly, making her feel like something meant to be protected. She nodded tearfully into him. Leaning on him like this was an indulgence, but he tolerated it at least enough to let it happen. Vistri knew she had to pull herself together. The home she found was rented, and she could only borrow so much. Astarion had more to give, but it wasn’t for her. There was no way she’d be one of the lucky ones.

He kissed her head again, and caught himself, “Sorry. Is it okay to touch you?”

She nodded harder than the last time.

His chuckle was relief. To her, it was a song. He held her tighter. She dissolved. He’d taken off her mask, stripped her of her costume, and naked, she cried into his chest, “I just want to die. I want to be dead. And I can’t. I keep trying, and I can’t!”

Holding her at a moment like this was a key part of his plan. Step one, open her legs. Step two, her heart. It was a system as efficient as it was ugly and cheap. And it made him ugly and cheap, but it also made him safe. He closed his eyes, Vistri’s tears soaking through his shirt felt like fire and it burned into his cursed, cold skin like a holy symbol; a brand. It was like her body knew what lurked inside his, called him out for the parasite he was even as she was oblivious to it, and fought back to defend against him when she couldn’t.

Vistri sunk into him, tucked into his warmth. She found her breath again in his arms, and in the moment she came back to herself, started to laugh.

He peeked down, “What are you chuckling about in there?”

Her eyes still freely flowed, silent and thick, but she was more present than before, “In where?”

“My shirt,” he said, “My damp shirt, mind you.”

“How is that my fault?”

He glared at her, “What do you mean, how?”

“I told you not to ask questions.”

“Well excuse me for wondering about your tendency to… To—”

“Try to kill myself?” she finished, her tone too light.

Astarion sighed. She threw her head back and laughed. He didn’t join in.

“You promised!”

“Let me let you in on a little secret about me and promises,” he said dangerously sardonic, eyes lowered, “Besides, I already pretended to laugh earlier.”

“Faking it doesn’t count!”

“Maybe I’d find it funnier if…”

“If what?”

If what?

If the others wouldn’t kill him before her corpse was cold? If they didn’t rely on each other every battle? If the very thought of her…

“Oh, I don’t know! I don’t want you dead! Is that so horrible to believe?”

His grumpiness was sweet. They were always pretending, with each other, with everyone else. Vistri knew it the moment she first laid eyes on him. That’s why every word he uttered that she ever wanted to hear made her ache all over with a dull sorrow, and why the words he pushed her away with were such tender caresses.

“Of course it’s horrible,” she joked, smiling, “I can’t give you what you want and kill myself! However will my two worst impulses co-exist?”

Astarion smirked, “Shithead.”

She smiled, and that sign of life from her made his blood rush.

He kissed her cheek to whisper in her ear, “If you ever feel such a desire coming upon you in the future, come to me, darling. I won’t provide you a real death, but I have plenty of little ones to give.”

His advances flooded Vistri with relief, she knew who she was within desire. Who to be and how to be had familiar answers, and reuniting with any sense of self was such a comfort, she had her first real sense of stillness since breakfast that morning.

He was so close, she prayed he didn’t hear the way her breath gave out.

“I heard that,” he muttered against her cheekbone.

“No, you didn’t,” she giggled heatedly.

“Yes, I did. Now, I know you want it, but I can’t give you that yet. There’s something you must do first.”

“Gods!” she groaned, “Please tell me you’re not about to request I promise not to throw myself right off this cliff!”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t born yesterday! That’s not a promise you’d keep in the long term. Then I’d have to call off whatever this is between us because you’d be lying just to get in my pants, and that would be awkward because your lie would have been exposed just after you tried to off yourself.”

She laughed loudly, “I wouldn’t lie! I would just refuse, and eventually you’d fuck me anyway.”

He grabbed hold of her wrists and leered at her seriously with a piercing expression. Time seemed to stop.

Astarion observed her reaction to pick apart her every emotion, willing his own to remain carefully neutral. Her confidence was so hollow. Her eyes gleamed with the delight of having him wrapped around her little finger, and yes, gods yes, he’d suck it and moan and beg for more, but he was the one really in control. He had all the power because he was clearly giving her something she never had.

The first cut and all that.

Her fingers played with his chest through his open shirt. His heart skipped on its own at the brush of their tips.

“And what about you?”

His mind had wandered, and while he was away, one of her arms broke free to reach for him, “What?”

“How tempting is this cliff?”

“Me? Oh! Right. That, uh,” he paused with a scoffing chuckle, “No, my dear. Sadly, it was my wish to live that landed me in this spot in the first place.”

“And since?”

Releasing her other wrist from his grip, he answered dryly, “Everything’s been fairies and rainbows, and all my days have had happy endings.”

Vistri smirked, raising her brow, “Well, they do now, at least.”

He flashed a heated smile and lowered his eyes, “Why do you care to ask?”

She squinted at his question, like it had the sting of an insult, “I don’t know! Why do you care to ask me?”

“You’re right. That was horrible! Let’s never care again!”

He expected her to laugh but she looked rather serious. “I didn’t mean for you to worry,” her tone was small, and younger than he’d ever heard.

His smirk was friendly and understanding, “If it helps, I was more curious than anything else.”

“Curious?!”

There was a contentedness in his playful tone, “They call her Vistri, ‘cus she’s a mys-try!”

“Oh, stick to readership, darling.”

He growled and tackled her to the ground. She was breathless underneath him, laughing like every spot on her body tickled at once. Some might call it happiness, and maybe it was; Astarion felt it as acceptance. Overwhelming acceptance. So adored, he was given anything he wanted, completely spoiled. And if he was invited to take, why shouldn’t he?

“Remember that favor, my dear?” he asked, pinning her forearms above her head. Before she could answer, he leaned in for a kiss, one that was gentle and hungry.

Her sighs were moans, “Maybe I’ll wait it out.”

He kissed her neck and whispered, “Could you?”

The way she shivered was her answer. Astarion grinned and stroked her throat with the tip of his nose. From the base of it to her chin, and sealed his gesture with another longing kiss.

She was his.

Even if it meant degrading herself. Being his little slut, bent over and drooling. He moaned on the next stroke of her tongue, overcome by the whim to fuck her senseless. His mind reeled with possibility. Just how far would she go for him, out in the open air, with the others just off into the distance? How could he give her a taste of a life that was worth living?

“Get yourself off for me, dear.”

“Here?” Vistri asked, grinning. Her heart pounded faster than it already was.

They weren’t exactly discreet, but only ever touched each other tucked away in the woods or his tent. Here, out on the cliff where anyone might see… It was like he was claiming her. Like maybe some small part of his mind, or some feeling deep down, knew how important she was going to be to him once he realized his truth. That if he asked her to cum in the open air under the evening glow, she was worth something.

“The sun is disappearing, and I’ll cover you.”

Her grin grew wider, even reaching her eyes. She tried to tug one of her arms free from his grip.

“Ah, ah! No hands."

She looked at him curiously. Maybe he’d changed his mind about her. Maybe he had a delightfully naughty idea. Maybe this was the start of his attempt to toss her off the cliff.

He unwrapped one of her legs from around his, and slid his thigh between hers, “Use me.”

“Okay.”

Showing her how to proceed, Astarion rubbed himself against her middle. She bit her lip and began to roll her hips. Her obedience was like a drug, and they passed it with their tongues where it melted into them and infected their minds worse than those tadpoles ever could.

“Good,” he praised, just above a whisper. He fondled her neck, and the hand he let go of shot to his curls. His fangs throbbed, so ready to take her that he gasped as if biting into something hot whenever they touched her skin.

She made a sound he had to shush, it was too personal and way too explicit.

“I can block you from view, but I cannot stop your sound.”

She nodded, sighing and rocking against his thigh.

“All the pieces come together,” he said as she pleasured herself on him, “You’ve always given yourself to me so willingly. Let me bite you. Now I know why.”

Vistri tossed her head back, craning her neck, and sighed, “There are worse things than dying in the arms of someone pretty.”

“And if I had killed you that night?”

“I hope you would have drunk me up.”

A full, wanting, warm acceptance of himself—Not just his charm, but the monster, the ugliness in him. She wanted all of it, treasured all of him. He’d never been good enough for anyone before, just a disappointment under an illusion. But she made him feel like a god.

He groaned, composure slipping, “Ohfuckme…”

“Okay.”

“Not yet,” his grip on her arm loosened enough for him to travel up her wrists and interlace their fingers, “You haven’t earned it.”

She shouldn’t surrender. It would just be another attempt at non-existence. Why couldn’t she have answered with something along the lines of coming back to life just to drive a stake through his heart? Astarion wished it had been anything other than wanting him to have his fill, even if it meant her destruction. It was her will to be his sacrifice, to be truly devoured. He shouldn’t yearn for her so completely; cherish the way, I hope you would have drunk me up, fell out of her so blissfully, like belonging to him was a good thing.

Vistri playing with the point of his ear made him twitch and toss his head. The moan that betrayed him sounded so pathetic.

“I could wait you out.”

He chuckled, “No, you couldn’t. As much as I want you, I’m stubborn. Thrill me all you want, love, I’m determined for you to be absolutely dripping before I give you that.”

She arched her back, “I’m close.”

She wasn’t.

“Already?”

Not nearly, but worried she couldn’t give him his fantasy, she played the part.

The muscles on her face squeezed up real tight, and as her breath grew more shallow, she exhaled with high-pitched, little cries. Her tension peaked and melted away, “Already.”

It didn’t fool him one bit. In fact, he was sure that wasn’t even her finest performance. Like she’d started to pretend and went somewhere else, forgetting she was still on stage. Or a whore with ‘first day’ nerves. He was frowning when she opened her eyes.

“What?”

“Did you just fake it?!”

Vistri’s eyes grew real wide, and having been called out, laughed breathlessly, “Gods!”

“I was right! You faked it!”

She got caught up in another wave of laughter, “I’m sorry!”

Astarion smirked and tickled her sides, “Faking it doesn’t count!”

Squealing and wriggling to dodge his hands, she protested, “It wasn’t a lie! It was an attempt!”

“An attempt?! What is that supposed to mean? An attempt!”

Vistri couldn’t get a word in. She couldn’t breathe, “Please!”

He stopped tickling her so she could answer. Her breasts bounced with her heaving chest. His palms roamed over to cup them, “Did you not like it?” He’d thought of it just for her, and played with her nipples to distract himself from sudden choking disappointment. Buried in arousal, the sting ebbed away.

“No, I love it! Your thigh is heavenly, but you have other, better parts for pleasing—”

“How much better?” he interrupted in a heated tone.

Laughing, she answered, “Better than anything in the world! And not just this,” she brought her hand between his legs and gave that beloved, rock-hard part of him a squeeze, “Although it is wonderful, you have so many other parts for pleasing.”

“Just not my thigh.”

“It pleases, just not enough to bring a bout of ecstasy.”

“Do you want to stop?” He would at her command, but wasn’t ready to lose her.

She ran her hand along it, “No.”

A bright feeling ran through his spine, “You’d like to continue?”

“I do,” her hips resumed their flowing movement.

Her validation killed his fears, and so grateful for the throne to her world, a soft smile nestled in his expression, tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Give yourself time to get there, darling. It’s the journey, not the destination. I can watch you burst any time I want, but for now I want to observe as you slowly unravel.”

“Okay,” she moaned.

“And no performances this time. I will be very displeased. Do you want me displeased?”

She shook her head, “No.”

Anything but that. She’d be good for him so he wouldn’t throw her out.

“Good. Now slow down. You’re not just any rutting pup. You’re my little dragon and these sensations are your treasure. Lurk among your treasures, dear. Survey them, indulge.”

Her thrusts followed the command of his voice. She let them linger, like a slow drip.

“That’s it,” he praised, squeezing her breasts until she gasped.

Astarion looked around, and no one was in sight. The others would stay on the other side of camp for most of the evening and had no reason to pass by other than Lae’zel and Shadowheart, but it was still unlikely either of them would see.

He tugged her shirt lower, stretching it until her breasts spilled out through the top. Gravity squished them into perfect spheres under her neck, and her nipples just peaked out.

His tongue felt so warm on them. The impact of bumping into his thigh and the tight grinding against his femur were her favorite treasures, and then his roaming mouth was added to her pile. She could feel her pants bunching up as they soaked with her, and the damp cloth pinched at her skin as she humped him. The sting of it was a rainfall of coin over her glittering pile of sapphires and amethysts.

Kissing her deeply, Astarion took her hand and moved it back to his bursting laces. Their fingers tangled, undoing them together. When they were loose enough, he pulled her hand through the opening and wrapped it around his cock.

“Gods!” he groaned as she stroked him skin to skin.

Throbbing under her fingers, pulsing, hard; the perversity of her hand dipping into his trousers, riding his leg, nearing completion; his taste, his smell, his focus trained on only her: These were diamonds, so sharp they cut her. But they were so beautiful! And clear, and shone so bright!

“If I outlast you,” she sighed, “Then I win.”

She might win. Astarion did his best to hold back, but he was leaking in her hands.

“What would you win?”

“The mess of you all over my skin.”

He tried to think of something else, anything else, other than the image that conjured. It brought him too close. Teetering on the edge and planting his feet there, he moaned and it sounded like something dying.

Vistri gasped as it met her ears, bringing her closer.

His hands wandered down to her bum, and squeezed it in both hands, adding more pressure to her thrusts, bringing her closer to him. Closer and closer. Her bones started to hurt, ground away by his, but that ache was a handful of rubies, red and lush.

“Harder,” she said.

Astarion tightened his grip, leaned into her movements. He held her so near she could nuzzle her face into his shoulder. His skin was a pearl against her cheek.

“Kiss me,” Vistri pleaded, and when he did, she lost.

“I’m—” a little possession, a bit of a wail, and she could no longer speak.

In her rapture, she ceased her stroking, gripped him like a pulsing cunt, then left her palm hanging limply under his laces. His eyes were fighting to roll back when she let go, and even as he was grateful for it, just the brush of her unmoving hand was enough to be dangerous.

He pinned it above her head to take it away, “And now you’re mine to take.”

Her face was flushed, her breath still gone. “Yours to take,” she repeated as consent.

Pulling down her trousers, he found a river of her. He pushed her thighs up into her chest and took a look between them. Her pants were soaking, their slit a dark spot.

“All mine?” he asked.

She nodded, giving herself to him entirely. The fact that he wanted it made her blissful, like she belonged.

“Well, well, well,” he brought his face lower and spoke between her legs, “Might I have a taste? You smell de-licious!”

“Yes,” she whimpered, trembling. He gave a long, lingering lick along that dark spot, and she arched her back, groaning.

Astarion lifted his head to take another look around. The position they were in now was a bit more conspicuous. A dark part of him wished the others were around to watch him feed.

He kissed the back of her thighs, and she didn’t let even one of them slip by without a reaction. His tongue wrapped around the soaking strip of her pants, and he peeled them up to the crook of her knees with his teeth. A hungry whine left him, being so close to her skin flushed with pumping supper.

His nose nuzzled the back of her knee, tangling in her underwear, “Turns out a taste was just not enough. Mind if I take a bite?”

“Please!”

Her back writhed pleasantly against his cock as he sunk aching fangs into her flesh. He hadn’t anticipated the force of her leg pushing against his face. Her arms were so much weaker, and her neck never offered any resistance. Oh, but he liked it! Astarion felt vicious, attacking and taking something that fought back.

Having taken enough, he forced himself to stop. He pressed his tongue against the wound until it closed and gave it a kiss. Then he licked up every drop of crimson dripping down her lavender thigh. His tongue strayed its course, finding her middle. Vistri grabbed his head as he indulged in another kind of meal.

It was one of his parts she said was good for pleasing. She’d already earned him with one little death, but he gave her another, and another.

After the fourth, she summoned her very best begging voice, “Please, fuck me!”

His face was covered and shining with her wet. It even dripped down his throat, mixing with smears of her blood, “I thought I was.”

“Bury yourself in me.”

He made a quick vow to himself that it wouldn’t be over the moment he did. Then dove in with an uncomposed groan, “Fuck’ssake!”

The genuine sounds of what she tried to fake earlier were in his ears, right under them.

“Already?” he asked.

“Already!”

His face screwed up tight with hers, and as she pulsed around him, he yelped with the effort to hold back.

At the end of his cock, her chest pried open as if split down the middle, exposing her insides like two heavy doors creaking their welcome. Astarion felt himself crawl up her gut and slip into her heart, where sitting inside it, he could reach up with clawed, wretched fingers and tear at her throat. Then he’d kiss it better, the only one able to do so, and she’d never leave his side.

He felt her fingers on his chest, and found himself facing a pair of attentive eyes.

“Come back to me,” she asked like it was a favor, with a touch of light affection, an air of breathlessness, and enough simplicity that it was safe to come back.

“Hello there,” he smiled.

Vistri pulled him close for a kiss so full of gentle, living heat it was a hearth.

“It’s okay,” she said, forehead pressed to his, “You can let go.”

Starved of something in her tone, his body released into hers.

“Vistri!” he called out her name like it was the only thing that could save him. Then caught himself, realizing he’d been loud enough to carry across camp, “Shit!—Huh!”

Her arms flew upwards, wrapping around his head as if to help him keep his soul from seeping out. She couldn’t help the way her body responded to his echoes of pleasure by leaping into another wave of ecstasy. Just to be with him. A reflex of hers that must’ve been borne from her haunting impulse to follow him anywhere.

Unable to leave her, he let himself slide a little in and out; slow, slight strokes. Then finally stilled. They stared at each other a long while before moving apart.

“We should get cleaned up.”

“Right,” he muttered, “Right.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and giggled, “You have to get off me.”

He pecked her ear, “But I don’t want to.”

She laughed heartily and tossed him aside, “Get off me!”

“I was comfortable there!” he whined.

“Tough shit,” she grinned.

Astarion smiled back with empty eyes, sure that her grin was meant for someone else; the person he pretended to be.

“Are you all right?”

Apparently, he was unable to hide. When a lie didn’t work, there were always deflections.

“I’m more than all right! How’s your head? Didn’t steal too much of you, did I?”

“Astarion.”

When deflections failed to take, the only thing left was trading one truth for another. What could he sacrifice to keep the main thing hidden? It had to fit the same feelings as those he already wore.

“I just keep thinking… And excuse me, it’s quite selfish,” he moved some hair out of her face, “If you’d gotten what you wanted, you and I would never have met.”

Her round eyes were so fragile as they looked into his. All of her walls were knocked over, and the part of her that sat there was all raw existence.

She grabbed his hand, kissing his fingers. “All right then,” she rolled those round, breakable eyes, admitting, “I’m glad we did.”

Vistri was his. He squeezed her hand as if to tell her, never let go.

Rooted to the spot, they sat together and looked out at the view, actually seeing it this time. They deserved to have a nice sunset. One nice sunset.

“You’re unusually quiet.”

“I’m just taking everything in. Look at it! Aren’t you glad we aren’t just stuffed in your tent?”

Astarion raised his brow, “Insulting my castle is no way to get invited back, you know.”

She giggled and nudged his shoulder with hers, “It wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“You sure?”

She laughed, “Are you scolding me, Astarion?”

“No!”

“You are! Like you’re my mother or something! Well… Not my mother. She wouldn’t give a shit if I hurt myself. She scolded me plenty, but only over being an embarrassment or an inconvenience. Sometimes both.”

Vistri never talked about her past with any of them. Not even himself, who couldn’t stop telling her about Cazador once he started. It made Astarion hold his breath, afraid to chase away her confessions with the slightest disturbance.

“Gods! How in the hells did I end up talking about my mother? What a silly thing…”

Astarion leaned back, “I don’t know. Probably for the same reason I mention Cazador from time to time. If she’s as bad as she sounds.”

Vistri chuckled, “Her and Cazador would probably be friends.”

“He did often call me an embarrassment and an inconvenience.”

Vistri looked down shyly, “You’re not either of those things to me.”

Astarion took her hand, “Thank you. And neither are you. You know that, right?”

“You flatterer,” she teased.

His smile was a heapful of sorrow. All his lies were true, and his truth was a lie. His pretty songs echoed his real heartbeats. His determination to trap her was a sham, for he’d got caught up in it himself. She was right, Astarion was a flatterer, but he also wasn’t.

Neither confirming nor denying his accusation, Vistri settled for the worst case answer. He was probably looking for an excuse to leave. They always met up for this so much later in the night, and the sun hadn’t fully set yet.

Not wanting him to go, she turned her attention back to the view around them, “You know this big crater around us was probably an ocean before?”

“Actually?” he asked, grateful for a change of subject.

“It’s what must have made this shape. Well, that or a god’s great big fist,” Vistri rambled, “But I bet we’d find a lot of old bones in this stone if we looked for them. That’s what would tell us for sure.”

Astarion brushed his fingers lightly over her fist. She opened it so his fingers fell gently into her palm. He stroked along its curves until she closed her fingers around them.

“Would they be fish bones?”

“Ancient fish bones! And they probably wouldn’t even look like any fish we know. They might even look like monsters!”

“You like those,” he smirked, “Don’t you?”

“I don’t think of you as a monster. I think of you as a vampire.”

Like he was part of a species and not just a classification of Undead. Natural, and not a twisted version of life. Heart aching with the idea, Astarion’s eyes softened, showing Vistri an emotion she wasn’t sure he was capable of. Something she’d given up on ever earning from anyone. 

“A rather refreshing perspective. Just look at that waterfall! Isn’t it darling? And that little river that runs with it.”

Vistri nodded her head against his breast and stated theatrically, “All that remains of a mighty, prehistoric sea.”

The colors in the sky were candy-bright before they grew dark. They were still holding onto each other’s hands when the stars came out, even though they’d shifted positions as often as conversation topics.

It was only allowed because they pretended not to notice.

Lying down was better for looking out at the stars, but Vistri was so exhausted, it was hard not to slip into trance whenever she blinked her eyes. Astarion watched it take over, her face tucked in the nook of his shoulder.

Poor thing. She didn’t deserve to be cast under his spell, another of his cursed conquests. Even though Baldur’s Gate was still far away, and the tadpole took away the power of compulsion, every time his heart skipped for her, it sang, Caz-a-dor, Caz-a-dor, take her to Caz-a-dor! Any time he felt a part of himself wishing they’d met much sooner, Astarion was reminded she would have just been discarded like all the rest.

Sighing, he tried to slip into his trance. He closed his eyes. Opened them. They were on a cliff, how stupid would they be to remain unconscious here. Careful not to rouse her, Astarion untangled himself from her grasp to get up and carry her.

With his cursed heart pumping her dragon blood through his muscles, she was so easy to whisk away. He had to look where he was stepping, but her face proved such a distraction. The moonlight bounced off her silver scales and set her periwinkle skin aglow.

He smiled, stopping for a moment to appreciate—”Mother of fuck!”

Lolth didn’t guide her Drow towards pretty memories, she filled their heads with living nightmares. Whatever Vistri saw in her trance, it wasn’t bunnies. Still deeply within it, she’d reached out and punched Astarion vaguely in the nose with a whimper. He almost dropped her.

“Hells, girl!” he muttered, readjusting her in his arms.

At least some part of her fought back. The pulsing pain in his face was a reminder of what he deserved. As he walked passed the dying campfire, he leaned over and blew angrily into it, hoping that was enough to revive it but not really giving a shit either way. Then he tucked them through his tent flaps, and set her down with care.

She was simply the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Just one part of her face; whether the metallic scales across her brow with her eyes closed under them, the shape of her nose and a peek of cheekbone at the side, or her pouting lips that rested over her chin; was equivalent to an entire sunset watched from a cliffside, on a mountain, towering above lively rivers and waterfalls. Such beauty required a tenderness he was too base to give. Pride in ownership soiled the sweet whispers of his heart. Greed reverberated through him, and loathing for himself echoed out of every pore. 

Astarion frowned as he surveyed Vistri on the floor of his tent. She couldn’t be too comfortable. Torn between the idea of fixing it and accidentally waking her, he started to pace around for a solution.

Like a sickly, potent stomach acid, he’d consume her slowly; digested through the mouth, by his tongue. His doing. He had a rot he needed someone else to hold.

With no good way to toss her into a bedroll, he made a nest of some blankets, and rolled her on top. Treating her like a baby bird, he adjusted her neck to rest on a cushion. He moved hair away from her face, caressed her cheek, and stopped himself from planting a peck on her brow.

He changed his mind as he settled in next to her. His racing thoughts made trance unreachable, but when his lips met her cool forehead, a peace came over him. Astarion took a deep breath through his nose before pulling away, and his eyes thickened with a bit of moisture.

“Rest up,” he whispered. And when he next closed his eyes, trance came to him. Unlike hers, it was his only refuge from nightmares.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #prompt fill #vistri #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #full fic #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #truth of it fic #BrishFics #angst #smut #fluff #lemon #tw sui talk #tw suicidality

[ficbrish]

WIP Wednesday

[31Jan2024]

This is from a one shot that's part of my Kinktober collection

"A Tumble"

Non-Dark Urge Vistri, Eary Act II, After deciding to "be real", but before his actual 'didn't drink the potion' lock-in

[cw - Injury, gore, grief, panic, magic first aid, food]

It wasn’t the first time Astarion saw her fall. She was a sorcerer; her type only ever brought some cloth and the raw, unlimited fury of the weave to battle.

“Vistri!” he’d shouted her name so sweetly the other night, and now it crawled out of his mouth as something misshapen and wretched. He sent a fiery arrow after the shadows and dropped to his knees beside her. The others finished the fight as he reached into his pack with trembling hands. Too many scrolls. So many fucking scrolls! There was one for poison, another for grease traps—for gods damned spiderwebs!

“Get up! Gods damn you!” he cried out, still searching through his pack. There was blood on her neck, but it was wrong. It wasn’t from him; the shadows did that to her. The dark in these woods was a different kind. It was thick and overbearing, like the moment after something horrible. The air around them clung to their throats, coating it with a heavy sort of gravity. It was hard to get used to and threw off all their senses, even as a Vampire and a Drow.

A ragged draw of breath stopped Astarion’s heart mid-beat. Her stillness had been deceiving. Quickly, he stuffed the scrolls back in and pulled out a potion. Gingerly, he lifted her head into his lap and dabbed a bit of its serum onto her lips, coaxing her to drink the rest. Magic and dragon blood closed her wounds. A bit of color came back to her periwinkle cheeks.

Vistri coughed, “Hello dear.”

He sighed into the sight of her living eyes and bent down to kiss her. Their lips were upside down. She laughed and kissed him back as if she weren’t just ripped open and unconscious.

Astarion felt something creep behind him and unsheathed a knife from his thigh, “Wait here a moment, love.”

He set her aside gently and stood up with a twirl. His blade stuck deep into the gut of a shadow cursed Harper, leaving him staring into the blank rotten eyes of a corpse. Astarion hadn’t seen himself once these past two hundred years, and wondered in that moment whether he had those same dead eyes. One look back at Vistri relieved him of that fear.

“Come back to my side at once,” she pouted.

Rushing, he stabbed the undead creature through its skull, and as it collapsed on its own weight, it toppled over on him. Astarion regained his balance and pushed it off, “Eugh!” Then he slid over to Vistri on his knees.

“You blasted,” he kissed her about a million times, grumpily and gratefully, “Hag!”

“Hey!”

“Stop dying, then!”

“I didn’t die, exactly. I just fell over.”

“You almost died. Not that I care anything about it.”

She smirked, “There’s something so dashing about the way you pout.”

He tried his best to frown instead, “Don’t try to flatter your way out of my concern.”

“Thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t!” he scoffed.

Wyll and Karlach strutted towards them out of the dark, obviously smug about felling the last of their enemies.

“Oy! Children!” Karlach called out, addressing them, “Lend a hand next time, will ya?”

“I’m no child! I am over 200 years old!”

“Act like it then,” she winked cheekily.

He was ready to fight until Vistri squeezed his hand—They weren’t children. Karlach only teased them out of respect—Astarion dropped his shoulders.

“You hear that, my dear?” he quipped instead, “Karlach thinks we should act more adult.”

He scooped Vistri up by her waist and had his way with her tongue.

“Ah, love,” Wyll commented dreamily.

“Don’ know if I’d call that love,” Karlach groaned, “More like bragging.”

“What is love if not life’s greatest braggart?”

“Should write that down, mate.”

“Really? You think so.”

Karlach winked, “I’d say you were a poet and didn’t even know it.”

Astarion couldn’t really hear either of them. He could only taste her, savor her existence after how close she’d been to disappearing. Her lips were warm. They were so warm.

Wyll cleared his throat, “Um, guys? Can we go now?”

Vistri hummed dreamily as she tore herself away, “If I can stand on two feet.”

“If you can’t, I’m sure prince charming down there would be happy to carry you.”

Karlach laughed as if the idea were absolutely hysterical, “As if!”

Astarion stood up in offense, “As if?!”

“Come on, Fangs! Be real about it. Carry someone? All the way back to the inn?”

Before she knew what was happening, Vistri found herself swept up and thrown over Astarion’s shoulder like a heavy sack. She squealed in a mixture of terror and delight.

“I’m not as useless as I may seem!” Astarion grumbled, tossing Vistri a bit to adjust his hold. Neither Karlach nor Wyll argued, but they did raise their brows.

Shrieking was common in the Shadow Curse lands, but the way Vistri did it was startlingly out of place. It had laughter and happy shock in it, “Your face is right by my bum!”

“Is that a bad thing, darling?”

“But what if I fart?!”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Quit tossing me about so much then!”

Wyll led the way, leaning into Karlach to comment, “Aren’t they sweet?” To which she snickered back.

Astarion actually managed to carry Vistri the whole way. She might have cast herself with Feather, making his feat a little less impressive, but neither of them cared. Astarion was determined to brag about it and change everyone’s mind regarding his strength, and Vistri was smiling the whole way over. She bounced awkwardly, but she liked the warmth of his back, and the feel of his hands on the back of her thighs. She also managed not to fart.

There was a sense of regret when he let her down, as if they’d lost something. They just stood there after, looking at each other as if they had no idea what to do now that they were apart.

“Well, thank you,” she said.

“For saving your life, or carrying you?”

“Oh, there’s a list?” she chuckled.

His smirk was equal parts mischievous and self-satisfied, “You’ve been incurring a lot of debts, my dear.”

Vistri pretended to be startled, “Have I? Oh my! How should I endeavor pay them?”

He lifted a playful finger to his chin, “Hmmm, what a dilemma!”

His mood was so drastically shifted from before, during the fight. Looking at him now, you’d never think that face held any worry. In little flashes, he was brand new. No more heaviness. Vistri may have grown up with a sorcerer’s might, but she never felt more magical.

“How about I think on it a while? The two of us are exhausted! Best not to make any rash decisions.”

She giggled, even though her bones felt hollow, and her muscles were near useless, “Take your time to think, but make it go—”

Her stomach growled loudly.

“Oh, dear,” Astarion said, “We should fix that, shouldn’t we?”

He was being uncharacteristically servient and sweet, telling her to sit by the fire as he fetched her a bowl of something hot. He even brought a blanket over to throw over their legs and sat there with her as she ate.

Vistri looked at him, startled, when he sat down and settled the blanket over them.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head to clear it, “Nothing.” Then started eating.

It was a very plain stew with fish and beans, but it was everything on a night like this. Or was it even night? There was no sense of time in the Shadow Curse lands.

Astarion dipped her finger in his bowl and licked it.

“Hey!”

“Just wanted a taste.”

#vistarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #wip wednesday #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #BrishFics #astarion #astarion ancunin #angst #tumble fic

[ficbrish]

"You were my first."

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 2nd - Sexual Frustration, Virginity]

[[TW/CW: Cptsd, blood, gore, self-hate, abuse flashback, casual suicide ideation, intense genitalia depiction (imagined), alcohol]]

Summary: Astarion drinks from a person for the first time.

Expansion of the first bite scene in Act 1. The fourth night of their adventure.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

Astarion and Vistri trusted each other the least out of everyone else.

They were too much alike, cut from the same cloth and that cloth was absolute bullshit. Something always lurked in their eyes behind carefully crafted smiles. All of their expressions were adornments, masks. Even their movements were costumes. The two of them practically made up their own masquerade ball! Always dancing around flirtatiously, getting under each other's skin, ruffling feathers. 

Vistri knew these things, and she refused to let herself trust Astarion because of it.

So why did it feel like a betrayal to find him looming over her bedroll in the dark? Fangs bared, ready to strike. Ready to take. Her heart plummeted before she even had the chance to process what was happening. She opened her eyes and the sight of him dragged her down into a nostalgic pit.

“Shit,” Astarion jumped back the moment she stirred. He’d fucked up, made a bad call, and now Vistri was going to drive a stake through his heart. The glower on her face said it all. He’d been so close to finally tasting a real person, and now he was doomed to die without ever sating his gnawing hunger.

Gods! If she hadn't stopped him...

“The hells!” she raged, shaking off sleep as she stood.

“No, no—It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” he protested, thinking, Surely, this is the end. Vistri was going to kill him. Or one of the others if he put up a good enough fight.

Vistri scowled. The fear in Astarion’s tone and posture was a mirror. His was the exact sort of song and dance she’d put on whenever she herself got caught; when she wasn’t really sorry about anything other than the discovery. It set her heart racing, and made it ache for some reason.

She spoke with a lump in her throat, “Kind of looks like your second murder attempt from where I’m standing.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt you!” Astarion explained defensively, “I just needed—Well, blood.”

“Blood? You needed my blood? Who?—Oh…”

Somewhere between Darkvision greys and the orange glow of dim firelight, Vistri saw Astarion draped in new colors. Those red eyes, pale skin, and silver hair of his were not signs of fealty to Lolth as she'd thought, but the markings of another dark god. One, no doubt, more worrying. The scar on his neck wasn’t the shadow of an arrow or fork, but the echo of another mouth. His sharp teeth were... It’s not that Vistri didn’t have her suspicions, it’s just that she’d pushed those thoughts to the edges of her mind. She’d literally been blinded by the sunlight!

It was the first time Astarion ever admitted this to another person, his condition. He couldn't even say the word ‘vampire’ out loud, but based on the various looks shifting in and out of Vistri’s expressions, he wouldn't have to, she’d gotten there on her own.

She hadn’t reached for a weapon, but that was subject to change. Astarion swallowed, her pounding pulse as real in his senses as the smell of hot food wafting through a warm breeze. He watched her observe the hunger as it consumed him, drove him mad. His body shook with the signs.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it…” she muttered, “We even found the boar you snacked on!”

She’d only chosen to go to sleep that night because Astarion had been acting so… so pissy! He'd been equal parts dismissive and condescending that evening whenever they spoke. Vistri thought he didn’t like her much before, but he’d been acting as if he truly hated her—It grated on her nerves! Trance wouldn’t do when its semiconsciousness still left her with a vague awareness of his presence. She needed to get away, and to get away, she slept. Ironic then, how her awareness of him was what roused her now. Gods, she couldn’t get away even when she tried to!

She slapped her forehead, “The pig! Gods I was wondering why you were being such a bitch about the pig!”

Astarion was literally taken aback, “A bitch?—I was not!”

“You just now tried to steal my blood!” she scoffed, “And yes, you have been! All day and evening long!”

“Now, now. Let’s not wake the others.”

Vistri crossed her arms, frowning.

“It’s not what you think—” he said defensively, “I’m not some monster!”

Whether true or not, she could tell he didn’t really believe his own words. Reality was, part of him did and part of him didn’t, and both parts rejected the other. For some reason, it was important to him now that she didn’t believe he was... one of those. For once, Astarion had revealed his dirty secret, and needed Vistri not to let that change anything.

“I feed on animals! Boars, deer, kobolds—” he continued, “Whatever I can get.”

“The latest I recall; I am not a boar or a deer or a kobold.”

Astarion rolled his eyes in desperate frustration, “Yes, exactly! You’re not whatever I can get. You’re what I crave to sink my teeth into!”

Vistri’s breath tripped over her heartbeat and got caught up in its frantic patter.

That wasn’t an unwelcome thought, but… It’s just that he didn’t ask first! It pushed Astarion over into the “unsafe people” category, and she wasn’t allowed to like those people. Shadowheart was right, and Vistri hated him for it as much as she did for finding him ready to prey on her unconscious form.

There was just no going back from that.

“You were looking at me funny last night,” she mused, “This is why you were looking at me like that, wasn’t it?”

He nodded, not breathing.

“Wanted a nibble, did you?” she teased unkindly, holding her fear all the way down in her toes, so as not to risk it slipping into her voice.

“I’m just too slow right now,” he explained with puppy eyes, “Too weak.”

“I’ll say.”

Well, Vistri wasn’t killing him, and now she was starting to act like her usual unserious self. Astarion knew he should really stop there. He was lucky enough to just get where he was now, with her not immediately staking him.

But…

Astarion carefully considered how to phrase his proposal, “If I just had a little blood… I could think clearer. Fight better. Please."

He reminded Vistri of sobering drunks shouting out to bartenders after the pubs had closed. But it was also an ask of her. One that centered on her willingness to give herself away and made her the most important person in his world at that moment. Vistri had an easy answer for those types of inquiries.

She could see the ravenous curse glaring in his eyes. Astarion was all need, and yet he gave her the chance to decide. To be taken, or not?

And what would that be like? If she let him take her? If she just laid back and craned her neck?

No!

Absolutely not! No!

She shut her eyes to think for a moment, almost wishing Shadowheart would stir. Where’s a cleric when you need one most? She could help her say no. Or rather, wouldn’t let Vistri say yes—But she’d be absolutely insufferable about it the whole time!

Vistri fell into Astarion’s eyes the moment she opened hers.

“Gods be damned,” she whined.

“What?”

“Shhhsh! Let me think!”

Astarion’s mind was so consumed by the sight of her throat that he couldn’t come up with a retort. He just swallowed and stared longingly at her.

Gods, he was going to eat her up!

Vistri knew she was already lost, but she still had to fight it. As a last resort, she turned to the tadpoles. Even if she was doomed to give in, she could at least see the moment for what it was. She always considered pushing into someone else’s mind without permission a gross transgression, but if Astarion was willing to take without asking, then the truth was more important than his trust or comfort.

It was as simple as giving in. Vistri reached out to both their tadpoles, blending their minds so she could read his. The door she created only opened one way though. She imagined her mind as an impenetrable abyss. Nothing could breach it. Vistri would peer inside his consciousness without showing him any of her own. She pictured Astarion's mind as a sea, its waters ready to be parted, and dove in.

And as she stole information, memory, the tadpole enacted its own violation, nestling further into her flesh. It touched parts nothing should ever touch and ate things she couldn’t afford to lose. But what would that matter after tonight? Or at the end of their seven days?

“I—What’s this? What’s happening?”

Vistri forced herself to ignore the helplessness in his voice; hold tight onto her regret and push it down. There was no turning back. It already cost too much to catch the faintest glimpse.

She found the most monstrous things inside his head, but Astarion wasn’t the horror. His memories were cracked and quivering, living right at the forefront of his mind. Vistri travelled along their strings and found a hand wrapped around them in the form of dark eyes, commanding him. Feed.

Feed on the rat.

The memory was shame, and it twisted his face. Astarion grimaced as if stabbed, and Vistri hated herself in a way she never had before.

More than a command, that sinister voice was like another brain willing one's body to move. Vistri could feel Astarion's teeth, her teeth, sinking into a struggling rat, body twisting as it shrieked. She choked on the feeling of its fur on her own tongue, as viscerally as if it sat there now. She felt its bones break under her bite. Pangs of disgust and unmet need mixed up together into a particular form of sickness. Astarion was starving, and her rising empathy fueled her rage rather than quelled it. The gnaw at his core was a nightmare Vistri would never forget.

“You ate animals because you were forced to,” she spat bitterly, “Not because you wanted to.”

“I—Yes,” there was no point in denying it after all she’d seen, “Yes, I ate whatever disgusting vermin my master picked.”

Astarion spoke with a wave of vengeful revulsion, his glare and tone defensive wounds that made her stomach hurt to witness. Vistri felt like she wanted to bite someone almost as much as he did. Having nowhere to put it made her restless. So she shook her hands to rid them of magical impulses, a nervous habit of hers, “Fuck!”

“Once again, if we could lower our voices.”

“That’s horrible, Astarion!”

What sort of cruel joke was she playing at? Vistri looked sincere enough, Astarion would give her that, but why on Toril would she care? His brows knotted suspiciously.

He seemed a little confused, but Vistri thought that was understandable. Maybe he didn’t know it was horrible and was hearing it out loud for the first time. She’d been there before herself.

“Believe me, I’m well-acquainted with how horrible it all was.”

Vistri froze. Astarion couldn’t be reading her mind, could he? She pulled out her go-to check for such a spell and conjured a graphic image in her mind’s eye. In as much detail as she could manage, Vistri pictured the biggest, bulgiest, veiniest, drippiest penis she could think of. Nothing pretty about it, just vaguely unsettling and truly shocking. As she held that image, she squinted at Astarion and picked apart every aspect of his expression.

She found only sadness there. Invisible bruises, hit again and again, covered his face once she knew to look for them. There was no hint indicating he shared her conjured horror; only an agonized recollection. It didn’t just absolve him, it made Vistri feel quite terrible for thinking of a horrible penis just then.

And if he was really reading her mind… Well… I’m so sorry.

Without acknowledging her mental apology, Astarion spoke again, “So you can see why I’m slow to trust you.”

Especially if she was going to keep poking around his mind without asking. Astarion had been so ready to be rid of her just to hide the whole vampire thing, and now both that and Cazador were out of the bag in the space of one mistake. His own memories played through her head, and for some reason he couldn’t touch hers at all.

“But I do trust you,” he lied, “And you can trust me.”

Vistri paused, gathered herself, and met his deception with one of her own, “I do. I believe you.”

The grins on their faces hissed like snakes. Neither called it out, willingly entering a folie à deux. Both were desperate to believe the lies they told, each other's and their own. In a fucked up way only the two of them could manage, it turned into its own type of trust. It wasn’t real, but it was there.

For as long as they both agreed on its existence.

“Thank you,” Astarion sounded genuine and even tipped his head.

Vistri nodded back, you’re welcome.

But Astarion wasn’t done yet. The ache still rumbled through him, making his mouth water.

“Do you think you could trust me just a little further?” he asked carefully with a flourish of his hand.

Vistri raised her brows.

“I only need a taste,” he cajoled, “I swear.”

The pounding in her ears started up again. He offered a thrill she’d never tried before. A vampire. People usually didn’t come back from one of those bites, did they? It was never only just a taste, was it?

“Fine. But not a drop more than you need,” she agreed despite her best intentions.

Astarion sounded a bit shocked, “Really? I—Of course.”

The fact that even he was surprised Vistri said yes was a red flag she was fully aware of. She was very aware. If magic whispered under her skin, self-destructive impulses shouted through it.

“Not one drop more,” he promised, elation breaking through his measured voice. He still couldn’t believe she said yes; that it had been that easy. No one had ever known him for what he was and offered themselves anyway. Maybe he didn’t have to get rid of her after all.

Maybe he didn’t want to.

For Vistri, it was the ultimate moment of truth. She was either someone important enough to spare, or this would be her final night. Astarion would either take only as much as she gave, or use her up completely. It was a true test of value; who they were to each other, and who they were as people.

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” Astarion offered smoothly, inviting her back to her bedroll with a gesture. If she came to him willing, there was no reason the moment couldn't be a nice one for the both of them. He had no idea what he was doing and found a certain comfort in the familiar role of hospitality.

Vistri glared at him, reading his genuine attempt at kindness as a sort of gloating insincerity. She mumbled as she settled down, “Could have started out this way if you weren’t such a bitch about that boar.”

“I was not!—You’re ruining the atmosphere now, darling.”

“Atmosphere? We’re in the dirt trying not to wake our companions who are also in the dirt.”

Astarion raised a brow, more amused at her antics than vexed, “Bit more premium than the mud, at least. Now lie back.”

They were going to try this again, with her permission this time. Vistri laid back in her bedroll fully prepared for death. She knew her worth and was ready to surrender to it.

Dirt.

Vistri was dirt. Whatever was about to happen would validate that, and it excited her enough to feel something as much as it choked her.

“I’ll haunt you,” she said.

“What?”

“If you kill me. I’ll haunt you.”

“Right.”

As Astarion crawled over Vistri, all he could think was, finally. The pulse in her throat called to him, reaching towards his like a siren diva. A completely brand-new ecstasy was his to savor, and he kept waiting for someone to snatch it away before he could have a taste. Like always.

Still, he waited. Unwilling to cross a line that would make him lose his prize. He let out a low groan, almost a growl, in anticipation of her signal.

Vistri tried to blink away the warmth that spread over her as he hovered above her. It wouldn’t go away.

She gave up and closed her eyes, making a silent bet with herself, “Go on.”

Astarion lunged forward and pierced her neck so fast it was like the punctuation to her sentence.

Vistri anticipated teeth, not mouth. Turns out his fangs were only there for puncture. The rest of it was all lips and tongue and throat. She knew there would be pain, but it was quick and sharp before throbbing into numbness. It was a strange sensation, but not overall unpleasant.

Their life forces seemed to merge at his bite. He flowed into her and through her as he took, like two rivers meeting at a frothing current. Vistri's breath would be rough and laborious if she wasn’t working so intently to be still and quiet.

Good, little prey.

Her heart beat out such a rapid, panicked tune; fighting helplessly in her chest as she gave herself to him with nothing less than a death wish. Astarion longed painfully for a moment like this for two terrible centuries, and it was so much better than he ever dared to dream. Her dragon blood was cool on his tongue, like frosted cream. The silver scales on her face had piqued his curiosity, he’d wondered before how she tasted. Now he was blessed with the knowledge, he was lost in it. Astarion didn’t exist anymore. Just the need.

He swallowed her down.

Vistri began to think that maybe she should probably stop him.

Probably.

Or she could let him continue. Give in entirely until she was all gone…

Astarion never wanted to stop. All performance was cast aside, abandoned with no grace. The only thing left in control was his cursed nature. His tongue eagerly lapped up the blood against her neck with no sign of stopping.

She let him do as he pleased. Wanted to disappear between his lips. Vistri couldn’t tell if there was something narcotic in his bite, or if that was just…

Gods, please don’t let that just be him. She felt her knees shiver, and almost let Astarion have his way.

Then another thought suddenly shouted above all the others. Maybe he couldn’t control himself. He’d said he trusted her, and if that wasn’t a lie, then perhaps he meant for her to stop him before he lost them both.

“That’s enough,” she reluctantly sighed.

Her voice reached Astarion through the dreamy fog.

“Mhh?” he moaned, yes?

He was still lapping her up as he answered, and his question broke over her skin. Vistri twitched and he mistook it for pain.

Excusing himself, he tore away from the bliss of her neck with a courteous, “Oh, of course.”

A chill came over her as his body left hers. The continued pounding of Vistri's heart grounded her in the reality that she was still alive. She’d survived Astarion's favor. Pressing her hand against the wound to stop the bleeding, she felt a sort of glee wash over her.

Standing across from each other, their chests rose and fell. Wanting more.

“That—” his words faltered, overcome by a mixture of ecstatic satisfaction and lingering bloodlust.

Vistri’s stomach flipped. Renewed vigor was palpable in his very energy, and a genuine smile spread over his gloomy face.

“That was…”

She watched him appreciatively smell the mess left on his lips. Then again delight in her taste, sucking his fingers clean of all remnants, one by one.

“Amazing.”

He wore an even wider smile. Everything Vistri was swirled inside her like strong wind.

“My mind is finally clear,” he continued, “I feel strong. I feel…" He took a deep, smiling breath, "Happy!”

That was the first time Vistri ever saw Astarion take such a complete deep breath. She learned that his shoulders sat naturally lower than she previously thought.

And this was her effect on him. Her blood in his veins.

Something about that made her want to taste him right back.

But she refused to give that urge any attention, and spoke to shake it off, “I’m looking forward to seeing you fight.”

He was grateful to her for rooting the moment in something they could actually discuss. Even if he wanted to share every detail that went into the descriptor of amazing, Astarion wasn’t sure he could put into words what this meant to him.

“Shouldn’t take long,” he smirked, “So many people need killing.”

And Vistri wasn’t one of them.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he bowed, “You’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.”

It was true, Astarion was plagued with a lingering hunger, having abided by the bounds of Vistri's consent and stopping before he was satisfied. But what really set his feet jittering was the real weight of all these brand-new feelings. No wonder Cazador kept his spawn apart from thinking prey. Even a little taste of all that life brought back so much of what he’d stolen. 

“Wait!” Vistri called out as he turned to strut away into the forest.

They bumped into each other as he twirled back around.

“Sorry,” they both said.

Astarion stepped back. She didn’t.

“Um,” she gestured at her face, “You have…”

He could feel her breasts brushing against his chest, and blinked as if that would help him to ignore it.

“What?” he asked quite shortly.

With an unsure gesture, Vistri reached up to his mouth. Even though she went slowly, questioningly, it was faster than explaining. At least in her current, near-speechless state. She asked with her eyes if she could get closer, and he answered with his own to inch closer, even though they were narrowed and suspicious.

Astarion jumped slightly at her touch but allowed Vistri to wipe her finger along the corner of his grin.

“Little bit of blood,” she murmured, and cleared her throat.

She held up her smeared finger in demonstration, and Astarion had to stop himself from grabbing it and licking it clean.

“Oh,” he said, “My, my! I have made a mess, haven’t I?”

Vistri didn’t know what to say, so she mirrored his smirk. But she didn’t want to just stand there smiling like someone thick, so she rushed herself to say something clever. Which came out thick, “Nothing that takes more than a little wipe.”

He had no idea what she was talking about and just needed to leave, “Right. Well—”

She was standing so close. He could still sense her pulse, smell the blood clotting on her neck. The demons inside him were screaming to tear her apart. Astarion had to get away, but he was held in place.

Vistri was looking at him with such a mix of emotion that it made her a riddle.

Why didn’t she stake him? Why did she let him sup? Trust him at the risk of her life?

Astarion’s eyes travelled from her neck to her lips. Now that he’d had a taste of her throat, he found himself desperately curious about all her other parts.

His stare made Vistri tremble even more than she had in the gods’ damned mind flayer pod! Which was ridiculous! She’d long ago sworn off aristocratic types. The fourth night into an illithid transformation was not the right time to fall of that wagon!

“Off you go!” she playfully pushed Astarion towards the trees, needing him out of sight. She'd normally leave herself, but had nowhere else to go besides her bedroll a few paces from where they now stood.

He obliged, but suddenly turned once more to thank her. Which crashed them into each other again.

This time, they both took a big leap back. Instead of apologizing, they shared a brief look and let out a pressure value-laugh.

Astarion became serious for a moment. His voice sounded softer and stronger than she knew it could be.

“This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

If she answered with more sincerity, they'd both choke.

“Wouldn’t dare let you,” she smirked.

He returned it, then left Vistri alone to nurse her aching neck.

She could still feel his mouth on her skin, and her breathing hadn’t yet stilled. Shit. Now that Astarion was out of sight, she felt her bones calling him back. Vistri shut her eyes tight, willing the wanting to go away.

If it was kind, it would just go away.

There was something bittersweet about how the raw power Astarion now harnessed depended on Vistri’s kindness. A proper hunt would surely be more satisfying. The woods were full of treasure, but they felt empty. So many bodies slumbered in the shadows, but the one he truly sought was in the other direction.

It didn’t matter that she was the first person he ever drank from and had nothing to compare her to. Perhaps it was instinct, but he already knew that nothing else out there could match the fine, exquisite vintage that was her.

Astarion explained it away as just the dragon blood. It wasn’t tied to that drow at all.

It couldn’t be.

v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v

Big moment, that following morning was. Pleasantly enough, none of the others tried to drive a stake through Astarion’s heart upon learning his true nature. Nor did Vistri suddenly change her mind and call for a mob. She even stood up for him. Showed a suspicious amount of understanding.

But that’s how she’d always survived.

A bit of kindness tinged with charm, and lying back, goes a long way.

Astarion seemed the happiest that Vistri had ever seen him. Although, to be fair, they’d journeyed together less than a tenday, and not under the most pleasant circumstances. She’d seen him smile, but not like that. Not like the way he’d been smiling since—

His lips on her neck…

“Augh!” Vistri exclaimed, walking unannounced into Shadowheart’s tent, “I feel like a ripe pile of shit!”

“Were you raised in a barn?!” Shadowheart cried, startled and put out by her new friend’s sudden appearance.

“No, the Underdark—But that’s not important right now,” Vistri answered, too obsessed at the moment to exchange a bit of back and forth, “We don’t have time for an ethics debate.”

“An ethics debate? You just barged into my tent!”

“Because I needed to talk to you!” she explained, as if that answered everything sufficiently.

“I swear, if you hadn’t saved my life…”

“I know, I know! I’m insufferable. Do you have wine?”

“It is just passed sunrise.”

“Yes, and I’m very thirsty.”

Somehow, Shadowheart’s exasperated refusal to indulge her self-destructive habits prompted Vistri to spill everything. How she never felt anything.

How much she felt last night.

“You like the vampire?”

Vistri looked as if Shadow had just spat in her face, and protested, “I do not!”

While she had her crisis at Shadowheart, Astarion was literally skipping through the woods. He couldn’t remember a day where he felt better than he did this morning. With her blood flowing through him, giving back life.

Was this what it felt like to be Vistri? he found himself musing, watching the dapple of shadows dance across his hands as the sunlight trickled through the trees.

Which was a very ironic conclusion for him to draw, considering that she was just now sobbing wildly on Shadowheart’s awkward shoulder.

But Vistri never let him inside her mind despite pushing into his, not after that first initial taste; when they met on the ground in his arms, while his blade pressed into her. Too much was happening then for Astarion to really notice anything, and he only felt a hint of someone else before she instinctually shut her mind off from his. They’d shared a memory, but it was like the directions of a play read aloud, not the feelings of an actor emoted through their eyes.

It piqued his curiosity now that he spent a little time in her company. Had a taste of her.

And like a cat discovering a closed door, he was suddenly possessed by the need to pry it open.

Turns out, things were working out for Astarion better than he could have ever imagined. He could get used to his luck turning around like this. Not only did the rest of his companions accept that he was a vampire without much complaint, Vistri offered to let him feed again.

Before he accepted, it was important for Astarion to make clear that nothing would ever happen again without her say so. He could be better than Cazador ever was—wanted to be better.

“I shall wait patiently until you suggest we… dine together.”

Vistri could feel heat rising in her face. Cheesy little comments of his like that previously grated on her nerves, and now she wanted to giggle.

What the fuck was wrong with her? Did she really want him? Could she really… imagine that as a possibility?

“But until then: No more late-night surprises, you have my word on that,” he promised. Rather sincerely, actually.

It was probably due to some vampiric thrall she must be under, but Vistri decided to trust his words. Every night could be its own test, and a sick part of her hoped he’d break his vow. That he’d prove it was all good to be true; show her who she really was. Prove that neither of them were worth it.

“Thank you,” she said, biting her lip, “And if you don’t mind, I have a vow of my own to exchange.”

“Oh?”

“Pushing into your mind… I wasn’t sure if you were going to kill me, but in finding out, I also… That was for you to save or tell. Not for me to find out. Not like that. I swear I’ll never do it again. Not without asking first.”

Astarion looked a bit devastated; shook it off with a smirk, and then said, “We’re even.”

Vistri was taken aback, “Even?”

“I've only tried to stab you when we first met, and bite you while you’ve slept. A little wriggling around with my mind worm… Well, you’re not better than me after all! In fact, you’re just like me.”

She smiled and looked at her feet, “I wouldn’t go as far as that.”

Even the teasing mention of closeness was too much for Vistri to endure, and she hated him for it.

So of course she didn’t want to appear too eager! She waited a whole other day before proposing another late-night snack. Astarion took it to be a reward for his good behavior; not coming back for seconds before he was asked.

The anticipation ate at them even worse after they agreed it would happen that night, and it itched at them all day. Unfortunately, Astarion was a bit of a stress-eater, and quite literally bit off more than he could chew with a large bear that evening before they met up. Draining it just barely replaced what he'd lost, which left him punch drunk and dizzy from his own bloodlessness. Their fun was put off for another night.

Much to the vexation of both.

He didn’t want to wake her that second time, not because he didn’t want her to be present, but because he was doing his best not to be an inconvenience. Vistri wasn’t offended either; he was so obviously sure he was doing her a favor. Oh, but she wanted to be awake for it! Not asleep, not in trance, but there feeling his—

Shit. Bad thoughts! No, no, no.

It was nothing. He meant nothing. She was nothing but a source of sustenance. Vistri had a purpose, and that was that.

She was food.

But then… So was that bandit earlier. Now he was food. Astarion drunk him dry with little grace. Ripped his screaming throat from out of his neck, and the spray went everywhere! Tonight he would gently creep up to her in the dark, at her behest, and take only a little while trying his best not to cause her to stir. It was quite the contrast.

That bandit was a meal. Vistri was a treat.

Then what was this even all for?

Vistri shooed away her curiosity before it meant she had to answer that question herself.

Waiting impatiently in her bedroll, eyes shut tight, Vistri could feel her heart pounding as if it was berating her for their present circumstances.

Oh, hush! she thought, arguing back.

This wasn’t her best performance, pretending to be in the midst of trance as she was. Her focus was elsewhere, searching for his presence through her pores. Her mind froze when Astarion finally began to approach. Even without seeing, she knew he was there; could feel his proximity before he touched her. The very air changed around him, like a storm cloud. Her senses filled with something herbal and sweet, then brandy and heat as his chest crept over hers.

She held her breath, even though deep breathing was the telltale sign of trance. Vistri thought he caught her, sensing him pause for a moment. Then she reasoned she was probably making that up.

But she didn’t. He did pause. Not because he noticed she wasn’t breathing, but because he still wasn’t quite sure this was all really happening. Not just some mad trick of the tadpole.

He swallowed and let himself lean carefully down, until his body pressed into hers. He could feel her heart beating frantically, but in his distraction, it didn’t give her away. Astarion just took it as a sign she was alive. That this really was all real.

His lips met her neck before his fangs. Vistri held back a shiver, taking a deep breath against it. She stifled a moan as one hummed quietly in Astarion’s throat. She could feel it vibrate on hers, neck to neck. Feel her life and power flow into him and through him. Power. Pleasure.

It was palpable.

Astarion’s tongue moved against her skin, swallowing her.

She even lost herself for a moment. As her mind flew blissfully away, her fingers, those sluts, found their way up into his curls.

Her hands grasped the sides of his head. Vistri wasn’t trying to push him away, she just needed to brace herself against the loss of gravity. Astarion didn’t even notice at first. It just felt like part of the whole thing. It was her sudden movement as she jerked them back that brought his attention to her wakefulness.

“Are you not in your trance?” he asked in the crook of her neck.

“No,” she answered with her eyes still closed, “Do you want me to be?”

She was truly the most curious thing to him. Was she pretending to be in a trance to please him? While allowing him to drink from her? Who does that? Astarion smirked, shaking his head, “I thought you’d prefer…”

Vistri opened her eyes and looked into his. She’d been warned her whole life about elves with red eyes.

“No, I—” she blushed, “I mean, it’s quite fun. Is it not?”

“It is?”

Curiouser and curiouser.

She nodded.

“Well, that’s nice to hear.”

“Do you want to-?” Vistri gestured to her neck.

“Right, yes,” Astarion said, clearing his throat. Regaining his cool, he slyly suggested, “Why don’t you crawl into my lap?”

Vistri couldn’t breathe.

Her non-answer was a glorious victory. Astarion could tell he had an effect, a sway over her somehow. He tilted his head back, smiling with confidence, “You do want it, don’t you?”

Lightheaded, Vistri gave in and sat across his knees. Grinning, Astarion grabbed her up into his arms and dipped her dramatically with a slight growl. Vistri giggled, too loudly, and he cupped a hand over her mouth.

He shushed her, “Be still now.”

First, he brought his lips back to her throat. Then his tongue. Then his fangs.

A moan escaped Vistri this time. One, warm hand cradled the back of her neck as he drank from the front of it.

He promised it would be just a taste, and it was just a taste. She didn’t even have to hold him back this time. Astarion stopped on his own accord, before she was ever in any real danger.

When she opened her eyes, Astarion had stars in his. Just a little bit of her, and he was an entirely new person.

Self-satisfied, Vistri grinned, “You’re welcome.”

Sitting up, her head swayed forward like a drunkard and almost smashed into his skull.

“Oh, there you go,” he muttered, steadying her.

Vistri looked up at him, her face so close to his. “I’m okay,” she answered before he could ask.

“Don’t try to get up just yet. You’ll take another tumble, and who knows if I’m feeling generous enough to catch you again.”

“Bastard,” she laughed weakly.

Vistri could smell her blood on his breath. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes so the only thing in existence was the scent lingering between them. She couldn’t imagine liking this so much with anyone el—She shot up so fast, suddenly standing to escape those thoughts.

“Careful!”

Astarion must have been feeling generous because he caught her a second time.

“Oops,” she said, embarrassed.

“You ought to take better care of yourself, darling. I’m invested now.” Funny thing, that wasn't even a lie. He'd never met someone like her before.

Vistri met his grin with performative suspicion, “How heartening.”

Astarion's eyes followed the words as they bounced off her lips. He smiled realizing they were perfectly painted instead of washed clean.

She either swayed or leaned closer. Even Vistri couldn't tell if it was blood loss or an intentional inching of her feet.

“You look a bit peaked,” Astarion said nervously.

“Yes,” Vistri sighed, standing so near, “Off to bed I go.”

Even the air between them pounded. They stayed very still. His breath turned into her breath.

Then Astarion broke the spell, stepping back with narrowed eyes, “Sweet dreams, then.”

“Sweet dreams.”

But there were no dreams.

Just forbidden thoughts that ran endlessly through their minds, until even their muscles ached.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #prompt fill #vistri #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #full fic #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #you were my first fic #BrishFics #angst #smut #lime

[ficbrish]

Snippet Saturday

[13Jan2024]

This is from one of the posted one shots in my Kinktober collection.

"You were my first."

[Astarion's bite scene]

[[tw/cw: cptsd, blood]]

“Do you think you could trust me just a little further?” he carefully asked with a flourish of his hand.

Vistri raised her brows.

“I only need a taste,” he cajoled, “I swear.”

The pounding in her ears started up again. He offered a thrill she’d never tried before. A vampire. People usually didn’t come back from one of those bites, did they? It was never only just a taste, was it?

“Fine. But not a drop more than you need,” she agreed despite her best intentions.

Astarion sounded a bit shocked, “Really? I—Of course.”

The fact that even he was surprised Vistri said yes was a red flag she was fully aware of. She was very aware. If magic whispered under her skin, self-destructive impulses shouted through it.

“Not one drop more,” he promised, elation breaking through his measured voice.

It would be the ultimate moment of truth. Vistri was either someone important enough to spare, or this would be her final night. Astarion would either take only as much as she gave or use her up completely. It was a true test of value, who they were to each other and who they were as people.

Astarion still couldn’t believe she said yes; that it had been that easy. No one had ever known him for what he was and offered themselves anyway. Maybe he didn’t have to get rid of her after all. Maybe he didn’t want to.

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” Astarion said smoothly, inviting her back to her bedroll with a gesture.

She glared at him and mumbled as she settled down, “Could have started out this way if you weren’t such a bitch since that boar.”

“I was not!—You’re ruining the atmosphere now, darling.”

“Atmosphere? We’re in the dirt trying not to wake our companions who are also in the dirt.”

Astarion raised a brow, “Bit more premium than the mud, at least. Now lay back.”

They were going to try this again, with her permission this time. Vistri laid back in her bedroll fully prepared for death. She knew her worth and was ready to surrender to it.

Dirt.

Vistri was dirt. Whatever was about to happen validated that, and it excited her enough to feel something as much as it choked her.

“I’ll haunt you,” she said.

“What?”

“If you kill me. I’ll haunt you.”

“Right.”

As Astarion crawled over Vistri, all he could think was, finally. The pulse in her throat called to him, reaching towards his. It was a completely brand-new ecstasy, and he kept waiting for someone to snatch it away before he could have a taste.

He let out a low groan, almost a growl, waiting for her signal.

Vistri tried to blink away the warmth that spread over her as he hovered above her. It wouldn’t go away. She gave up and closed her eyes, making a silent bet with herself.

“Go on.”

Astarion lunged forward and pierced her neck so fast it was like the punctuation to her sentence.

She knew there would be pain. It was quick and sharp before it throbbed into numbness. Vistri felt her life and his flow through her. Her heart and lungs fought helplessly as she gave herself to him.

Astarion longed painfully for a moment like this his entire undeath, and it was better than he could have imagined. Her dragon blood was cool on his tongue, like frosted cream. The silver scales on her face had piqued his curiosity, he’d wondered how she tasted. Now that he had her, he was lost.

Vistri had anticipated teeth, not mouth. His fangs were only there for puncture. The rest of it was all lips and tongue and throat. He swallowed her down.

She should probably stop him.

Probably.

Or she could let him continue. Give in entirely until she was all gone…

Astarion never wanted to stop. All performance was put aside; the only thing remaining was his cursed nature. His tongue eagerly lapped up the blood against her neck.

Vistri couldn’t tell if there was something narcotic in his bite, or if that was just…

Gods, please don’t let that just be him.

She felt her knees shiver, and almost let Astarion have his way.

Then another thought suddenly shouted above all the others. Maybe he couldn’t control himself. He’d said he trusted her, and if that wasn’t a lie, then perhaps he meant for her to stop him before he lost them both.

“That’s enough,” she reluctantly sighed.

Her voice reached Astarion through the dreamy fog.

“Mhh?” he moaned, yes?

He was still lapping her up as he answered. His question broke over her skin. Vistri twitched and he must have taken that for pain.

“Oh, of course,” Astarion excused, tearing himself away.

Vistri felt a chill as his body left hers. Her heart was still pounding.

They stood across from each other wanting more.

“That—” Astarion’s words faltered, overcome by ecstatic satisfaction and lingering bloodlust.

Her stomach flipped at the sight of him. His new vigor was palpable, and a genuine smile spread over his lips.

“That was…” he smelled and tasted the mess she left on his face, sucking his fingers clean, “Amazing.”

Either her stomach had flown to her chest, or her heart flipped this time.

“My mind is finally clear,” he continued, “I feel strong. I feel…. Happy!”

That was the first time Vistri ever saw Astarion take a deep breath. His shoulders naturally sat lower than she thought they did.

She wanted to taste him right back, “I’m looking forward to seeing you fight.”

“Shouldn’t take long,” Astarion smirked, “So many people need killing.”

And Vistri wasn’t one of them.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he bowed, “You’re invigorating, but I need something more filing.”

“Wait!” Vistri called out as he strutted off into the forest.

Astarion turned around and found her at his heel.

“Um,” she gestured at her face, “You have…”

“What?”

She shyly reached for his mouth. Astarion jumped slightly at her touch but allowed her to wipe her finger along the corner of his grin.

“Little bit of blood,” she muttered, and cleared her throat.

Astarion had to stop himself from grabbing her finger and licking it clean.

“Oh,” he said, “My, my. I have made a mess, haven’t I?”

Vistri put on a smirk, “Nothing that takes more than a little wipe.”

“Right. Well—”

She was standing so close. He could still sense her pulse, smell the blood clotting on her neck. Vistri was looking at him with such a mix of emotion that it made her a riddle. Why didn’t she kill him? Why did she let him do that?

Astarion’s eyes travelled from her neck to her lips. Now that he’d had a taste of her throat, he found himself curious about all her other parts.

“Off you go!” Vistri playfully pushed him towards the trees.

He obliged but turned back once more to thank her, “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

“Wouldn’t dare let you,” she smirked.

He returned it, then left Vistri alone with her aching neck. She could still feel his mouth on her skin, and her breathing hadn’t yet stilled. She shut her eyes, willing the wanting to go away. If it was kind, it would just go away.

The woods were full of treasure, but they felt empty. Nothing could compare to the fine, exquisite vintage of her. Astarion told himself it was just the dragon blood. It wasn’t tied to Vistri at all.

It couldn’t be.

#vistarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #snippet saturday #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #BrishFics #astarion #astarion ancunin #before a confession of love fic #lime

[ficbrish]

Last Line Monday

[05Feb2024]

Smut one shot wip for my Kinktober one-shot collection 🥰

Astarion/Tav; Act I - Mountain camp; smut

Her arms flew upwards, wrapping around his head as if to help Astarion keep his soul from seeping out. She couldn’t help the way her body responded to his echoes of pleasure by leaping into another wave of ecstasy. Just to be with him. A reflex of hers that must’ve been borne from her haunting impulse to follow him anywhere.

#vistarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #last line monday #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #BrishFics #astarion #astarion ancunin #smut #truth of it fic

[ficbrish]

Snippet Saturday

[03Feb2024]

This is from one of the posted one shots in my Kinktober collection.

"To Belong"

snippet is mature, 18+

[4 years post-canon, Underdark]

[[tw/cw: Collar/leash kink, oral sex, sexual content, choking, blood]]

They had a leash for Vistri’s collar they hadn't used yet. It wasn't near as grand; just a fine, black leather whose simplicity complimented the collar's grandiosity. After tonight’s dinner, Astarion felt ready. He put on the airs of a vampire lord to command her, “Come bind yourself to me, you sweet, delicious treat.”

Vistri gladly walked over to be taken. He fit her leash into the loop on her collar, and she was tethered.

He reached out for her face, caressing her cheek, “You just want to please me, don’t you?”

She nodded, “More than anything.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

“Your happiness.”

Astarion kissed her, then said, “That’s about me again.”

“I know.”

She was so sweet he had to kiss her one more time, “Then if you really want it all to be about me, you’ll serve.”

Vistri ran her hands along his chest, “I want to sate every desire. Until you feel perfect.”

“Believe me, my dear. You will.”

He fingered the leash between them, then tugged it to bring her closer, “You like this?”

She nodded with enthusiasm, “Oh, I like this.”

Astarion smirked, “Then get on your knees.”

His tone was firm, but still warm. Vistri kneeled and he towered over her, looking down and running his hands all through her hair. He positioned her head between his legs at the level of his hips. Vistri could see the hard imprint of him through his trousers and needed to put it in her mouth.

He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, then grabbed her chin to make her meet his gaze. Tightening his grip on the leash shortened the give between them, and he wrapped the leather around his fist a few times, “Now you can’t get away. Any regrets?”

Vistri crawled on her knees until she was pressed into him. Her face rested on his thigh and nuzzled it, “No regrets but that you are not yet buried deeply into my ache.”

Astarion grabbed a fistful of hair at the top of her head and pulled. She gasped pleasantly.

“Now don’t be so vulgar, darling. At least not yet.”

He let go of her hair to play with her lips again. She kissed his fingertips as they danced across her. He only abandoned them to undo the lacings on his trousers, and Vistri’s breath caught on her throat anticipating the sight of him.

He was stunning. His head pushing boldly passed his foreskin was art. His thickness was both threat and promise. Vistri turned her gaze back to his face and saw his fangs bared in his grin. So many parts of himself that he sank into her. She wanted them all, wanted all of him; to be devoured and taken over, owned.

“I long for it, Astarion,” she moaned, nestling her cheek into his palm.

He grabbed hold of himself and pressed his tip against her mouth, just like he had with the cigar. He watched her open up to take it, and held it just there between her lips.

His eyes rolled back for a second as her tongue flickered along it. He sighed, “Now that’s not fair.”

Vistri stopped.

“I didn’t say stop.”

She did it again.

“That’s better, pet,” he ran his hands through her hair.

Astarion took himself in hand again to push further into her lips. Just passed her teeth, just like he did earlier in the evening.

“You have to open your mouth so wide to take me, my dear.”

The sides of his lip twitched as she played with his head, now completely nestled on her tongue.

“Oooh,” he moaned, “You treat me so well.”

Vistri felt him take a slightly wider stance and tug her leash even tighter, bringing him even deeper into her mouth.

He grabbed hold of her chin again. He loved to cradle Vistri’s face in his palms with his cock in her mouth. He loved seeing himself disappear into her lips and come out coated in her sweet taste.

“Would you like the whole thing?”

She moaned her desperate consent, and he thrust himself into her throat. Steadily, his hips rocked against her lips. Slow, rolling thrusts in and out; languid.

Astarion watched, looking down at her, holding her leash. He felt… good. Like he had all the power in the world. Like she was his servile spawn and him a true lord.

And that didn’t feel bad.

He didn’t feel bad.

Astarion stared, drinking in her show until the drool started to drip from the corners of her mouth. Then he pulled himself out very slowly, just free of her lips, keeping himself right in front of her.

“Swallow,” he commanded.

Vistri caught her breath and swallowed the combination of his and her salivations.

Astarion patted her on the head as a reward, “That’s a good pet.”

There was still wetness dripping down her face, at the corners of her mouth and a little on her neck. He wiped her off with his fingers, and licked them, tasting her on his hands.

“Sod it! I can’t take any more of this,” he said, scooping her up to throw her onto their bed, full of rakish charm.

Vistri landed on her back. The bed bounced lightly with impact as Astarion crawled over on his knees to straddle her. He tugged the leash tight between them and pulled until she sat up to meet his lips. Astarion let out the hungriest groan and pushed her back down after adding more give to her tether.

Vistri was putty. Begging, writhing putty.

He stroked the spot on her neck that he drank from earlier. With the dragon blood running through her veins, it had already healed.

“We’ll just have to mark you again right after this. You did promise to sate my every desire, did you not?”

“I want the same thing,” she said thickly.

Astarion smirked. He was going to have to satisfy her to set her mind right. She was literally lost in her want.

The sight of her so helpless to him made him feel like he really belonged somewhere.

He pried apart her knees and leaned closer, his hands crawling up her leash. As he put himself inside her, after they both shouted out with closed eyes and opened them again to behold each other, he made another offer.

“Would you like me to wrap this around your throat as I fuck you?”

“Please,” she begged.

Astarion unhooked her leash and wrapped it around her neck like a scarf. Keeping her safe would require just enough concentration that he wouldn’t have to worry about losing himself. It was a lingering threat that allowed Vistri to let go completely and Astarion to stay grounded.

The collar was firm, and the leash was tight without being restrictive. Both pressures on her neck only made Vistri more eager for his teeth.

With one hand on her leash, and the other caressing her waist, he pumped into her. It was overwhelming. Trust was made more explicit and exposed their raw cores. The leash and collar wrapped around her were his arms cradling her heart as she exploded like a star. Vistri made Astarion feel so safe, he could just toy with her and take; to be a tyrant without being horrible.

He could fracture her, and she could fracture him, and at the end of it, know themselves and each other better.

Astarion screamed, “Thank you,” over and over as he came. Vistri was so spent by the time that happened, her voice was too rough to do more than whimper with tears in her eyes.

They panted and smiled at each other so wide they ended up laughing. He unclasped her collar before she left to refresh herself. When she jumped back into bed and into his embrace, she offered him her neck.

“You greedy thing,” he spoke against her skin before sinking into it.

#vistarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #snippet saturday #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #BrishFics #astarion #astarion ancunin #to belong fic #lemon

[ficbrish]

Forehead Kiss Comm

Thank you so much @redreart​ for this ❤️‍🔥 stunning ❤️‍🔥 work of my OC, Estrella Shepard, and Kaidan after a night out on the Citadel. The emotion is palpable and the details on the fire are so amazing! I love it so much!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

@redreart​ worked really hard to make my vision come true, and turned this around really fast. I believe her commissions are open right now if anyone is interested. 💕

#shenko #estrella shepard #kaidan alenko #citadel apartment #mass effect #mass effect 3 #mass effect fanart #commission #fshenko #kaidan x shepard #Shepard x Kaidan #BrishFics

[ficbrish]

Devotion

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 27th - Wax Play]

[[TW/CW: Blood]]

Summary: Astarion and Vistri devote themselves to one another.

Durge Vistri and Astarion on the night after the graveyard scene, in the Lower City camp church. There are SPOILERS for BG3, Dark Urge, and Astarion under the line!

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

Astarion could barely articulate himself over his full-chested guffaws, “You are—You are too… Cannot be serious!”

The damp stone of the ruined church crashed with the echo of their voices. Their laughter shouted and bounced between its crumbling walls as if coming from a thousand people, but it was just Astarion with his Vistri.

“It’s true!” she insisted, her voice so full of amusement it went pitchy, “We did!”

Tears were actually streaming down his cheekbones, “Why was I not there?!”

“I don’t know! You were off somewhere.”

“You didn’t wait for me!”

“We couldn’t!” Vistri laughed, “I swear!”

“Then do it again,” Astarion demanded in an even, heated tone. It made them burst apart.

Their cackles smashed crudely across the old stone. Vistri wiped the tears from Astarion’s eyes, her hands shaking with laughter. He grabbed her fingers and kissed them reverently.

“How did you do it?” he asked.

“Shadow,” Vistri collapsed on herself out of hilarity, “Shadowheart and Lae’zel pretended to get into a fight—”

“Pretended?”

“Yes, well, this time.”

“Ah. Do go on.”

“Right. They were shouting over by Wyll, because as you know, Mizora always hangs over by Wyll. Because—”

“Because she’s obsessed with him.”

“Right. Exactly. So,” Vistri broke into giggles again, “So Mizora leaves and—”

“And?” Astarion asked impatiently as Vistri struggled to control herself.

“And when she passed me by! I did a little spell! And… It shoved her stupid, devil panties up her big, blue arse!”

“I hate you!” he howled, laughing.

Vistri was so far gone she collapsed into his chest. If Astarion were to let go now, her face would surely crash into the floor.

“I’m sorry!”

“Without me there!”

“I know!”

“You bitch!”

“I know!”

They sunk to the floor. His knees weakened and his balance collapsed. He fell, and she fell on top of him.

Then there was silence in the church. Only Astarion staring up at Vistri, and Vistri gazing down at Astarion. Their chests danced with heavy breath. He reached up to tuck her little braid behind her ear.

“You are my whole heart,” he whispered.

Vistri shut her eyes, and he reached up to wipe away her tears, “Don’t cry, love.”

She laughed, “It’s so ridiculous! I don’t know why.”

A salty, warm drop landed on Astarion. He let it trickle down his own cheek, leaving a cool trail across his face of her inner life incarnate.

He sat up to hold her better, “Do you have to know?”

Her head shook against his chest.

“That’s all right. Sometimes these things just happen.”

Vistri shut her eyes and found fear woven under layers of her forgotten self. She also found it in Astarion’s care. Somehow those two discoveries were linked, she knew that, but didn’t know what it meant.

Throwing her arms around his neck, clinging like a lost child, she begged him to find her, “I think I might be afraid.”

“Can I tell you a secret, love?”

She nodded and wiped her nose on her arm, for she had no sleeves.

“I’m always afraid.”

He spoke his admittance so close to her trembling lips. She could taste him through his words, and the ache and the void in her both shouted for the salve of him. Vistri leaned in for a kiss. The warmth of it stung her frigid fear.

The moment stilled; they found the stars. His tongue slipped past her lips, and Vistri moaned her acceptance. Now Astarion knew these appetites were truly his, he found himself ravenous.

“Wait,” she interrupted.

“What is it, love?” he asked, his lips lingering on her neck. There was a nasty bite sitting in his fangs with her pulse so near.

“I had a… plan for tonight.”

He nibbled her ear, “Is it a naughty plan?”

Vistri laughed the spikes out of her skin, “A rather silly plan, but one from—Gods!—from the heart.”

Astarion loved when she went all shy, it made her perfect to tease. He chuckled “Please do tell. What does your silly, little plan entail?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“You’ve already made me laugh plenty.”

Vistri rolled her eyes, but she was blushing, “Okay.”

Astarion grinned ridiculously as he helped Vistri to her feet. Her silly, little plan burned inside her pockets. She was discovering so many shades of fear this evening. She thought through this moment so many times it felt casual enough to do for real. Now her thoughts scrambled for a way out, but even with the best excuse, nothing in her wanted to lie to him. Even a tiny deception, after all they’d been through, felt like betraying everything they fostered.

Even at her bravest, Vistri still couldn’t meet his eyes, “I kept something I found in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. I’ve wanted to show you for a while. To share with you...”

Her fist pulled the keepsake from her pocket and stayed shut, “Although, as I warned you, it’s so silly—I just never found the right time.”

A deep breath, and her palm blossomed like a flower; two gold rings sitting at its center.

“…Oh…”

“Please don’t panic!” she said, ignoring her own advice, “I don’t mean it to be that serious.”

Astarion smirked, “Looking to wed me with a delicate veil of blood blooming over my white curls, darling?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

He shook his head as if the denial was delicious to him, “Never in all my days. I’m just as sure of that as I am of you.”

The impulse to forgive him was blasted away by his sudden outburst of laughter.

“Well, I meant this to be a little serious…”

“No,” he protested, trying his best to regain his composure, “You don’t understand!”

“You said you weren’t going to laugh!”

“I made no such promise, but don’t worry. In a moment, you’ll be laughing too.”

Watching him reach into his pockets, Vistri searched for the punchline. Maybe he was freaked out. Maybe he didn’t understand—

“Turns out, we think quite alike. Eerily similar, really.”

Astarion presented in his palm a different set of rings. Vistri’s mind reeled as a dizzying wave crashed over her.

His confession was shy, even though she’d gone first, “I kept these too. Found them near that Sharran nightmare of a hospital—bleak as it was. Always wanted to show you, but never found the excuse. Until now, you perfect thing.”

Vistri wiped her eyes, scoffing, “Who are we?”

“The kind of people who exchange rings in a church. Apparently,” he giggled.

“Gods, it’s so embarrassing.”

Astarion gathered her face with his free hand and held her close. He kissed the top of her head, feeling her hair on his lips, “Why not be as embarrassing as we can fathom?”

Vistri laughed into his chest, “Okay.”

“So… Uh, what do we do now?”

She cleared her throat, “How about… I’ll give you one of mine, and you’ll give me one of yours. Then we can… Oh, maybe we declare how we feel—Is that dumb? Answer me honest.”

His happiness sang though his eyes, “Every time we reach into our pockets, or look down at our hands, we’ll remember that we belong to each other.”

She almost couldn’t take it when he was this sincere, “Your rings are so much fancier than mine.”

Astarion smiled kindly, “I believe they have a warding bond, so do let me know when you plan to wear it.”

“Wait! But that’s—If I get hurt, then you…?”

“I don’t see how that’s any different. Any scratch on you is a stake through my heart. It’s all the same to me.”

A hard lump thrummed alongside Vistri’s pulse as they fought for occupancy of her throat. There was no space left for sentiments, “Mine don’t do anything special.”

“What made you keep them?”

“They belonged to a local couple—dead now,” she swallowed, “The letters on them… They appeared entirely devoted to one another. A couple of ordinary people, but they—You could just tell they were happy, even though there’s nothing left now but bleached bones.”

“And that made you think of me? Other’s devotions?”

She nodded, ashamed to hear her impulse spoken aloud.

“Then they’re special,” he stated. Astarion had more to say, but the words got caught.

Countless things tugged on her soul, haunted things and resurrected dreams. They crawled out from her arteries like roaches, skittering onto her skin.

“I’m the spawn of a murder god.”

“And I’m the spawn of a vampire lord.”

Vistri shook her head, “You’re your own person now.”

“And I still want to be here. Isn’t that funny?”

“Oh, it’s hilarious.”

That was it, though. Astarion could give his affections freely now his life was his to lead. Bhaal still owned her future, and father didn’t approve. Astarion could dispense promises, but Vistri could only give wishes. It didn’t feel fair; made it harder to take everything in.

“I don’t quite know what living is,” she said, “But I know I want to spend it with you.”

Astarion kissed her, “Put a ring on my finger, love.”

She blinked, recovering from the whirlwind of his kiss, “What should I say?”

“No cheating!” he chided dramatically, “Tell me something you feel and something you promise. I’ll do the same.”

“But I can’t make promises,” she heard herself say.

“And why not?”

“The Urge. It’s still in me.”

“I’d rather be the only dark power inside of you.”

“Astarion!” she giggled.

“What does the Urge have to do with anything? A bit of rope when you feel it coming on, and nobody dies.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“Could you make promises before Cazador was dead? Really, truly give yourself to anything? Even if you longed for it with your whole heart.”

“Shit.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Astarion held her tight and thought for a moment. He knew the answer but wanted something different. Even though there was nothing binding in their little theatre, he felt a great sorrow. His freedom didn’t feel the same without hers.

“If you can’t promise, you can’t promise. What else can you do instead?”

Her voice was thick, “I can wish for something. Wishes, I can put my whole heart into.”

He gave the tip of her nose an affectionate peck, “Then we can exchange wishes for now, and save promises for later. Actually—Please allow me one promise. And you don’t even have to return it because you already fulfilled what would be your end of the bargain.”

“…All right.”

“I know-I know it’s bullshit until it happens, but I promise you, you’ll be free of him. As free as I am now. I’ll kill a god if I have to! I don’t know. But I know you won’t be his toy forever, love. And when your life is all yours, on that day, we can make promises together.”

“I think that was three.”

“Vistri.”

“You said one promise.”

He frowned.

“Astarion, I’ll die if I think of it. I can’t hope. I can’t think of it.”

“You won’t die, love, but we can wait if that’s what you want.”

She nodded, “Give me your hand.”

“Oh, right!”

It was like marble, pretty and delicate with a solid strength. His long, pale fingers reminded Vistri of feathers. Art made of nature.

“How I feel about you and a wish?”

“Yes,” he said dryly, “But do make sure it’s only one wish. Otherwise, I’ll come for you.”

Vistri giggled, “I did not come for you!”

Astarion raised his brow, “Really? My mistake.”

“Shush! I’m trying to put together how I feel and you’re teasing me.”

One of his fingers tickled her palm, “Can’t wait to do more than tease you.”

She had to close her eyes and shut him out, or else she wouldn’t make him wait. Vistri knew how she felt, but none of it was in the shape of words. Maybe there was a language out there with some to capture it, but even from the fathomlessness of the Astral Planes, she couldn’t conceive of such a vocabulary existing.

So she settled for her best attempt, “The more you show me, the more I love. Knowing you… Every bit I see, I cherish. You are my favorite thing about the world, and-and I want you. Astarion, I want all of you.”

His tone was warmly strained, “And what do you wish?”

“For our lives to be blended, always. No matter what happens, I wish to never be rid of you.”

Her hands shook as she slipped one of her gold rings onto his finger. After finding which it fit, Vistri lifted it to her lips to bless it.

Emotion clouded his speech, “Thank you. Here let me put the other one on you too.”

They didn’t linger in the moment because they couldn’t. One glance at their matching gilded hands was like a peak at the sun, and their eyes burned from it.

Astarion still had to mark the moment before moving on, “It’s kind of like we’re wearing your heart on our fingers, isn’t it?”

Vistri laughed out of happiness.

“Let’s add mine then, shall we?” he asked, taking hold of her other hand.

“I kept these because I want to protect you. I didn’t tell you about them because I figured you’d never agree. At first. Then I felt too much to give them. Honestly, they’d probably just rot away in a drawer for centuries if you hadn’t brought yours out first. So, thank you for being braver than I. And for being patient with me. And so kind.”

“You taught me how to be all of those things.”

“I was there as you learned along the way. You, my dear, cultivated all that yourself. It’s why I love you so. Or part of why. It’s rather inexplicable actually, which makes the part where I tell you how I feel a bit difficult. How could I possibly capture all of it in the turn of a phrase?”

“Right? It’s so hard!”

“You made it seem so easy,” he giggled, “I’m just so happy that I don’t know what to say. I’m still getting to know what that is, happy, but you’re the one who first introduced it. Actually… That’s my wish. To learn enough that I can tell you. I’ll discover every detail and translate for you; whisper it into your ears every night. That’s what I feel, and that’s what I wish.”

He put the ring on Vistri that would hurt him the next time anyone dared harm her. Astarion would take the hit, even if it were from Bhaal himself. Then she dressed him with the other of the bonded pair. Now they had her heart on one hand and his on the other. Seeing the rings felt the same as when they took each other over his grave once he decided to live again.

“I’m yours now,” Astarion promised.

Vistri threw her arms around his neck, “I was always yours.”

To Astarion, Vistri was the light you see before death, and it brought him back to life. Unreal and bright, like an ideal end to a story; bliss shouted over the blight of his past, and he surrendered to its ebullience. It welled in his eyes, and she kissed it away. He brought her face closer and tasted her mouth before touching her lips. Dissolving self into an ‘us’, they slipped their tongues onto each other, slipped hands under cloth to meet the cool skin underneath.

He picked her up and sat her upon the altar, and possessed, they moaned. Helpless to whatever would happen next, each touch spurred another touch. Every taste only provoked their appetites. Powerless to the miracle of each other, they surrendered to it together.

Astarion leaned forward and crawled to her kiss.

She eagerly gave it, then stole her tongue away to remark, “Good thing our families aren’t here.”

His laughter barked through the church, bouncing down the empty aisles.

Vistri grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him back in, to devour him. He met her with a deep “mmmppphh” that she could feel the buzz of along her teeth. His intoxicating taste was the only thing she ever wanted for the rest of time. Astarion didn’t realize how lucky he was, not having to breathe. Vistri always had to eventually pull away.

“I love you,” slipped out of her so naturally, and used to be so hard to say. It was like taking flight.

Astarion kissed her, over and over, before saying it back.

“I have no gods,” he whispered softly against her jaw, “But I can worship you.”

Vistri yelped from the want that clenched around her like a vice, and she squirmed under his chest.

“I’ll have no sovereign,” she panted, “But I can devote myself to you.”

Astarion smiled so widely it broke their kiss, “You are the most precious thing.”

He stood up and surveyed her with a wild look of affection mixed with lust. Candlelight flickered against the glint in his eye. Then he turned to the long-forgotten, burning votive candles at their side, and told her—

“I have an idea.”

Vistri slipped her tunic off, exposing her back and chest to the cold stone altar.

“I think I like your idea,” she said, having followed the trajectory of his eyes.

“Lie back, darling.”

The candles dripped onto Astarion’s hands before their melted wax met Vistri’s soft stomach. He gritted his teeth and made no sounds. She cried out and laughed heatedly.

A little drop of it on her hip, a button over solid bone. A little stab of a burn that faded fast. As the lightness of pain left her, Astarion caressed her other hip, a gentle tease of his feathery finger. Vistri felt her heart expose itself a bit more with every drop and subsequent caress.

She unraveled as he lowered himself, kneeling. Her belly and hips were decorated with dried wax, and having left a satisfactory painting, Astarion tore her trousers off. Lustily, he trailed his mouth along the inside of her leg. As his touch on her skin cooled in the absence of his tongue, he tipped the dying candle to drip wet heat onto her shivering thigh.

Vistri yelped and Astarion kissed her, slowly, just above the knee.

“Does that hurt, love?”

“A little.”

“Do you like when it hurts?”

Vistri outstretched her arms. She ran her fingers through his hair, tangling herself in it. His fangs scraped along her skin, and she pulled his hair, dragging his face up and down her thigh. Astarion knew his hunger would never best him, but he trembled from the fight.

“I love it when it hurts.

He groaned, a stumble in his control that provided such relief raw emotion escaped it like steam.

Stroking his curls, she begged, “Bite me.”

His armed linked around her thigh like a serpent. Vistri gasped, feeling his teeth pierce the most vulnerable spot, the part prey should never expose to a predator. And he drank her up, sucked her down. Vistri felt the weakness in her head as she gave herself as sacrifice to his ecstasy.

“Take me,” she moaned, rolling her hips; draping her other leg over his shoulder.

He gulped her down with a whimper, then pulled back with a whine. His bloody grin was more warm than devilish. She wanted to see more of it; felt excitement at the prospect of coming days filled with it.

Astarion kissed his bloody bite mark and licked up the mess. Vistri leaned back as his tongue travelled further upwards. When it found her center, he looped his elbows under her knees, and gave it a kiss.

Vistri cried out his name, and the stone shouted it back to them. He felt her nails skate across his scalp and onto his ears. When she grew louder than he knew she wanted to be, Astarion added his fingers to her sweet torment. His sucking and stretching radiated into a beam that made existing in her body something good for once.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured along her folds, “Be a dear and die a little for me.”

Her body took his words as an imperative. The ruined stone around them hadn’t sheltered such praises for decades.

Vistri sat to kiss him with abandon. His hands worked at his tunic, and she helped him out of it. Then off went his breeches and stockings. Naked and trembling, Astarion joined her on the altar. Bodies intertwined; they reached a state of perfection.

Perhaps they were the gods this church was rotting away for.

Vistri rolled out from under him. Straddling him, she looked down and surveyed her beloved. He twitched and shuddered pleasantly as she teased him with a gradual grind of her hips. Hard and unsatisfied, the slow movement against him was equal parts pleasure and torture.

She reached out with a finger to trace his lips, “Whenever I look at you, devotion becomes my favorite word.”

Astarion brought her finger into his mouth, curling the tip of his tongue around it.

“It’s a higher form of love, you see. Most people only give such a thing to gods. It’s when you dedicate yourself, body and soul, to something else. A paladin’s oath. I never wanted to be Bhaal’s chosen, but there isn’t a moment where I don’t wish to be yours.”

He was coming apart underneath her, “Vistri…”

“I love you, and I can’t believe I found you.”

His grip on her thighs tightened enough for her to gasp. He panted, “Take me.”

Doing so all at once, he tore through her like a blade. She needed more, and raised herself for another fall, again and again. Astarion moaned freely under her, not trapped but released; his voice like that of a chanting priest blessing an offering.

Having just feasted on her dragon, god blood, Astarion grew too restless to lie there and take it. He didn’t want to spoil such a splendid sight, but he needed somewhere to put all the power roiling through him. He sat up, embracing her writhing form. Overpowering her rhythm, he wrested control; holding Vistri tight in his lap, rutting into her.

Astarion knew her ecstasy by her breath before he felt her pulse and squeeze around him. Her shouts rumbled under his tongue as he licked her neck. His eyes began to roll back, but he held on to watch her die another few deaths.

“You belong to me now, darling,” he said, “For as long as you wish.”

“I wish it. I wish it.”

“Do you love me?”

“I love you.”

“And who are you devoted to?”

“You, Astarion. Devoted to you.”

“Oh, I know that. Tell me again.”

“Devoted… to yo—Hah—you!”

He flipped her over like a cat with its plaything. On her side a while, then her back.

“Look at me,” he said, and she lost herself. Astarion tumbled into the unknowing with her. Who they were peeled away, leaving only how they felt.

Breath was their last offering to the altar. Reality returned with their clothes, but they brought their fantasy back with them. Their feelings and wishes sat solidly on each other’s fingers and beat life in their chests.

Not wanting to leave the church yet, they sat up against the altar and each other.

“You know,” Astarion remarked, “I thought last night was the best one of my life until tonight.”

Vistri’s muscles were still getting used to smiling so wide, “Every day with you is better than the last.”

He kissed her forehead, “Can’t wait to see tomorrow.”

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

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