BLOOD ORANGE (full)

BLOOD ORANGE (full)

Description: You get your period during your adventure and anxiously wonder… can Astarion tell? Why is he acting like that? Looking at you like that? Smut ensues. (Takes place before you’ve ever slept together.)

Rating: Explicit, +18, MDNI

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader

Warnings: anxiety, sexual tension, mild blood, period sex, vampire biting, blood drinking, teasing, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, porn without plot, fluff and smut

Wordcount: ~7k (~3k just smut)

Read on AO3 or below the cut ♥

Something discomforting interrupts your sleep.

Sensations filter into consciousness - stars, crickets’ songs, the hard earth beneath you, and the smell of your now ashen campfire. A dull ache and heaviness spreads down your back and through your pelvis. It's a familiar feeling; it's just your period, though that isn’t much consolation at the moment. It still might as well be a stab wound.

You shift your weight with irritation and curse to yourself. Of all the times for this to happen, now was particularly annoying. During the day, you could've found something to distract yourself. But now, you’re expected to sit still among all your peacefully sleeping companions with nothing to dampen the pain. It's already starting to feel like knives carving into your body from the inside.

When this happened weeks prior, you were able to pull Shadowheart aside and she was happy to cast a spell to alleviate the pain. Part of you would like to ask her for that again now, but you don't get the sense you’re close enough with her to wake her at this hour. It wouldn't be the end of the world... but your pride and anxiety insist that it's just not an option. She did, however, give you a blood-catching cloth that you could use for next time. That was nice of her. 

You clutch at your sacrum when another painful sensation rakes through your insides. You ache to change clothes and be alone so you can groan and stretch in peace. There's bound to be a clearing in the forest not far from here where you could do that. Carefully pulling some supplies from your pack, you excuse yourself to go find such a place.

After hobbling through the woods for a few meters, the perfect spot comes into view. The trees are dispersed widely with large patches of soft grass creating space between them. Dew is already starting to blanket the ground. This will do. Undressing from the waist down, you notice a small stain of garnet blood has already marred your underwear. You change into clean clothes and put the blood catching cloth in place, wincing and groaning dramatically as you do so.

Finally, you lie down in the cool grass and release a deep breath, finding some comfort in at least being alone. But the cramps still painful and debilitating. Stretching usually helps you ease the gnawing and clenching of your muscles, so you cycle through a few positions for several minutes. You end up on all fours, arching your spine and dipping your navel toward the earth. You sigh with relief and find yourself almost growing sleepy again . . .

"Having a midnight romp, are we?" 

A silken voice hits your ears and sends your head spinning behind you.

Astarion stands at the edge of your forest sanctuary. He gently leans against a tree with his arms loosely crossed. He wears his usual camp clothes and a simpering expression.

"Ah, it's just you." Your bristles lower when you register the voice and see his familiar face. You rearrange yourself into a more dignified seated position. "Stalking me then, are we?"

"I wouldn't call it stalking so much as just following a loud, clumsy woman a few paces outside of our camp. Curiosity got the better of me," he says with some playfulness.

You smile a little. Quips like that used to annoy you, but you've grown quite fond of his sarcasm and banter these past few weeks.

"Well, you have found the loud, clumsy woman. Sorry if I disturbed your rest. I tried to be quiet," you say.

"Please, it's not like I need any more beauty sleep," he teases.

You smirk at him but say nothing. Your insides recoil a bit when you feel the temptation to agree. Truthfully, you've developed something of a 'crush’ on him, and it's reaching a certain point where you’re not always sure how to respond to his silly or suggestive comments. His roguish good looks and vicious aura don't help; he is indisputably attractive. Dangerously so.

But, a love affair is the last thing you want to further complicate your tadpole predicament with, especially with someone who can be so unpredictable. At least, this is what you tell yourself when the thought arises.

Besides, you don't want to stroke his ego too much. You've already been letting him feed from you nearly every night under the guise of 'I need you stronger for battles,' but truthfully… you enjoy it.

You enjoy the rush of adrenaline and the atmosphere of closeness that comes when his lips wrap around your neck. The sharp shock of pain that melts into a cold pleasurable tingle in your veins. You also like seeing the aftermath play out in his features. It always seems to have a very restorative and rousing effect on him. The way his mannerisms and expressions change after drinking from your body; It does something to you that you’re not quite willing to admit. 

"You know," he says, forced to break the silence. "I was a bit surprised you didn't invite me for a bite tonight... Not that I’m here to beg!" His hands raise in mock defense and he smiles sheepishly. "I just... well, you may have spoiled me a bit." 

A short laugh escapes you and you glance away shyly. "It's just been a busy day. I didn't mean to leave you hanging." This was the truth. "Besides, I’m not feeling very well so it's probably for the best. I likely wouldn't make a very good meal."

"Oh, I don't know..." he says trailing off. The corner of his lip twitches.

You notice something's a bit weird about him tonight... weirder than normal. He’s smiling but it seems off - an edge behind his cool exterior. Over these past few weeks, you've seen so many different expressions on his face but this one you don’t recognize. He’s also never sought you out to ask 'why not tonight?' when you didn't extend an invitation in the past. And it seems out of character for him to do anything that could be interpreted as desperation.

"What's got you feeling so poorly?" he asks almost sweetly.

"Just some stomach cramps," you say flatly and divert your gaze again. Annoyed he's making you elaborate on a potentially embarrassing situation. You regret mentioning feeling unwell in the first place.

In a tone that doesn't sound all that genuinely concerned, he sings, "Oh dear, I hope you're not the first of us to come down with some nasty food poisoning."

There's an ounce of breathiness to his voice - provocative as usual. But normally his torso and arms sway about expressively when the two of you chat. Those sweeping arms and gratuitous body language are now replaced with just the tiniest lift of his heels from the ground when he speaks. His arms folded over his waist, tightly, unmoving.

His stillness unnerves you. It also seems out of character for him to offer help... or pry…

You notice his eyelids are soft but his stare has so much potency behind it.

A sharp realization finally pierces your mind. You do recognize this look.

Gods above, so caught up in mulling over your infatuation and reading his cues that you didn’t even consider…

Does he… does he know you’re bleeding?

Can he smell you? 

Of course he can.

He's like a shark when there's a bloodied scene nearby. He always makes a point to mention it so the rest of us will be on guard during our travels. 'There's blood in the air.' 

You recognize this look from the first night he tried to bite you – suppressing his urge to devour you.

Ice in your veins.

You swallow thickly.

Detaching yourself from the thought as quickly as possible, you huff and try to squash the present discussion with some good old-fashioned beating around the bush.

 "Okay well... it's not a stomach cramp per say, um… I don’t really think you would relate. The important thing is I can promise it won't come to affect you too," you say curtly.

You can feel yourself blushing, your chest a bit tight with anxiety. If he didn't sense it before, then he must know now. This topic usually provokes some disgust and awkwardness from people who don't experience it, but you've never given thought to how a vampire would react. Which seems ridiculous now, considering you've been letting one feed from your neck nearly every night for weeks now. Your mind screams the last part silently.

"Ah, say no more," he says politely, seeming to understand your hints. "Forgive my nosiness."

You’re relieved the reaction isn't an unpleasant one. "It's fine," you reply quickly. "I just needed to find somewhere to groan in peace."

"You're sure it's not ceremorphosis?" he jests, feigning nervousness. He knows it isn't, but it lightens the mood. "You'll have a hard time convincing Lae'zel that it isn't." 

"Do githyanki not have periods?" I ask with genuine curiosity.

"Oh I have no idea. And I do not intend to ask." 

You'd find it funnier if you weren't so uncomfortable, but it does clear the last fragments of tension in the air. As if on cue, a sharp pain suddenly hitches your breath and makes you wince. Now that the hellcat's out of the bag, you don't bother masking your discomfort.

Astarion clicks his tongue and quickly apologizes when he sees your face contort. He takes a hesitant step towards you and then seems to root himself in place again. 

“It’s okay," you say through pinched features. “A nuisance. I’ll be fine by morning.”

"I suppose I should give you your privacy then,” Astarion drawls out rather slowly. His eyes skim up and down your body intentionally before he turns to leave. He wears a similar smile to the one that befalls him after feeding on you – the same one you’d never admit does wicked things to you.

"If I can be of any assistance to you tomorrow, please... let me know," he says over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams~”

~

The next morning, Shadowheart aids you. She insists you can wake her next time. She won't mind. 

As you venture forth, you can’t help but think back to the last time you had your period during your journey and how Astarion might (must…) have smelled you then too.

It was early into your travels, no more than 24 hours after surviving the nautiloid crash. You remember cursing to yourself about the timing, but there aren’t any memorable details beyond that. Any aches and pains were likely overshadowed by the daunting threat of ceremorphosis and energy spent getting to know your new companions.

You try to specifically recall Astarion's demeanor during those few days, but it's hard to remember anything outstanding. He was terribly reserved for the better part of a week when you started travelling together. ‘What’s there to tell? ...It’s all rather tedious.’ Only after his vampirism was exposed did he seem to strike up more conversations and wear more emotions on his face. But you do eventually remember an exception…

His façade seemed to crack when you stumbled upon a gory scene of bloodied gnolls and hyenas. His demeanor was suddenly strange and turbulent when you stood amongst them. Surrounded by piles of mutilated flesh and impossibly wide puddles of blood, even your less-attuned senses were saturated with the metallic aroma. He was trembling, gasping almost through each sentence. Desperate to move on and away from the area once we’d killed them all.

You remember thinking in the moment that he seemed more shaken up than you would’ve expected. And his comments about the overwhelming smell of blood... it seemed to disturb him more than anyone else – even though he’d given off the impression he was no stranger to violence and killing.

Now, you realize it wasn’t the carnage that disturbed him – but his own frenzied hunger.

The thought sends a shiver down your neck. There are some scaled similarities to his behavior then and his behavior now when he feeds from you. He all but vibrates with energy before supping on your blood. He does a decent job at hiding it, but you still notice his breathing is ragged and his hands tremble when he goes to drink from you. And afterwards, he sways and laughs generously as though he's single handedly polished off a bottle of wine. It affects him like a drug, and you can’t help but wonder what it must feel like. You can’t help but wonder if it’s stimulating in other ways too.

~

When you're back at camp for the night, you have some red wine with the others to wind down. Two glasses in, you realize you’ve avoided talking to Astarion as much as you normally would today. A bit of guilt drips through you when you walk past his tent. He stands there now, the moonlight framing his elegant shape while he lazily thumbs through ‘The Roads to Darkness.’ Your eyes linger too long on the notch between his collar bones and the veins that swim up his forearms. Your feet bring you closer to him even though you have no plans of what to say.

He notices you, smiles, and closes his book to greet you. “Hello, my dear.”

 “Good evening, my friend~” You’re surprised at your own confidence, then you remember the wine.

“You seem in high spirits,” he cocks an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should have imbibed some of that Blackstaff after all.”

“Oh, you didn’t have any?” You’re surprised. He usually partakes.

“No, I’m afraid now might not be the best time to let my inhibitions~ get the better of me.” He looks at you suggestively. “Maybe in a few days… when I’m a little less distracted."

You’re once again confronted with the embarrassing reality that he might (must… your mind insists. He must…) sense the blood between your legs. It seems like he wants you to know it too. The thought shoots an arrow through your abdomen – pleasure laced with fear. You’d be lying if you said the thought of Astarion’s mouth moving below your neck didn’t occupy your mind at times. Would he enjoy tasting your blood mixed with the nectar of your arousal?

You give in to the thought momentarily, leaving you at a loss for words. Asking him exactly what is distracting him fills you with too much uncertainty to speak.

After several more silent seconds the only thing that comes to your mind is an invitation. A familiar one.

Hesitation cleaves between your mind and mouth. The offer you used to extend so effortlessly now sits heavy on your tongue. All the bravado the Blackstaff gave you earlier is gone in an instant. A thousand thoughts echo in your head at once before you feel the words finally spill from your lips:

“You can feed on me tonight if you want.”

He holds your eyes calculatingly for a moment before replying in a hushed voice. "Oh darling, only if you're sure you're feeling up to it. I wouldn't want to put you out, considering your condition." His tone feels genuine, warm even.

"I’m sure,” you say in an elevated pitch. Your mouth is so dry.

"Alright... well you know, we could meet in that same little plot you sniffed out last night. If you're still having trouble sleeping, of course."

You do not give yourself time to speculate what this could mean. The thought of being alone with him again makes your heart flutter violently. You feel as if you’re floating away from your own body when you hear yourself say, "That sounds good." 

He smiles. A glimpse of his tongue pressed between his teeth. "Until later then."

~

You lie awake in your bed roll, eyes glued to the night sky.  Your companions have surely all fallen asleep by now. It feels like you have waited an eternity.

You try to talk yourself down from the heady excitement bubbling inside you. There's no reason to react this way – you’ve done this plenty of times now. We're just doing it a different spot tonight, you tell yourself.

Nothing is going to happen. You’re just reading into things too much.

At no point in your conversations with Astarion did either of you express a want to be intimate, yet you feel the palpable anticipation of that possibility. How ridiculous. You’ve made assumptions about his intentions because of your little crush. That’s all. A fleeting interest, and one he likely does not reciprocate.  

Your anxiety surely has you overthinking his reaction to your period as well. This kind of blood is probably completely different from the fresh blood he’s always sniffing out anyway. It’s not like you’re bleeding out from a stab wound… even though it may feel a bit like it.

You glance at Astarion lying in his bedroll across the campfire. He lies curled up on his side so you can’t see his face – odd for him to sleep in that position. You climb to your feet quietly and make your way to the forest clearing. Your body feels much lighter than it did the evening before, disorienting-ly so.

It only takes a few moments to reach the grassy area from last night. Perhaps you’re walking a little faster than usual.

Attempting to relax, you elect to do more stretches until your companion arrives. It will help clear your mind and relieve any lingering muscle tension the cleric’s spell no longer helped with.

Before too long, Astarion’s footsteps can be heard approaching. He makes a bit of noise on purpose to alert you of his presence this time. You’re relieved he doesn’t choose to sneak up on you again. He catches you uncurling from a stretch when you see each other.

“Well, well. You remind me of a cat. So languid and flexible,” he says.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you laugh.

“You should.”

So forward. Your insides turn over at the affectionate notion and the sultry tone of his voice. It seems to undo all the self-talk you endured earlier.

“You remind me a bit of a cat too,” you tell him. “Nighttime prowls, stalking your prey and sneaking up on them…” Your tone is playfully pointed.

“Oh please! I didn’t startle you again tonight, did I?” he scoffs.

“No, just an observation. A compliment.” You can’t help it.

This earns a smile from him. “That’s very kind.”

The air waits expectantly for you to break the silence next.

“Should we…” you motion awkwardly toward the ground. Going about things this way is new.

He knows your meaning and doesn’t force you to finish the sentence. He simply graces you with another devilish smirk and follows your lead.

~

Strewn out on the forest ground is a blanket you brought from camp. You lie back on it and go to offer your neck, turning your nose to the side. Your heart beats quickly and your mouth secretly waters in anticipation. He kneels beside you and supports himself on his hands. But while descending toward you he pauses halfway down. You feel his silence and stillness stretch on longer than expected.

"Perhaps we should give this pretty neck of yours a break," he says quietly.

Surprised (and disappointed), you start to turn your head to face him, expecting him to pull back so your eyes could meet. Instead, he comes in close as if he still intends to bite you, blocking your movement.

Lips hovering just above your neck, his breath blooms down your chest. His upper body brushes against your breasts ever so slightly, sending warm electricity down your midsection and scattering through your abdomen. You stay melded together there for long seconds.

Does he mean...?

"What are you suggesting?" you finally ask breathlessly.

"Don't pretend you don't know." He hisses and peels himself up to find your eyes. There’s a small edge of urgency to his voice. "The - tsk… "

"...The scent of blood on you has driven me mad the past two nights," his voice wavers.

Of course...

You almost want to apologize, but the fact that he’s just confirmed your suspicion is staggering. You feel as though all the blood’s been drained from your body in an instant, and he hasn’t even bitten you yet. You’re frozen, grasping for words in vain while you stare into his crystal red eyes.

"And it’s not just the smell of your blood,” he continues. “-intoxicating as it is. I can't help but notice how much I've... enjoyed your company lately. I've taken many moments to wonder what it would be like to… enjoy more of you."

The words send desire rolling through your body, surging deep in your chest and spilling into your sacrum. Astarion’s never shied away from directing flirty comments at you, but his tone is often flippant, bordering on disingenuous at times. Now though, his words feel truthful, vulnerable.

It’s exciting to hear him acknowledge the chemistry you’ve begun to share. The heavy trepidation your attraction once carried suddenly feels much lighter, replaced with a small spark of confidence. The forest feels as though it's condensed around you, holding you both in an impenetrable cradle – quiet, shielded from the rest of the world. It’s safe to name your desires and share them here.

And Gods, to know without doubt that he’s also wondered what it would be like to fuck you… it fills you with such a renewed lust for him; you can’t deny it anymore.

"Do you wonder that too?" he asks gently.

You swallow and whisper hoarsely, "I do."

He shifts his weight closer to you again. A spike of anxiety jolts through you when you remember what started this conversation – the smell of your blood… an alternative to your neck…

An obscene vision of Astarion’s face licking blood from your cunt flashes in your mind. Your hips curl instinctively at the thought. A piece of your mind shatters from the possibility of it becoming a reality.

"Then, what say you? Are you inclined to get a little closer? As soon as tonight?” he presses further.

Wordlessly you place a hand on the side of his neck, thumb stroking the corner of his jaw. His skin is surprisingly soft and cool to the touch. A mixture of excitement and unease floods your senses. It's so surreal to be here with him now when you've pushed away many daydreams of a moment like this.

“I would like that,” you admit.

He smiles at your affirmation and closes the gap between your lips. Arousal erupts from your veins once again when he kisses you. His lips are soft but with a tempest behind them. The desire in his kiss is tinged with melancholy, quiet desperation crashing against you. His tongue caresses yours in ways nobody’s has before. Both responding and leading. Moving along you like water currents.

He sinks into you to deepen the kiss. Your body responds in kind, free hand finding his waist and legs seeking to tangle with his own. Your bodies brushing against each other for the first time is almost too much to bear. If something as simple as this elicits such a strong reaction, you can hardly imagine how the rest of the evening will affect you.

His legs move between your own, his hips persuading your thighs to open. His body is so cool against yours, burning hot. The contrast makes you ache to press your core, the hottest place, against him. He must read your mind because he lets his full weight fall into you so your temperatures can mix. It’s now that you can feel he’s hard, pressed between your legs. He moans lewdly into your mouth as he steals your heat. The combination of stimuli begins to transform your arousal. Thoughts and time begin to slip from comprehension.

Your hands snake underneath his shirt to run your fingers against his midsection. You remove each other’s clothes and steal kisses between each garment. His hands skate up your obliques and trace circles around your breasts, making you arch into him like, well, a cat. You laugh to yourself.

He begins to slide down your body. You instantly miss having his pelvis pressed against your own. He drags his lips, tongue, and occasionally the tip of a sharp canine along your exposed breasts and midsection. His hands expertly unloop your belt and tug the pants off your thighs.

Gods, are we really doing this? The cool night air enveloping your bare skin sobers you a bit.

“Still sure you’re up for losing a little more blood?” Astarion whispers huskily.

You nearly choke on your own spit at the audacity.

“You really have a gift for disarming comments,” you tell him.

“Just making sure we’re on the same page,” he says while thumbing at the hem of your underwear.

 He must notice how tense your muscles are because he pauses.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks earnestly.

“I… you’re not grossed out?” you wince through the question.

He blinks at you in disbelief. The concern in his features morphs into amusement.

“Darling… I’m a vampire. Did you forget?” he jokes. "No, I am not ‘grossed out’. I may not know what it feels like, but I do know it’s perfectly natural and…" His voice lowers, "it's something I’ve always been quite intrigued by the possibilities of, if I’m honest with you.”

Yet another indecent sensation spreads through your body at these words. How interesting. Relief, pride, and curiosity tangle themselves in your mind and you can’t help but start to smile.

“Is that all you’re worried about?” he asks as if there was something else he’d expected.

You nod, “Yes. I want this.” To reinforce the words, your body language relaxes, open and willing for him. You’ve suffered in anticipation of this for nearly 24 hours and it’s time to give in.

“Please,” you whisper, driving the point home. He seems to like this.

“Good,” his voice hums and his dark smile returns.

His fingers return to caress your body and hook over the waist of your panties. He tugs at the hem, up, towards your bellybutton, skillfully maneuvering the fabric to tease you and manipulate your flesh without directly touching. You sigh and tilt your hips to encourage him. He peels the garment off agonizingly slowly, savoring every moment more of your skin comes into view, until they’re stripped from your legs and discarded entirely.

He strokes the pads of his fingers in circles over your mons veneris. They skate closer and closer to your lips, driving you to insanity. Your hips strain into him, begging for his touch to finally reach your clit.

Instead, his hands slip under your knees to lift and bend your legs. Powerful emotions of arousal, embarrassment, and euphoria crash over you all at once when he pulls your knees apart and looks down at you. You can feel the cool air against your wetness now, unsure how much is blood or transparent arousal. His jaw hangs open slightly, and you swear his pupils dilate to an unnatural size as he takes in the sight. The entire position makes you feel deliciously vulnerable. You tremble under his gaze and fight the nagging instinct to clamp your legs shut as he hovers over you. Even harder you must fight it as his elbows come to the ground and his head lowers down between your thighs.

His mouth encloses around you slowly and deliberately, as if lacing his lips around a wine glass. He presses his tongue firm against your wetness, immediately releasing a long, debased groan that shatters any of your remaining insecurities.

You've already imagined what his voice must sound like during sex (it's impossible not to) but the reality of its sound is more guttural and feral than expected. The sound waves resonate through your body violently and the pleasure is so great you think you might be dead.

Alas, you are very much alive, lying on the forest floor with a vampire between your legs.

Astarion laps at every curve, everywhere the colors red and pink have stained your skin and further. His tongue moves with purpose and heavy pressure, seeking to consume every bit he can. Teeth skim against your soft flesh every so often, but never hard enough to hurt. Just enough to make you feel like an orange peel he seeks to scrape every last morsel of flesh and juice from.

He clutches at your ass cheeks while he feasts on you, thumbs pulling your center apart. He’s apparently licked your thighs and lips clean, because now he only pushes his tongue inside you, fucking you mercilessly with it. Every so often, he pauses this onslaught to pet your clitoris with the tip of this tongue, making your hips spasm and core tighten. The rhythm he teases you in makes you wetter and wetter. It’s the perfect vehicle to coax more blood from your pussy and into his mouth.

He removes himself for a moment and leans forward to kiss you again, lips slick with saliva and slightly swollen from friction.

He tastes of so many things at once. Saturated in the copper cherry flavor of your blood and the seasalt of arousal, your tongues meet again and again. All this on top of Astarion’s own lingering scent, herbal and citrusy, your senses spill over with colorful stimuli.

“Still having any doubts, my dear?” he whispers through a kiss.

“No. Gods, no,” you answer.

"I could stay latched to you all day like this..." he pants against your lips. "I would clean up every. drop. for you." His voice drips with lascivious melody.

"What's it like?" you ask excitedly.

He grins at your question. He loves that you would ask him this.

"Intoxicating,” he breathes through his teeth. “You are the most sinfully delicious fruit I've ever tasted. As if your blood alone didn't already tempt me."

"Is it enough?" you inquire. "…enough blood, I mean?"

"There's no such thing" he says. "but… I have an idea of how to encourage more out of you." His fingers graze down your belly and knead at the skin of your pelvic bone again. The motion indirectly pulling the hood of your clit back and forth.

You moan unabashedly and your spine contorts, begging once again for his hand to go lower. This time, he obliges and uses two slender fingers to tease the contours of your vulva. When they slip between your folds, a silent cry hitches in the back of your throat. He probes at your entrance gently at first, pushing just barely deeper than before with every motion. You writhe against him, trying to remind yourself to breathe.

Normally you would savor such attentive foreplay, but right now it's torturous. It’s overwhelming to even watch what he’s doing; your eyes keep fluttering shut. Every time his fingers delve deeper your desire swells greater. When his knuckles finally brush against your ass, he curls his two fingers inside you over and over, quickly. They rub firmly against your sensitive upper walls, dragging more slickness out of you.  

The sudden pressure and intensity in his movements surprises you. It moves you to open your eyes just long enough to find his own. His gaze holds you down, you feel almost charmed, petrified, dominated. Unable to look away. Rutilant eyes stare deeply back at you while he possesses you – they hold so much intensity and desire, all while focused on you.

It leaves you a bit awestruck, to have him both create and witness your ecstasy. To know you. The moment feels unexpectedly intimate until his hypnotic eyes finally release you.

His mouth joins his hand, immediately working your clit with persistence while his fingers pump inside you. You gasp, and a laugh of disbelief bubbles out of you. The combination of touches makes you feel delirious. His tongue roves over you mercilessly and his hand quickens its pace. Every muscle in your body is taut and frozen in fire. Your eyes find the stars when you feel yourself start to come apart on his fingers.

"Please don't stop," you cry quietly.

He doesn't. His fingers continue to stretch your walls and thrust against your core, tongue quick and unceasing against your pert clit. Tears well up in your eyes as the intensity of sensation builds to a white crescendo.  It falls over you like glass shattering in slow motion. He groans against your pussy as you come, undoubtedly feeling it clench desperately around his hand. It’s so intense you can’t help but cry out and grasp wildly at his back. You don’t care if your voice reaches the campsite. He slows his movements to keep rhythm with you as you ride out your orgasm.

“Such a pretty voice you have,” he removes his fingers and kisses the inside of your thighs.

He makes sure you're looking when he brings his digits to his mouth and licks the red stain clean from them. There’s no hesitation in the action, he laps your blood from his fingers as if it's honey, or spilled wine. He licks your center again too, purely for his own gain now, just for the taste.

“Gods,” You shudder at his touch, still hypersensitive from the climax he wrought through you.

A little less clouded, your vision sharpens on his form. You admire how striking he looks below you. Shirtless, broad shoulders holding the weight of your thighs. Pale moonlight painting every muscle. Your eyes pathing from his sharp collar bones down to his toned navel. He looks so beautiful. Already, you desire him again. More of him. Your eyes land on his cock, still erect and straining against his trousers. 

“That was amazing,” you finally manage to say. “I don’t think I’ll ever have another experience quite like that one.”

“I certainly don’t think so either,” he looks proud of himself. “But must we speak of it in the past-tense already?”

“You’re right. I misspoke.” Your foot gently drags over his clothed erection, in case your interest isn’t clear.

He looks at you knowingly and brings a hand to his waistband.

“Oh, good,” he smiles and unwraps himself from the fabric. "You’ll tell me if it’s uncomfortable, right?"

You nod. “Just start slow, if you can?”

Your eyes widen at his exposed length. His cock is longer and thicker than you'd expected, which is saying something since your imagination was already kind to him. Filthy anticipation coils inside of you.

“Of course. I already intended to take my time,” he whispers lowly.

He hooks his palms under your knees and pulls you apart for him. His body looms over you and the head of his cock grazes your entrance, teasing you with every microscopic movement. He rocks against you in little pulses that make you whine and twist impatiently. He starts to enter you, a little deeper with each push, teasing you just like he did with his fingers, driving you insane.

You can’t take much more, mewling underneath him while he torments you. Fully withdrawing with every stroke, the tip of his cock re-penetrates you again and again in an agonizing tempo. Shallowly fucking you with disciplined control. Before long though, you see his expression start to lose composure.

He straightens up to a kneeling position and beckons you to lift your lower body up to meet him.

“Feet on the ground, darling,” he orders you sweetly.

He scoops you up by your ass and levels your entrance with his cock again. Your upper back still lies on the ground, your body in a half bridge pose, fully exposed to him.

He hoists you against him and sheaths himself inside of you, finally forgoing the teasing. You nearly scream at the sudden weight of him inside you, stretching the entire depth of your walls. His hands pull you up and down on his cock, thumbs tickling the inside of your hipbones where he grips you tightly. You lose yourself again as he fucks you, overwhelmed with elation and disbelief.

Astarion groans obscenely. You notice he’s transfixed on watching himself impale you, gradually painting his cock with your cordial. His eyebrows furrow seriously and his mouth falls slightly open, taking in the sight. He seems to lose himself too, and you find yourself with your full back against the ground again, his body covering you, still inside you.

“You still smell so irresistible.” A hand finds the base of your skull and clutches at your hair. He pulls and forces you to bear your neck for him. It sends a little jolt of fear through your body initially, but you relax into his grasp after a moment.

“Can't get enough?” you ask, just barely managing to show some cheek. He continues to fuck you gently through the exchange. Were his strokes any closer together, it wouldn’t be possible to form words.

“Never,” he hisses against your ear.

His lips graze down your throat, pausing to hover just above where he always drinks from you. “May I?”

“Do it,” you plead.

His fangs tease your skin for several more strokes before they finally drive through you, and as soon as they pierce your skin he fucks you faster. His cock beats against the back of your walls again and again. He moans desperately into your neck while he bleeds you. You’d call the sound pathetic, were it not for the way his teeth held you down like a predator killing its prey. Your cunt clenches around him tightly in response, mirroring his jaws.

The wound to your neck is just barely endurable at first, but it starts dissolving into pleasure almost instantly. Now coupled with the adrenaline of having sex with him, the feeling is near mind-altering. It hypnotizes you. Possesses you.

He drinks from you hungrily, sucking and gulping you down every few seconds. The wet sound of him swallowing can be heard right underneath your ear. You both whimper frantically into each other, ecstasy building quickly. His cock starts to hit you harder, stretch you wider. He unlatches himself from your neck, gasping for air. Blood drips from his lips and down his chin when you see his face. His pupils are blown out. It looks as though he’s trying to form words but they won’t escape his mouth.

He only manages a, “Gods… I’m…” before stuttering out a loud groan, abandoning his thought and dignity. You can feel him throb inside you eagerly, struggling against your muscles squeezing him in as he climaxes. He thrusts into you wildly a few more times before shuddering and cautiously falling into you.

His body covers you for a short moment, your chests rising and falling into each other as you both catch your breath. He then rolls himself off of you and lies by your side.  

“Apologies” he breathes out heavily, wiping blood from his jaw. “I lost myself there for a moment… I’m infertile, so no need to worry. But I should have told you.”

“That’s okay,” you whisper. You’d barely considered it - too drunk on pleasure to think rationally.

The sweet earthy aroma of the dampened grass drifts into your nostrils. Lying there naked, sticky and sweaty, anxiety slowly starts to creep back under your skin. No doubt this could complicate things going forward… especially if your attraction goes beyond the physical like you suspect.

You hear a wet sound beside you and turn your head to see Astarion licking his palm. His eyes meet you while he sucks at the skin between his thumb and index finger. He smiles and, to your surprise, gently pulls you into him. The smell of savory herbs and citron tickles your nose; his scent is already growing to feel familiar.

“I’d like to share a little more of your heat, if it’s alright with you,” he says quietly. His lips brush the hairs on your head.

“I’m happy to share,” you say through a smile, secretly delighted to be curled up in his chest.

His fingers trace your back lazily and you reflect on the past two nights (mostly this one). As amazing as tonight has been, the fear of your feelings growing stronger from this gnaws at you. But you gather the courage to push your insecurities aside. Testing the waters with a little suggestion:

“Provided we don’t die from being turned into mind flayers or some other horrors, I think we should do this again next month.”

You feel him smile against your crown.

“Why wait until next month?”

~END~

Thank you for reading :>