Uncanny Astarion: Yearning
…by candlelight, long after Tav has fallen asleep
She should terrify him. Warm. Mortal. Radiant.
A walking promise of blood and heartache.
And yet, it is not her vulnerability that haunts him but her presence. Her humanity. Her infuriating tendency to curl her body against his in the middle of the night like he’s not cold, like he’s not danger, like he’s not …other.
His eyes adjust to darkness not in seconds but in blinks. His hunger lives just beneath his skin, whispering always. He doesn’t breathe when he kisses her, he mimics. He doesn’t sleep, only closes his eyes and pretends he doesn’t hear her blood pumping through her veins like a lullaby made just for him.
He is not like her. He is not like any of them.
But not like them, not like the thousand bodies beneath Cazador’s silk sheets, not like the empty eyes and open mouths and powdered skin of nobles drunk on power and perfume. They never saw him. Only what he was meant to play. The charming thing. The willing pet. The seductive spawn with a bite sharp enough to draw screams and moans alike.
Kisses were a currency back then. A lure. A distraction. A chore.
He hated kissing, really. Too intimate. Too slow. Too human.
And now… Gods. Now he could kiss her for hours.
Not just for pleasure, not just for contact, but for the simple, maddening miracle of it. How her lips part with a sigh. How her hands come up, hesitant, reverent, like he is something sacred. How, even when her body leans forward with heat, her eyes don’t darken with demand they soften with care.
And the ache inside him isn’t just hunger anymore.
My MASTERLIST btw the name “masterlist” sounds so ✨naughty✨
titsay
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