He idly trailed his fingers down the skin of the red wings. Even they were warm. He caught a whiff of Raphael’s scent, but it was off – distressed. Among the smell of cherry, musk, and sulfur was the thick rust of dried and caked blood, and a thin patina of…
Fear?
Astarion knew what fear smelled like. Knew it all too well. But smelling it on this cambion was out of place. But not unpleasant. Far from unpleasant.
He dipped his head and put his nose to the cambion’s neck. The pulse was slow and weak, but it was still a siren call to a vampire’s senses. Astarion breathed deep. Yes, blood and fear. What would it taste like?
He pulled back, snapping out of his reverie. What was he doing? He wasn’t some starving slave on the run anymore, desperate to taste the blood of thinking creatures for the very first time he had ever gotten the chance.
He laid Raphael back down, aware of an ache beside his hunger, deeper in his body but no less primal.
Gods, when had he last felt that?
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Hello! I'm Sawicki, and this is my new Tumblr for my artwork based on my own BG3 fic Hard to Breathe. I had fallen in love with the Astarion/Raphael dynamic in other fanfics, but wanted to play around with switching the typical roles of the two. Heavy on trauma healing, BDSM, and painplay, so please mind the AO3 tags!!!
I also have a PLAYLIST for the series, so check that out too!
Other than that, I don't know, I'm new to Tumblr. Maybe I'll figure out this place.
