Gale is a human colored by a disdain for his humanity. He goes into detail multiple times about how his humanity is a dissatisfaction. He wants to go further into the Weave, to know divinity completely.
Mystra is the Weave. She is magic, full stop. This is explicitly stated.
But when Gale held her, kissed her, there was nothing there to touch. Skin more like marble in its flawlessness. Eyes more like crystal in their luminance. She always smelled of sharp rosewater, always tasted of mild sweetness. Never a hint of sweat, of saliva, of any of the unclear oils and bacterias that infest the mortal form.
Somehow, I can't imagine Mystra ever laid with him as a man. Why would she bring herself low, to get in a human's actual bed? What would even be the point, when an ocean of cosmic perfection lay above?
Did it disgust him, then, to travel so high, lay with the very form of Magic, only to return to his meager human body? To be the owner of skin that smelled of sweat, skin that had scars and wrinkles and marks, skin that aged?
When Mystra cast his aside for his folly, did he long for the divine from the confines of his humanity? Did he hate the needs and limits of his body, the various hungers that cried out to be sated, when all his mind craved was that glittering perfection?
Mystra loved Gale's magic. Mystra loved him as a tiny expression of her own self.
Gale is his mind, certainly. His mind is where the magic is. His mind is remarkable. His mind is worthy of love. But this human thing, this temporary human thing that is a body, is not him in the same way. It's needy, and he wants so badly to escape from it into the divine.
And maybe that's what surprises him so much about being loved by a mortal. That someone would lay with him, Gale the man. Would bury their nose into his neck and breathe deeply the scent of him, would kiss the crows feet at his eyes and relish in the taste of his mouth.
Gale knows the touch of perfection, but the embrace of humanity has a deeper flavor, one that grounds him to the earth. One that makes him realize that flawless, perfect love is a distant thing, an inhumane thing.
Bg3 companions if you wanted to stay the night in their tent
characters: Astarion, Wyll and Gale
Astarion
“I suppose I could make space for you just don't drool on my bed roll”
He would probably not be asleep since he only trances for 4 hours at a time because of his elf heritage but then he is also a vampire that doesn't really feel exhaustion the same way the living do. So he would not be the best ‘sleep’ buddy in that sense but he would not turn you away.
You would walk up to his tent in the middle of the night completely restless from not being able to fall asleep. It was cold tonight and even though a vampire without a heartbeat would be able to provide much warmth it would still be a nice presence to have next to you.
Luckily you always put your tent next to his so no one in the camp would wake up from you sneaking around to get to Astarion.
When you open the flap of your tent you quickly go over to your lovers and whisper “Hey.. Star, are you awake?” and to your relief the fabric door separating you two opens up and reveals the pale man. “Love? What in the hell are you doing still awake?.. I will not go out and chase some creature with you again.” He said in a haste as if you were gonna drag him out on a random adventure.
“Yeah no..” you said with a light chuckle before your voice got a bit heavier “Um.. could I sleep with you tonight..? I just don't really wanna be alone right now.” The words felt so thick coming out of your throat, dripping with emotion. Not quite sadness from what had been weighing on you but not shame either from asking. but just tiredness.
Astarion took one good look at you, “For the love of- don't look at me like I would ever tell you to leave. Come on”. He moved further into the tent to let you move in. Apparently this had been one of the rare moments that you had caught Astarion right before he fell into his trance so he had already fixed up his bedroll to rest for the night.
As he climbed into the soft fabrics to make himself comfortable, Astarion had a hand on one of the corners of his blanket to hold it open for you.
You moved into the tent and slowly situated yourself into the bedroll with the vampire. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close to his chest as he let his fingers comb through your well kept hair which he had put himself in charge of. You two fit like two puzzle pieces as you laid together, not really any extra warmth from him but it made it easier to nuzzle into him extra without getting too hot. Astarion would reciprocate by holding you head in his neck and the other on your waist to have you as close to his body as possible.
But all in all Astaion would be a good cuddle buddy when it's also his time to sleep but otherwise he would let you lay in his bedroll while he reads or he would leave you with something smelling of him as he disappears into the night to hunt if he had been taking too much blood from you lately.
Wyll
“Just like my heart, there is always a space for you to rest next to me”
Wyll is exactly what you want when you look out for comfort during the night no matter if it's because of your own head haunting you in the dark hours of the night or simply because you cannot get comfortable. Especially if you are in a relationship because this man get giddy over you wanting to kiss him during the tiefling party in act 1. Do you think he would do anything but smile like a loser if you wanted to share a tent much less a BEDROLL.
You couldn't really sleep tonight and there was no real explanation to it. You were feed, happy, safe, it was comfortable in your tent and it was over an hour after when you usually fall asleep but then again you might just miss Wyll. He went to bed pretty early so you haven't seen him a good few hours. Maybe it was just time to see your little devil, even if you woke him up.
You stepped out of your tent and looked at the tent right across from yours which was Wylls. Currently the entire party had set up camp in some forest cave covered in moss so you and wyll took a secluded area for your tents to have a little time for yourself without everyone else being down your throat. Your legs automatically knew where you were gonna go and led you to the tent door that separated you and Wyll. With your hand you slowly lifted the flap to find Wyll staring directly at the roof of his tent.
“Y/N?” Wyll said as he propped himself onto his elbows. “Is everything alright?”
You let your head in the tent and let the tent door fall onto your back. “Yeah.. just missed you. Can I sleep with you tonight?” Wylls cheeks immediately took on a warmer hue after you said that and his eyes widened a bit. He rubbed the back of his neck while looking at you “sometimes I really do think you can read my mind. I was just thinking about you myself.”
He smiled at you with his boyish grin and arm open for you to climb into. You would lay down on top of him to provide warmth to each other. It only took you two a few seconds before he started rubbing your back with one hand and supporting his head with the other. Both of you had sweet smiles resting on your faces as you melted into the other.
In the end Wyll would be a great cuddle buddy even though he can’t really lay on his sides because of his horns and he has to use two pillows to prop his head far up enough so the horns wouldn't hit the ground. He would always invite you to sleep on his chest mostly because of the fact that you can’t really cuddle another way but also because I can see wyll being someone that loves weighted blankets and his S/O would be the closest thing he would be able to get to that in fearun.
(Bonus thoughts) If you fall asleep before him he will just sit there giggling to himself about you being curled up on his chest.
Gale
Oh you have your own tent? Bitch please since you started dating Gale you haven't even put it up because you two share your spaces so much it's basically pointless. Gale spent years alone with no company but Mystra and maybe some fellow wizard he would know because of his studies but then he also spent a year of pure solitude because of the orb in his chest. Now he has a partner that loves him and what? Is he not supposed to fall asleep next to them every night? You are acting like there are enough hours in the day for him to love you.
Everyone had just finished dinner and was heading to their own tents so they could set up their bedrolls. Gale had started to clean up after the dinner he had served the camp that night. He was gathering up everyone's plates to wash them in the river just a short stroll from camp and putting out the fire. “Do you need help?” you asked him.
Gale looked at you briefly before smiling to himself before his eyes found the bowls again "Don't worry about that, dear. I'll take care of this but if it would not be a bother could you ready our tent?” He said as he stood up to go down to the river. “Of course I can, love”
Gale walked away to finish cleaning up as you turned around to go to yours and Gale's tent. Inside it there were two bedrolls that were neatly folded up from you cleaning up last night.
You rolled out your bedding for the night and put the next to each other as close as possible so you would not feel a gap between yourself during the night. Then you carefully placed down your pretty flat pillows and big blanket to cover you both during the night.
When everything looked neat and ready for a good night of rest you grabbed your night clothes and changed before slipping under the blanket with a book Gale had given you. It was some story about two starcrossed lovers that Gale swore up and down reminded him of you two.
You managed to read a few pages before the tent opened and the wizard himself crawled in. His eyes flicker to the book you had been reading, probably proud of himself to have given you a book you liked enough to keep reading each night. He quickly changed into his purple sweater and pants before settling right next to you. He picked up his own book but only 20 minutes after laying next to each other you two ended up in the other's arms.
Gale loved to be pulled into your chest at night and he would wrap his arms around you to pull himself closer to you so he could inhale your musk as he has been very open about liking. He would stay in that position all night and he would not move before the morning light forced him awake.
Gale is basically your husband. This is no cuddle buddy, this is the man you pay your taxes with. He would always sleep with you after the first night you two fell asleep together. Now he is a little loser (lovingly) that can’t succumb to slumber without his breathing teddy bear.
Relaxation was a hard earned luxury when your existence was threatened daily. You could count on a single hand the number of times you and your party were afforded such a thing, with the Tiefling party having been the first.
Sneaking into Astarion’s tent didn’t require much stealth when the rest of camp was paying you no heed, busy with their own minds. A simple silencing spell cast on the tent ensured that the two of you would have the necessary privacy for your…activities.
But the glow of the aftermath was tainted by your own thoughts. Something that you’d noticed each time you coupled with Astarion, and something you’d never had the courage to discuss with him. As you lay- quite naked- next to him, your head on his chest and arm draped across his torso while his fingers drifted across your skin in lazy patterns, you thought about how to frame your question. You knew he had a complicated relationship with intimacy, and you sought a way to ask him without causing his mind to go down a dark path.
“Star?” You said timidly, nuzzling into his warmth. He’d fed well that night; the blood coursing through his body, combined with lengthy time in the sun before it set, lent him borrowed heat that you greedily absorbed from him.
“Yes, darling?” He said with a smile at your use of your private nickname for him. You propped your chin against his chest, looking up at him. He turned his head to you, popping open one of those gorgeous crimson eyes to take you in.
“I’ve been meaning to ask…” you say, trailing off. Astarion brought his free arm up, bending it and resting his head against the crook of his elbow to elevate his gaze. His attention was fully on you, silently encouraging you to ask your question.
“Well…I….was wondering. Every time we, ah, well, y’know. You never…..finish..?” Brilliant. The perfect way to butcher a simple question.
Thankfully, Astarion chuckled, flattening his hand along your spine. He thought about your question for a beat, laying in silent reverie as you watched and waited for an answer.
“I’m not entirely sure how to answer that,” he said softly, his gaze drifting to the ceiling of the tent. “For the past two hundred years, pleasure has always been something to be given, never to be taken. It was a tool to do my master’s bidding, and I numbed myself to it. It all feels so very complicated, though I’m sure it’s not.”
You thought about that for a second, a sick feeling beginning to settle in your gut. “So…when you…with me?”
Astarion chuckled. “So eloquent with your words tonight, darling. But no. It’s…different with you. I find great satisfaction bringing you pleasure. Don’t mistake my lack of a climax as unwillingness to spend my free time tangled with you in my bedroll. It may have started out as a ploy to earn your favour, but I found that I quite enjoy the sounds you make when you’re writhing under me. I’ve also grown quite fond of the connection we share as a result.”
You scrunched up your face into a silly expression in an effort to hide the blush that rapidly spread at his words. He laughed into the open air of the tent before turning on his side to pull you close, brushing a strand of loose hair from your face.
“You’ve helped to change my mind on a lot of things when it comes to sex...so…thank you for that,” he said with a smile in his voice. He tilted your face to meet his, slanting his lips across yours. He skillfully coaxed you open, his tongue diving in to tangle with yours. At his retreat, a fang pricked your lower lip, and he moaned into your mouth at the tiniest amount of blood he tasted there.
“Gods, I could get addicted to you,” He growled as he pressed further into your mouth, trying to take in as much as he could before your body’s natural healing could seal the minimal wound. He began a languid roll, the weight of him pushing you backwards into the warmth of his nest of cushions and blankets. But you pressed back, halting his advance, instead, bodily shoving him beneath you. He stared up at you with surprise on his face, a hint of questioning in his eyes.
The only answer you gave to his inquisitive expression was a cheeky grin, before you leaned low over him and took up his lips. He chuckled into your mouth at your eagerness, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your waist. Your mouth trailed down his jaw and moved onto his neck, but you made sure to stay away from the side that was ravaged by those brutal scars. Without lingering, you quickly moved down the rest of his body. Collarbone, chest, abdomen, every bit of him was tasted. Each nip and lick against his skin was punctuated by his sharp inhale, nails digging into your skin. This told you that he wasn’t entirely numb to the sensations, but he was probably more emotionally detached from his own pleasure. You weren’t sure what you hoped to accomplish with this plan of yours, but you wished to see him unravel at least a little bit.
Finally, you reached your destination, settling the length of your body between his finely sculpted legs. He rose up to prop himself on elbows, watching you with heat blazing in his crimson gaze. You flashed him a smirk before dipping your head again, latching into his hip with his hardening cock pressed firmly between your breasts. His gasping moan was quiet and timid as you used the blood in his veins against him and brought up a mark with your mouth. And another. And another, until he was decorated with a series of those purpling marks across his pelvis and thighs, until his cock stood at full attention and his breathing was on the verge of running ragged.
“Stay with me, Star, feel everything,” you commanded softly with a voice roughened by desire. Your gaze stayed on his as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, root to tip. Stayed as you swirled your tongue against the tip of him, stayed even as his eyes fluttered closed and his head dropped back with a panting moan. With a smirk, you took him into your mouth.
He was larger in your mouth than you expected, and it took all of your effort not to gag on him when he hit the back of your throat. It was a wonder he fit into your body at all. But, a simple adjustment in your posture allowed you to take him without much trouble. You worked him until he fell back against his bedroll with a heavier moan, until he draped an arm over his face, until the blood rushing through his veins collected into a pretty blush on his pale chest. He found his voice the further you took him, breathy moans falling from him unrestrained.
You finally granted him brief mercy, only to move on to the next torment. Running your tongue from root to tip again, you rasped the flat your tongue against the underside of his crown repeatedly, while your hand stroked him. He squirmed and writhed, digging his fingers into your hair.
You closed your mouth around the tip of him, creating a vacuum of suction and bobbing your head in minuscule movements. While doing this, you used one hand to stroke his shaft, and the other to apply slight pressure at the base, just above the sac. And then it was as if the floodgates burst open, the dam that had held back years of buried pleasure finally crumbling to dust.
“D-Darling…ah, fuck, k-keep doing th- ah!” He didn’t give you much opportunity to keep doing the thing that was driving him to arch his back off the bedroll and forcefully buck up into your mouth. You released the suction on him, allowing him to thrust into your mouth with his newfound desperation to chase pleasure.
You knew the concentration needed to keep the silencing spell in place had already been broken, but you couldn’t even be remotely embarrassed by the torrent of pleasured sounds erupting from Astarion. If it was any secret before that you snuck into his tent nightly, it sure wasn’t anymore.
One swift, startling movement, and you were torn from Astarion, launched through the air. Dazed, you barely registered the shift before your back hit the bedroll and your knees hooked over his elbows. His expression was positively feral, pupils blown wide and a half-snarl twisting his features. You thought you could even see his eyes glowing, and…were his fangs longer than before? A trick of the light, surely, but the ravenous way he looked at you sent shivers of anticipation coursing through you to collect at your core.
Then he was slamming into you, hips snapping forward violently as his cock drove into you. It was so different to the other times he’d fucked you, something much more feral about the way he practically folded you in half and his body collided vehemently with yours.
He buried his face in your neck, mouth open with fangs poised to pierce your skin. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the texture of the scars on his back under your fingers while you eagerly waited for his bite. But he only rested the points heavily against your skin while he plunged his cock into you. Pleasure heightened with the anticipation, the coil burning in your core winding tighter and tighter.
His breathing, usually shallow and near non-existent, grew ragged as guttural moans erupted from him. He was lost to the pleasure, finally learning how to take it for himself, learning that he was allowed to lose himself in the feeling. It was an indulgence you encouraged wholeheartedly. Each deep strike of his cock against your inner-most walls was accompanied by a sound escaping him; whether it be a moan, a snarl, or some sublime mix of the two. You could feel it vibrating under your palms, feel the sound fanning hot across your neck.
He dragged you to the edge, and then threw you right over if before you even had a chance to prepare yourself for the force of the climax. You cried out beneath him, digging your nails into his skin, unable to arch into him from the way he held you pinned beneath him. The fluttering of your walls around him sent him into overdrive, and every breath was a harsh sound in your ear. From deep moans to strings of curses, his pace increased as he chased the elusive release. Until finally, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock twitching and sac pulsing with his release. He cried out, loud feral sounds ripped from deep within him.
“Fuck. Fuck!” He hissed, his hips stuttering as he struggled to remain still inside you. But he lost the battle and began pumping into you once more, moaning at the sensations of your walls gripping him, milking him. Sensations that brought him to the edge again almost instantly.
“Fuck. Darling, I don’t think I can stop,” he whined, his tongue tracing your thundering pulse.
“Yes, yes,” you cried to him, chanting his name in choked syllables over and over until his body was colliding with yours in a deliciously frantic pace again.
You tilted your chin to the side, whimpering in approval when his fangs pressed harder against your skin. You gripped your fingers into his wild curls, pressing him harder until he obeyed your silent direction and shallowly pierced you. His breathy moans fanned across your neck, mouth chasing the rivulets of your blood that escaped the pinpricks you helped him make. It wasn’t his usual deep feeding, but it still sent unbridled pleasure through you until you were shattering beneath him again. This time, he released your legs from being hooked over his arms and let you arch beneath him, clamping your thighs around his torso firmly.
“Fuck, what have you done to me?” He whined, burying himself as deep as he could while his second release steamrolled him. But he didn’t hesitate for long before he was going again, hips snapping forward in movements as ragged as his breathing. He didn’t even pull out far before sinking into you, reveling in the way your walls moulded around his cock, in the way you gripped him, in the way his cum mixed with your slicked arousal.
“As-astar…ion-“ you whimpered into his neck, hardly able to breathe out his name between your cries of pleasure. You clung to him desperately, trying to prevent him from ever unsheathing from you.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, grinding his hips into you as the overstimulation threw him into another release so soon after the last. The pulsing twitch of his cock digging deep into you dragged you through another violent orgasm with him.
You were drenched with sweat, hardly able to catch your breath, but fuck were you sated. Astarion was too, judging by the way he finally collapsed atop you, nuzzling into your neck and murmuring to you between deep draws of ragged breaths. He remained inside you until your walls ceased their thrumming, until his cock finally stopped pulsing, until you were able to collect your breath. You trailed one hand through his hair, fingers of the other drawing lazy circles across his back. He didn’t move for a long while, just stayed slumped over you.
“You okay, love?” You ask gently after a beat.
“Let me just…rest here for a while. In your arms. Please,” he replied quietly, resting his head on your chest so that he could listen to the steady drum of your heart.
Later, he would go on to explain that he never knew he could feel like that. In two hundred years, nobody had ever bothered to think about him, only ever thinking about what they could take from him. Overwhelmed by emotion, he didn’t know how to express his gratitude for what you did for him.
But in that moment, you were content to just hold him as he requested, tracing nonsensical patterns on his back with one hand and humming softly to him. His hair was feather soft and you marveled at the silky texture of his curls as you carded your fingers through them.
For the first time ever in his entire existence, Astarion exhibited a monumental level of trust when he forewent typical elven reverie, instead choosing to sleep deeply while wrapped in your arms.
Sunlight brightened the thick fabric of Astarion’s tent as morning drew it’s first breath. Astarion had awoken hours ago, all fond smiles as he held your sleeping form to him. He’d taken the liberty of cleaning you up while you slept, stuffing you into one of his shirts while you cursed and grumbled the whole time about being disturbed. You’d even swung on him, a fact he would never let you live down.
You were a late riser that morning, but you’d be shocked if anyone could blame you after the wild night you experienced with a certain vampire spawn. When you dressed and pushed from his tent. But you wished the hells would open a hole in the ground beneath you and swallow you whole, instead.
The entirety of your party, save Astarion, sat around the morning fire and turned to stare. Heat engulfed your face as you trudged forward, Astarion and his whimsical smile trailing behind you as if you weren’t the current spectacle of the camp.
“Long night?” Gale quipped as he dished out a breakfast of potatoes and quail eggs, handing the plate to you with a knowing smirk.
“Mate, I’m pretty sure all of Fae’rûn could hear them going at each other ‘til the birds started chirping,” Karlach said with a hearty laugh. Your face flamed hotter and you decided to make yourself busy with your food.
“Given the times, I’d say it’s perfectly reasonable to have a healthy way to relieve tension,” Wyll said casually, scooping a spoon full of potato into his mouth as if he hadn’t just made a casual remark about your sex life.
“Still, they could be a little quieter,” Shadowheart said, adding a chuckle so you knew it wasn’t meant to be ill intended. “Maybe I can help with casting a silencing spell.”
“Can we stop talking about it, please?” You begged the group, trying to hide your face behind your hands from embarrassment.
“Come on, now, Darling, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying ourselves while we still can,” Astarion said lightheartedly, bumping his shoulder against yours from where he sat beside you.
“Their ritual sounded as though it could rival that of the Githyanki, but I am much disturbed at the lack of bruises dotting your pretty skin, istik,” Lae’zel said, showing no hint that her words were said in jest. Everyone stared at her for a moment, wondering what in the hells she meant by bruises.
It was exactly the comment needed to break the conversation, and your glance to Lae’zel afterward revealed the slightest hint of a smile from her, and you were eternally grateful to her for steering the conversation away from the awkward topic. Maybe she liked you, after all, despite her frequent contrary words.
That didn’t stop you from asking for Gale’s help to weave some sort of enchantment to turn Astarion’s tent into a sound block, though.
◜pairing: astarion ⨯ fem!healer!reader
◜rating: MDNI 18+ ┊ wc: 13K
◜cw: fluff, sweet-dirty talk, wounds caring, previous sexual tension, feelings, rain, porn with some plot, first time sex, body worship, bodily fluids, piv, masturbation [F, M], blowjob, cock warming-riding, creampie, overstimulation, aftercare, morning talk.
▹ summary. one brow arched. “oh, really?” he asked sarcastically. “then perhaps you can explain why you’re straddling me like you are, love.”
˗ˏˋ a/note. english isn't my native language, sorry if there are mistakes.
‘He was foolish. Reckless. Utterly stupid.’
Those words spun like a storm in your mind as you watched Astarion dash into danger. All because Gale, with one of his grandiose schemes, asked him to be a distraction—a distraction, of all things. The sheer absurdity grated on you, especially after that cocky, charming smile Astarion showed.
For all his talk of survival and his centuries-old staying alive, he seemed oblivious to the risks he took, as if he actually believed he was invincible. That careless swagger, that excitement in his eyes—it frustrated you to no end. Why does he have to be like this?
You were the only one in the camp capable of tending to wounds after Shadowheart decided to go off on her own because of a disagreement. And he knew it all too well.
He’d charged straight ahead of a group of Flaming Fists, who’d been hell-bent on killing you all after a disastrous misunderstanding. How you’d managed to escape with just minor injuries was still beyond your reach, but one thing was clear: if his recklessness didn’t kill him, you might do it yourself.
When he came to you later, sheepishly asking for a hand with his wounds, you were ready to refuse—but then he looked at you, with that pleading puppy look in his eyes that seemed to make all your frustration melt in an instant… and you just gave in.
You stepped out of your tent, dressed in your camp clothes and carrying a small bag with bandages and supplies. The moment the cold night breeze swept over your face and bare arms, you regretted your clothing.
But you headed towards Astarion’s tent. And as you crossed the camp, the faint patter of raindrops began to break the silence, with cool droplets striking the ground. You quickened your pace; the last thing you needed right now was to catch a cold.
The flap of the tent swayed gently in the breeze as you lifted your hand to brush the canvas aside and stepped in.
Inside, there was a warm setting given by some candles, and the rich scent of Astarion quickly enveloped you—hints of brandy and rosemary. And there he lay, reclining on his bedroll against some plushy pillows, with an opened book resting idly in his hands, though he wasn’t reading. His crimson eyes lifted rapidly to meet yours by the moment you entered, his brow raising slightly in surprise before a smile spread on his lips.
Astarion set his book aside with an elegant flourish, sitting a bit as his hand reached to help you enter in. “Ah, my darling... at last. I was beginning to think you’d leave me alone all nigh—” His words cut off abruptly as your palm connected sharply with his cheek.
“That’s for risking your life like a fool.” You snapped as you sat beside him on his bedroll.
He lifted a hand to his cheek and soothed the stinging sensation, shocked but faintly amused by your unexpected reaction. Before he could even part his lips to say something, you raised a finger to cut him off while dropping your bag on the bedroll with a firm thud.
“Honestly, Astarion, what in the hells were you thinking?” You demanded, already taking a cloth from your bag. You didn't even wait for him to reply and just reached for his arm, where a nasty wound marred his porcelain skin. “Running in like that without a second thought...” You murmured to yourself, furrowing your brows in worry.
Letting out a sigh, you carefully wiped the wound. “What if I hadn’t been there? Or if you’d got ki—” You shut yourself, swallowing down the knot of anxiety that had lodged in your throat since the fight ended. Memories of that night at the Tiefling’s party appeared in your mind—when, just for a moment, he’d looked at you beyond his enchanting demeanour. And how that left you feeling fragile in a way you weren’t ready to confront.
After a moment, you spoke more calmly, “You can’t keep doing this, Astarion. You can’t keep risking yourself as if you don’t matter.”
As you dabbed carefully at another cut, his face tensed in a grimace, and you couldn't hold back any longer. “I don’t care how bold you think you are, Astarion—there’s no excuse for being so imprudent. You’re not some disposable distraction, no matter what Gale or anyone else thinks.” You noticed how one of his eyebrows raised with that glint in his eyes. “And don’t even think about giving me that look.”
For once, he simply fell silent, watching how your hands moved in his arm with the cool cloth with... perhaps an affectionate expression. Then his voice dropped, gentler than you'd ever heard it. “I didn't realise you cared about me... quite this much.”
Your hands froze briefly, feeling a heat rising to your cheeks. You controlled your feelings. “Well, someone has to keep you in line, and I’m fairly certain neither of our lovely friends would be up to the task.” You clarified, somewhat exasperated, but with some gentility in your tone.
You heard a soft chuckling from him, as he was aware of the truth in your words. Gently, his hand reached out to caress yours. “It means... more than you think. To have someone caring.” As your eyes dropped to his hand and then his face, you saw past his charm for a fleeting moment, past his sly smile to the man who hadn't known kindness in far too long. “Thank you.”
Your eyes widened while your cheeks rose even more, quickly looking again to his arm as you wiped another open wound. You cleared your throat. “Just... try not to make me need to patch you up every time we get into trouble, alright? For my sanity, if nothing else.”
He gently caressed the back of your hand one last time before letting his hand fall to his lap. “Oh, and miss all the attention you give me?” He looked into your eyes, pouting a little but taking in the seriousness in your face. “Fine. I’ll be more careful, love.” His voice was laced with a teasing warmth, easing the sting of worry in your chest, making it almost worth it.
The rain began to fall harder, the deafening through of it slapping against the canvas. When you looked at his shirt, there was something about how it had dark patches of blood through that caught your attention. You could almost see the bruises starting to form and the scratches beneath the fabric.
You glanced up at him again. “Astarion, take that shirt off; I need to see what’s under it.”
He raised one of his eyebrows. “Eager, aren't we?” He smirked. “I suppose I can indulge you, darling...”
You gave him a soft smile for his tease, speaking exasperated but amused. “I’m sure you’ve got wounds under there, Astarion. Just take it off.”
His smirk widened, clearly enjoying. “Such impatience... Very well, love. You’ve earned the right to see what lies beneath.” Then he reached for the hem of his classic white shirt, the delicate fabric gathering in his hands before he tugged it over his head in one fluid move, slightly disheveling his curls.
The shirt slipped away, revealing his chest and the sharp definition of his collarbones. The flickering candlelight danced across his skin, casting shadows over the subtle contours of his physique. His movements were unhurried as he was offering you a glimpse.
As he tossed the garment aside carelessly, it landed in a heap near the edge of the bedroll. The air between you seemed to shift. His crimson eyes showed a slight hint of vulnerability that he quickly masked with a smirk.
“Better?” He drawled, his usual charm creeping back. “Is the view satisfactory, or are you planning to strip me further?”
You rolled your eyes, though the warmth blooming in your cheeks betrayed your mock tiresomeness. “Oh, stop. I’m only trying to see how severe the damage is. Not everything has to be an invitation for your theatrics.” With the cloth in hand, you pressed it gently to a scrape on his shoulder.
Trying to focus solely on the task at hand, you tried not to stare too long at the sight before you, but the way you moved closer left a sense of intimacy that you couldn't quite ignore. The quiet hum of your fingers tracing his chest and the lines of his abdomen made you feel the way his skin seemed to breathe beneath your fingertips. And you could swear that you heard almost inaudible sighs from him when your hands brushed over particularly tender sites.
The storm raged harder, hammering relentlessly against the tent as if the heavens insisted on being heard.
The wounds were worse than you thought—a mixture of gashes and dark bruises, a few of them with a touch of infection already setting in. Your eyes faltered briefly when your heart tightened at this sight as you moved from one injury to the next, cleaning them.
Astarion's gaze remained fixed on you, changing between your hands and your preoccupied expression. For once, the usual, confident, and charismatic vampire who normally danced with danger and seductiveness had taken his mask off. Showing the face of someone who, for once, truly trusted in someone else and allowed you to take care of him.
His breath caught when you reached a particularly deep gash along his abdomen, and you had to steady yourself to not flinch with him. The sound of his discomfort sent a tremor through your hands. Still, he kept his endurance and didn't flinch away from you; this only made your chest ache more.
He broke the silence with a low mutter with an odd weariness. “You should stop doing that.”
Your fingers froze, halting mid-motion. “Stop what?” You asked, but not looking up, trying to maintain your focus.
“Caring so much,” he replied quietly. “It doesn’t suit you.”
You stilled, taken aback by his words, before you finally looked up to meet his gaze. “You’re a fool.” You shot back.
He let out a soft laugh, but it wasn’t the usual mocking sound; no, it sounded with a subtle trace of gratitude, or perhaps something far more complicated for him.
“You know,” he added after a long moment, his voice lower now, “I’m not used to this. To someone looking after me.”
You let your hands rest on his waist, looking up once more. “I’m not doing this because you’re special,” you replied with a snark tone. “I’m doing it because you’re an idiot, Astarion. And if you keep getting yourself hurt like this, I might just tie you up next time to keep you out of trouble.”
His lips showed that smile of his again, though more tenderly. “Ah, my very own personal keeper. What would I do without you, darling?”
After you grabbed and secured a bandage around his waist for his deep wound, you allowed your hands to stay on his body moments longer than necessary. You could feel the enveloping air between you; the silence was tense, though neither of you moved or said anything. Astarion's pupils were dilated looking at you, and they held a certain depth that seemed to pull at you.
Your mind was still so wrapped up in the care you'd given him that you barely noticed the shift in your own position until you relaxed to adjust the posture of your body. That's when the realisation hit you like a punch to the gut—you were straddling him.
Your knees rested on either side of his hips, and you could feel the constant pressure of his pelvis against yours in a way that felt far too out of place.
A sharp breath caught in your throat, and you instinctively stiffened while a rush of hotness flooded your chest. Your mind started to race: ‘How long have we been like this? How had I not noticed this before?’ The tightness of your hips against his, the way your bodies seemed to fit together so... naturally—it was impossible to ignore.
But Astarion? He didn’t falter even for a second. His body remained relaxed beneath yours, with some sort of steady confidence, like he had no intention of acknowledging the shift in the dynamic. There was the faintest shift in his posture, a barely perceptible tightening of his grip on your thigh, but it went away in an instant.
“Getting comfortable, darling?” He spoke smoothly, with a dangerous and devilishly enticing tone. His lips curled into that signature grin of his, but this time it was different; there was no teasing edge, no light-hearted mockery. Instead, there was a subtle weight to it, as it appeared to hold more meaning than it usually did.
“I must admit, I didn’t think you’d be so forward, love.” He purred. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice, the quiet thrill touring his body of the intimacy at that moment.
The hand on your thigh slowly slid to your hip, allowing his fingers to linger there briefly before trailing up to your waist. You straightened up immediately, your face flushing while your pulse hammered in your chest because you had never been this close to him before—really close. Too close.
“I wasn't... trying to be forward...” Your voice tumbled, feeling a nervous tension twisting in your gut. Your words stumbled over each other, sharper than you meant them to be. “I was just trying to—”
“Trying to cure me, I know,” he interrupted, his soft chuckle rolling over you like a sensual caress. “Though, love, such a delicate position for a healer. Wouldn’t you agree?” His voice dipped, low and molten, sharpening his smile into something far more dangerous. His eyes were locked on yours, unfaltering, almost daring you to react.
Everything else blurred into insignificance. All you could hear was the erratic pounding of your own heartbeat and his breathing, far too steady for the situation.
“I...” you started, but the tightness in your throat made it difficult to say a word. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t even know if you wanted to break the silence hanging between you. “We should probably...” The sentence fizzled out, as useless as your resolve to push away the growing tension.
Before you could even think of anything else, the heat of his touch burnt through the fabric of your pyjamas, making your skin tingle in its wake. His hand slid up your side, grazing your ribs and the curvature of your breast with his thumb before setting at your waist to grip it firmly. The way his thumb slowly began to stroke the curve of your waist only made your nervousness get worse. His touching wasn't just casual—it was as if he wanted to test your reaction.
A rush of sensations made it impossible to think clearly, your body betraying you. His posture—his other elbow propped for support—the constant pressing of his crotch against yours, his hand on your waist—it all pulled you into a current you weren’t sure you could fight.
“Go on,” he purred with the faintest hint of mockery. His gaze moved to your lips, as though he could draw out the answer with nothing but his stare. His fingers flexed slightly against your waist, the pressure sending a ripple of heat skittering through you. “What was it you were saying? Something about what we should do?”
You couldn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing on your hands as they rested awkwardly near his chest, fingers twitching. The heat building between your thighs crept upward, spreading through your belly like a forest fire. You felt flushed and shivering, not just from the closeness but from the way he was glancing at you—like you were the only thing in the world worth his attention.
You weren't prepared for this; you hadn't anticipated that the barriers you thought were between you would collapse into nothing so abruptly.
Astarion’s voice cut through your thoughts like a blade. “Are you going to keep me here all night, love?” His tone kept low, almost a growl.
You struggled to string together coherent thoughts before saying something. “I didn't know you wanted... I didn't think...” The words stumbled out again, barely audible as your voice betrayed you.
His smirk deepened, and his crimson eyes held a predatory gleam that made your stomach twist and flutter all at once. “Don’t play coy with me, darling.” His voice was velvety enough to bury each word into your ears. “I know you’ve thought about this—about me. I can see it, feel it. You want this as much as I do.” You tried to look away to escape his gaze, but it was impossible. His eyes held you captive, burning with something raw and unapologetically ravenous.
Your eyes widened as he tugged you closer with a calculated ease that made you perfectly aligned with him—causing your pussy to rub directly on his cock. The feeling made every inch of you stand on edge, your body betraying you with a tremor you couldn’t suppress. Then he reclined back against his pillows more comfortably before his other hand glided up your thigh. “Relax, darling...” He purred lowly, his tone a sensuous command that curled around you like smoke.
You became instantly conscious of the burning sensation beneath you—the growing hardness pressing insistently against your cunt. Your thoughts whirled, panic and desire colliding in a tumult. ‘How did I end up like this?’ But the answer was painfully clear—he had led you, and you’d followed without resistance for being distracted caring for him.
“I... I wasn't planning... this.” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but his eyes—bold and piercing—made it impossible to hold.
One brow arched. “Oh, really?” He asked sarcastically. “Then perhaps you can explain why you’re straddling me like you are, love.”
His hardening length was impossible to ignore, even through the barrier of clothes, the sensation making heat surge through you in torrents. You swallowed hard. “I… It’s only because you moved me—” You tried to protest, but Astarion pressed a finger to your lips to silence you before leaning in to kiss your neck. “Moved you, did I?” He teasingly whispered against your skin. “Then don’t even think of moving, love... you're not going anywhere.”
Those words echoed in your ears. You knew you’d been fighting with your feelings since that night with the tieflings—when you’d seen him in his tent with his wine focused entirely on you, ignoring everyone else. You’d told yourself it was just the wine, the moment, but now you could hardly keep up the pretence.
For a hesitant moment, you thought about pulling away—but then his expression softened, almost looking if his black pupils were begging for you to stay with him, to kiss him when he noticed your intentions as you stared at his lips and slowly you hovered them with yours; the distance seemed endless.
With a small effort, you leaned in and kissed his lips, and you could feel how he smiled, clearly delighted by your boldness and the way your hand curled at his nape to draw him to you. The motions of your lips were slow, unsure. But as soon as you felt his opening slightly against yours, the shyness began to fade.
His hands clamped on your hips to pull you closer until there wasn't any space for doubt or even space untouched between you, and you could feel him—all of him. The pressure of his cock perfectly aligned with your entrance provoked you to gasp against his mouth; even in the hesitation, he gave you no choice but to lean into him, to crave more and push past the uncertainty that had held you back.
He just seemed to want more, that he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth felt as if it were burning yours. The kiss started slow and tentative, but that didn't last. His lips grew more insistent as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head and parting yours with ease to slip his tongue between your lips in a hurry. This made you pant by the initial shock of it, racing your heart. Your thoughts began to dissolve, leaving only the moment, and you simply surrendered to the sensation.
The swipes of his tongue weren’t gentle at all. He was implacable, exploring your mouth, moving deeper. His kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was an invitation, a way to encourage you. And as you accepted, you met his tongue with your own, unconfident at first, but he gave you the courage to match his boldness. Astarion groaned softly, a deep sound that reverberated in your lips, sending an intense pulse of arousal to your pussy.
There was no going back now, and you knew it. This was it—the pull to him, the demand of his touch, and now you could feel the indescribable connection that had been building between you from the very first time your eyes had met.
His lips pulled away just enough to speak. “You’re mine tonight.” He groaned roughly as his hands drifted to the sensitive space between your inner thighs, cupping your pussy and slowly kneading it with his fingers. “And when I’m through with you, you won't even remember what it felt like to be without me.”
Your chest tightened as his words hit hard, but you found yourself barely able to even think, unable to do more than just nod as you looked down at him. Your lips parted while you took your breath, while his hand moved with a voracious elegance, dragging his fingertips along the seam where your trousers joined. The air was charged and burning before he did what he did.
With a sharp tug, Astarion tore the fabric between your thighs. The sound was violent as the seams of your trousers gave way under the force of his hands, almost merciless. The rip clearly was strategic—exposing just enough to reveal what was hidden.
But the regret rushed over you the moment the cool night air hit your exposed area. You hadn’t been wearing any panties, and now, with nothing to shield your nakedness, you felt scandalously vulnerable. You cursed yourself for all the nights you decided against wearing anything, thinking no one would notice. Now, the decision turned painfully foolish.
His eyes dropped, and his pupils dilated further at the sight of his no longer hidden treasure, curling his lips with delight. A low laugh escaped his throat. “Well, well,” he purred, distinctly pleased. “It seems you’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you? No panties? How deliciously bold.”
You mentally damned your stupidity, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. The simple choice of not wearing underwear before going to sleep now felt like an invitation, one he seemed all too eager to accept.
The shock of it left you momentarily motionless and without words, feeling the cool air kissing the exposed skin of your thighs and your core. His hand brushed over the tear he had just created, grazing his fingers very close to where your pussy was.
“I can still see that shy little spark in you, even now.” He talked again, locking onto you. The playful smirk on his lips softened as he watched the blush across your cheeks. “It's almost... adorable.”
You tilted your head slightly, trying to escape his penetrating stare, a nervous pout forming on your lower lip as your hands clutched at his shoulders for some sort of stability. But a sudden gasp escaped your lips when his middle and ring fingers slid between your folds with smooth precision, parting them easily. His fingers let your clitoris be positioned right between both; your sensitive bud responded instantly after so many winters without another’s touch, and your grip on his shoulders only grew firmer.
When they finally clamped on either side of your clit, his fingers massaged it with a slow back-and-forth motion, sending an uncontrollable shiver through your nub. Your hips instinctively moved due to his stimulation, causing a soft tremor in your pelvis as the tingling sensation built. The exact pressure he exerted made you melt further, caught in the heat of it and masking your timid instincts.
All swipes of his fingers coaxed your body to react in ways you could barely control. Astarion's smile widened as he enjoyed watching the last traces of your shyness slowly dissolve beneath his touch. Eventually joining his thumb to the dance, finally rubbing directly over the skin covering your bud before pressing down in slow circles that made your thighs tremble against his hips.
“Just like that…” He murmured approvingly. “Feels good, doesn't it?”
His fingers slid forward slightly, pressing his palm against your clit while his middle finger traced the outline of your entrance. The anticipation held you captive, instinctively arching your hips, silently urging him to end the wait. And then, with tantalising slowness, he slid one finger inside you, the feeling both stimulating and exhilarating all at once. The filling was perfect—gradual but firm—and soon, a second finger joined to push in and out without pulling them out entirely.
With each slow thrust of his fingers, his palm rubbed on the skin of your clit, adding a delicious, pleasurable dual stimulation that sent spasms through your pussy, making it impossible to stay still. The strokes were maddeningly controlled, his fingers reaching and curling deeper with every smooth push, as though he knew exactly what you needed and how to give it to you. Astarion’s gaze never left your face, his piercing crimson eyes bright with pleasure, absorbing every sigh and shiver you produced.
“How sensitive, darling...” He breathed softly as he drew closer to meet your lips with his, causing a sweet pulse to your core, intensifying your throbs.
He angled his hand just slightly to reach deeper, and you gripped him tightly. You found yourself helplessly following the increasing tempo he set, encircling his neck with your arms to pull him closer and losing one of your hands in his silky curls.
Astarion's smile turned avaricious against your mouth, sensing your walls vibrate and deliciously clench around him, drenching his hand in just a few minutes. He curled his skilled fingers inside to stimulate a sensitive spot you didn't know was there, just perfectly, his touch implacable against your clit while he fucked your cunt.
Your mouth was being claimed with an eagerness that made your blood boil—he was devouring you in the kiss. His smooth lips moved against yours, insistent and hungry, coaxing you to open for him as he gently bit your lower lip. As you complied, his tongue rapidly swept in, tasting your saliva mingling with his. It was dizzying; your senses flooded with the taste of him and the coolness of his pale skin, creating a high contrast against your hot, wetting pussy and just adding to the sensations.
A low groan gurgled in his chest as his lips pressed harder, the tips of his fangs grazing your bottom lip before pulling back slightly. Just to slam his mouth to yours again with even more fierceness after taking his breath. His fingers curled more rapidly against that delicate spot within you, utterly submerging you in the magnetic pull of his caresses and the incredible hunger in his kiss.
He pulled away, his lips brushing against yours as he did, a soft, breathless hum escaping him. “I wonder,” he began, “how long it will take for you to break, darling.” His eyes glinted as he continued. “But I’m in no rush. We’ll savour this. I will…”
Your grip on him tightened, slightly pulling his hair as your hips rocked back and forth with the pace he set, lost to the growing pleasure he built for you. His touch was relentless, almost coaxing you to the brink, but every stroke was carefully calculated, carefully slow to keep you teetering, hovering in a blissful tension that left you frustrated.
Astarion watched you with predatory attention, centred on the slightest whimper that escaped your lips, as well as that exquisite pussy between your thighs. The very sight of you brought him as much pleasure as his hand brought to you.
Your breathing grew ragged as your body instinctively sought more of the pleasure he promised. The fullness of his fingers, though they were quite close to what you needed, only left you aching for more. You could feel your desire intensifying with every subtle movement, letting your hands drift lower in his chest with the need to touch, to claim him as yours. ‘At least for tonight’.
“Astarion... more, please... I want your cock inside me.” You pleaded, looking into his eyes with desperate want. “Take off these trousers...” You added, letting your fingers trail down his abdomen to where his waistband circled just below his waist, urging him to remove the last barrier between you.
He held your gaze, his eyes smouldering as a slow, indulgent smile appeared on his face. “Oh, you’re even more delicious when you beg...” He honeyed with approval, pulling his fingers out of your pussy and watching with keen interest as you trembled at the loss, the delicate quiver of your hips only adding to the pleasure he found in your vulnerability.
Before doing so, he slowly brought his dripping fingers from your cunt to his mouth, taking great pleasure in licking them clean and savouring the sweet, intoxicating juices made by your body. A soft, pleased hum escaped him as his eyes gleamed with wicked glee as he drank in the sight of your flushed face.
Only then did his hands drop to the waistband of his trousers. He didn’t rush, of course; instead, his movements were maddeningly slow as he began to slide the fabric down. The gleam in his eyes told you everything—he was savouring every second, drawing out the moment just to test your patience, fully aware of how much it would irritate you.
But just before sliding them for once and for all down, he stopped within a second. His eyes trailed their way down to your breasts, marked against the cloth, still covered while his torso was bare since you made him take off his shirt; the contrast stirred something within him. His fingers gently trailed along the fabric of your shirt, brushing down and against the edge, before his hand slid inside to grip your waist.
He looked back up, meeting your gaze with desire and playful intent. “Darling,” he purred, “don’t you think it’s only fair that you join me in shedding the rest of my clothing?” His eyes gleamed as he showed his damned puppy-like eyes for the second time that day. “I want to feel all of you against me,” he added, his tone rich with faked sorrow as his lower lip made a soft pout. “Take it off, my love...”
Oh, this definitely made you smile, feeling a spark of mischief as you looked down at him. You could tell he hadn’t quite anticipated the thought that crossed your mind.
You let your fingers drift along his bare chest again, savouring the coolness and smoothness of his porcelain skin before cradling his cheek, taking in every detail of his expectant look.
“Well,” you leaned close, letting your lips just a few inches away from his. “After tearing my favourite trousers,” you whispered, trailing your thumb teasingly across his lower lip, “don’t you think it’s only fair that you ask me—politely—to take the shirt off?”
Astarion raised one of his brows; his smile wavered for only a moment as he considered your request. Then, his expression softened, his smirk playing again on his lips as his hands slid up your sides under your shirt. “Oh, I see,” he replied smoothly, “you want me to beg, do you?”
You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Yes.” You savoured every single letter that slipped from your lips. “I am dying to hear you beg, Astarion.”
A moment passed before he gave a soft chuckle, and his gaze, brimming with delight and want, locked with yours. “Please, my love.” He said lowly, needy. “Let me see those surely precious breasts you must have. I’ll be good, I promise.” He pleaded sweetly. “Take it off... just for me...”
His words only made you want to tease him more.
The diabolical glow in your eyes grew as you leaned forward, letting your thumb trace the line of his chin. You could feel the light tension in his posture, the way the red in his eyes darkened, his lips parting just a bit as he waited for... maybe a kiss? He wasn't quite sure with you. His hands on your waist tightened to pull you a bit closer, but you resisted, holding him at bay.
“Good, you say? I’d like to see that.” You tilted your head as if considering his plea. “Are you sure you’re capable of it?” Your fingers slid down his chest again, skimming over his nipples with your fingers just enough to provoke him a small shiver.
“More than capable.” He replied roughly for the restraint you demanded of him, but not being entirely sincere.
You breathed slowly as you caught his lie, but somehow, your desire for him only grew, knowing he didn’t intend to ‘be good’ with you at all.
Your hands went down to lift the hem of your shirt, but you didn’t pull it up yet. Instead, you let your fingers there. “If you want it so badly, Astarion,” you said softly, “you’ll have to ask again. Nicely.”
His expression shifted to one of purely wanting as he tightened his hands on you. “Please, my love,” he replied in a low tone. “Take it off.”
Finally, you slowly lifted your shirt to reveal your torso and the defined curves of your breasts, drawing the fabric over your head to set it aside on his bedroll and finally being completely naked to his eager stare. Astarion’s eyes glistened with a glow that spoke volumes as he devoured every detail of your flushed skin like a long-awaited treat. You couldn’t help but arrange your hair and adjust your bracelets; you felt a mix of nerves and exhilaration at his intense attention.
Astarion’s hands reached for your breasts with a speed that almost startled you, sinking his fingers into your supple flesh as he kneaded it and leaned forward. His lips found one of your nipples, capturing it along with a portion of your breast, sucking passionately before planting a warm kiss above your nipple. He repeated on its twin, savouring your body before finally looking up; the surprise etched on your face, the blush on your cheeks, and the widening of your eyes seemed to light pride in his gaze.
Astarion revelled in the comfy warmth of your flesh under his cool hands as he continued to knead and massage your breasts as thoroughly as it was slow. Trailing his lips down to run messy kisses along your sternum before returning to one of your breasts once more. He opened his mouth, homely, to get your flushed breast inside, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it, rumbling an eager hum. His hands went to your waist and your other breast to take care of it too, holding you as you leaned against him with a soft moan escaping your lips. He seemed almost like a starved child desperately seeking milk from his mother's breast.
After a long, leisurely moment, he pulled away with a final and slow brush of his tongue over your nipple; his lips glistened with saliva from his attention. A desire that seemed to consume him was burning in his eyes, and when they met yours, a slow smile spread across his face. “You know,” he murmured, “I could lose myself in you like this, so easily.” His fingers slowly contoured your waist. “But I’ll need more than just this beautiful view.” He leaned in to graze his lips on your ear and whispered, “Imagine, darling, how it’ll feel when I’m deep inside you—how I’ll make you forget everything else, until all you can think of... is me.”
Your body received a delicious tremble, an almost inaudible moan escaping your lips because of the intensity of his voice saying those words to you. Your fingers tangled in his hair to pull him closer, feeling yourself getting wetter. The simple thought of him inside you, fucking you until your legs couldn't respond any more, grew your pulse faster.
As his hands wandered lower, the ache between your thighs grew unbearable—the need to have his cock growling in your throat; you could barely stand it. Impatiently, you moved to straddle his thighs, finding with your hands his waistband.
“I need you, Astarion.” Your plea spilt out unprocessed, begging for him to end the teasing and give you what you craved. “Please take them off. I can’t wait any longer. Finish what you started.” The final word fell from your lips almost like a cry, leaving no doubt that you were beyond ready, beyond wanting. You needed him—now.
Astarion chuckled as he looked at your hands, tracing his abdomen. He laid back slightly against his soft pillows, clearly enjoying how you were so eager for him, but he didn’t move anyway. Instead, his eyes flickered to your fingers as they were about to start tugging his waistband, and his lips curled up.
“Please, Astarion.” You pleaded again. “I can't take it any more. Stop teasing me. Take them off. Please.”
He hummed, amused, with a wicked glint in his crimson eyes. “Ah, so desperate, are we?” His eyes slid downward, pausing to take in the way your pussy soaked through his fabric, already dripping as you set yourself on his thighs. “Look at that sweet little cunt of yours, dripping for me already.” As soon as he finished speaking, he let out a soft chuckle. “Can’t wait to feel me inside, I see.”
You furrowed your brows in some annoyance at his incessant chatter that only made your patience thinner. But then, his demeanour shifted nonchalantly, capturing your attention when he propped his hands up on the bedroll and lifted his pelvis fluidly, giving you room to slide his trousers out of his legs.
“Help yourself, darling.” He purred softly with that grin on his lips.
You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down, captivated by his posture. When your eyes fell to his crotch, where your hands had settled either side, you saw the clear shape of his rigid cock outlined beneath the fabric, straining against the material and angled a little to one side. The thickness and length were evident, making your entrance painfully clench around nothing and heat your cheeks.
‘How didn't I look at it before?’ Your breath hitched at the graphic, raw sight of it—exquisite and so irresistibly tempting. The aching sensation in your pussy grew, not just from the visual but from the rush of desire that quickly followed. Despite yourself, your eyes went back to his face, finding that same teasing, excited expression as though he were daring you to take the next step.
As you began to slide your fingers inside the waistband of his trousers, you brushed lightly his skin, sending a shiver to your fingertips.
And then, pulling his trousers down, you slowly revealed more inches of his pelvis and his white curls, and you could feel his intense gaze smouldering into you. His cock twitched against the fabric, building your excitement until it sprang free, making you inhale sharply at the sight. Your eyes traced his exposed skin as you slid the fabric the rest of the way down his legs. A soft rustle marked their removal from his ankles, and he lay naked before you.
His erect length was blushed and visibly soft, with subtle veins running up from its base, contrasting sharply against his swollen, rosy head. The pale expanse of his skin was almost luminescent; only the tip of his cock seemed all the more vivid. And there was precum already seeping from its slit, a trail that slid down to his sac.
For a brief, delicious moment, you simply stared. The long shape with a slightly tapered head was just stunning, and it made you realise just how perfectly he would enter and fill you. You couldn’t help but let your fingers drift to your clit, stimulating lightly to ease the relentless ache building. The wet heat spread between your thighs, growing stronger as you took in every detail.
A subtle sigh left your lips, caused by the strong beating of your puffy bud against your fingers. You traced the ridges of his hips with the other hand before brushing over from the base to the tip of his cock. It was warm, soft but firm with the ridges of its veins, and the precum that gathered there only added to its silkiness.
Your mind raced with thoughts you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to process—how new this was, how thrilling and unfamiliar it felt yet so drawn by it. Astarion was nothing like the lovers you had before. You didn’t have a long list of conquests, and that made your inexperience clear. But the way he looked at you and how his moves commanded every piece of your attention drew you deeper into something you were both eager and frightened to experience.
Without thinking any longer, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, feeling its thickness as you slowly began to stroke him in sync with your own stimulation, smoothing with your thumb the head with each pass. His lips allowed a low, appreciative sigh to escape him, sending a wave of emotion through you and racing your pulse. And with one final glance up at his face, you slowly positioned yourself between his thighs to lay down and let your stomach rest on his bedroll.
As you let your lips hover near the tip of his cock, you could feel the heat radiating from him and smell the intoxicating scent of his arousal as he smelt yours. You could almost drool at the sight before you—how you see the shift in his expression—from humour to impatience. The anticipation was exhausting for both of you, but you didn’t rush. Instead, you kissed the tip tenderly, feeling the weight of him against your lips before letting your tongue slip out where his glans started to the high point. Tasting the warmth and saltiness of his cock because of his precum.
You felt the coolness of the storm kissing you and of the bedroll beneath your stomach, grounding you as your hands remained on him, steady and assured. Astarion’s thighs tensed under your touch, caught between the impulse to take control and the pleasure of simply letting you explore at your own pace.
Each time your thumb swept over his tip, his cock twitched, responding to the rhythm of your touch and your lips. You swirled your tongue around his head, licking clean the precum that had gathered there and along his length. The taste was different than you expected—rich and heady, like a Vermentino wine, lingering on your tongue in a way that was deeply intriguing.
The low sounds slipping from his lips spurred you on as you pressed messy kisses to his length and tip, tracing with your tongue the subtle lines and ridges of his shaft. His sharp intake of breath told you just how deeply he felt every small touch, and the sheer pleasure in that knowledge emboldened you further.
“Mm, look at you,” he purred, honestly surprised and pleased. “Not so shy now, are we, darling?” His words were meant to tease as always, but the note of admiration was unmistakable, making clear just how captivated he truly was.
Your eyes met his quietly before slowly lowering your mouth to take him inch by inch. The stretch of him filled your cavity as you went deeper, feeling his rigidity slide against your tongue. You let inside more of him until you felt his tip reach the back of your throat and the hair on his pelvis brushing your nose. His reaction, the involuntary twitch, and the low hum from him sent a thrill through you as you adjusted him inside your mouth, savouring the moment.
As you set a slow up-down with your head, Astarion’s lips started to make soft, broken sounds that were like a lyrical to your ears, urging you to continue. His hand reached out to rest on the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he let out a silent growl. The anxiety in his grip was obvious, yet he kept his touch gentle, guiding without forcing and letting you take the lead, trembling under your care.
You slid your hands down his thighs, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingers and feeling how his body responded to you. Each time you drew him deeply, your tongue caressed his lower vein, lavishing attention on every inch of him that his cock met with an appreciative palpitation.
Astarion moaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “Slow down, my love... Let me enjoy this.” He breathed as he allowed you to fully take him, his hips flexing slightly. His fingers tightened slowly in your hair, a silent encouragement for you to continue as he gave himself completely over to you.
With one hand still supported on his thigh, you drifted the other to his sac to massage it gently inside your palm. The action caused a louder moan from him, his hips jiggling involuntarily as you kept your mouth moving steady and more slowly, never breaking your rhythm. His low groans came quicker and even rougher, sounds of pleasure spilling freely now like an invitation to go on, filling the tent and dispersing the strong rain outside.
He moved his hand from your hair to your cheek and stopped you momentarily, cradling it in a surprisingly tender gesture as he glanced down at you. “Look at me while you do it, my darling...” He sighed, gently caressing you. “Feel how hard you make me...” His head fell back once more, unable to hold back a guttural growl as you continued with an intensified sucking, feeling his cock pulse and grow impossibly hard against your tongue.
With a measured squeeze, you tightened your grip on his sac, rolling it delicately with your fingers while your other hand remained anchored on his thigh. They trembled involuntarily, just like his cock, each movement drawing a delicious reaction until he could no longer keep still, his hips instinctively arching towards your mouth.
His hand returned to the back of your head, gripping tightly as your tongue traced the underside of his cock. All of him seemed to shiver under your touch, and he still allowed you to take control, guiding him into this sweet, little death.
But, after a few moments, you let his cock slip free from your lips with a slow drag, watching it emerge slick in your saliva and instantly cling to his lower belly because of its hardness. The dampness left a glistening trail between your mouth and him, breaking only as you leaned back, lifting a hand to wipe the last of the moisture from your mouth. He let out a disappointed sigh at the loss of you, then looked down to watch how you had left him all reddish-coloured with a sheen because of his precum mixed with your saliva.
Without a word, you rose on your knees and moved to straddle his hips, feeling the firm press of his thighs beneath your ass cheeks as you settled your weight onto him. His hands instinctively moved to your waist, gripping your sides in a way that felt almost impossible to avoid.
You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing between your folds—a solid, delicious presence. Each pulsate of its head against the own palpitations of your puffy bud felt incredible.
Bracing your hands against his chest, you pressed down gently and took a moment to enjoy the feel of him, tracing the lines that defined his chest with your fingers. His eyes were locked on you, watching the way your pussy just wrapped around his cock.
Gradually, you began to move your hips, grinding down your clitoris onto his glans with a slowed tempo that turned faster. The friction was amazing as you brushed against his slick skin, adding a sensuous layer of lubrication as you moved back and forth against his perfectly nestled cock. You could feel yourself drenching him wetter, mixing your juices with the slickness left from your previous oral.
His hungry gaze roamed over your pelvis, tightening his grip on your waist as he let out a rough sigh, savouring the way your pussy slid so enticingly along his shaft until you leaned forward. Repositioning your weight on one hand, you reached down to trace your fingers along his length, wrapping around it to guide it upwards. You pressed the tip on your entrance, dragging it slowly along your slit, feeling it start to pulse against your inner lips. His lower lip formed a slight pout as you continued to tease, drawing the moment out with almost cruel patience.
But with a final pass, you positioned him straight to your entrance, vacillating just on the edge, and looked at his face to watch his reaction—the way his eyes were focused on your pussy, waiting for you to cut the last bit of separation. Then, with a slow downward, you began to sink him inside, feeling the exquisite stretch his tip made as he filled you, inch by inch, making your walls instantly clench around him for the sudden fullness.
He let out a pleased moan, now holding harder your hips as you settled onto him completely, feeling so deep and stretching you deliciously wide after so many years of solitude. The warm pulse of him between your walls, every subtle movement of his length—an insistent throb—made you simply sit there for a moment. Letting yourself adjust to the sensation of him fully within you and the friction of your clit as it rubbed against his silvery pubic hair. He flicked up his eyes to meet yours with an intensity that made his eagerness clear as he waited for you to move.
You gently cupped his face and caressed his pointy ear, the other hand resting over his shoulder. You softly brought his face closer to yours, locking your eyes on his.
“Astarion...” You whispered. “Can you feel it? How incredible this is?” You gave him a dulcet smile before closing the distance, pressing your lips against his as you traced the line of his cheekbone and chest, feeling his pulse beneath your fingers.
Gently, you lifted yourself just slightly to sink back down, the exquisite friction sending a burst of pleasure through both of you. Astarion’s grip on you tensed again, tightening as his hips surged up to meet yours, letting out a low, throaty noise. Your lips remained together, deepening the kiss as your mouths moved in time with your bodies, setting a slow, constant pace where you rose and fell smoothly over him.
The sounds of your bodies intertwined moving together began to fill the surrounding little space—the slapping of skin on skin, the lewd, sensual noises of your pussy swallowing his cock over and over again blending with the muffled moans, and the relentless raindrops against the canvas.
He forcefully gripped your hips to dictate you, abruptly being the one controlling the pace as he broke the kiss to catch his breath. His lips hovered close, both hot exhales mingling as you rested your forehead against his, matching your rhythm. The tantalising climax drew closer and closer with every thrust, making everything else seem distant, the storm outside being insignificant compared to the tempest building between you.
His hands roamed over your body, tracing your spine before one circled your waist and the other gripped the back of your shoulder to pull you closer, urging you to press down against him more fully.
The deeper you sank, the more you felt him smack against your vaginal walls so passionately. You leaned forward, your hands wrapping either side of his waist and slightly digging your nails into his skin as you picked up the pace. The position shifted just enough to drive him pleasantly deeper in each downward stroke, with a perfect angle that made his tip hammer against your cervix.
Suddenly, the hand against your shoulder gripped your cheeks, pulling you down to capture your lips in another hungry kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, both tasting the other's mouth, becoming something truly addicting, as if he just seemed to want to devour you whole, and you couldn't satisfy your own craving. His hand slid to your nape as the kiss deepened, just like the rhythm of both pelvises grew faster.
Every thrust proved how he was losing himself, both of you spiralling higher and higher. He whimpered against your lips, a sound that vibrated deep in your mouth, feeling the tension coiling tighter within your lower belly, your body feeling worn out as it yearned for release.
His hands were everywhere—guiding, pulling, encouraging. You couldn’t help but moan against his lips, the pleasure overwhelming as your movements grew more frantic. He was holding you just right, pressing his open thighs up against your ass cheeks, lifting you just enough to make you feel perfectly aligned with his cock.
His lips parted from yours with a shaky groan as he looked up at you, consumed by the burning need you were becoming. At that moment, with the weight of your hips moving over his, your voice came out shaky, broken by the effort of holding yourself glued to him. “Am I... am I doing it right?”
The question left you trembling because of its vulnerability, making your pulse race as though the very act of asking had laid bare everything you hid beneath that little girl you were for him. You felt so desperate for his confirmation, for him to tell you that this was all he wanted.
For a moment, he looked as if he was caught off guard, eyes widening just a fraction before he composed himself.
Then his hands tightened his grasp on both your ass cheeks with determination. He pressed your hips down more strongly, making his cock burry inside you to the hilt and making your lips crush against his pelvis. “Do you feel that?” He kept pressing you down harder, grinding his hips up to meet yours. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, and it’s perfect. Move just like that—don’t stop.” The words slipped out raw and unfiltered, as if he couldn’t hold them back.
The way he said that broke whatever fragile restraint you’d managed to hold onto, unleashing a fierce, unstoppable heat within you. The only thing that existed now was him—all of him—buried balls deep inside you, turning every nerve in almost an animalistic way.
An uncontrollable need surged through you, overtaking all thoughts, as your hips immediately started to move impulsively, slamming down against his. Your body was just demanding to take everything from him, driven by a thirst he had created that couldn’t be denied. The ache of his cock stretching your entrance open and filling you that much was the divine sensation of him, the incredible pleasure of his flawless body moving exactly in time with and inside yours.
You were in pursuit of more—more of him, more of this satisfying connection. You let out a series of desperate moans, each one of them spurring you both deeper into your carnal urges, neither of you able to stop. The immediateness of it overtook you both. Your breathing was ragged as the intense pressure built, feeling him fully as he lifted his hips to force his cock impossibly inside you, aligning you just right, so deep that you could feel it in your very bones. The edge of your release was so close.
His hands dug into your ass, pulling you more forcefully against him to guide your frantic pace and stoke the fire on your clitoris as his pelvis writhed beneath it. “Just a little more...” He growled, strained, like a man on the edge of breaking. “I’m so close, love…” His words were almost a pleading cry, a raw reflection of the need that overtook him because of you.
You could feel it, see it—his control slipping away, his body trembling beneath yours as his hands gripped your hips now to urge you on, both bodies acting just like animals in heat do with an almost agonising intensity that could leave your womb aching for days. You both moved harder and faster, slapping together with an unbreakable pace. The pressure in your core was unbearable now, so close to snapping that it made your legs shake in both of the sides of his hips with the effort of holding on.
Suddenly, one of his hands slid between your bodies, finding your clitoris to circle his thumb over the painfully swollen nub with expert knowledge. Just like if he was already aware of how to trigger your sensitive spots to push you to the heavens. The friction was impossible to bear in the best, perfect possible way, making you cry in pleasure, unable to control the whimpers that tore from your throat.
You couldn’t hold back any more. His touch, the pressure, the movements of his body—it all became too much. The tension inside you snapped, and with a loud and uncontrolled moan, your walls tightly clenched and pulsated around him, your climax crashing over you in pure, consuming pleasure. Hitting you so hard that you felt like you were floating, holding on to him with the tremors of your hips.
But Astarion didn’t stop. He never ceased the maddening stimulation on your clit or fucking your cunt, coaxing another renovated sensation from you, pushing you past the point of stimulation. You tried to pull away to catch your breath, but his hands clamped down, forcing you to stay in the moment, allowing him to draw even more from you. He was relentless as the need to overstimulate you took control.
“Don’t stop, not now.” He gasped, his voice breaking as he thrust up into you harder, his thumb continuing to rub and circle your bud, trying to force your body into another climax. “I need you, my love. Please…”
The words were the spark that made you give in with a desperate cry as ecstasy crashed over you, smashing everything. You felt him pulsating and releasing with a ragged, almost feral growl, leaving his sweet lips, his body quivering beneath yours as he exploded into you, the rush of his climax pushing you to the edge. The sensation of his warm semen spurting against your cervix and filling you sent you into your second release of the night, the new pressure in your body finally exploding in waves of sheer. The powerful sensations of both of you reaching that peak at the same time made your vision blur.
Every spurt of his release throbbed deep within your womb, drawing low, tired moans from your lips as his cock continued its task to fill you, spreading his seed inside you with each pulse of the head. You pressed your hips down, grinding to take him impossibly deeper as your labia were already crushed against his damp pelvis, letting you feel every twitch and tremor between your aching walls. He groaned softly as he tightened his grip on your hips, and you fucked his cock instinctively in answer to coax out every last shudder from him.
His hands guided your hips to keep you pressed down hard as his cock stroked every sensitive inch of your walls, filling you in a way that made some of his cum slowly spill out from your pussy. Your bodies met again and again, making him feel unable to resist the pull of you as you moved perfectly up and down, simply feeling lost in you as you milked him.
Then, you both collapsed together, sweaty bodies shaking with the intensity of your simultaneous culmination and the aftershocks of your climaxes, leaving you both drained. Your breaths came intermittently, laboured, and it felt as though the camp outside had momentarily ceased to exist. The air between you was impregnated with the smell of sex and your scents, but there was also something tender about the way your bodies were embracing each other that made you feel... nice.
Astarion’s hands moved with a strange gentleness now, gliding up your back with soothing strokes in the cosiness of the moment. His lips pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, his breath still unsteady with a warmness that contrasted the freshness of your lovemaking and the way his cock kept pulsating while softening within you.
He dragged you against him. “Are you alright, darling?” His voice abruptly soft, touched with... care, concern; an unknown tenderness that caught you by surprise.
You nodded against his shoulder. “Yes…” you murmured, fluttering closed as exhaustion settled in and the comfort of his presence lulled you, feeling his quick heartbeat beneath your ear. “Just... give me a second.”
A sweet smile tugged at the corner of his lips, looking at you with adoration as he brushed a damp lock of hair away from your face, fingers running gently over your neck. “I’ll admit, I didn't think I’d be the one left wanting more… but here I am.” He said quietly. “That, my love, was truly something else for someone so lovely.” He pressed another sweet kiss to your cheek, remaining just a little before pulling away.
You let out a shaky laugh, the closeness between you both grounding your still-tingling nerves. Lifting your head slightly and reopening your eyes, you met his gaze with a warmth that made your heart swell. “You know,” you started, “I might just have to keep you around a little longer. You’ve made it hard for me to want anyone else, Astarion.” You reached to cradle his cheek as your hidden confession floated in the air between you.
He leaned into your touch, his hand hovering over yours in a loving gesture. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” Astarion said, feigning frustration, though his eyes softened with a rare sincerity in his voice. “I had plans, you know. But it seems I’m not allowed to have anything for myself any more.” He let out a mock sigh. “Guess I’m yours, darling. For now. Don’t get too comfortable with it.”
You smiled softly, tilting your head. “Oh, how tragic,” you teased with mock frustration as well. “I didn’t realise you had such grand plans, Astarion. How terribly cruel of me to steal you away from them.” Your fingers gently traced the edge of his ear, a smirk playing on your lips. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll learn to live with it. Just try not to get too comfortable, either, darling.”
Astarion let out a soft chuckle, his fingers leaving your hand to cup your cheek tenderly. “Well, well, what a vile little thing you are,” he said with a playful smirk, grazing your cheekbone with his thumb. “Using that sweet face of yours to get your way... You really do enjoy this, don’t you?” His laugh was light, almost like a caress, before he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow kiss that left you aware of all the emotions he couldn’t express using words.
He held the kiss for a moment to savour your lips before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he basked in the shared closeness.
After that, he slowly adjusted your position so that you lay more comfortably against him. Once settled, he pulled a soft blanket over you both, wrapping his arms around you snugly.
“Rest now, my love.” He murmured softly. You felt his words settle over you like a soft lullaby, and you snuggled closer to place yourself against him, wrapping your arm gently around his waist.
There, in his embrace, you let yourself fully relax in the quiet comfort of the moment with the rain outside. The feeling of his skin against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the gentle sweep of his fingers through your hair and your arm—it was everything you needed, a perfect, tender end to the passion from minutes ago.
With a contented sigh, you pressed a soft kiss against his chest before your eyelids started to grow heavy as you drifted into a peaceful calm in his arms.
As the hours passed, the heat of the night slowly faded, leaving you both tangled in each other’s embrace. You both drifted into sleep, your bodies still flushed and sweaty from the intensity of your passion that night. Astarion’s arm was wrapped around you, pulling you closer. The odd warmth of his body against yours was comforting.
As the soft light of dawn filtered through the tent, the storm was now nothing more than a distant memory, and a sudden weight pressed down on you.
Your mind, still slow to fully wake, started to be flooded with vivid recollections—the sex, the words shared, the undeniable connection you felt...
A sharp pang of awareness hit you as you became acutely aware of every quiet sound. 'Had I really just done that?' The question lingered in your mind, though it wasn’t that you regretted it—not with him, not when everything felt so unexpectedly right. But still, a knot tightened in your throat. You’d never been this irresponsible before, never allowed this kind of situation with someone you’d only known for a couple of months.
You slowly pulled yourself from Astarion's embrace. The warmth of his body left a mark on your skin nonetheless. As you sat up, the blanket tangled around your hips, and a sudden rush of cool air hit your naked chest, causing an uninvited shiver to you that woke you a little more.
Your eyes drifted to him, still peacefully asleep beside you. His bare chest rose and fell in slowly, and his expression was soft and relaxed in the morning, a sharp contrast to the intensity of your previous night.
While you stood there, tracing with your eyes his form, the weight of what had just happened was still pressing heavily above your shoulders. Embarrassment crept in, not just for the passion you’d shared but for the place you were in—his tent, in camp, with your friends only a few meters away. The unsettling thought wormed its way into your mind: what if they’d heard you?
Your eyes flicked towards the opening of the tent, a bead of cold sweat rolling down the back of your neck. You pressed your palm to your forehead, the reality sinking in. What if they had? The embarrassment felt like it was growing, and you had to swallow back the rising anxiety carving in your chest.
The thoughts swirled and twisted in your mind. Reaching for your shirt, you slowly sat up a bit more; you felt a sting pain in your muscles from the night’s activities. Your fingers fumbled clumsily to the fabric as the weight of your thoughts made everything feel more difficult. You tried to dress as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb the fragile calm of his slumber.
The texture felt harsh against your sensitive skin, while the cool morning air grazed over the parts of you exposed and between your thighs as you raised the shirt over your head to dress it.
Just as you finally managed to pull it into place, you caught a soft shift beside you. Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, his vision still cloudy with sleep, but his attention immediately locked onto you. He didn’t speak right away; his focus was on the way you moved.
He curved his lips into a small, lazy smile. There was a softness in his expression now that you didn't see before. “Good morning... sneaking off already?” He sighed with the remnants of sleep in his tone. He looked down to where your fingers grabbed the fabric of your shirt, then back to your face, his smile growing wider. His hand reached out to grab your arm, pulling you back towards him gently. “Didn't peg you as the type to leave me after our first time, darling...”
The way he still wanted you close stirred something within you—a warmth despite the storm of emotions inside you. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the thought. “I wasn’t going anywhere...” You replied quietly.
Astarion’s hand moved to your waist, his touch fierce yet tender as he pulled you closer, guiding you to lay back completely against his body. His chest pressed against your back as he nestled his chin in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses there. You could feel the weight of him, enveloping you in a way that was both comforting and deeply intimate.
His arm wrapped securely around your waist, drawing you even nearer as he gently adjusted his position, making sure you were comfortable. You could feel the tension in your body melt as his movements spoke of quiet care, though the nervousness inside you didn’t entirely dissipate.
He must have sensed the shift in your mood. “Is everything alright?” Astarion murmured softly, concerned. His lips brushed over your ear as he spoke, a gentle kiss to your cheek that seemed to reassure you, though you couldn’t quite shake the lingering anxiety that clung to you.
“I... I just—” You broke off. “What if they heard us, Astarion?”
“We’re safe, darling,” he murmured, his voice a soothing caress that chased away the remnants of your worry. “No one knows a thing. The storm was our shield last night.”
Astarion’s hand lingered at your waist as he shifted his weight, guiding you gently. And with a slight motion, he turned you to lie on your back and face him fully. His gaze locked onto yours, his crimson eyes glimmering with something unspoken. He propped himself on an elbow beside you, sliding his other hand from your waist to cradle your cheek.
Seeing the faint worry lingering in your eyes, he offered a small, tender smile. “You know, love,” he began, “this is different. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. I never imagined I’d feel like this—like I’d actually want this... someone.” His thumb brushed softly over your cheekbone, as if the gesture alone could convey what words struggled to express. “Last night wasn’t just indulgence, not with you. It was... real.”
The way he looked at you then was as though he’d laid down his armour, revealing a part of himself you’d only glimpsed. “I’ve spent centuries taking what I was told to, living by someone else’s twisted desires. Wanting something—someone—for myself? I’d almost forgotten what that even felt like.” He hesitated. “But here we are... and being with you, feeling this... it’s more than I ever dared to hope for.”
Your breath caught, and the sincerity in his voice made your chest feel both heavy and light at once. You swallowed, a warmth blossoming where your anxiety had been. “I want you to know that I meant every word,” he whispered against your ear.
As he drew back, his fingers entwined with yours, and he gave you a small smile, one filled with that rare sincerity he reserved just for you. “So, let’s not let the world outside intrude on this, hmm?” His eyes gleamed with a quiet plea. “Not yet.”
The words hung in the warm morning light, soothing the unease within you. Astarion shifted slightly again to recline back onto the soft bedroll, pulling you with him. You instinctively wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him close.
But as your fingers traced along his side, you brushed against something you forgot. A faint crease formed between your brows as you looked down. There was the bandage you had tied the night before, stained with a faint bloom of red where his wound lay concealed. A quiet ache of worry unfurled in your chest as your hand rested against the edge of the bandage.
Without thinking, your fingers traced lightly over his abdomen, avoiding the more sensitive area near the bandage. “Astarion,” you called softly with a new urgency. “Are you... alright? I might’ve moved too much last night.”
Astarion’s eyes opened a bit more as he recognised the genuine concern in your voice. “Oh, my love,” he purred with a smirk on his lips as he glanced down to where your hand rested on his stomach. “If anyone could survive your... enthusiasm, it would be me.” His tone softened as he covered your hand with his.
You bit your lip, the persistent worry stirring as you recalled the intensity of the night before. “Still, I should've been more careful with you,” you replied with a faint blush warming your cheeks. “I didn’t even think about it last night... I just... wanted you.”
He shifted slightly, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched, his lips barely brushing yours as he spoke again. “Believe me, last night... was everything I never knew I needed,” he said, with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You've given me a moment of calmness I never thought I’d experience again.”
Your hand pressed lightly against his chest; he let out a quiet, contented sigh. His own hand drifted down to rest against your waist, drawing you even closer.
He brushed his lips softly against the tip of your nose, placing a sweet kiss there before he spoke. “The truth is, I’m not used to someone worrying over me. I’ve learnt to dismiss my wounds and to push through the pain alone. You make me feel seen, darling…”
A soft smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back just enough to catch your gaze, reaching with his hand your cheek to rub his thumb along your cheekbone in a gentle, absent-minded swipe. Your heart softened as you wrapped your arms around him, letting yourself melt. You nestled closer to him, the soft heat of his body a constant pull as your fingers traced lightly over his skin, careful not to touch the bandage.
Astarion’s fingers moved in slow strokes along your back, his touch lingering at the small of your waist. The quiet way his body urged you nearer made your pulse race in a way that was both comforting and thrilling. You could feel the passion of the night still lingering in the air between you, a magnetic pull that only seemed to deepen the longer you were in his presence.
“You know,” he murmured lowly, his velvety voice wrapping around your thoughts. He leaned in, his lips brushing over yours as he closed his eyes briefly. “I find myself wanting more.”
A small shiver of anticipation ran through you. He moved slightly, shifting his body to bring you closer, his hand sliding down your side until he could grab one of your buttocks. It stirred something inside of you—something that made it hard to breathe, hard to think.
You pressed your lips to his to give him a soft kiss before pulling back to meet his eyes. The intensity in his look made you ache with longing. “Astarion, are you sure you’re alright?” You asked softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing with something dark and intense, and then he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and sensual, tasting of the night and everything you’d shared. His mouth moved against yours with a quiet eagerness, and you let yourself melt into him, your hand sliding to his waist, feeling the bandage beneath your palm.
But you pulled back slightly, concern flitting through your mind again. Astarion’s eyes glimmered, his expression a blend of amusement and something achingly vulnerable. “Darling,” he replied, his voice a rough, affectionate murmur. “I can handle anything you give me.”
You leaned into him, grazing your lips with his as you spoke, “I just want to make sure you're alright... I don’t want to push—” Without letting you finish, he leaned forward to kiss your lips again to silence you. His mouth moved against yours with a quiet desperation, a demand for attention.
Astarion’s hands slowly roamed your sides as he shifted, positioning himself above you on the bedroll. You could feel the warmth of his body radiating into yours, his thighs pressed tightly against yours.
Your hands moved instinctively, sliding around his waist, bracing yourself against his lower back, feeling the curve of his muscles tense under your touch. The kiss deepened, slow and calm, as if he tasted every inch of you, pushing any lingering uncertainty away.
One of his hands moved to catch your hand and entwine his fingers with yours before pressing your hand down against the pillow. His other hand found your other wrist, lifting it gently above your head and pinning it there, his grip firm yet laced with a sensual care that only deepened your wanting of him. His thighs pressing tighter against yours.
Astarion’s breath was shallow against your lips as he finally broke the kiss to meet your gaze, his pupils wide with a need that mirrored your own, his mouth curving into a wicked smile as he held you in place. The subtle weight of him, combined with the feeling of his fingers interlocked with yours, created an undeniable sense of belonging, a wordless claim that ignited every nerve.
“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured roughly because of his desire, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “Just stay here. With me. That’s all I need.”
How they react to seeing Reader breaking down {Wyll, Astarion, Gale, Lae’zel}
This is a request from my main blog (@a-bit-of-writing ) featuring a reader who’s breaking down from their usual sunny/optimistic self and how the companions react to it.
Wyll
He notices but doesn’t push (at first)
Wyll is perceptive, especially when it comes to people he cares about. He’ll notice the subtle changes first: the forced smiles, the distant gaze, the silence where laughter used to be.
He won’t confront you immediately. He’ll observe — give you space.
“You’ve been quieter lately. Not like you. …Not that I mind a little peace and quiet, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss your laugh.”
He’s gentle about it, not invasive. He’s been taught to lead with kindness, not pressure.
Once he knows it’s serious, he shifts into steady support
When he realizes it’s not just a bad day – that you’re really struggling – his tone becomes steady, his warmth unwavering. He’ll sit with you in it, no grand speeches, no magic fixes. Just presence.
He stops trying to cheer you up and focuses on being there.
“You don’t have to smile for me. You don’t have to say a word. Just… stay. I’m not going anywhere.”
His hero complex makes him want to fix it, but he reins that in. He understands that this isn’t a battle he can fight for you but he can fight with you.
He shares his own pain — to show you you’re not alone
Wyll doesn’t often speak about his own regrets or loneliness. But your breakdown would open that door. Quietly, hesitantly, he’ll begin to offer pieces of himself—not to shift focus, but to remind you he understands.
He speaks plainly, without dramatics.
“There were days I didn’t believe I deserved anything better. Days I looked in the mirror and only saw what I’d lost… or what I’d become. You ever feel that way?”
He doesn’t pity you. He relates to you. And that matters.
His affection grows deeper, not distant
Some would shy away from the intensity of someone unraveling. Wyll doesn’t. If anything, he draws closer. More careful. More devoted. Not because he sees you as fragile but because he sees your strength even when you can’t.
He flirts less during this time — not because he’s lost interest, but because his love becomes more protective. More reverent.
“You don’t have to be the light all the time, you know. Even the sun rests. I’ll keep the fire burning till you’re ready to rise again.”
Long-term: he’s patient, loyal, and will wait as long as it takes
Wyll isn’t going anywhere. Not when you’re struggling. Not when you’re quiet. Not when it’s hard. He will wait. Fight for you. Sit beside you through every storm. Because once he loves — he chooses.
He’ll keep offering small joys — stories, warmth, reminders of who you are.
“You once told me I was a hero. But you — you’re the one who kept hope alive when everything went dark. I haven't forgotten. And I never will.”
Astarion
His first response is deflection — sharp, defensive, and a bit cruel
Astarion senses the shift. He absolutely notices your sudden quiet, your lack of spark and it scares him. So his first instinct is to mock it, to distance himself emotionally.
He’ll say something sarcastic to cover his panic.
“Well, this is new. Have we given up the role of radiant optimist for something more… dreary?”
There’s venom, but it’s hollow. He’s not being cruel — he’s terrified. This is how he protects himself.
When he realizes it’s not a mood — it’s a descent — his mask slips
Once Astarion really understands what’s happening — that this isn’t passing sadness but something deeper — his tone shifts. Not immediately into comfort, but into a rare, raw honesty.
He’ll sit near you without knowing what to say, awkward and unsure. But he stays. That’s the tell.
“I’m not… good at this. The comforting. The caring. But I notice. You’ve gone quiet. And I hate it.”
He doesn’t ask you to be happy again. He asks you to talk to him. Because he feels helpless otherwise.
He’s afraid you’ll leave — or worse, disappear from the inside out
Astarion has abandonment trauma. Seeing someone he cares about emotionally shut down triggers that fear. He’ll begin clinging in his own way — more teasing, more barbed jokes, more hovering.
He won’t say “I’m scared.” He’ll say things like:
“You don’t get to break now, darling. I’ve only just gotten used to you.”
But there’s a plea underneath. “Please stay. Please don’t fade.”
Small gestures, deep meaning
Once he realizes words won’t fix this, Astarion begins to act in smaller, unexpected ways. He’ll bring you food without fanfare. Offer to clean your gear. Sit closer at night. It’s clumsy affection, but it’s real.
He shows up even when he doesn’t understand what you need.
“I don’t know how to fix you. But I’m here. And I’m… trying, gods help me.”
That’s the greatest intimacy he can offer: effort. Not performance. Real effort.
If you let him in—even just a little—he breaks first
If you open up to him, if you trust him with your darkness, it breaks something in Astarion. Because someone as good, bright, and lovely as you just let him see what you hide. And to him, that’s sacred.
He’ll try to laugh it off, then go quiet. Too quiet.
“You shouldn’t have told me that. Not because I don’t care but because I do. And I don’t know what to do with it.”
And when he really means it:
“I’ve clawed my way out of darkness. I know what it feels like when it whispers to you. If you’re going to fall, fall toward me. I’ll catch you — clumsily, but… I’ll try.”
Gale
He sees it immediately and treats it like a sacred secret
Gale is perceptive in the way of scholars and poets — he sees subtleties. He’ll recognize the cracks in your smile, the fatigue in your voice, the way you pause too long before answering. But he won’t rush in with questions. He’ll wait, watching with quiet concern until the right moment to speak.
He might approach it gently, over tea, over books, over starlight.
“I notice things. Not just in the stars or in spellwork—but in people. You… aren’t quite yourself lately. Would you like to talk about it?”
He gives you the space to not be okay. No judgment. Just a safe harbor.
His reaction is compassionate, never condescending
Gale would never suggest you “cheer up.” Instead, he’d normalize your pain, offering philosophical reflections that are both grounding and comforting.
He speaks in metaphors — light and shadow, storms and silence — but always with sincerity.
“Even the sun rests, my dear. Even the Weave frays. There is no shame in being… still. In being soft for a while.”
He reassures you that your value does not fade with your smile.
“You, in sorrow, are no less radiant. Only quieter. And I will sit with you in that quiet as long as you need.”
He tries to bring you back gently with joy, not pressure
He doesn’t want to pull you out — he wants to walk with you through it. He might read to you, share arcane stories or magical curiosities just to make you smile. He offers warmth through shared wonder.
His flirting slows, becomes sweeter, less performative.
“I’ve missed your laughter. I don’t expect it but I look forward to its return. Like waiting for the first bloom of spring.”
If you cry in front of him? He won’t rush to fix it. He’ll witness it. That’s love to him.
He opens up, too — so you know you’re not alone
Gale has his own darkness. And when you begin to break, he shares more of it, not to compare, but to let you know you’re not the only one walking through shadows.
His confessions are quiet, offered like gifts.
“There were days I feared the world would forget me. That all I was, all I am, would disappear. And still, I carried on. And now I see you. And I want to carry with you, if you’ll let me.”
He doesn't see your sadness as fragile. He sees it as real, and real things are worth staying for.
When he says he’s staying, he means it
Gale’s love is intentional, lasting, and utterly faithful. If you break down, he doesn’t waver. He simply settles beside you, hands gentle, voice soft, waiting for you to find your breath again.
He will stay up with you at night. He will keep the silence warm.
“You don’t need to shine to be loved. Sometimes, existing is enough. You are enough.”
And when you’re ready to stand again, even shakily — he’s right there.
“Let’s take one step. Just one. Together.”
Lae’zel
Initial confusion, followed by frustration
Lae’zel is used to strength. She respects it. When you — someone she likely viewed as emotionally resilient — begin to fade into silence, she notices. And she doesn’t know what to do with it.
Her first response might be sharp. Defensive. Confused.
“You are not yourself. Why? What weakness has taken root in you?”
It’s not cruelty — it’s fear in disguise. You were a constant. Your unraveling threatens her idea of control.
“You do not cry. You fight. What has changed?”
She tries to snap you out of it because that’s what she would want
Lae’zel believes that pain is meant to be crushed, not carried. She doesn’t coddle. Her instinct is to provoke a reaction, to push you back into action.
She gives tough love before she even understands what gentle love looks like.
“Sitting in your sorrow will not serve you. You must move. You must act. That is how we survive.”
It’s not graceful but it’s her version of showing concern.
When you don’t react — that’s when she begins to understand
If you don’t fight back — if your silence lingers — Lae’zel’s armor begins to crack. She realizes this isn’t laziness or weakness. It’s something deeper. And she begins to see you.
That’s when she quiets down. Her tone shifts.
“You are not broken. Just… tired. Worn.”
She sits closer. Doesn’t touch but stays close, ready. Watchful. Protective.
Loyalty becomes her language of comfort
Lae’zel doesn’t know how to say “I love you” or “I’m here.” But she knows how to guard you, how to stand between you and the world while you regain your footing. And that’s what she offers.
She’ll position herself at your back in combat without being asked. Sharpen your blade while you sleep. Watch you out of the corner of her eye.
“Rest, if you must. I will not let anything touch you.”
And if someone else comments on your changed demeanor? She’ll shut them down instantly.
“Her strength has not left her. It is only… hidden. And it will return. You will not question it again.”
If you let her in — even a little — she becomes fiercely protective
If you choose to open up to her — say just a few words about what’s weighing you down — Lae’zel won’t say the perfect thing. But she’ll offer you something far rarer from her: trust.
She might look away while saying it, but it will land like an oath:
“You are strong. Even now. Especially now. You need not prove it to me.”
Pairing: Astarion x reader
Word count: 1,2k
CW: ptsd.
Summary: Post game-events. You're going to bed, ready to snuggle with your favourite vampire spawn, but something is troubling him.
POV: Second person.
Read it on AO3
Door locks: checked.
Curtains: checked.
Nothing can sneak in, not even the rays of the sun, which should rise in an hour or so.
You slip beneath the heavy quilt, pat your pillow and rest your head against it. It feels good, comfy, and your body starts to relax in the enveloping warmth of the bed.
You keep your eyes open, following the catlike movements of the man who is carefully undressing near the cupboard. There’s a soft smile on his lips, and he doesn’t seem particularly nervous. Folding his shirt and trousers, putting the fine outfit on the nearby chair, Astarion moves slowly, with precision and elegance. He glances at you, and his smile widens slightly.
He quickly discards his underwear, only to pick a fresh one in the cupboard. It fits him perfectly, highlighting the curves of his backside and thighs in the most tempting way. And he knows it.
Astarion always knows when you relish in the sight of him. You hide your admirative smirk in the pillow, and it makes him chuckle.
But you have no ulterior motive. You’re too tired for frolicking tonight, and even if Astarion feels likes playing a little, you already know you won’t let it happen. And you know no one can understand better than he does.
A long sigh leaves your lips, a sigh of comfort and peace. A cosy sleep, huddled against the man you love, and nothing to disturb your rest. Safe, together. That's all you expect.
You watch him reach for his perfume. With the same careful motions, he sprays himself, determined to suppress any whiff of death. It fascinates you, this habit of his, but it saddens you too. This dedication to hide his nature, how he can still feel compelled to wear perfumes like he used to wear masks, if only to not disturb you with the smell of lingering decay.
Even if you could get used to it. Even if you told him that he doesn’t have to hide anything from you.
He insists. And you won’t take that away from him. It reassures him.
He’s strangely quiet tonight. There is no trace of his usual quips about the meetings of the night, no remark about the state of this room or lovely comment about your hair. You refuse to break the silence, and there is something oddly eerie about this moment, as he walks towards the bed with that tender look upon his pale features, blowing the candle.
When he slips beneath the quilt, it’s like a wave of coolness invading the bed. You want to share your warmth with him, but as usual, you wait for him to initiate the approach, or to ask for your touch.
He doesn’t.
You simply lay beside him, scrutinizing his body language through the shadows, the smell of the candle lingering in the air. Astarion still doesn’t look particularly nervous, but his silence is becoming heavier by the second.
You decide to break it. You won’t be able to sleep if you let it fester.
“Are you warming up alright?”
“Hm?” He turns his head and looks into your eyes, seemingly surprised by the sound of your voice. “Oh, yes. This blanket is doing a great job.”
You smile, but can’t help notice that is gaze is now avoiding yours. You stay still, even though there are so many things you’d love to tell him right now. Things you want to remind him.
That he has nothing to fear from you.
That you won’t touch him if he doesn’t want to.
That you can listen to whatever he has to confess, even the worse, and accept him anyway.
Instead, you just nod and say: “I checked the door, it’s safely locked.”
He nods as well. “I know. I heard it.”
Whatever is skinning his insecurities right now is also doing a good job, and it’s clear that Astarion isn’t willing to talk about it.
You have to accept it. Be patient.
Lying on his back, the vampire spawn is staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open, crimson sparks shining in the darkness of the room. You stop ogling him, but your worries are still well awake.
You must try to relax. To convince yourself that you’re not the cause of whatever is troubling him, but your mind wanders off and you eventually find yourself reliving the events of the day and night, trying to detect what in your behaviour could have made him so… distant.
You’re all but relaxed.
And Astarion must have noticed it; before long, you feel him shift on the bed, lying on his side too to have a better look at you. “It’s not your fault, darling…” you hear him whisper, as if he read your thoughts. Maybe he did.
Opening your eyes, you realise you have wrapped your arms around yourself, and you quickly unfold them. This is too awkward. You’re not the victim here.
“You would tell me if it was, right?” You ask in a murmur.
Astarion nods again, and there’s a sad smile on his lips.
You believe him. Your smile matches his.
“I just need…” he begins and trails off, his eyes wandering toward the ceiling again, and his words get lost in his dark. But you know what it was about.
“I understand, dear.” You whisper, burying your face into the pillow. “We don’t have to snuggle, or to touch at all. You never have to.”
You hear him sigh deeply, but you can’t tell if it’s from annoyance or relief. Another long silence fell upon you, until Astarion finally alleviates it with two simple words: “I know.”
Partly relieved, you close your eyes again and try to ease your doubts. There’s nothing much you can do for him right now, not unless he asks for it. You're feeling powerless, letting Astarion walk alone through the gloomy paths which are haunting his mind – but you also know that insisting and making a fuss about it would just make it worse for him.
There’s no way you can fall asleep, especially when you feel him tense beside you. Your bodies aren’t touching but you have come to know him, to notice the way the bedsheets move around the both of you, when his body remembers torments you cannot even begin to fathom.
And when he doesn’t invite you in, no matter how much you want to help him.
But you accept it, and he knows it. And you know it’s important for him.
You can’t tell how long you’ve been staying like this, desperately trying to fall asleep and stop worrying about something that’s beyond your reach, when cold fingers find yours beneath the blanket. An unexpected touch that makes you blink in the dark.
Astarion is still awake, eyelids half closed. Your thumb begins to move slowly along his knuckles, before he finally wraps his fingers around yours, holding your hand tightly.
“Do you want to tell me?” You ask timidly, determined to not pressure him.
The vampire shakes his head slowly, sharp jawline sinking into the pillow. You’ll never know what’s gnawing at him right now, but it’s fine. As long as he knows that you are here. As long as he remembers that he doesn't owe you anything.
You nod again, and he slowly brings your hand to his lips, pressing a few gentle kisses on your skin. You finally begin to relax, and so does he.
Astarion keeps your hand against his chest, cuddling it as if it were the most precious treasure, and when he speaks again, you can easily notice the first notes of slumber in his voice.
Halsin speaking in a low calm tone with eyes full of concern, “tell me, child, what ails you?”
Halsin chuckling as a soft smile breaks across his face, “Then you’ve never heard me singing. Which makes you fortunate.”
Halsin, who’s decided that sleeping as a bear is the only option now, huffing and snorting whenever you move at night.
Halsin coming to you the night you arrive in the Shadow Cursed Lands and pulling you aside to ask, “I know I have already asked much of you but I can think of nothing else until these lands see peace.”
Halsin, a 350 year old elf, finding himself stuttering in your presence and having to laugh at his actions.
Halsin standing back as you struggle against some twisting vines, joking, “Stuck, eh? Straight out of bawdy literature.”
Halsin letting out an unexpected growl the first time you press a kiss to his check and him quickly apologizing.
Halsin scoffing, “you…you are not frightened by me? By the bear?”
Halsin kneeling and hoisting your thighs over his shoulders, groaning, “Oak Father preserve me.”
Halsin pining you to the ground, his chest pressed to your back as he ruts against you, growling your name over and over again.
Halsin the next morning brushing back your hair before cupping the back of your neck and pressing a kiss to your forehead, saying “All of nature's bounty pales next to you.”
Halsin mumbling, “I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now,” as he trails kisses down your neck and presses his body against yours.
Halsin ordering, “be still and take a deep breath. Let me work my magic, love,” as he prepares to pull an arrow from your thigh and casts a healing spell.
Halsin relaxing as you reach for his hand when he grows anxious as you traverse the busy streets of the Lower City and whispering his gratitude.
Halsin gazing at you after everything you’ve been through, admiring your strength and courage, saying “Nature has been most kind to let me share in your heart. I shall thank the Oak Father for his generosity each day I am with you.”
IMO Astarion is actually extremely emotionally intelligent, despite everything he's been through that should have broken that down and has to some extent.
But like... Even after 200 years of "pure shit" he's able to recognize what he's doing to the player and why, and once he cares for them he feels guilty enough to explain it to them. If you give your body to Haarlep he's the only character who recognizes how violating it is to have your body used without your consent, even if the player thinks they'll enjoy it at first. If you don't ascend him, and then set all the spawn free, he says they don't deserve to suffer just because he lured them into Cazador's clutches and recognizes that they deserve the chance he got as well.
He always respects others taking their freedom for themselves, which is a great display of empathy really. When Lae'zel or Shadowheart fight against their own oppressive masters he recognizes how difficult that is and he's proud of them.
I don't think it's just what he's learned from seducing victims for Cazador either, personally. Whatever he learned from doing that is more the kind of stuff we see from him in Act 1, the flattery and physical intimacy used to get the player on his side.
I don't think deep introspection would have been particularly helpful in his situation. Realizing how broken down he's becoming would only make it worse, it's better to delude himself that he's fine or that he deserves what's happening to him- but he doesn't. He never believes he deserves Cazador's treatment, he stays angry, angrier than any of the other companions about how they were abused. Even angrier than his siblings, which is probably why Cazador treats him especially poorly.
I think that's because he is aware the whole time that he doesn't deserve it, and it's happening anyway. That's why he's so bitter about power and heroes.
"Heroes didn't save me, Mindflayers did."
Because like... Yeah. He's right to some extent. A typical dnd hero probably would have "saved him" by killing him.
I don't think he ever truly lacks empathy or a moral compass, even in the beginning. I think it's more like he sees right and wrong perfectly clearly, and has decided from his observation of the world around him that it doesn't matter.
Power supercedes morality and justice in the end and I think that must have been hard for him. Which is why he's angry when the player tries to make him see it doesn't have to be that way.
Basically ...I've been writing a lot in Astarion's POV lately and the more I try to get in his head the less I think he was a corrupt magistrate when he was alive. I'm beginning to think he actually cared a lot about justice, and that's why he became one in the first place. My headcanon now is that instead of some unfair ruling leading to his death, it was a ruling against the powerful, and that's what got him killed.
