#tsfw

[finallymothman]

That Stupid Fucking Wizard

Yes, that’s what I’m calling it.

Word count: 14,916

Contains:

•spoilers for a possible ending of Gale’s companion route

•ftm!Tav, sorcerer

• two “Tav”s, briefly

•plot-relevant smut (feat: squirting)

•Bloodweave x Tav polyamory

•mentions of past drug use/experimentation

•somnophilia (if you squint real hard)

•God!Gale

•Spawn!Astarion

Special thanks to @heythatsbriar for the fight with Gale and the lovely Nyreth Barrindarr & @saucy-scribbler for the restoration scroll idea

~~ENJOY!~~

Zephyr had only known Gale for a short time at school. They had only overlapped with each other for two years. Even so, Zephyr had a school-boy crush on the wizarding prodigy. However, with Gale being his elder and preoccupied with excelling at magic, Gale didn’t give his attention to much else. So Zephyr didn’t really know much about him, and Gale hadn’t really known that he existed, a few smiles or waves here and there, but no more attention than the bright and friendly young man would’ve given any underclassmen. Regardless, Zephyr had thought he had been the prettiest boy in the realm.

He’d had even less time with him over the course of their adventure. Barely three months, maybe a tenday into the fourth, it was hard to be certain. Days had run together while traveling through the Underdark and the shadow-cursed-lands. It had become more accurate to say they counted their sleeps rather than days passing.

Despite only being in his life for such a painfully short time, being back in Waterdeep without him felt like sacrilege. Gale might as well have been dead, except it was much, much worse. Once anger left his heart, grief had almost convinced Zephyr to abandon Bahamut, throwing himself into Gale’s worship in a desperate attempt to get him back.

Astarion kept him from the edge. Despite his adamant agnosticism, Astarion had brought Zephyr back to his faith. Zephyr couldn’t leave him, and he couldn’t abandon himself and become someone Astarion couldn’t recognize. He needed certainty, stability. They both did. And they were happy to have found it in each other, but it was going to take some time before Zephyr could forgive himself for the last things he had said to Gale.

Standing on the docks, as the sunrise over the Chionthar painted the sky orange, Zephyr should have felt relieved. The water had enveloped the destroyed elder brain in the depths below. Its surface returned to its glittering reflection of the sky. The battle had been won, and they had all survived. For a brief moment, his spirit soared on the highs of victory.

Then Astarion started to burn. With the destruction of the netherbrain came the destruction of the tadpoles. Without it, he succumbed to his vampirism. He had run away, trying to hide in the scatterings of cargo as he did his best to escape from the daylight. Zephyr felt his heart break as he disappeared from sight. Zephyr desperately looked around for Gale, aching to comfort each other and come up with a plan to find him again once night fell.

He caught sight of Gale near the edge of the dock. Eyes that had been focused on the water where the crown had sunk, until Astarion cried out in pain, quickly met with Zephyr’s. Before the sorcerer could reach his wizard, Karlach dropped to the deck of the pier, clutching her chest. He watched as Nyreth, that reckless, brave paladin, and Wyll rushed to her side. Wyll opened a portal to the Hells and before Zephyr could say goodbye, his sister was gone.

Zephyr started to cry. He ran to Gale and threw his arms around him. He wasn’t angry, he understood that time was fleeting and Karlach only had moments. They had to act, and there truly wasn’t time for niceties, but that didn’t stop his heart from aching. He wanted Astarion back. Then, they could all make their plan to go home. It was all he wanted.

He was so distraught, sobbing into the mage’s robes like a homesick child, he almost didn’t catch what Gale said to soothe him— that they would return home as soon as he could get the crown of Karsus.

Zephyr lifted his head, bewildered. “What…? You’re still on about that stupid crown?!”

Gale cocked his head and looked at Zephyr like he'd suddenly grown tentacles.

"It is hardly stupid," he corrected him. "Zephyr, don't you see? This would grant me divinity. I could give you everything you've ever wanted."

Zephyr pushed himself out of his arms and backed away from him. He felt like he was looking at a stranger in Gale’s skin. His eyes flitted over his features, his expression cycling from confusion to surprise to anger and back.

“You said that me loving you as the man you are was enough. When, exactly, did that stop being true?”

"It is enough for me; it is not enough for you." Gale shook his head, as if attempting to cast away his frustration.

“WHAT?! That evil bitch is going to kill you, are you insane?!”

"That ‘evil bitch’ would have to contend with me on equal footing, not as a mortal,” Gale corrected him, clearly certain of himself that as a newborn god he could contend with the likes of the Mother of Magic. “Besides, It is a simple fact that mortals want more than any other mortal can give. They want wealth, power, supernatural abilities. Desire is a part of human nature. I could grant all of these things to you in an instant. You are deserving of much, much more than I could ever provide as a mortal. All you would have to do would be to ask.”

“Gale!” Zephyr snapped. “You don’t get to decide that for me! Wealth, power- do you even know me?! I’m already a godsdamned sorcerer, what more could I- Bahamut’s wing, what is wrong with you?!”

“Why did you help me steal the Annals of Karsus, then?!” Gale finally shouted back. He swallowed hard, moving forward to try to take Zephyr's hands in his own. "I need you to trust me, Zephyr. I could be so much more than you could ever imagine. And it would all be for you."

Zephyr took another step back, pulling away from his hands. “Don’t touch me!” He felt like a cornered animal, magic tingling in his fingers in case he needed to use it. “I don’t want this! I don’t want a God, I don’t want more money than I know what to do with, or power over people. If you think I wanted any of that, you don’t know me at all! I mean- fuck why did we save Astarion, if you’re gonna turn around and do the same thing?!” He could feel the eyes of the other companions on him, but no one else said a word.

“It is not the same thing-” Gale began, his voice catching with emotion.

“I wanted you, Gale. As you are! I want to go home!” He interrupted. “But if this is what you want, I guess I didn’t know you that well either.” He backed away again, wiping angrily at his face. “Do whatever you want, go get the crown. I’m finding Astarion. I’ll be at the Elfsong tonight if you change your mind, but if you get that crown, I never want to see you again!”

Gale's heart should have broken.

Instead, gills appeared on his neck as he mumbled an incantation and, without a word to Zephyr, he jumped into the rolling waters of the Chionthar.

“FUCK!” Zephyr shouted, his back turned to the river as he sank to a squat on the boardwalk. Shadowheart reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. He shuddered a sob, angrily wiping away more tears before standing again and brushing her off. “I- I’m sorry… I need to go…” he said, eyes focusing on nothing as he walked, then ran, in the direction he saw Astarion leave.

Somewhere in a dark alley just off the docks, Astarion heard Zephyr shout. He picked up his head and gawked. It wasn't like anything he'd ever heard coming from him, and frankly, it scared him more than a little for whoever he was shouting at. It wasn’t the anger that scared him the most, but how Zephyr sounded more like a wounded animal than a man.

What he would have given to just get up and go to him!

As luck would have it, though, he soon heard footsteps and saw the very familiar silhouette of his sorcerer.

"Zephyr?" Astarion called out with the energy of a skittish stray cat — fitting, for the alley he had taken cover in for the moment.

Zephyr stopped for a moment when he caught sight of Astarion. Then, he barreled towards him, threw his arms around his middle and sobbed.

"Oh, dear —" Astarion returned his embrace, craning his head up to lay his chin on top of Zephyr's head. Cracks propagated through his own racing heart as Zephyr completely broke in his arms. He'd never truly seen him like this before, so utterly desolate, and it almost made him cry, too.

"What happened, darling?" he asked him simply, trying to keep his tone even and soothing.

“Gale-” Zephyr tried to explain, but his words were swallowed by racking sobs. He’d lost two of the people he loved most in the world in the span of about ten minutes. He felt like he would fall apart if it weren’t for Astarion holding him together.

When he could breathe again, he managed to say, “Gale left us to get Karsus’ crown. That… that stupid fucking wizard! Mystra is going to kill him!”

Astarion grabbed Zephyr's shoulders and pushed him away for a moment, eyes hardening as they darted between both of his. He then pulled him back in again, wrapping his arms more firmly around him. "He is stupid, for the dictionary he regurgitates every time he speaks." It was supposed to be a joke, but it was laced with so much venom he practically hissed.

Zephyr laid his head against his chest, taking slow, shaky breaths. “I don’t know what I’m going to do… Nyreth’s gone, too… she and Wyll left to get Karlach back to Avernus so she wouldn’t die and…” he groaned, hiding his face against Astarion’s armor. “I just want to go home…”

That much, Astarion understood. Nyreth loved Karlach with all of their heart and soul. He would have been surprised they didn't accompany her to Avernus.

"There now, darling... I understand."

He looked down at Zephyr thoughtfully for a second. As much as he cared for him, and wanted to be with him through everything... he had to go home. That much was clear. He needed his family, to be around people who could help him through this.

"You'll find me in the Underdark, more likely than not, if you'd ever like to visit me," he said. "I'll see if I can't make a life for myself among the myconids."

“Gods, no, please,” Zephyr said pitifully, his chest squeezing in on itself like he was trying to crush his own heart. “Please. I don’t want to be alone. I promise I’ll figure something out, just… please. Please stay with me.”

Astarion's heart completely shattered. "Always, darling... I'll be right here."

Zephyr reached up and gently touched his face, careful to avoid where he’d been burned. Gingerly, he turned his head to look at the wound. “Poor baby…” he said softly. “I have some potions left, let’s get that fixed. Anything else you need I can probably make.”

He cast Darkness, summoning a thick cloud of night to surround them, then took his hand and led him back to the tavern.

In Waterdeep, they grew accustomed to a life together quickly. Zephyr was a Hedare, one of the noble families of the city. They shared his bed in the room he grew up in. He was the youngest son of Elodie Hedare and Notus Aleansha. He had three older brothers that still lived at home, triplets, and bards at that, and two younger sisters named Magnolia and Iris. He had other siblings, two more brothers, who had started lives of their own as a baker and a magical pharmacist respectively. Nyreth Barrindar, the half-drow paladin from the Underdark, who was currently somewhere in the Hells with her lover Karlach and The Blade of Frontiers, was in truth, Zephyr’s best friend. His parents had adopted Nyreth when Zephyr and Nyreth were teenagers.

Zephyr and Nyreth had only been around Baldur’s Gate to bring word to another site of Bahamut worship, the Stormshore Tabernacle, of their father’s death. Notus Aleansha was a man born to a Dragonborn mother and a tiefling father. His mother’s lineage carried rumored ties to Bahamut himself, but regardless of the veracity of that, their family did pass a priesthood down their bloodline. Notus, funded by his generous wife, built a temple to Bahamut, Tamara and Lendys, who were worshipped as a draconic trinity of Justice, Compassion, and Duty. All of Notus’s children had been given the opportunity to be his successor, but Zephyr had been the first to accept. Now that he was home, his duties would continue where his father’s left off.

Astarion laid behind Zephyr in the sorcerer’s bed. Zephyr had pushed it against one wall many years ago to make room for the ever-growing inventory of his alchemy supplies. With a pillow behind him, Astarion’s back was against the wall as Zephyr’s head rested against his stomach, facing towards Astarion from falling asleep talking to him sometime in the early hours of the morning. He hadn’t been sleeping much lately, even less than would be expected for someone of elven descent, so Astarion was relieved for him to get the rest. The curtains were closed, keeping the room dark, even though it was now approaching mid-day.

Zephyr’s eyes fluttered open after he stirred. He instinctually snaked an arm under his torso, wrapping it around his back and turned his head towards his body, pressing a soft kiss over his shirt.

“Mm, have you been staring at me this whole time?” Zephyr asked with a snicker, draconic blue eyes framed in glittering silver scales catching Astarion’s with mischievous delight. He brought his other hand up to his face, rubbing the sleep and unwashed kohl from his eyes. He looked at his smudged palm when he pulled his hand away, his mouth turning into a thin line that matched the one that appeared between his eyebrows.

“Good morning to you, too, darling,” Astarion teased, reaching down to stroke his cheek. He ran his thumb under his eye, cleaning up the smears of eyeliner. “I wouldn’t say I stared the whole time, but you are quite the vision, so who could blame me?”

Zephyr snickered again, then let out a groan. “I gotta move my arm, I think my shoulder is mad at me,” he said, pulling it out from under his lover and sitting up, just to shift on the mattress to lay back down on his side, his back slotted against Astarion’s chest.

He wrapped his arms around him from behind, lowering his head to pepper kisses over his neck and shoulder. “You would deny me the sight of such a pretty face?”

Zephyr let out a soft moan as his lips moved over his skin, head falling back against the crook of his shoulder. “Yeeesss… I gotta brush my teeeeeth,” he whined. “Surely, you’ve heard of dragon breath?”

Astarion grunted, pressing his mouth where Zephyr’s neck met his shoulder, one hand migrating down his torso, grabbing the top of his sleep pants in a fist. “Could I convince you to stay with me?” He asked softly, lips brushing against his skin as he spoke.

“Mm, not getting up yet, too comfy,” Zephyr said, snuggling back against him. “But I guess there’s nothing stopping you from coming with me. I’ll be right back, though,” he said, running a hand over the arm draped over his torso.

Astarion’s hand relaxed, slipping under Zephyr’s shirt, rubbing his palm over his stomach. Zephyr’s muscles were honed from their recent battles, but having returned to his noble lifestyle, he had softened up a deal. His shoulders were broadened from learning to swordfight at a young age, and his forearms were well-muscled and rippled when he moved his fingers. His legs were strong and carried most of his muscle definition. Otherwise, he was delicate. He wasn’t taller than 5’7” on a good day, had a soft gaze with thick lashes and a pretty smile. The scales scattered over his face and body made him sparkle ethereally, even in low light. Astarion could feel that he had a strong core, but he loved the padding he’d developed since coming home. He didn’t think he would’ve noticed it if they weren’t intimately entangled, but that made it all the more endearing. He felt safe.

Zephyr pressed his back against Astarion’s chest, tilting his head to one side to put his neck on display. “Are you hungry?” He asked, voice still sounding sleepy.

Gratitude warmed Astarion’s chest, eternally grateful for his sweet, generous sorcerer. His?

There had technically been no official discussion about what they were to each other, but maybe that was because it didn’t need to be spoken aloud to be real. Zephyr had once written in his journal that he had fallen in love with Astarion, but his primary desire had been to keep him safe and be his friend, even if it meant they were never together. It would make him just as happy to see Astarion with someone else, as long as he was happy. Astarion had snooped while he slept, keeping the delightful information to himself.

While they traveled through the Underdark back to Zephyr’s home, they met up with some other spawn led by Dalyria. Zephyr fed Gur children from his own body, and it stirred something in Astarion that he didn’t have words for. The girls were, they would later find out, Gandrel’s daughters. Astarion also reconciled with Sebastian, even though Dal had given him an opportunity to run and hide from the confrontation. He had almost introduced Zephyr playfully as his little boyfriend, but something made his stomach turn. He felt even worse when Zephyr tried to save him the awkwardness and called himself “just his friend.”

As his fangs sank into his neck, he thought back to the wilds surrounding the crashed nautiloid, back to the first time he fed from Zephyr.

Zephyr had him figured out in half a tenday, his suspicions confirmed by the Gur named Gandrel in the fettid swamp.

“I’m looking for a vampire spawn named Astarion.”

Zephyr’s extremities tingled with adrenaline. Astarion? Under no circumstances was he letting one of his party be kidnapped by a monster hunter, vampire or not.

“Sorry, haven’t heard of him. Best of luck in your search.”

The sorcerer approached his tent that night, voice low enough to keep their conversation between each other.

“Astarion, we need to talk.”

“Oh do we?” He let out a playful giggle. “Color me intrigued. About what?”

Zephyr gave him a stern look, as if Astarion should already know exactly what he was talking about.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Whatever could you be talking about, my friend?”

Zephyr’s gaze hardened into ice— not out of anger, but earnestness, maybe a little fear. “Astarion. I know. How explicit do you want me to be?”

“Oh, the more explicit the better,” he teased, voice velvety. “But I’m sure I haven’t a clue what you’re referring to.”

Zephyr’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. His lips formed the word vampire.

Astarion did his best to keep his expression neutral, but the split second his eyes went wide was enough to give him away. He took just a moment too long to decide how to react, and Zephyr spoke again.

“I assume you’ve been sneaking off to hunt, right?” He asked, reaching out to touch his arm, pulling away like he’d touched Karlach when he found the contact made Astarion jump.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to tell anyone, but I am worried about you. Is there anything I can do? You can feed from me if you want, I don’t mind. I’m really good at making healing potions.”

What a stupid, sweet man, Astarion had thought once the surprise had abated. And to offer just went he had been sizing up which of the companions he could experiment taking a bite from, just to test if Cazador could still control him, if there were a chance he was really free. And Bahamut’s sweetest sorcerer has just offered himself on a platinum platter. He’d be a moron to turn the opportunity down.

He remembered that under the metallic, rich taste of thinking blood, Zephyr’s flavor had something of an undercurrent like mint, cool and sweet, and probably something only vampiric senses could pick up.

In the present, there was a new note- something like cinnamon, likely due to taking the potion he’d allowed that perverted drowwess to brew from his own essence. Astarion was almost certain that he was the only creature on the continent who knew his taste paired well with his smell— a cologne Zephyr made himself, a hobby that was one of the first things they bonded over. He smelled like petrichor and pine, some tea Astarion couldn’t place, and something subtly sweet that came from the carrier oil he used- imported coconut.

Brought back to the moment as Zephyr made a soft sound, gently squeezing his forearm and doing his best to not move his head. Astarion’s tongue lathed over the bite marks.

“Are you alright, darling?” Astarion asked.

Zephyr’s neck felt icy and numb, so he wasn’t quite sure if Astarion was finished with him until he spoke. When he moved his head, bones in his neck crackled like firecrackers. “Oh, that was a stupid angle,” he complained, rubbing Astarion’s arm. “I’m fine, how do you feel?”

“You make an excellent breakfast,” he chuckled.

Zephyr moved in his arms, rolling onto his back, lacing a hand in Astarion’s hair. “Lay on me?” He asked sleepily. When Astarion laid his head on his chest, Zephyr gently scratched at his scalp. “Mm… what a precious man…” he said, looking dreamily down at Astarion, who suddenly felt like he had a vice squeezing around his heart. His instinct was to reject his sweetness. He’d just been chewing on his neck, what could Zephyr possibly mean, Astarion was the precious one?

He took a shaky breath, the only response he gave to his words. He wondered if Zephyr sensed his discomfort.

“Star… you know you’re special to me, right? You believe that?”

“I’m a special man, darling,” he cooed back, his velvety tone a flare to Zephyr’s senses.

“I… I’m serious, you know,” Zephyr said. Astarion could hear his heartbeat pick up, despite, or maybe because of the blood loss. Astarion had been a magistrate, not a physician.

Astarion lifted his head to look at the sorcerer more clearly before humming, his tone just short of derisive. “Let’s get you some breakfast before we start making any declarations of love, eh?”

“It wasn’t going to be a declaration of love…” Zephyr retorted, cheeks flushed despite his pallor.

“Of course not, darling, I was only teasing,” Astarion assured him.

Zephyr wasn’t certain that the rest of the manor would be safe for Astarion to walk through with the amount of uncovered stained-glass windows there were, but the second floor was safe enough with the curtains drawn. Astarion would have room to wander, go get books to entertain himself with. The third floor belonged to the nursery and Magnolia’s bedroom up the right set of stairs and his parents’ chambers up the left, though it was just his mother’s now.

He pecked a kiss to Astarion’s hand before getting out of bed and going downstairs to make himself some food.

When he returned, he saw Astarion in the lounge, designed for the siblings to have somewhere to hang out with guests, or work on their studies together on the off-chance more than one sibling was in school at the same time, before returning to his bedroom, so he joined him there. His neck was sore, but he felt better otherwise. While he was away, he’d had a thought, but wasn’t ready to voice it yet.

There would be no more adventuring as far as he was concerned, but he had several restoration scrolls still in his possession. Admittedly, they’d been for his own peace of mind, unable to imagine parting with his sibling or any of their companions in the worst case scenario. However, thanks to Shadowheart, he hadn’t needed to use them.

He didn’t ask Astarion much about his vampirism, as curious as he was, but he couldn’t really imagine that Astarion had ever felt sated from one of the meals he’d provided him. He couldn’t quell the guilt he felt over that, despite rationally understanding that it wasn’t his fault he didn’t let himself die over his feedings. So, he conjured the idea to use the restoration scrolls as Astarion fed so he could get his fill without posing a risk to his life or health.

Zephyr sat beside Astarion on the sofa, only interrupting his book so much to wiggle his way under his arms with his head in his lap and read along.

“Hello there,” Astarion said, looking down at the sorcerer. The blue streaks that had been in his white-blonde hair when they first met had almost completely faded. They were also almost an inch grown out. It would’ve been a simple enough potion for the alchemist to whip up, but he hadn’t bothered quite yet to fix it.

“Hello, whatcha reading? Don’t mind me,” Zephyr replied, scanning the page for context clues. “Oh, hey, this is one of my Drizzt books!” He said delightedly.

“Yours?” Astarion beamed. “I knew there was a reason I liked you beyond your cherub-like demeanor.” He chuckled, switching to holding the book in one hand, the other hand stroking what he could of Zephyr’s hair while it was tied back in a bun.

“Yea, we’ve been over this, it’s because I give amazing head,” Zephyr teased, settling down against his thigh.

Astarion remembered the first night they had spent together, in a run-down, abandoned chapel, drunk out of their minds and riding the highs of victory over truly freeing Astarion from Cazador’s clutches once and for all, as well as his brothers and sisters, and the seven-thousand other spawn they had helped create. Gale had been there, both of them sharing Zephyr’s body at opposite ends. Astarion had kissed Gale first, then Zephyr, inviting them to celebrate his newfound autonomy. It had felt safe at the time, involving himself with a couple. He could insert himself like a toy, enjoy himself and walk away without anyone’s heart getting involved. Unfortunately for him, they both had his heart already, he just didn’t realize it until it was too late for Gale.

Their connected tadpoles broadcasted the waves of pleasure they brought each other. Zephyr had been an absolute vision, head dangling off the altar, cheeks rosy as Gale fucked him. The sight of Astarion’s cock disappearing down Zephyr’s throat would be burned into his memory for the rest of his long, long life.

After Gale chose his ascension over making a home together in Waterdeep, he and Zephyr had found comfort in each other again after Zephyr tended to his burns from getting caught in the sunlight, the two of them tucked away in the shuttered tavern room.

Innocently, Zephyr had picked up silkroot, of all things. Despairing and desperate for relief, he’d let Astarion help him get high, then shared his blood to get Astarion high, too. Eyes blown wide, only a sliver of blue visible between pupil and his inky sclera, Zephyr had pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside. He had climbed into Astarion’s lap, cupping his cheeks in his hands and pulled him in for another kiss. He settled back, still cradling his face as he stared into his eyes.

“I love you.” He caressed his cheeks with his thumbs, intense sincerity on his face. “With or without any of this part, I’m your friend first, ok?” The way his brows turned up made him look a bit like a puppy dog.

“We don’t have to be together if you’re not ready for something like that yet, ok? You don’t need to be my boyfriend for me to take care of you. And if we do get together, but we don’t stay together, I’ll still be your friend. I want to be your family… I think you’re already mine, if you’ll have me. Gods, I love you so much. I’m so, so glad I found you, I was so scared I was never going to see you again. I couldn’t lose you, too. I swear, I never would have made it. Fuck, I’m talking so much, I don’t wanna smother you, I just, you’re so special to me. I was so worried about you and I can’t believe everything went so wrong so fast, and-” he groaned, one hand sliding into Astarion’s hair, the other down his back as he buried himself into a hug.

“I’m just so glad you’re ok… Gods I’m so glad you’re ok.”

He made a pitiful, embarrassed sound that morphed into a chuckle. “Fuck, I don’t think I’m ever going to stop talking, can you please shut me up?”

And shut him up he had. The kiss he pressed against his lips was heated, hungry, deliberate. Zephyr returned the kiss with fervor, but something came to mind that made him burst into giggles. He tried to keep himself quiet but, after a few seconds, he felt the need to explain himself.

“You were gonna have to stop kissing me eventually, and then we’d be doomed again. I was given the chatterbox drug, I can’t imagine why I expected anything else,” he said, pressing a kiss to the corner of the vampire’s mouth, then slowly working his way to his ear, where he murmured, “You don’t have to say it back,” his fingers brushed over his sternum. “I’ll prove I mean it every day.”

Zephyr had worked his kisses down to his neck this time, crossing his throat to the other side. Eventually, worry started to gnaw at his heart. He pulled away eventually, carefully caressing his cheek. “Hey… do you want to stop? I don’t want you to think you have to be like this to cheer me up, or something…”

He laid his hands on his chest, worrying the edge of the frills on his collar between his fingers. “I know we’ve had sex before, but, I don’t know. I just wanted to… I don’t know, check.”

“I want this. You can trust me,” had been Astarion’s reply.

When it was all over, multiple positions and orgasms later, Zephyr laid beside Astarion, holding onto one of his arms with his cheek against his shoulder. The crash was worse than he expected. He stared blankly, far away and at nothing.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It had been a wonderful distraction, but his sorrows still persisted.

Nyreth was still in Avernus.

Gale had still abandoned them.

And now, he had made some huge, embarrassing love confession to Astarion, who didn’t love him back.

He tried to push away the gnawing ache in his stomach. It was somewhere between embarrassment and disappointment, and it ate away at him like acid. He’d meant every word he’d said, Astarion had no obligation to him, and his care for him wasn’t conditional on a relationship. If only he had left out those three stupid words.

Astarion lifted his head for a moment, and his heart dropped as he saw Zephyr staring off into the distance. “Zephyr,” he asked him, voice soft and gentle, “it’s wearing off, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yea.” Zephyr said glumly. “This part is um… this is ass.” He tried to move as little as possible. He pressed his forehead against him like a cat before rolling over onto his other side, hoping he wouldn’t take it personally.

They gently danced around the use of the L-word, Zephyr assuring Astarion that he had meant what he said, but that there were lots of different kinds of love and he shouldn’t feel any pressure for it to be Love love. Astarion assured Zephyr that he did care for him deeply, and he wouldn’t leave him like Gale did. They were in this together, Zephyr would never have to be alone.

While traveling through the Underdark, they wrote to each other back and forth in Zephyr’s journal. What had begun as Astarion going snooping became a way to discus and confess things that wouldn’t have seen the light of day otherwise, and then pretend the conversation never happened. Zephyr didn’t press that matter, happy to wait to have the What Are We conversation once they were home safe.

Laying in Astarion’s lap, Zephyr giggled, grinning so broadly it made his eyes and nose crinkle. He settled back in the crook of the vampire’s hip, eyes trailing along the page he was reading. Or at least, he had been. Zephyr didn’t notice Astarion’s eyes locked onto him, his expression equally decisive and unsure. He was grateful he didn’t have to meet Zephyr’s observant gaze until after he spoke.

“I love you,” Astarion said. Zephyr looked away from the book and up at him, his expression difficult for Astarion to read. He smiled faintly, his brow softening.

“Really?”

Astarion closed his eyes as he nodded slowly. “And for clarification, I’ll use your verbiage, I do mean that to be Love love.”

Zephyr gave a crooked smile, one corner of his mouth turning up, the other turning down. He sat up slowly, bracing himself on the back and the arm of the sofa as he repositioned himself on Astarion’s lap, slowly taking the book away, but careful to lay it face down so he wouldn’t lose his spot. He leaned close to him, eyes tracing up and down his face, hovering longingly at his lips. “I love-love you, too, Star…” he said in a soft whisper, drawing ever-closer, until he pressed his lips to Astarion’s. He let out a soft hum, moving his hands from the sofa to his shoulders. Rising up onto his knees, he hovered over his lap, slowly coaxing Astarion to lean his head back as they kissed.

“Mm- darling, shall we take this back to bed?” He asked, sounding near breathless as he spoke between kisses. Zephyr’s hands slid up the sides of Astarion’s face, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones as he slowly pulled back from the kiss.

“… I don’t want to have sex, not right this minute anyway, but I do want to hold you. Is that ok?” The sorcerer asked, settling down on his thighs. “We can lay down right here and you can keep reading, if you want?”

“My love,” Astarion said, tilting his head to one side, smiling rakishly up at him. “Whatever your sweet heart desires.”

The new couple nestled into the sofa, Zephyr snuggled against Astarion’s chest, tucked between his legs, as one of Astarion’s arms wrapped around him, the other holding the book he was at this point, just pretending to read, by the number of glances at Zephyr he stole. Zephyr kissed his sternum over his shirt before settling against him again. His heartbeat was slow and strong, and he was breathing deeply as if he were asleep. He felt complete bliss for the first time in… he wasn’t sure how long.

He was in love. He was loved back. He was home.

Nothing could spoil this for him.

Some days later, Zephyr laid on Astarion’s chest, the vampire’s head on the pillow, with Zephyr laying diagonally across the mattress. He was quietly stewing over his plan with the scrolls.

Should he just tell him his plan? Let him pick when? Should it be for a special day? Gale had been with Astarion to visit his old tombstone… Zephyr had been busy with Nyreth. Now he didn’t even know when his birthday was. How does he bring that up in a conversation? Did Astarion know his? Almost certainly not, he didn’t remember ever discussing it.

Zephyr blinked rapidly and shook his head to clear it.

“Back in the world of the living, my sweet?” Astarion asked once Zephyr lifted his head to shake it like a water-logged spaniel.

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere, just had a lot of thoughts happening all at once and it got loud for a second.” He rolled onto his side to face him, then decided to sit up, grabbed a silken hair tie off his bedside table and pulled his hair back.

“This isn’t because we’re together, I was actually thinking about this the other day,” he started, filling Astarion in on his thoughts before he could mull it over any more. “I- well… I’ve got a lot of restoration scrolls… so… I don’t know how to ask this, um,”

Astarion’s eyebrows lifted higher and higher on his forehead, waiting for Zephyr to make sense.

“How would you feel about… me using the scrolls to restore myself as you’re drinking from me? So you don’t have to stop.” He finished a little timidly, though he couldn’t put his finger on why.

Astarion didn’t respond verbally. He shot up to a sitting position so fast it was as if the only thing holding him down had been his spine ratcheted back like a catapult, one that had just been released. His jaw dropped so far he felt like it could unhinge at any moment. His shock and dumbfounded surprise faded, then rapidly switched between three varieties of confusion.

Why would he do that?

How did this man become so kind?

Is he fucking insane?

“Your face is doing a lot right now,” Zephyr observed, eyes moving quickly between his features, never quite going in the same order. Left eye, mouth, right eye, scanning his posture, mouth, right eye, hands, left eye—

Astarion didn’t remain silent for long, but he didn’t speak. What came out of his mouth were choked, flabbergasted scoffs, looking anywhere but at Zephyr, as if he were trying to find some hidden scrying eye.

“Star…” Zephyr said, voice guiding and cautious. It was the kind of tone one would use to distract a distressed child. “I have no idea what emotion this is, can we use words?”

Gods, I miss the tadpoles sometimes.

Astarion’s mouth finally drew closed, but he didn’t quite make his lips touch. His brows were still furrowed and confused, and he still couldn’t quite look in Zephyr’s direction. He dropped the arm that had been propping him up, unceremoniously flopping back onto the pillows, one hand held up with a single finger raised, the other hand resting against his forehead. Years later, Zephyr would tease him for how dramatic he had looked in the moment, but Astarion would undulate explanations, sometimes saying that his hand had just genuinely landed there, and he hadn’t bothered to move it, and sometimes telling Zephyr that of course, his generous offer had simply made him swoon like a lovesick youth.

Zephyr gave him a moment, hands folded patiently in his lap.

“WHAT???” Astarion finally said, lifting his head once again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow what’s… confusing…?”

“Why in the Sweet Hells would you do that?” He asked, sitting up again, exasperated.

Zephyr blinked stupidly. It was his turn to look confused.

“… Are you adventuring sometime soon? Do you think we should save them for Underdark visits to see… you know. Dal. The girls.” He didn’t say Sebastian. He hadn’t been jealous of their newfound friendship. Their time in the Underdark had been as absolving as it had been illuminating, but he honestly hadn’t thought much about him since leaving. However, deliberately omitting his name had reminded him of his existence. He was relatively sure he was skating in thin ice mentioning the other spawn at this moment, and his wouldn’t have been a helpful name to drop.

“I feel bad. I had a realization that the days we’ve been back… I don’t know, you’ve been staying with me- and you haven’t- at least I haven’t noticed you leaving to hunt-.”

“You have been feeding me with your own body, near every day, for nigh on five months… and you feel bad?”

“I want you to feel full,” Zephyr said simply, brows pinched with a look like he might fear being in trouble with him.

Astarion scoffed again, not derisively. It might have been the start of a chuckle if it hadn’t been so mirthless.

“You… sweet… generous man…” he said softly, reaching out to touch his hand, then enveloping it between both of his, drawing him closer as he held his hand on his thigh. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you for such an experience, but I’d be a drooling idiot to deny you.”

Zephyr smiled gently, moving even closer to him, bringing his other hand to the back of his neck and rested his forehead against Astarion’s, which took Astarion for surprise, as he had parted his lips in preparation for a kiss.

Zephyr’s fingers trailed down the unmarred side of Astarion’s neck, then down his chest, palm finally resting against his chest. “Thank you…”

“For what?” Astarion asked, near stupefied, hands releasing Zephyr’s to reach out and grab his hips, closing the small distance between them as he snatched him into his lap.

“For letting me love you…” the sorcerer murmured through a smile, arms wrapping around Astarion, drawing him into a hug, his face nestled in his curls. He continued to speak softly, his mouth near enough to Astarion’s ear, he barely needed to whisper. “It’s what I want to spend the rest of my life doing…”

Zephyr let him go when Astarion pulled back. For a moment, he was afraid he’d been too… mushy. He let his hands trail over him as Astarion moved through them. He looked away with a nervous smile, blushing so dark his face and ears practically glowed. Astarion wasn’t trying to get distance, he wanted to see his face. His hands flew to the sorcerer’s cheeks. Zephyr’s body was as pliant to being moved as he was to allowing Astarion to move. Zephyr let Astarion make him look at him in the eye, his smile now shy instead of nervous.

“You’re so precious to me…” he started, eyes drifting down to Astarion’s lips, desire making his pupils dark.

Astarion pulled him close, his lips crashing against Zephyr’s, pinning his hand between their bodies. The kiss was heated, adoring, but albeit short before he pulled away again. “You’re going to be the death of me, darling…” He moved his hand over Zephyr’s, the one on his chest. “… it hurts…”

Zephyr made an apologetic cooing sound, pulling his hand back and checking if one of his rings had got turned around and stabbed him. “Oh, baby boy, I’m so sorry, are you OK?”

Astarion reached out and replaced the hand over his heart. “No, it hurts, but I feel this thing in my chest,” he said, pouting slightly more than he had meant to for a comedic tone

. “- and I never want this feeling to stop. Why do you make me feel like my heart is in a vice?” He wrapped an arm around him, holding his body as physically close as he could. “Is this more of your sorcery?” He asked, now clearly joking as he turned his head to kiss his neck. His lips trailed up his jaw, nipping his earlobe with sharp teeth.

Zephyr let out an appreciative moan, turning his head to give him access as he melted in his embrace, his pelvis sinking onto Astarion’s with nothing but clothes separating them.

“That’s love,” he said, one of his hands sliding into Astarion’s hair, gratefully massaging his scalp as his neck and shoulder were covered in languid kisses. Arousal began as sparks and tingling warmth. Zephyr had half a mind to start grinding against his cock through his pants, but he took a steadying breath and controlled himself. He just clung to him tighter.

“I love you so much…” he breathed, barely speaking, afraid that if he let himself properly use his mouth, all that would come out would be wanton moans.

“Say it louder,” Astarion said after a pause, lavishing Zephyr’s skin in a few more kisses before lifting his head and catching Zephyr’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“I love you so much,” Zephyr said earnestly, glossy eyes half-lidded and sleepy-looking.

Astarion’s hands moved to unfasten Zephyr’s pants, his body acting nearly acting of its own accord once he found himself unable to reply with the words that rattled against his ribs.

I’ve said it once, why is this so hard? He thought to himself as he pushed his hand past Zephyr’s open waistband. I love him so much. So much it hurts. And I never want it to stop hurting. But Gods does it hurt.

Zephyr’s hand flew to Astarion’s wrist, a mewling cry escaping him as Astarion’s fingers rubbed against his swollen clit, already throbbing with its own heartbeat. “Wait-, I still wanna talk about- ah, Gods, the scrolls,” he implored as his head tilted back. Astarion leaned forward, pressing hot kisses against his throat, eliciting more moans.

“Star, baby, stop, just- for a second, feels so good, I can’t think…”

Astarion pulled his hand away, so quickly that the largest part of his palm got caught on the braided fastener at the top of Zephyr’s pants since he didn’t slide it out the way he had on the way in.

Zephyr caught his breath, sliding the hand that had been weakly scrambling at his wrist, further up his arm. He squeezed his bicep, looking at him like a drunken man. “Do you want me to get them and we can do it now?”

“No, absolutely not, you’re not going anywhere right now,” Astarion purred, running his hands over Zephyr’s thighs, then his ass, kneading it under his fingers. He also wanted to buy himself some time. If Zephyr was going to do something so unspeakably generous and thoughtful, he wanted to make it a special night for him too.

“I absolutely adore you, darling,” Astarion said sweetly, inching his hands slowly down the backs of his thighs, squeezing, discreetly spreading his folds through his clothes. “Let me show you…” he cooed convincingly, far too insecure about his emotional constipation to do more than use his body to confess his love all over again rather than try to use his words.

“Well, if you’re going to twist my arm about it…” Zephyr snickered, finally letting his hips roll against Astarion’s pelvis, then moaning softly into his mouth as he drew him into a kiss.

The first time Zephyr and Astarion made love was beautiful, naturally, but it didn’t go as Astarion had planned.

Astarion rolled Zephyr onto his back, positioning himself above him, one arm braced his weight as the other pulled Zephyr’s leg high on his hip. “I can’t wait…” Astarion cooed, trapping Zephyr’s lips in a hungry kiss, “to completely lose myself in you…”

The look Zephyr gave him from underneath him knocked all the seductive wind from his sails. One eyebrow was cocked and he looked disbelieving and unimpressed. “I like you very much and I would be quite disappointed if you lost yourself anywhere.”

Astarion sighed, crimson eyes flicking up as he quickly rolled them.

“Hey,” Zephyr reached up and touched his cheek. It was his turn to enforce eye contact. “You don’t have to seduce me. You have me,” he assured him. “I adore you, Star. I’m all yours. And I’m right here,” he stroked the pad of his thumb under Astarion’s eye socket. “My sweet baby boy…”

“Don’t call me that. Please.” Astarion tacked the nicety on quickly.

“I’m sorry, is it the baby-” he stopped mid-question as the obvious answer struck him like a blow. Boy. “Of course, I’m sorry, angel.”

“Angel?” Astarion was so surprised by the new direction taken that it shook him from the dark tendrils creeping into the periphery of his mind.

“Yea. Angel,” he said decisively, tucking one of his curls behind his ear. “You’re so protective of me.”

“And I’m just so beautiful.”

“And you’re beautiful,” Zephyr giggled. “I don’t know, the white hair has a certain… celestial effect…”

Astarion barked a laugh, sliding onto his side, legs still tangled with Zephyr’s. “Never in 200 years have I even been called celestial.”

“Well, maybe I should start then…” he said thoughtfully, cupping Astarion’s cheek reverently. “My guardian angel, Star.” He couldn’t help but imagine what Gale would have said if he were here. He could hear the tangent he would have gone on, in his voice so clearly it was as if they had the tadpole again.

It’s funny you say that! You see, the Star in tarot is often depicted with an angel of sorts, denoting the symbolism of the card to that of guardianship, a light illuminating an otherwise dark path. Typically, the guidance that this card represents is divine in origin. Humorous that the agnostic brought you back to your faith in your wake of despair. My apologies for that, but I suppose it had to be done.

Zephyr groaned, pressing his forehead into the crook of Astarion’s shoulder.

“What’s the matter, darling?” He asked gently, though simultaneously confused by watching the light leave his eyes.

“Nothing, it’s stupid…”

“Oh, how dare you,” Astarion said, his playful tone hemmed with real hurt. “What’s wrong, Zephyr?”

He let out a pitiful, petulant sound. “It’s not fair, I shouldn’t be thinking about him right now,” he whined, showing his hand without needing to say the wizard’s name.

Astarion’s stomach knotted. “…I miss Gale, too.” He couldn’t parse what was jealousy that the wizard was on his mind and what was mutual longing. He hadn’t set up his tent to be practically overlapping with his in their final tendays for Zephyr’s post-feed convenience. He liked the wizard, he really did! After the celebration the party had thrown for the death of Cazador, Not a soul in the camp had gone to bed sober that night, and the pair needed some quiet time away from the others. Nyreth’s birthday was coming up and Zephyr, the sweet man, wanted to throw another celebration for his little sibling, a plan he’d been cooking before Astarion’s true freedom stole the thunder for raucousness and the reverie. So he’d brought Gale to visit his old grave. Mystra’s command of suicide had made Astarion cherish Gale as a dead-man-walking-in-arms. They’d had a special night, that night at his grave. They’d spent some time talking, mostly about Astarion’s new lease on un-life. Gale had asked him what it was like to die. Then, on impulse, some instinct to act when words proved unreliable, he’d taken Gale right there. Looking back, that should have been his first clue that he didn’t have platonic or even casual feelings about that stupid fucking wizard.

“Who'd be in the middle?” Astarion asked once he was reoriented in the present. Zephyr looked at him confused.

“What?”

“Assuming that stupid fucking wizard were here,” Astarion continued, indulging in their shared grief for a moment. “Who would be in the middle of this?”

“I don’t want to think about-“

“Humor me?”

“…you,” he answered after a sigh and a thoughtful pause.

Astarion smirked.

“So you could have two people completely showering you in affection… maybe we’d take turns, everyone would…”

“How much of a fool is he to have missed out on such an opportunity to be worshipped then? Especially since that seems to be where his sights were set. Let me be the one who shows you the worship he turned away from…” Astarion leaned down, pressing kisses over his neck, lips grazing over his most recent bite mark. Zephyr shuddered under the sensation.

“Let me… please…” he gently pleaded to the sorcerer, one hand wandering over his backside, the other arm under Zephyr’s head. “You deserve to feel good…”

“You do make me feel good…” Zephyr replied, tracing his fingers over the wounds on his neck, then over his cheek and into his hair.

“Neither of us ever have to think about him again. It’s his loss.” Astarion pressed a persistent kiss to Zephyr’s lips and the sorcerer relented, wrapping his arms around him as Astarion pushed himself back into position above him, parting Zephyr’s thighs with a raised knee.

They took turns pulling clothes off each other, first Zephyr’s shirt, Astarion’s mouth creeping lower on his neck, then his now- bare collarbone, then his chest. His lips brushed over the soft curve of his small breast, nipping gently down his sternum. Zephyr let out a soft whimper, hips bucking against Astarion’s thigh. As he moved down his body, Zephyr pushed the bottom of his shirt up, making another soft down, looking down at him like he missed him. Astarion glanced up at him in time to see his expression and sprung into another kiss like a coiled spring. Zephyr wrapped one arm around his lower back, his other hand massaging the back of his neck, avoiding the scars on his back entirely. The hand on his neck slipped under Astarion’s collar, dragging his fingertips over the skin above where the scars began. The elf parted from him long enough to pull the meddlesome garment off before returning to him, rocking his body against Zephyr’s.

The sorcerer’s hand slid over the small of Astarion’s back, tracing the top of his waistband around his hips until he was palming his cock through his pants, the friction of the fabric drawing beautiful sounds from Astarion’s lips.

“I love you…” Zephyr murmured, pulling him in again before Astarion could feel pressure to respond. He swallowed the moans and panting sighs he drew from his lover, only taking his hands away from his body to open the fastens of his pants. “Gods, you’re so good to me…” he whispered, pushing his pants and underwear down his hips. Astarion chuckled, his heart hammering inside his chest, belly warm with affection and desire, as he couldn’t bring himself to argue with him. If Zephyr thought he was so wonderful… maybe he was.

Zephyr’s pants had remained unfastened from Astarion’s first attempt at a distraction, and he easily pulled them off, especially since Zephyr so helpfully lifted his hips off the mattress.

“Gods above, aren’t you beautiful,” he said, eyes trailing over the sorcerer’s form reverently. Zephyr blushed, shivering at Astarion’s touch as his fingers trailed down his sides. Once his underwear was off, Zephyr wrapped his legs around Astarion’s waist, rolling his hips to glide his core over Astarion’s cock. Astarion let out an unpracticed growl, devouring Zephyr’s lips in another kiss as he pressed into him. Zephyr whimpered into his mouth, but Astarion didn’t let him go. Astarion laced their fingers together, pinning Zephyr’s hands at either side of his head. Only at that point did he pull away from his mouth, drinking in the sight below him of the breathless, glistening sorcerer like an elite vintage of wine.

Zephyr’s body sucked Astarion deep inside him, squeezing tight enough that Astarion had a hard time laying the strokes inside him that he had intended, but his rocking pelvis provided enough friction against Zephyr’s clit that there was little chance he was letting him go any time soon, especially with his trembling thighs squeezing tighter around his middle.

“Star-“ Zephyr sobbed, squeezing his hands as if his life depended on it. “Gods, Star, feels so fucking good…”

“Nngh, so do you, darling… Gods, I don’t deserve you…” he said breathlessly, without thinking. Zephyr wanted to wrap his arms around him, but was trapped against the pillows, at the complete mercy of Astarion’s ministrations. He tried to steady his breathing, his body trembling with the effort of staying clenched around him. The moment he relaxed, Astarion pressed deeper, letting out a choked moan in tandem with Zephyr as the head of his cock prodded at his cervix.

“Oh- Gods- yes- yes you do, fuck!” Zephyr cried out, surprised to find real tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much, Angel, please- don’t stop, please, you feel so fucking good, I-I’m gonna-“ Zephyr babbled, barely forming actual coherent words.

“Do it,” Astarion dared him, a wicked grin on his face as he watched him hungrily. “Cum for me, my darling…” He leaned in close to him, kissing away the tears that slipped from his eyes.

Zephyr cried out again, back arching off the bed as warmth gushed from his core, ejaculating over Astarion’s thighs. Even in the low light of his bedroom curtained off from the outside world, the sight was enthralling. Astarion’s movements became feral, chasing his peak as Zephyr moaned weakly under him. He released Zephyr’s hands, one arm wrapping around the back of his head, cradling him in the crook of his elbow. His other hand travelled down his body, finding purchase on his hip, squeezing the bone through flesh, drawing another moan from Zephyr’s lips. With his hands now free, Zephyr clung to him, face buried in his shoulder as moan after loan was punched out of his over-sensitive body.

An idea came to him like a clap of thunder and he pushed against his shoulder, rolling Astarion onto his back. The bun he tied his hair into had migrated to one side, loose white locks of hair dangling around his face. With his hands now on his chest, assisting his movements as he rode him with desperation bordering on ferocity. He was happy to put in work to bring Astarion pleasure, his arousal that had coated them both now indiscernible from the sheen of sweat that they had worked up between them.

“Gods, I love you…” Astarion murmured, his love-drunk gaze piercing Zephyr’s soul as he bounced over his lap. The sorcerer grinned proudly, squeezing around him again, this time voluntarily, relishing the sounds it drew from his lover.

“I love you, too,” Zephyr huffed, one hand moving to cradle his face, blue and black eyes locked on red like a spell.

Astarion came inside him, warmth coating his insides in pulses. Zephyr moaned as he felt him spill into his body. He slowed his movements, then lowered himself over his body, laying his head on his chest with a satisfied sigh. Astarion hugged him with one arm, his other hand lacing their fingers together again.

“My love…” he started, pressing a kiss against Zephyr’s hair. Zephyr didn’t reply verbally, but his whole form stirred as he hummed a response.

“You really are quite dear to me…” he said softly. “I do love you.”

“Mm, oh I know…” he said, letting out another satisfied sound, burrowing against his body like a snuggly cat.

“I just didn’t want you to think-”

“I didn’t. No blood is in my brain right now. Couldn’t think if I wanted to.”

Astarion snorted, trailing his fingers up and down the scales on Zephyr’s spine. He shivered again, letting out another, low, drawn-out moan. There was once a time such contact tickled him, but Astarion had developed a fondness for rubbing him there, and gradually he became accustomed to the sensation, his nerves interpreting the signals as pleasure rather than a tickle.

For the second time that tenday, he found himself missing the tadpole. Of course he didn’t actually miss having a parasite in his brain, but he did unequivocally miss the convenience of not always having to speak to each other. He would consider himself lucky if he got out more than a purr right now. More than the convenience, he missed the feeling of Astarion in his mind. Not a minute ago, he had quite literally been inside him but his mind’s touch had carried such intimacy he felt its absence like a physical ache.

Zephyr rubbed his cheek against his chest, the nude, full-body contact still leaving something to be desired, and he couldn’t well crawl into his skin.

Actually, maybe it’s a good thing he can’t read my mind anymore.

Zephyr’s internal monologue was intense enough that he was changing facial expressions along with his thoughts, as if he were speaking aloud. It was enough movement to catch Astarion’s notice, but that wasn’t saying much as Zephyr was already under an admiring eye.

“What are you thinking about, my sweet?” He asked curiously, tracing a fingertip along the shell of his ear as best he could with the number of piercings he bore.

Zephyr whined. “Do I gotta?”

“If I’ve ‘gotta’,” Astarion scoffed, “You, Mister-happy-childhood-loving-family most certainly gotta.” He tilted his head, putting a fist up to rest it on, and took Zephyr’s chin.

He titled his head back to look up at him, his expression now a pathetic one, his bottom lip sticking out. “Nooo… it’s embarrassing…” he begged, pulling out every trick he’d picked up as the long-time youngest child. He’d been a teenager when Magnolia was born, and puppy-dog pouts didn’t work at thirteen, regardless of birth order.

Astarion gave him a playfully stern look, directly mirroring the look Zephyr often gave him when he clammed up.

“Ugh, fine, but don’t laugh at me,” Zephyr conceded, taking Astarion’s hand from his chin and moving it to his own cheek.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“I miss the tadpoles.”

Astarion blinked, looking blank like he was expecting something more to be said. “Is that it? I do, too.” He gestured to himself, looking confused and only a little judgemental. “Uh, hello, I’m a vampire, remember? Condemned to an eternity in the shadows. Does that ring any bells?” He didn’t sound angry, but he certainly didn’t understand why that embarrassed Zephyr.

“No, I know, it obviously makes perfect sense for you, but… I don’t knoooow…” he groaned again. “You’re gonna laugh at me because I’m sappy.”

“I am not going to laugh at you,” Astarion promised.

“I miss you.”

“…I am right here, dearest.”

“I miss… feeling you. In my mind.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching like he was getting ready to smile, but he wasn’t quite sure if he should. “And that embarrasses you?”

“No…”

“Well, I am quite confused.”

“It’s embarrassing because I’m so… clingy. I feel like I can be annoying about it. Like a dog who wants to be involved in a task that requires zero dogs,” he confessed. “Like, sure, it’s kind of adorable I guess and I know you love me.” He made sure to not put a ‘but’ on the end of that sentence. He knew they cared about each other. He could feel their bond down to his bones, but it didn’t stop him from also knowing that he could be a little much sometimes. The last thing he wanted to do was to push Astarion away.

“You don’t annoy me,” Astarion said softly, waiting to speak for a moment while he watched Zephyr process his thoughts. “I think your affectionate nature is endearing,” he said, hesitating for a moment before confessing something himself. “Gods know I need it.”

Zephyr's gaze had drifted away from him, but those words snapped his eyes back to Astarion’s. “Yea?”

“Yes. I would’ve thought that was… well, obvious.”

Zephyr made a soft sound, tucking his head under Astarion’s chin and wrapping an arm around him, squeezing his body against him.

“How did I feel?” Astarion asked, curious what Zephyr was missing specifically.

“I don’t know how to describe it,” he admitted. “The only thing I can think of to call it is ‘intimate’.” He paused thoughtfully, searching for memories to describe the sensation properly.

“You’re gentle. Peaceful. It’s like… when you’re running your fingers through my hair. Gives me goosebumps.”

At that, Astarion pulled the tie from Zephyr’s hair, slowly, gently taking it out of what was left of the bun. He raked his fingers through his hair, stroking the top of it, rubbing his fingertips over his scalp, trailing through shoulder-length tresses. Zephyr let out a soft moan, then a slow sigh. As he’d mentioned, goosebumps raised on his neck and down his arms, then his whole scalp tingled.

Astarion gently ran his nails over his scalp, laying with him quietly. He wondered how he could give him that sensation again. Of the two of them, it seemed more likely that the sorcerer would develop telepathy. He bookmarked the thought to ponder over later.

Eventually, Zephyr fell asleep. Astarion would’ve preferred to watch him, but he had some work to do. He moved slowly, carefully laying Zephyr onto the mattress and pulled the blanket around him. He then fished his clothing off the floor and dressed himself quickly before setting off.

Three days later, as Zephyr returned from Bahamut’s temple for the evening, Astarion caught him by the front door, drawing him close against his body. He kissed him with adoration he struggled to put into words. Zephyr smiled against his lips and let out a youthful giggle, hesitantly pulling away to look around for anyone else in the manor. “Star…” he groaned without his smile faltering for a second. “What if my mother sees us?”

“How do you think you got here?” Astarion rebutted. “She’ll live.”

Zephyr groaned again, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. “I missed you, too, Angel…”

Astarion let out a low hum, squeezing his body against his own, taking a long time before pulling back. “Follow me, darling,” he said, trailing his hands over his arms. Zephyr held both of Astarion’s hands in his own, one eyebrow quirked suspiciously as he allowed Astarion to lead him upstairs.

“What are you up to?” Zephyr asked as they rounded at the top of the stairs, Astarion eagerly tugging him towards his bedroom.

“You’ll see if you have some patience, darling,” he teased, then opened the door for him.

Inside, Astarion had lit several candles, placed carefully around the room to avoid any of Zephyr’s more flammable projects. That man’s walls were already covered in sooty scorch marks that proved impossible to wash away from accidental explosions, he didn’t need to make them any worse. He’d made the bed, a fur throw placed deliberately over the middle of the mattress to tastefully conceal the towels he’d laid out underneath, in case Zephyr squirted again. Astarion hoped that he would.

“Star…” Zephyr began, tonally straddling the line between being touched and being cautious. “I told you, you don’t have to sed-“

“This isn’t seduction, my dearest,” Astarion assured him. “This is appreciation.” He slipped a small bottle out of his pocket, suddenly looking a tad bashful. “I… er, I made this for you since you mentioned you were running low on your cologne…”

Zephyr smiled, his brow creased like he was surprised. He brought the bottle to his nose. It was similar to his original formulation, but he greatly preferred Astarion’s interpretation, equal parts musky and electric, while still holding earthy, herbaceous, and sweet notes. He was better at this than Zephyr was, more intentional with how the scents layered together.

“Gods above, you really did miss your calling as a perfumer, this is amazing! Thank you,” he lifted himself onto his tip-toes to kiss his cheek. Their height difference wasn’t so great that it was strictly necessary, but it was cute. “So…” he said, trailing his hands down Astarion’s arm. “I take it you want to try my idea tonight?”

“Gods, yes,” Astarion said, leaning down and pressing his forehead against Zephyr’s.

“Ok,” Zephyr smiled, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “I’ll be right back, ok?”

He left the room, going to a chest of keepsakes he’d tucked away in the lounge down the hall. Inside were the things he’d managed to keep from their adventure. He had seven restoration scrolls. How many times would Astarion drain him before he was full? He didn’t want to use them all in one go, as he hoped to do this again for him sometime. Eventually, he thought, he was going to have to find, or potentially make a reusable magic item. He didn’t want to swallow his pride and ask his mother for such a thing, even though she was a talented enchantress and artificer. But that was a problem for another day. For Future Zephyr.

Present Zephyr snatched up the scrolls, tucking them under one arm, then stopped in the archway that led back to the hall. He unscrewed the bottle Astarion had given him and covered the mouth with the pad of his finger before flipping it upside down and dabbing the scented oil behind his ears. Aerated and in combination with his skin chemistry, it smelled even better. He couldn’t place what scents Astarion had changed or added with much specificity, but it was divine. He would have to ask him for tips later.

He rushed back to his bedroom and dropped the scrolls on the bed and threw his arms around Astarion, kissing him deeply. Astarion moaned into his mouth as he walked Zephyr backwards. Zephyr’s knees were knocked out from under him as the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed. He pulled Astarion on top of him as he fell onto the mattress, scrambling back against the pillows before laying down properly, his neck exposed for Astarion’s fangs to sink into.

But it wasn’t his skin that Astarion sank into first. A familiar presence pressed into his consciousness, warm light washed over his mind’s eye and his whole body shivered like he’d stood in the gust of an unexpected, but welcome breeze.

Hello, darling…

Zephyr clung to Astarion as if he were afraid he would plummet to his death if he let go. With closed eyes, he pressed kisses to any part of Astarion he could reach- His jaw, his ear, his neck.

How in the hells are you doing that?

He asked, enthusiasm bringing him onto his knees with Astarion sitting back on his ankles. It took him a moment to realize that he’d used magic, a forceful gush of air had pushed his back off the mattress. Momentum did the rest.

I would think- he grabbed his hips, pulling him as flush to his body as he could. -a talented alchemist like yourself would recognize the effects of a potion of mind reading.

Did you make that or have it? He kissed the underside of his jaw, prodding him with his face to tilt his head back.

Oh, had it, darling. He moaned, letting his head dip back for Zephyr to tend to his affections. I wouldn’t have the first idea what I was doing. I’ll leave the explosionary fails to you.

Bullshit. He nipped at a sensitive spot on his jaw, amused to be the one to bite him now. If you can make perfume, you can make a potion…I could teach you.

The second moan Astarion made was surprised and guttural, one hand squeezing his hip, the other flying to the back of Zephyr’s head.

Zephyr focused on how his body felt, the affectionate ache in his heart, the inferno in his belly, the tears of gratitude and reverent adoration that he was only barely holding back, leaving it all bare for Astarion to peruse. It was such a comfort to provide proof to Astarion that he meant every word he ever said about him. He loved him, truly, deeply, unconditionally. He was devoted to him in every way he could be. He’d follow him anywhere, do anything he asked, give him anything he wanted, as long as it would make him happy and keep him safe.

Astarion had never been loved like that before. As Zephyr nipped and suckled at his neck and jaw, surely leaving a tapestry of bruising in his wake, Astarion held Zephyr’s love in his mind and allowed himself to be the one to spill tears.

Zephyr had always had everything he needed and damn near anything he wanted. He was the stereotypical sorcerer in many ways, seemingly blessed by the Gods to live a charmed life. When they first met, Astarion had been charmed by him, but then quickly found his utter nobility nearly intolerable. He couldn’t stand do-gooders, especially ones that would turn down payment for jobs of killing evil people well done, that they had what they needed and doing the right thing was all the reward that was needed. Oh, but BAHAMUT SAYS- Barf. Gods, he could have smacked him.

But… Then he protected him from Gandrel. And then, without reason, he offered to feed him from his body without compensation, just to keep him healthy. He would always talk to him as Astarion drank from him, which kept Astarion from drinking from his neck. Usually it was his shoulder or wrist. Sometimes he gushed about the wizard, or complimented Astarion’s lockpicking and trap disarming, thanking him for his contributions. Astarion learned much about Zephyr in those days. He wondered if he knew more about him than Gale. He certainly let Zephyr speak more than Gale had.

Sometimes, watching them have a conversation was less a dialogue, and two people taking turns monologuing. Karlach had taken to calling them Windbag and Gobby, which never failed to make Wyll raucous with laughter. Astarion had never considered that Zephyr was letting him practice socializing without pressuring him to divulge anything about himself. Of course he couldn’t respond and share in turn. His mouth was busy.

The first time he’d bitten his neck was in front of Gale. The first feeding after the others knew Astarion’s vampiric secret, Gale had joined them, acting as Zephyr’s chaperone, even though these had begun before Gale had made his romantic intentions clear to Zephyr. Astarion hadn’t been too charitable to Gale’s suspicions. Until then, there had been no untoward intentions. But this time, in the rundown shack at the top of dilapidated scaffolding that was half-reclaimed by what passed for nature under the shadow-curse’s influence, Astarion had pulled Zephyr into his lap, but he sank his teeth into his neck so that the sorcerer couldn’t yap. Zephyr had gasped, hands flying to his hair and stilled himself like a frightened rabbit. He wasn’t afraid of Astarion, he trusted him, but he was taken off-guard by the spark of arousal in his pants. Gale’s face had flushed, spluttering something about jugulars and arteries. Zephyr had murmured;

“s’ok… he’s got me.”

Gale stood with his back to the wall and watched as Astarion put on a roguish performance, clearly meant to irritate the wizard. He covered his mouth so he wouldn’t argue and fixed his face into what he had hoped was a stern expression and tried to ignore the swelling between his legs as Astarion’s mouth had worked over Zephyr’s neck.

Eventually, Astarion found he preferred to take him by the neck, but not because it kept him quiet, because his arousal was their little secret. He felt a rush of delight that he had a hand in at least slightly corrupting the sweet, cleric’s-kid noble.

As Astarion peeled through Zephyr’s memories of him, he found time after time that Zephyr loved him. Before long, Gale was in them consistently, too; bringing him a goblet of wine and an after-dinner chat, gifting him an interesting book, defending him in combat, moving their tents closer and closer together as Astarion grew to be less repulsed by kind people.

Then he started to protect them, too. It was odd for Astarion to care about protecting someone other than himself, let alone being willing to put himself in harm’s way for someone else’s benefit. But Gale had cast dimension door after pulling him out of the magical current that Cazador’s ritual had him trapped in, only to have a werewolf barreling toward the wizard from behind. There was no time to warn him. Astarion grabbed Gale’s robes and spun on the spot, surprise and momentum hurtling Gale in a circle and dropped the wizard safely behind him, only to have enough time to whip around and plunge his dagger between the beast’s ribs. A creature of that size hurtling forward at that speed was not an easy thing to stop, and momentum had its turn with Astarion as well and he toppled to the granite floor. Zephyr flew over to him, literally, an ability that he had only discovered he could do in that exact moment, and helped him up. Gale clapped him on one shoulder and casted another dimension door to get Astarion out of range so he could recuperate. As he left the second portal, Astarion saw Zephyr charge toward Cazador with his sword drawn, casting a lightning bolt in his direction for good measure. A circle of bats dropped to the floor in its wake.

I love you, Zephyr thought, pulling Astarion back to the present. The feeling of his mouth moving over his skin, migrating to Astarion’s earlobe made him shiver in delight. Zephyr turned his head, wrapping Astarion into a tight hug as he buried his face in his curls.

Astarion hugged him back, then slowly lowered him back against the pillows. He nuzzled against his neck, grazing his lips over a patch of scales by his hairline. I love you, too.

Zephyr moaned out loud as Astarion bit him, fingers weaving through the back of his hair as the vampire drank deeply. Zephyr’s fist pleasurably tugged at the roots of his curls. He could smell the difference in Zephyr’s scent, the pride at him already wearing his present going straight to his cock.

Zephyr quickly found himself blindly searching for the scrolls at his bedside as his mind began to swim. He didn’t want to be too far gone to grab one, and his lips were beginning to tingle already. His limbs were feeling heavier, and his breathing slowed as his heart began to race. Zephyr realized in very little time that he quite enjoyed the fuzzy feeling that came with being drained. He felt sleepy and euphoric and dazed all at the same time. After only a few minutes, he casted the first scroll, relying on his innate abilities as a sorcerer when he was a little lazy with the casting. The fact that it worked anyway would have pissed Gale right off.

Don’t think about him, think about me. Astarion’s voice spoke into Zephyr’s mind. He let out a soft whimper and closed his eyes, focusing his mind on the present and how much he completely adored the man drinking from him.

That’s my good little mage, Astarion thought, sending the words into Zephyr’s mind. We only belong to each other now. Centuries of this. He shifted his body to press his thigh between Zephyr’s legs, greatly pleased by the whimper it drew from him. He cupped his chest in one hand, massaging his palm over his breast. He felt Zephyr’s nipple get hard through his shirt and beamed between drinks.

When his lips started to tingle again, Zephyr casted a second scroll, but the third he held out for as long as he could. Nausea came in rolling waves, and it was Astarion who casted the third.

Thrill seeker. He accused, eyeing him disapprovingly.

Zephyr found himself to be a tad disappointed when he realized he didn’t need to reach for a fourth scroll, but even moreso as he felt Astarion’s presence in his mind fade away. That had somehow been both the longest and the shortest ten minutes the sorcerer had ever lived. Astarion lapped at his neck until his blood began to clot, the blood flow slowing to a stop after a minute or two. A bruise was already forming, dark and frightening looking, purple, blue and black blossoming around the wounds.

“Gods, you are perfect,” he mused, brushing his nose against the curve of his neck.

“Mm, not as perfect as you…” Zephyr replied softly.

When Astarion finally lifted his head, Zephyr slowly blinked up at him, his expression bubbling with affection and desire. He’d put his body through a lot of strain in a very short amount of time, and looked sleepy above all else. He massaged lazy circles over Astarion’s scalp, quietly drawing him close again, guiding him to lay his head on his chest. However, Astarion wasn’t finished with him. He allowed himself a short respite, cherishing the blood-drunk sensation, full to the point of physical discomfort, but gleefully satisfied. He kissed his sternum, wherever his mouth landed when he turned his face toward Zephyr’s body. He shifted his weight to one side, his free hand already moving to open Zephyr’s pants again, dextrously pulling the drawstring open one-handed. He was so full of gratitude and affection he was afraid his heart might rupture a hole in his chest.

He moved down the sorcerer’s body, kissing and suckling and nipping at his torso. Zephyr’s hand never left his hair, but his over hand covered his mouth to stifle a moan as Astarion traced his tongue over the scales on his hips. Astarion reached up blindly, grabbing his wrist and pinning it at his side, then dutifully returned to his ministrations.

“Oh- Gods- Astarion…” Zephyr’s tone trailed off into a whine, brows pinching as his need built.

“You love a greedy man, Zephyr. There’s more of you I want to taste…” he murmured, lips grazing against sensitive scales as he spoke. Zephyr let out a pitiful whimper, parting his legs for him without objection. He was dizzy and sleepy and feared not being able to reciprocate properly as Astarion freed his wrist and pulled his pants down, but that also meant he was in no position to argue.

Astarion laid down with his arms hooked under Zephyr’s thighs, curling his biceps to pull his pelvis into his face, tongue lathing up and down his cunt.

Zephyr moaned, squirming under him and made quiet, pouty huffs of noise. “I- I think I’m too tired to cum…” he warned, not wanting him to feel like he wasn’t doing well.

Astarion pulled away from his core just long enough to playfully snip back “Give a man a chance, my dear.” He returned his mouth to a more useful purpose, tongue swirling around his swollen clit. He would occasionally draw it into his mouth, sucking gently, but then he would return to the steady, constant circles around his puffed-up arousal.

Zephyr’s breaths came faster, punctuated with whimpers and cries as his hips started to buck against his mouth. It was the consistency that was doing him in. Astarion had found something he liked and zeroed in on it. His stomach trembled and his hand flew to cover his mouth again as he made a sound like a sob, a knot tightening in his core which relaxed just as quickly. His hole fluttered around nothing, another wave of pleasure rising inside him slowly like water filling a cavern at high tide, until the knot returned, pulling tighter every time. Every time he neared his peak, he shuddered and cried out, attempting to focus on steadying his breathing. The hand that wasn’t covering his mouth found its way back to Astarion’s curls, tugging the back of his hair near the roots again, which made the elf moan into his core. The knot bluffed snapping again, but Astarion’s chin was covered with slick arousal. Then, his body made good on its threat.

Zephyr was cumming before he knew what to do with himself. His thighs squeezed against Astarion’s head, then he tried to make himself relax, but his lover grabbed his thighs and pressed them back into place, head bobbing and moving as if he were kissing his mouth. Zephyr had been too far gone to notice that one of Astarion’s fangs had nicked him. The combined taste of bloody arousal made Astarion roll his hips against the mattress underneath him. He moaned into his cunt as he pressed his tongue deep inside it, relishing the way his walls pulsed around him.

When he pulled away from him, but not before sneaking a quick kiss to his twitching clit, it was for the sole purpose of teasing him.

“Mm, now what was that you said, darling?” He asked, smugly cocking his head to one side as he crawled over his body to get a better look at his face. “Too tired to cum for me? What a silly idea,” he lowered his head to kiss the unbitten side of his neck and Zephyr could feel that he was still grinning.

Zephyr reached under him and traced his fingers up his sides under his shirt, taking advantage of the gap it left as it dangled away from his body. He gently raked nails up and down his sides from the top of his hips to just under his armpits, softer on the way up than on the way down. Astarion shuddered, pressing his body against Zephyr’s like he feared collapsing.

“I saw you humping the bed…” Zephyr teased, his smile audible in his tone. “Wanna put your cock in me?”

Astarion huffed at being teased. He sucked his teeth and scowled, though held no actual frustration in his heart. He pressed a deliberate, noisy kiss on the side of his neck then moved his head again. He pressed his forehead against Zephyr’s, so close that his black and blue eyes merged into one. The single eye blinked and eyelashes tickled Astarion’s face.

“Yes.”

Zephyr giggled and turned his head just enough to kiss his lips, catching the remnants of his own musk on his lips. “You know you’re allowed to, right? Any time you want?”

Astarion pushed himself up on his hands, parting his knees to support his weight instead of lying like a cobra. “What kind of a question is that?”

“The kind where I want you to get off, but I’m rapidly encountering the consequences of abusing restoration scrolls.”

Astarion couldn’t hide the panic in his eyes. He silently chided himself for taking Zephyr’s cheek in his hand and gently moving his head and examining him. Even if he could convince himself he was checking for pupil reactivity or some nonsense like that, he had been a magistrate, not a doctor! What good would he be in a medical crisis?

“Astarion, look at me,” Zephyr said, mirroring his touch as he cradled his face preciously. “I’m ok, Angel, I feel fine. It doesn’t surprise me that even magic can’t get around the fact that replacing your blood ex nihilo several times in a row is strenuous.” He rubbed his thumb over his cheek. “I’m not hurt, just sleepy. This was fun, I want to do it again.”

Astarion stared at Zephyr with the same surprised confusion in his eyes as when he originally offered, but instead of dropping his jaw, he just sighed and tucked his head under Zephyr’s chin, laying beside him as close as he could, one leg draped over both of Zephyr’s.

“It is… a humbling experience. To be loved by you.”

Zephyr didn’t respond except to stroke his cheek, waiting for him to finish talking.

“I mean it as a good thing. But I’m not sure how much you appreciate how… vulnerable it makes me feel for someone to be so kind to me. You shared your body with me before we ever had sex. Even when I tried to turn you on, you were so polite about it. I couldn’t get you to cave in like everybody else in the realm.”

“Mm, I did get some… terribly naughty dreams from your teasing though,” Zephyr said, tracing the pointed tips of his ears.

“But why not? Other than Gale.”

“You needed a friend. Gale really had nothing to do with it,” Zephyr shrugged. “Even if we’d never met him, I don’t think I would have slept with you or kissed you or anything unless you actually wanted to, instead of just playing a game. But I would’ve always fed you. Unless someone else took care of it first, I suppose. And now…” Zephyr groaned bashfully, but tried to banish the thoughts that his style of affection was annoying. “It’s an honor to do it.”

Astarion pressed his lips together and did his best to muffle the choked sound in his throat. He took a deep breath in and blew it out from his nose quickly. “It’s an honor to love you. I hope one day I can become the man you think I am.”

“You already were,” Zephyr said, tilting Astarion’s head as well as his own and drew him into a kiss.

As the night ended, the two men laid beside each other, both naked by the time they were finished. The bedclothes were stripped nearly all the way off and hung over the footboard. Sweaty activities proved blankets unnecessary, especially while Zephyr still radiated heat from their mutual excursions. Apparently, they had discovered the fatigue was temporary, assisted by Zephyr’s draconic constitution. They basked in the moonlight spilling in through open curtains, as well as each other, whispering, giggling, and chastely kissing.

“Star?” Zephyr asked, shifting from his side to his back, keeping himself tucked as close to him as he could.

“Hm?” He responded peacefully, scarlet eyes closed.

“Can I introduce you to my grandmother?”

[miss-inchoat]

Tsfw you want to talk to people online but you don’t feel like interacting… ever

[seidrlynn]

TSFW

The moon has you in such a trance that Fenris has to yank you out.

[schizo-vulture]

someone: you know there's nothing outside, right? stop looking out there

me:

[schizo-vulture]

tsfw you get a new piercing and you have to fight executive dysfunction so it doesn't get nasty

[schizo-vulture]

tsfw you're being a grouchy old man about the kids you hear in your yard, only to find out they aren't actually out there...

[truly-fantastic-me]

That spoonie feel when you wanna talk with someone but don't have the energy to.

[spoonie-fit]

That spoonie feel when you're constantly worried about causing future pain and future tiredness by doing too much, and you've also been told that tiredness causes pain so you're basically scared to do anything...but not doing anything also causes pain and not being able to sleep so you're left never knowing if you should be doing stuff or not and you're trying to figure it out but you have brain fog so you can't remember what you've done already and you just want to scream! It's so complicated and I'm sometimes not sure if my fear of future pain is rational or not or whether I should ignore it or if it's a valid concern and...well I've worn myself out just thinking about it. Honestly I wonder what it's like to not have to manage energy levels, it's basically a full time job of it's own.