TASTE
A fic by me and Liv (bldsprks.bsky.social on Bluesky)
It was one of those warm, starry nights in camp, the kind that usually called for a cheerful song, but tonight Faersi wasn’t in the mood to play. Instead, she sat quietly by the fire, lost deep in thought.
So far, they’d managed to slay the booyahg without much trouble, but Minthara was about to confront them at the grove, and Faersi felt a lingering nervousness in her gut at the prospect. Minthara’s icy, piercing gaze was nearly impossible to deceive; were it not for Faersi’s extraordinary knack for trickery, only the gods knew what could’ve happened during her confrontation with the drow. Nonetheless, she was painfully aware that her companions needed to be at their very best if they had any hope of surviving the coming battle — ideally leaving it victorious and with all their limbs still intact.
She sighed softly in resignation, staring blankly into the dancing flames. Her thoughts wandered to the city, to fresh clothes and the comforting hum of Elfsong Tavern, where she’d played her lyre carefree, oblivious to the luxury of her life. Or, well, perhaps not entirely oblivious — she’d always known how good she’d had it. All the more reason to ache for it now.
“No use dwelling on it, Faersi,” she whispered firmly to herself. Shaking off her melancholy, she stood, brushing off her trousers as a fresh determination sparked within her. Instead of moping, she decided to check if anyone needed help preparing for tomorrow’s fight; it was better than sulking.
Faersi made the rounds, quickly realising most of her companions were already prepared. It was almost as if they didn’t need her help at all, something that might have begun to stir some feelings of inadequacy, until her eyes finally drifted toward Astarion.
He looked precisely like himself: slightly bored, lounging casually with his gaze fixed on a book he’d probably read a thousand times already, radiating a confidence that suggested he was above any silly preparations. And while Faersi knew she might not be useful to the others, each with their own battle-ready expertise that she did not possess, she realised there was one particular way she could be of use to a vampire.
As Faersi approached his tent the flickering firelight reflected off his scarlet eyes, which snapped away from his book to openly follow the sway of her hips as she walked towards him. He shut the book decisively, tucking it away with an easy elegance as a slow smirk curled his lips.
“Making the rounds again, dear?” he teased lightly, a hint of relief in his playful voice, as if glad to have something else to do. “Which of our delightfully mad companions are we talking about tonight?”
Faersi let out a dry chuckle, her eyes quickly darting away as she struggled to hide her unease from the rogue’s perceptive stare. “Actually, I’m here to talk about tomorrow’s plans, for when we fight the next goblin leader.”
Astarion quirked an eyebrow, mildly amused. “What is there to plan?” he asks, voice dripping with his usual dismissive charm. “They’re leading a horde of goblins, for gods’ sake. They can’t be too hard to beat.”
“Of course, darling,” Faersi retorted sharply, sarcasm cutting through her laugh. “After all, it’s not as if they’ve captured an archdruid with that mere horde of goblins.” She fixed him with a glare, eyes sharp as razors.
She watched Astarion pause, surprised by her unusual seriousness, before releasing an exaggerated sigh, his brows furrowed together in annoyance. “Ugh, fine. I suppose you have some suggestions for me, then? Let’s hear them,” he drawled lazily, shifting his hip to the side.
Faersi crossed her arms, irritated that she had somehow become the voice of reason in their conversation. Avoiding his probing gaze, she waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t know! I just want you to be ready for a real fight, and I'm trying to help, that's all.”
Astarion’s first instinct was to scoff at the notion — a sweet bard offering help to him, a seasoned assassin? "Ha! Darling, I’m sure you mean well, but I simply can’t imagine how you could possibly help m—”
His voice caught abruptly when he noticed Faersi discreetly brushing her fingertips against the soft skin of her neck, her gaze quickly darting away. Realisation dawned upon him, and his eyes settled hungrily on her neck; soft, fair, slender, and pulsing gently with life. “Oh, I see,” he purred, quickly regaining his composure, looking back at her with a tempting smile. “My dear, if you wanted us to ‘dine’ together, you could’ve just said so.”
Faersi couldn’t help the blush crept all the way to the tips of her pointed ears. It was silly; after all, she knew too well that his interest in her went no further than his thirst for blood and the strength it brought him. Still, when he spoke to her like that, she couldn’t help but feel desired in a way no one else could. It seemed foolish not to relish that feeling, even if it was fleeting.
Since their first bite several weeks ago, they'd only had one other occasion to "dine" together — at Faersi’s insistence, right after the fight with Gandrel, when Astarion had been gravely wounded. Tonight would mark their third shared moment, yet Faersi still struggled to be casual about something as intimate as letting someone drink from her veins.
Astarion’s scarlet eyes couldn’t hide his excitement, glittering brightly as he leaned in closer, his voice a low, enticing purr. “It’s an excellent plan, darling. I’ll come join you once everyone else is asleep.”
Faersi’s heart skipped a traitorous beat at the way his low voice vibrated so close to her face, but outwardly her expression only showed amusement. “Hah, I’m glad you agree. I’ll be by the river tonight. Meet me there when you’re ready,” she responded, pleased with her composure. As she turned to leave, the warm night breeze gently tousled her dark red hair, carrying with it the faint scent of orange blossoms, lingering enticingly in Astarion’s senses.
Later that night, only the moon and fireflies shine dimly over the camp, and crickets sing quietly into the night. It was beautiful, but almost too romantic, in Faersi’s opinion. She had let her dark red hair down, its length falling smoothly over her shoulders and was sitting quietly, running a brush through the strands before settling into sleep.
Soon enough, Faersi’s ears caught Astarion’s subtle footstep moving quietly across the grass, approaching her sleeping bag. Her eyes lifted to meet the vampire’s sleek figure. His pale features were half covered in shadow, yet his silky white hair gleamed exquisitely under the moonlight. And his eyes — those bright scarlet eyes, shimmering like rubies, traced over Faersi’s body like she was a delicacy to be savoured. Under his intense stare, Faersi shifted slightly, heart fluttering.
In public, Faersi knew exactly how to handle Astarion’s provocative side, and it was usually by provoking him right back. Yet, here in private, in these intimate moments when they were alone and he was far too comfortable with her, was when her confidence fell short. Still, she refused to let him witness her uncertainty. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing her flustered; she wouldn’t stroke his ego that easily.
“Don’t drain me dry today, will you?” she joked lightly, settling down into her sleeping bag.
“I would never, dear. It’s just a taste, I promise,” he purred with a charming smile, scarlet eyes gleaming softly in the moonlight as he gently moved over her.
Faersi’s heart skipped another beat as he leaned closer to her neck, his soft hair brushing against her cheek, tickling her skin. She had an urge to touch it, to entangle her fingers through those silky white strands and pull him closer, but instead she restrained herself, grasping tightly at the sheet beneath her. A shiver traveled down her spine as she felt Astarion’s breath ghosting against her neck, her throat going dry when his cool, parted lips first touched her warm skin. She closed her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the sweet, delicious danger of his bite.
The moment came quickly — his fangs plunged sharply into her skin like shards of ice, causing her breath to catch in her throat and her chest to arch involuntarily in response.
In that moment, she let herself go, swept up in a whirlwind of fear, pain, and pleasure. Astarion’s breathing became heavier, faster, punctuated by soft moans of satisfaction as he pressed further into her neck, hungry — starving. Faersi’s heart raced, instinctively fighting for survival. Breathless, she sought a place to find support, for something to grab hold of as her body moved in response to each suck of his mouth. Her hands move blindly, finding his back and gripping hard. She grasped at him desperately, nails sinking into his blouse as she winced from the pain. She felt Astarion flinch slightly at her touch before quickly welcoming it, one hand moving to hold the back of her neck firmly, drawing her into a fervent embrace. As their chests touched, Faersi couldn't tell whether her heart pounded from excitement or desperation.
Though only a few minutes passed, to Faersi it felt like an eternity. Just as she started to feel faint, she pressed her hand firmly against his back and breathed shakily into his ear, “That’s… That’s enough, Astarion.”
Snapped from his trance, Astarion hummed in acknowledgement, slowly lifting his fangs from her neck, panting. In the moonlight, his face seemed to glow, flushed with new colour, his pretty lips a glossy red, coated with her blood, the air thickening with the scent of iron as he breathed through his mouth, smiling in pure delight. Faersi thought he’d never looked more beautiful.
Weak, numb, yet satisfied, Faersi smiled in relief. “I hope you’re happy with your fancy meal today.”
Still catching his breath, Astarion let out a delicious laugh. “Most happy indeed… I’m truly lucky to savour such a… delightful flavour.” It was at that moment she realised he hadn’t moved away, his hand still lingering at the back of her neck, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. His blood-stained lips hovered so close to hers that she could almost taste the iron. Her gaze stayed on them, thinking briefly, shamelessly, that she could fucking lick those pretty lips.
Faersi didn’t know if it was her vulnerability in front of the vampire or simply dizziness from blood loss that made her lower her inhibitions, but in an unconscious move, she brought her finger up to his lips, teasingly wiping away a drop of blood. Without thinking, she brought the bloody fingertip to her mouth, sucking it clean like it was strawberry syrup. Astarion’s scarlet eyes sparkled, following her every move, visibly astonished.
“Just leave some of it for me, okay?” she added, with a playful, teasing smile.
Astarion paused, studying Faersi’s golden eyes with newfound interest. His expression shifted, curiosity flickering across his features as if he was considering his next course of action.
“You know,” he whispered softly, leaning in, his lips hovering just a breath away from hers, “I don’t think I’m quite done tasting you yet.”
Faersi’s next few minutes passed in a heated blur. One moment she was gazing into Astarion’s crimson eyes, blazing with desire; the next, her lips were enveloped by his, her own blood smearing between their mouths as their tongues danced wildly. His chest pressed against hers, their bodies moving in sync, hungry for touch — hungry for more.
Her body ignited with excitement, her thoughts dissolving as she mindlessly moved her hands over Astarion's form, running her hands over his chest, clutching at the neckline of his blouse to pull him impossibly closer, and eagerly running her fingers through his thick white hair. Astarion’s hands moved smoothly down her spine, pausing at her hip to grip it firmly and push it into his own. She gasped as she felt his hardening cock press against her pelvis, a quiet whimper escaping her throat. Astarion rolled his eyes back in pleasure, moaning softly into her mouth as he deepened the kiss.
“Are we doing this? Is this really happening?” she thought hazily as his hands moved to her chest, eagerly feeling Faersi’s soft breasts through her clothing. He seemed completely enthralled by her body, pulling her close, squeezing her curves, thrusting against her in a desperate attempt to absorb every part of her being. When he briefly pulled away to undo the laces of her bodice, a sudden burst of laughter left Faersi, stalling him.
“What?” he asked, looking at her in confusion, until he saw her clearly: her face was a bloody mess. She looked utterly ridiculous, covered in smears of blood from chin to nose, like a drunken clown. Judging by Faersi’s amused expression, he knew his face looked even worse.
She tried to contain her laughter but failed spectacularly. “Nothing, darling, please go on,” she managed to say through giggles.
Astarion gave in, joining her in embarrassed laughter, touching his face and feeling the blood smeared across it. “Gods, what a mess,” he chuckled, unable to stop himself from smiling at the absurdity of the situation.
Finally, Astarion stood and offered Faersi his hand to help her up. She stumbled slightly, feeling lightheaded but laughing freely. “You’re such a messy eater!” she teased between fits of giggles as they made their way to the river to wash the blood off. Once their faces were no longer an ungodly mess, they stood quietly by the riverbank for a moment, smiling at each other.
“Well, this has been fun,” Astarion remarked lightly, “but it’s getting late, and we need to be in our best spirits tomorrow, yes?” He shook the water from his hands, running them smoothly through his hair as he composed himself.
Faersi followed suit, mirroring his movements, straightening her blouse and rearranging her hair. “Yes, yes, precisely! I expect you to put your newfound strength to good use tomorrow,” she replied quickly, avoiding his eyes.
Astarion smirked, slipping comfortably back into his usual confident demeanour. But before turning back toward his tent, he reached out and gently lifted Faersi’s chin with his finger, guiding her to meet his scarlet gaze once more.
“You know I won’t disappoint you,” he said softly. “Have a good night, my dear.”