Chapter Text
The following evening found you pacing in your chambers, heart pounding and disorganized thoughts flying left, right, and center.
You were about to lose your virginity to Astarion.
You were so nervous that you felt faint, your hands shaking and the rest of you trembling. You did your best to slow your breathing - in and out, in and out - but you failed to redirect the insidious approach of a sense of absolute dread about what you were about to attempt.
Part of you was cautiously and selfishly optimistic about the prospect of finally getting to sleep with him - of acting on the fantasies and feelings you had been having about him for months. You had no doubt that he knew exactly what you needed, which put him a step above yourself, at any rate. You wondered how obvious it would be to someone as experienced as Astarion that you not only had never slept with a man, but had also never brought yourself to finish on your own. He was easily your best bet to accomplish that particular feat, even were this occurring outside of your blasted situation, but that didn’t prevent you from being daunted by the idea. Perhaps if you just sweetly acquiesced to whatever he suggested, you would both become distracted enough for him to accomplish the deed.
Part of you hated the fact that this was in no way happening naturally - that it was a cruel decision of fate to force you to face your greatest fear with someone who had been a complete stranger to you mere months ago. If you hadn’t literally exploded onto his doorstep, Astarion would never have given you a second look in a crowd. Would never have known you existed, that you descended from Tav, and you never would have met this handsome, powerful, kind man. The thought made you feel small and insignificant, unworthy of his consideration at all - and you had been forced to ask him to pleasure you.
All of you hated that Astarion was only doing this with you out of a sense of obligation, and not due to any feelings he had for you beyond physical attraction - at least, none that he was willing to admit. While it was certainly true that you had no experience being physically intimate with a man, you weren’t unobservant. You saw those looks - the concern in his face as he watched you struggle not to panic after you were nearly re-kidnapped, the quiver in his voice as he admitted his worry that you’d been cursed, the reassurance in his hands as he examined your wrist at the market, the closeness of his body when he relaxed into a novel next to your sleeping figure. None of this was concrete, though, and what he had said was an explicit request that you not proceed any further with him emotionally. You suspected that he was refraining from acting on his true feelings, keeping something shielded away from you, but without a way to definitively prove this, you would have to settle for taking his words at their face value.
You paced and deliberated in your rooms, your mind spinning out in circles, for as long as you could manage without being late to your evening with Astarion.
You walked quickly down the hall, the thud of your boots muffled by the carpet until you descended the stairs to the foyer, trying your hardest to regulate your breathing as you moved. You were to meet him at the exit to the courtyard and gardens to help him test a new ward he was constructing for use at the Equinox Ball - one that you had designed. With each portrait, hallway, and potted plant you passed, you became less and less sure that you were capable of handling what was to come.
As you reached the tall glass doors, you spotted him standing at the railing on the stairs outside, leaning on one hand. Astarion gazed approvingly out at his courtyard, bathed in starlight and the gentle glimmer from the inside lighting, perfectly at home in his surroundings. You had to catch your breath at the gentle beauty of this moment, a quiet view into the mind of the vampire that defied all stereotypes. Even so, the frenzy of your anxiety refused to be halted for long, because your immediate thought was that he’s about to take you to his bed. Shaking yourself out of your head, you wrapped your cloak around yourself, preparing for the blast of frigid air that would hit you as soon as you pushed open that door. It was, you realized, possible that this could be the last time you would need protective clothing against temperature - if you could just survive this night.
Astarion turned to look at you as he heard the door swing open, his lips immediately curving into a satisfied smile at your appearance.
“You shouldn’t need that cloak,” he said. “Unless it is a fashion statement, in which case, do not allow my opinion to sway your style.” You hesitated briefly as you looked around, taking in your surroundings. While there was snow on the ground, all of it had a glossy sheen over the top layer, an indication of early melting. There was no wind, merely a gentle breeze, and the air was just as warm as it had been while indoors.
“Another ward?” you asked, testing the temperature as you slowly removed the cloak once more.
“Correct,” he replied as you approached him. “This is one that we use every year for the Ball so that the guests may enjoy the grounds, no matter what the weather may be at the time. There was no reason to suspect that it would be incompatible with the ward you designed, but I felt it worthwhile to make certain.” He offered you a wine glass, half full of a deep mahogany liquid, nearly the same shade of his eyes. As you accepted the glass and took a whiff of the stuff, he retrieved his own from the wide stone banister on which he leaned.
“And,” he said dryly, “frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to freeze my arse off out here while we work.” You smiled behind your wine glass at his sarcasm, and took a sip of the pungent liquid.
Over the next half hour, you observed the level of wine in your glasses slowly decreasing, finding yourself reluctant to move on to any other activity. The conversation that had sprung up between you and Astarion felt like it had in the early days, when he would spend his nights keeping your crippled body warm and safe, whilst effortlessly discussing all manner of topics with you. That was before you had gotten feelings involved, though - before you knew that this scenario was even a possibility. But the conversation could, and did, come to an end, and with it, the thunderstorm of dread rumbled on the outskirts of your mind once more.
Astarion distracted you from your thoughts by offering his elbow to you again, and you placed your hand around the inside of his arm, hoping he couldn’t see your blush.
“Let’s inspect the boundary,” he said, his tone light as he guided you toward the far end of the gardens, past the frozen water fountain and close to the small greenhouse. As you drew closer, the hairs on the back of your neck began to stand up all at once; after a few seconds of this, you shuddered as the air seemed to press in on you oppressively, your fingers tightening around Astarion’s arm.
“I trust that you recognize the effect of the Sussur flower?” Astarion asked, observing you.
“I do,” you said uncomfortably, “but I can’t say that I’ve personally experienced it before.”
“Unfortunately, the sensation doesn’t improve over time. It is unpleasant for me, so I can only imagine how it feels to someone with a stronger connection to the Weave.” You swallowed hard.
“It feels like the first time I reached for my magic and found it was gone.”
“Indeed,” he said, almost to himself. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself against the wet blanket effect of the anti-magic as Astarion escorted you away from the edge of the ward.
“If this is what it feels like to the guests, they will know immediately that something is wrong,” you pointed out, attempting to blink away what felt like a haze.
“It is only noticeable when one is in proximity to the threshold of the ward. The entire estate has been under its effects since early this afternoon when I first activated it.” You halted where you stood, Sussur suppression be damned. If the entire estate had been entirely stripped of magic for hours, and you hadn’t felt a thing until you drew close to the border… You had designed the first Ward of the Sussur Flower, and it operated perfectly. Even without the use of your innate magic, you had invented an insanely powerful magical weapon. Astarion waited next to you patiently, allowing you to process your incredible success before placing his hand over yours where it still rested on his forearm, drawing you back to the present. He inclined his head toward the greenhouse.
“Come, let’s get away from the border. I have something else to show you.”
You acquiesced happily enough, eager to remove yourself from the stronger area of the Sussur ward, but soon even the euphoria of your successful invention wasn’t enough to keep you from fretting over what came next, try as you might to distract yourself by asking him more questions.
“And the climate control ward is unaffected because -”
“Because I set its boundary several centimeters beyond the Sussur ward, just as you recommended,” Astarion finished as you reached the door to the greenhouse. He left you a few paces back as he unlocked the entrance, then turned and beckoned you in after him. You took a deep, steadying breath and followed him inside.
Immediately, you were astonished at the beauty and variety of the plants within. While there was a large vegetable garden plot, most of the greenhouse was occupied with exotic plants, especially flowers. You recognized several rare species on sight, including multiple orange autumn crocus - your favorite flower in its rarest shade. You made a beeline toward the patch of bright color, bending to stroke one of the petals.
“Those are one of my proudest accomplishments,” Astarion spoke from behind you.
“What did you have to sacrifice in order to acquire them?” you asked, your eyes still on the flowers.
“Well, nothing. I was the first to develop this color.” Your jaw dropped and you stood up, spinning to face him.
“You bred these?”
“Always the tone of surprise,” he said flatly, then shrugged. “Immortality gives one a lot of time to selectively breed plants.” You scoffed in disbelief, unable to take your eyes off of the vampire. “Come look at my latest experiment.”
You followed him to a work table where he carefully removed a slide from a case and placed it under a microscope. You watched as he worked to bring the slide into focus, his slender fingers turning a knob here and a wheel there. Try as you might, you couldn’t help but take advantage of this moment, in which you could enjoy looking at him without fear that he might see. The lines of his thighs within his trousers, for one, had you distracted.
“How hard was it to source the Sussur flowers?” you asked, desperate to keep your focus.
“Not hard,” Astarion responded, continuing to fiddle with the microscope. “Gale and I share a contact in Menzoberranzan. He went to pick them up yesterday, although it took a good deal of arguing to convince him that he should be the one to do it.”
“Does he not like this person?” you asked, fascinated at the prospect of perhaps being able to safely visit Menzoberranzan with Gale at some point in time. You had never been there, being somewhat unwilling to go somewhere that dangerous alone, and historically completely unwilling to test your magics in the presence of a traveling companion.
“It is more that she does not care for him. She wouldn’t harm him, but their interactions are… difficult, to say the least. For instance,” he said, looking up from the microscope at you, “when he retrieved the flowers, she told him that he had the aura of a third child about him.”
You let out a shocked giggle at the insult.
“You know what it means?” Astarion asked. “Neither of us did.”
“Always the tone of surprise,” you repeated back to him, now his turn to chuckle. “If it is such a problem for Gale to meet with her, could you not have gone instead?” Astarion grew quiet, watching for your reaction as he began to speak.
“I had some degree of difficulty convincing him that he should be the one to go, without also revealing the real reasons that I refuse to leave the estate for as long as it would take to travel there and back.” You looked away from him, flushing with embarrassment now at the extremes to which Astarion was going to protect you. Another wave of dread threatened to make your glass of wine reappear before he moved away from the microscope and gestured for you to take his place, bringing your racing thoughts to a screeching halt. You put your eye up to the eyepiece and waited as your pupil adjusted to the light. In front of you was a vivid red pigment within a set of flower cells. A soft smile spread across your face.
“You’re breeding red ones?”
“Red is, if you hadn’t noticed, my favorite color. Orange was only a stepping stone to this shade, but I’m glad you appreciate the result.”
You turned to face him, another question on the tip of your tongue, only for the words to die on your lips as you realized that he was only inches away from you, gazing back at you with a gentle expression on his face. He’s too close to me, your instincts screamed, but your body was drawn to the scent of citrus and rosemary that drifted on the air floating in the space between you. He didn’t touch you, merely extended his arms as an invitation for you to come closer, the tension so thick that you could barely breathe. You hesitantly took a step forward, your eyes level with his chin, before wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his sternum. His hands came to rest on your back as he pressed his lips into the top of your head.
“Are you nervous?” he murmured into your hair.
“That’s an understatement,” you replied, trying your damnedest to keep your voice from shaking, not entirely succeeding. Frightened. Fearful. Fucking terrified, your mind supplied.
“We’ll take things slowly. You say the word, and we’ll stop. But, darling -” here Astarion pulled away from you slightly, taking your chin in his hand and lifting it until your eyes met his, soft but serious in the flickering light of the lamps of the greenhouse, his alabaster face devastatingly beautiful as he gazed down at you. “This is supposed to feel good.” You breathed in and out unsteadily, feeling lightheaded, grounding yourself with your hands at his waist as he drew impossibly closer, your fingers pressing into the fabric covering his skin as you closed your eyes, motionless as his lips brushed yours for the first time.
You had certainly made out with your previous partners - it was something that you had actually felt comfortable doing, and something you could offer as an apology when attempts to go further went awry - but this was different.
It was as though time had stopped.
Astarion’s lips were devastatingly gentle, moving slowly and unhurriedly around yours, your heart pounding out of your chest as you found yourself hesitantly kissing him back. You were so afraid to do the wrong thing, to make him find reason to call it off, that you could hardly enjoy the subtle heat emanating from his body or the taste of his skin finally meeting your tongue. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, a jolt of something electric pulsed in your mind, and the unfamiliar sensation that crawled deliciously down through your body as he deepened the kiss had you taking his lower lip between your teeth and lingering there.
As the kiss stretched on, as warmth settled in your belly, you began to worry about what came next. Was he going to take you right there on his desk? Did you… want that? You stunned yourself as you realized that you found the idea arousing, your fingers now digging into his hips, relying more on him to keep your knees from buckling. You tried to restrain your surging emotions by forcing yourself to remember that this was utilitarian only, that the passionate scene had been thrust upon you. But the way that he cradled you, pulled you flush against his chest - there was no way in the nine hells that he didn’t have feelings for you - right?
With that dizzying thought you broke the kiss and pulled away, once again refusing to look at him despite his quiet examination of you as you stood in each other's arms. You sighed softly and rested your forehead on his sternum once more, strong enough to stave off the panic that rumbled on the periphery of your mind, but not strong enough to remove yourself from his grasp and disconnect from the warm safety of this moment. Astarion didn't press you, his arms supportive but not restricting as he gave you time to process what had just occurred.
You had thrown yourself off a cliff, put yourself completely at his mercy, and you’d enjoyed it. He’d taken care of you. The mere touch of his lips on yours had set you on fire, and you wanted more. Why did that scare you? Why did the first real sense of desire you’d felt in your entire life make you feel so dirty? You attempted to bury your face further into his chest, and his arms tightened around you in response.
“Damn,” you said shakily, belatedly.
His lungs reverberated with a chuckle at your quiet proclamation. He leaned down to speak closer to your ear, his voice low, borderline guttural.
“See? This is fun.” A burst of that same electric energy flared in your chest, the dangerous realization that you definitely wanted to have him here in this greenhouse floating through your mind, startling you again. You were saved from having to respond to him as he pulled away quietly and offered you his elbow once more.
You knew that it was perfectly safe for you to be alone within the walls and wards of Astarion’s grounds, but having him intentionally offer you his presence made you feel inexplicably safer. You flushed scarlet and took his arm again, allowing him to guide you out of the greenhouse and back toward the manor. Astarion thankfully allowed the matter of that incredible kiss to drop, evidently content with allowing the experience to speak for itself, and only discussed the intricacies of autumn crocus hybridization.
Dinner took place at the table in your quarters, set up by Marion, you were sure. You tried to avoid looking too closely at the spread of items, not wanting to see the blood that had almost certainly been provided for Astarion, but as he settled himself in the chair next to yours and made selections from a few plates, you realized that there were no visible containers of blood. Having been cautiously and curiously observing him since the time he sat down, you hadn’t chosen anything for your own plate. He looked across at you, nearly startling you with his eye contact.
“Are you not hungry?” he asked. “Or are you confused about my eating habits?”
You scoffed in surprise at his direct approach. This was clearly a topic that came up regularly for him. You supposed that you hadn’t seen him eat during the tenure of your stay here, and you wondered whether he’d intentionally kept it that way.
“At this point, it seems silly to think that I would expect you to follow any of the normal vampire rules,” you began carefully, “but traditionally, vampiric consumption of food or liquid other than blood and alcohol results in severe vomiting.” He cut a piece of potato from his plate and popped it into his mouth, swallowing without issue, and then turned to you. You resisted the urge to remove yourself from the area of impact should the worst occur, but seconds passed quietly with no sign of nausea or illness in Astarion’s face. He smirked at your reaction, frozen in the face of his demonstration, before releasing you from his gaze.
“Another perk of the Ascendant ritual,” he remarked, beginning his meal anew. “The need to drink blood, and indeed the hunger for it, is gone.”
“You said that you drink blood once or twice a week?” you protested.
“I do.” He paused, intentionally allowing the accusation of dishonesty to hang in the air between you, waiting until you lifted your eyes to his before continuing. “It is not necessary for my survival, nor do I thirst after it, but it does still make me stronger, and more clear-headed. Animal blood is a byproduct of the livestock slaughter that is necessary to feed my staff, so it’s not as though I am demanding sacrifices.” You looked away from him to your plate, which was still empty. He thinks you still doubt him.
“I did not intend to imply that,” you admitted, wondering how offended he was, how badly you’d managed to mess this up.
“I know,” Astarion said, nonplussed. “It is a reasonable and obvious question to ask, and relates directly to your personal safety. If you thought I was hungry, you would have reason to fear that it was not safe to sleep with me.” You looked up at him again, shocked, as his eyes roved over you, assessing.
“It is no surprise that your previous partners failed to pleasure you, if you are this unaccustomed to comfort and safety discussions around sex.” He returned to his meal as if he hadn’t just set off a bomb in your head. Yet again, Astarion was surprising you, validating your concerns, taking steps to make you feel safer - you’d never experienced anything like this in your other relationships, with men who only wanted to know what you were willing to do to make up for the fact that they couldn’t fuck you. Tears sprang up in your eyes as you gathered some food onto your plate and began quietly eating, consumed in your own thoughts until Astarion broke the silence to discuss lighter, unrelated topics.
As the meal began to wind down, you once again felt the stifling presence of the miserable sense of dread encroaching upon your horizon, wishing for the second time in as many hours that you could just remain in this moment forever, ignoring the looming reality that faced you. This possibility came to a sudden halt when Astarion cleared his throat after a moment of silence, sitting up and facing you.
“I believe it best to discuss preferences and boundaries beforehand,” he said, moving his empty plate out of the way and folding his hands on the table. “Do you have any immediate concerns?”
While you were relieved that he had been the one to initiate this conversation, your mind suddenly went blank as you scrambled for a selection out of the thousands of questions that had raced through your mind all day.
“It is unclear to me whether a vampire can father children,” you blurted out breathlessly, cringing internally. This was a topic that you definitely wanted to discuss, although you wished you had found a more elegant way to phrase it. Astarion either didn’t notice your awkwardness, or he ignored it.
“It is equally unclear to me,” he responded. “Spawn and normal vampires cannot. Given that my Ascendant ritual restored many of the abilities I lost by becoming a vampire, it is entirely possible that I could. However, I have never taken that chance. Every encounter I’ve had since Ascending was protected.”
“I see,” you said faintly, your face blanching slightly. You hesitated to think about his other encounters, but you found yourself exceptionally thankful for his approach. Perhaps he hadn’t been joking when he said that there was little he took more seriously than sex. “And our options for tonight are?”
“Atticus keeps an abundant supply of contraceptive spells available to take from his office. I have, ah -” Astarion hesitated, seeming to try to phrase something gently. Surely he was going to tell you that he used them regularly. You had no doubt that he was popular with plenty of folks, and were under no illusion that you were the only person he was sleeping with even just this month, but for some illogical reason, the thought stung you. “I have applied one each morning since the day after our first meeting with Gale.”
Your heart stopped. You dared not hope, but you had to ask -
“Why that day?” you asked, remembering exactly what had happened on that day - what started as making excuses to spend the night with you and tease you in the morning turned into making excuses to rush out before you could kiss him.
“I wanted you that night. I would have taken you that morning, if you'd let me. That sort of hunger is… not something I deal with frequently, and especially considering your situation…” he hesitated to touch on that topic, the air thick with the mutual knowledge of what you were about to attempt. “I confess that I panicked a bit at the intensity of my own desire, and told myself it was because I didn't think it wise to allow myself to consider that path if I wasn't protecting you with a contraceptive. That is the reason I left that morning - to prevent myself from having the opportunity to take things any further.”
“Not because you were messing with my head, then?" you said lightly. The knowledge that he didn't frequently experience desire had captivated you. Your mind seized on the fact that he did, however, experience desire for you.
“That is, of course, a reasonable conclusion as well,” he admitted. “Please accept my apologies.” You quirked a smile, despite the feeling of the looming sense of dread returning to the peripherals of your mind.
“I have already applied mine today, but I brought one for you to cast on me personally, should you desire a tangible guarantee of protection, in addition to one for you to use on yourself; although, with mine active, there is no need for you to use one if you’d prefer not. Using one will not change anything about sensation for either of us.” Your jaw nearly dropped. When you had attempted to sleep with previous men, it had been difficult to get them to discuss boundaries and protection beforehand at all. Here Astarion was, asking your preference and keeping you in the forefront of his decisions. You were nearly swooning.
“I- I trust that you’ve used one today,” you said breathlessly, “but I will use one on myself.” Astarion nodded and produced a small scroll from his pocket, placing it on the table in front of you. You didn’t reach to pick it up, suddenly finding yourself paralyzed at the notion that applying this spell would bring you one step closer to sleeping with Astarion.
“Now,” he said, placing his elbow on the table and leaning forward. You resisted the urge to lean back in response. Too close. “Is there anything I shouldn’t do?” Your breath caught in your throat. This was a very appropriate question to ask, but the very act of composing a response sent flashes of terrifying memories through your mind as you searched for examples to give. You knew he was carefully observing your struggle to respond, but you couldn’t meet his eyes when you finally spoke.
“I think I don’t want to be held down,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to feel trapped.” You looked up at him, his face blurry through the sheen of tears in your eyes. He tilted his head and placed his hand over yours on the table. This time, you didn’t feel the need to pull away - didn’t feel the need to protect yourself from him.
“I will not hold you down,” he murmured. “And I will never hurt you.” You nodded and looked away, a tear leaking from your eye. He gently turned your hand and pressed the small spell scroll into your palm. “If you would prefer, we can postpone the rest for another time. Otherwise, you will be wanting this.” The feeling of dread that had been plaguing you throughout the day immediately re-emerged in great force, knowing that this moment was the tipping point between whether or not you would be getting your magic back tonight, or perhaps at all. You took a steadying breath, hoping you didn’t appear as afraid as you felt, and excused yourself to the washroom.
You glared at yourself in the mirror, your fingers gripping the edges of the washbasin so tightly that your knuckles glowed white. You can do this, you insisted to yourself. Yes, you were scared, and you had no way to predict how the rest of the night would unfold. But you knew that there was nowhere safer for you than in Astarion’s arms, and not once had another man ever made you feel the way Astarion did. You closed your eyes and tried to remember the way his hands had felt, that morning when you’d lain against his chest, warm and comfortable and secluded, when the tips of his fingers had found the sensitive skin on your inner arms… surely this was how sleeping with him would feel - surely it wouldn’t be so difficult to enjoy yourself if that was the case? Tears leaked from your eyes at the bittersweet irony of this moment, and you let out a silent sob, stifling the sound to keep Astarion from hearing your struggle. Finally, after catching your breath for a moment, you straightened and pulled the little spell scroll from your bodice, whispering the incantation and waiting as the scroll disintegrated into atoms. You felt barely a whisper of Atticus’ magic - he had done well at keeping himself out of the spell - otherwise, you observed no changes.
Wiping your tears, you sighed shakily and opened the door, walking out to meet your fate.
-----
You lay with your back against Astarion’s chest, your head resting on his shoulder, just as you had that first night, so many thoughts and fears and feelings ago. When offered suggestions on places to start, this felt the least intimidating, but had become less so when he’d immediately removed his shirt, your thoughts racing as you tried not to ogle him. You held one of his hands, your breath seizing up in your lungs as he began to trail the tips of the fingers of his opposite hand across the skin of your forearm again, fire erupting along your nerves and settling in your chest, goosebumps flaring in its wake. The feeling of your nipples hardening against the fabric of your dress made you gasp softly, Astarion's chuckle vibrating your body as his lips approached your ear.
“You're making it so easy, darling,” he purred. “You're practically begging for what you want.”
“And what is that?” you asked, hardly breathing.
“I think you want to be known. To be tasted.” He kissed the base of your ear. “I think you want to lose yourself in me.” You exhaled shakily, your heart pounding out of your chest at the proximity of his mouth to your neck. No. He can’t know me. I can’t let him - no matter how much I want to.
“Close your eyes for me,” Astarion murmured. Feeling as though your chest was about to explode, you ignored the screaming of your survival instincts and accepted his request, practically trembling against him. He drew his free hand up your arm, cradling your neck, his skin warm and soft where it touched yours, goosebumps cascading down your spine as his fingers brushed the chain that was holding his ruby over your breast -
—
You were back in the sweltering jungle of Chult, the face of a man you were desperate to forget accelerating toward you, hand outstretched until it landed hard on your windpipe, cutting off your blood and air until you ceased your struggle, unsure whether you’d given up from oxygen deprivation or merely a bleak acceptance of your fate -
—
You returned abruptly to the present as Astarion pressed his lips against your throat -
VAMPIRE
You flinched away from his mouth, and both of you froze. He looked as startled as you felt, and you didn’t give him a chance to ascertain what had just occurred before you spoke.
“He strangled me,” you supplied, hurriedly. “In Chult. I had a flashback. I’m sorry.” There. You had placed the blame on yourself, and had told the truth, mostly. Astarion didn’t need to know that you had also stereotyped him again, or how much strength it was taking to stop yourself from calling this entire shitshow off. When he didn’t immediately respond, you rushed to fill the silence.
“I enjoyed everything up to that point, I just don’t think I like it when you put your mouth there.”
“...aha,” Astarion said slowly. You knew he didn’t fully believe you, and that he had to realize something else was wrong, but you also knew that he wasn’t likely to press you for further explanation - at least, not at this moment. “Very well, where do you want my mouth?”
You knew you were flushed bright red by the warmth in your cheeks, finding yourself mentally weighing your options by concentrating on the amount of heat they each sent to your core. You were snapped back into a more focused mindset when Astarion guided you to lay back on the mattress, settling himself next to you, his hand cradling your jaw, his eyes gazing into yours. You fought to stay in the moment, focusing on his eyes, his hair, his lips - anything to avoid reckoning with the fact that you were about to lose your virginity to Astarion. You forced yourself to regulate your breathing rather than hyperventilating, the expression on his face so intense that you couldn’t look away. You didn’t notice that his hand had moved until he cupped your breast.
You let out a gasp, your mind coming to a screeching halt before proceeding to spin the fuck out.
“Here?” he asked huskily.
Gods, you wanted this so badly, but the desire pooling deep in your belly failed to win out over the fear of a man - of any man - touching you this way. Before Chult, you had enjoyed this part, to an extent. After Chult, there was little hope of it. Torn between being desperately attracted to him and desperately afraid of what he represented in this moment, you fought to hold yourself still, barely holding out, until you felt Astarion’s thumb sweeping across the swell of your breast.
The fear took control then as you instinctively snatched his hand away, an iron grasp on his wrist, just before his thumb could brush your nipple, still erect under his attention. Realizing what you’d done, you looked up at him, immediately finding his eyes.
You stared at each other, neither of you wanting to admit what you both knew this meant - at your deepest level, you did not truly want this. You felt a tidal wave of shame and fatalistic thoughts rumbling in the distance, but chose to ignore them for now, unable to devote any attention away from the situation in front of you, awkwardly and belatedly releasing his wrist. His gaze darkened at the movement, and the trance was broken.
Astarion’s tone as he spoke was restrained, as though he was trying with all his might not to lose his temper.
“Perhaps cunnilingus is more your speed?” he said slowly, dangerously. You couldn’t breathe, the air seemingly sucked from your lungs, your heart screeching to a halt as you registered that everything was about to explode. “For the uninitiated, that’s where I put my mouth on your -”
“Astarion, please,” you interrupted. You knew he was angry, and this knowledge churned together in your head along with the desperate need to keep him from attempting that, and a sudden, burgeoning desire to allow him to attempt… that. Either way, you needed him to stop, now.
“How far did you think I would have taken this, either without noticing or without caring that you are not ready?” You heard the underlying accusation in his tone - you must think him either stupid or outright cruel if you believed he would continue. A sharp pang of guilt pierced your heart, but you couldn’t let him see that.
“I don’t know what ‘ready’ looks like for me right now, other than that I am good and ready to have my magic returned, and I want to take it back on my own terms.”
“News flash, darling,” he said acidly, “but none of this is on either of our ‘terms.’ And regardless of whatever else I’ve done, my terms involve remaining innocent of forcing myself upon anyone.” The blood drained from your face, the moment rapidly slipping beyond your control.
“You weren’t forcing anything, Astarion,” you pleaded, reaching for something - anything - to say that would fix this, but what you blurted out was - “I just don’t know what feels good because I’ve never trusted anyone else to show me.”
Astarion froze.
Fuck.
“Come again?” he asked, painfully light. You winced.
“I've never trusted anyone else to show me,” you repeated, voice shaking, knowing that he had you pinned now.
Astarion was quiet for a long moment, visibly seething, body tense and jaw clenched, refusing to look at you. You braced yourself for whatever he was deciding to do, nearly entirely certain that he wouldn't physically harm you, but becoming less sure with each passing silent second, resisting the resultant growing urge to put distance between you. I am too close to him - He was deathly calm when he finally spoke, still not meeting your eyes, fury still simmering just below the surface.
“You're telling me that you've never slept with anyone before?”
“No,” you answered, suddenly feeling very rejected, very small. “Why does that matter?” Was he upset not with your omission, but your lack of experience?
“Because you have to enjoy it in order to halt the ritual, you absolute fucking imbecile,” he snarled.
You felt your heart shatter into pieces as he rolled away from you and sat on the edge of the mattress, yanking his shirt back over his head. You pushed yourself up and turned to face him, tears threatening to escape your eyes.
“I thought you had ‘centuries of experience,’” you snapped defensively. “Surely you must have learned some way for a person to enjoy having sex with you -”
“There is a very specific set of rules that must be adhered to in order to make a virgin's first time a pleasurable experience,” Astarion interrupted, turning to face you once more, a furious expression marring his beautiful visage. “Rules that an experienced partner would already know. Things like explanations, reassurances, more frequent consent, and above all, open communication and complete honesty about previous experiences.”
“My previous experiences most recently include being raped, Astarion.” You felt dirty as you spat the words at him, knowing that he was completely right about your dishonesty, but desperate to keep him from deserting you. “And you are one of very few people who know that. Is that not enough?” You were dodging the need to talk about why you hadn’t ever been able to allow anyone that close, knowing that it would reveal everything. Desperate to turn the tide of this situation, you changed tactics.
“Just try again. I’ll consent to whatever you think I would like, and I’m sure I’ll enjoy myself at some point.”
“That’s not enough for me,” he responded quietly. “Love isn’t necessary for sex, but trust sure the hell is. Since you don’t trust me enough to be honest with me, I am revoking my consent to this interaction.”
“I was never dishonest,” you insisted, making excuses now, ice flowing down your spine as you began to lose control of your panic. “You never asked.”
“Of course,” Astarion snapped. “Just as I have refrained from asking what is so godsdamned special about you and your magic that someone would sign their soul away to a devil in order to possess it. Or, how you came to be here, when seconds beforehand you were thousands of miles away in Chult, or what you were really attempting to accomplish there. You haven’t been at all dishonest about any of that, have you?”
He knew. He didn’t have the details, but he knew the nature of what you hid from him - the thing that you had told exactly no one after years of your parents forbidding it, and years of telling yourself that nobody could ever know. Your heart dropped as you began to scramble for a way out of this conversation, your tongue seizing upon the only remaining option.
“Don’t act like you’re being completely honest either. We both know that you're only doing this so you finally have the chance at fucking Tav that you were never afforded when you knew her.”
A blur of black smoke and alabaster skin as he flew at you, one accusing finger outstretched -
“HOW DARE YOU -”
Simultaneously, a frightened yelp and a massive flinch backwards as you covered your torso with your forearms crossed, eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught, no time to think.
After a long, silent moment in which nothing happened, you squinted open your eyes, viewing Astarion frozen just a foot away from you, appearing absolutely stunned as your eyes met, his finger still pointing, both your chests heaving. He pulled away from you abruptly and stormed out, leaving you sitting dumbly on the bed, still unsure of what had just happened.
It would take several replays of that moment in your mind for you to realize that your yelp had involved squeaking out the word resisto, and your crossed wrists formed the somatic component of the same spell. For the first time since begging for a Shocking Grasp upon first waking up in this very bed, you had felt desperate enough - fearful enough - to attempt to cast a spell with your own magic.
You had attempted to cast Shield.
