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“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Tav doesn’t think he means it. Not entirely. Even in light of what had actually happened when the clown (or at least the monster disguised as him) had pulled Astarion up on the stage. Perhaps all that blood and battle and the screams of the innocents will have cheered him up enough that he won’t follow through on that threat?
The expression on Astarion’s face now as Tav approaches his tent is hard to read, even though Tav is getting better at predicting the pale elf’s mercurial changes. Tav’s tail lashes in nervous anticipation, and he sees Astarian note it. Damn . He’d hoped to play it cool-Keep it all the joke it is.
Sort of.
You wouldn’t be interested in me if I wasn’t as much of a bastard as you. A true sentiment no doubt, but Astarion doesn’t look in the mood to hear such bromides right now.
“There you are, darling. I was hoping you’d pay me a visit.” His tone is suave as usual, but do his eyes gleam a little redder than usual?
“Oh?” Tav tries for casual. “Miss me, did you?”
“Ha!” There isn’t much mirth in that laugh, and Tav chews at his lip.
“Look, about the clown...”
Astarion raises a perfect eyebrow.
“I’m sorry, alright? I had no idea he’d turn out to be a bloodthirsty cultist.”
Astarion laughs. “Ohhh, you think I’m angry that he was a shapeshifting monstrosity! Aren’t you just adorable?”
He takes a step closer and Tav wills himself not to step back. Don’t show fear. Never show your fear to vampires unless you want to get bitten. Or is that wargs?
“No,” Asarion continues, “What I minded is that you had the sheer nerve to think there existed any universe where you might get away with forcing me to share a spotlight with Dribbles the fucking clown .”
“Well, technically it wasn’t really Dribbles, was it? I mean...”
Tav’s protests are cut off as Astarion’s hand clamps around his wrist, and he’s tugged into the confines of the small purple tent.
“If you’re going to kill me it’s probably better to do it outside. Easier cleanup.”
Astarion smiles. “Oh, I’m not going to kill you, pet. But you do need to be punished. Wouldn’t you say?”
Even with his magic prickling defensively at his fingertips Tav can’t deny the thrill that runs through him at Astarion’s words.
“What do you mean, punished?”
Astarion grins his gorgeous predator’s grin. “Since you’re determined to act like a Wyrm’s Crossing gutter brat, then I’d say you deserve to be treated like one, wouldn’t you, love?”
His voice is a murmur, low, intimate, authoritative .
Gods, why does he affect me like this? Tav can already feel the delicious weakness of his desire to submit spreading through him. All his thoughts of duty and leadership and basic dignity crumbling and dissolving in the warm flood of Astarion’s words.
“Perhaps that’s why you did it? Perhaps I haven’t been paying you enough attention?”
Astarion’s cool fingers whisper up the side of Tav’s face, tracing the point of his ear, looping briefly around his right horn and giving it a fond tug. He’d told Astarion early that touching a Tiefling’s horns is an act freighted in meaning. It’s a subtle display of dominance and social standing, and fuck if it doesn’t turn him on for Astarion to show how much he owns Tav’s body to handle his horns so casually.
“Astarion...”
The vampire places a finger on the tiefling’s lips.
“Hush, dear. If you can. I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”
The chair cushion’s lining is torn, vomiting feathers, and the wood is brittle and wormy, but gods if Astarion doesn’t make it look like a throne as he seats himself upon it.
“You’re overdressed,” he says. “Take it off. All of it.”
Tav rolls his eyes, trying to make the command (and it is a command) seem like no big deal, but his fingers are clumsy as he unfastens his jerkin and the lacings of his britches. Astarion smirks as he takes in the jut of his cock, standing stiff and needy, making a lie of Tav’s attempt at nonchalance.
“So eager, little pet. But this is supposed to be a punishment after all.” He pats his leg. “Go on. Over my knee.”
Tav swallows. “Your…your knee?”
Astarion narrows his eyes. “Is having to repeat myself going to put me in a good mood, or a bad mood, do you think?”
Think? Thinking is not a thing that seems possible at current. He’s too beguiled by the press of his naked flesh against the road-dusty leather of Astarion’s britches as he crawls over Astarion’s thighs. Too unseated by the picture he must present, splayed willingly over the vampire’s lap, his tail arching helplessly over his back. His palms press on the dirt flaw, claws digging shallow grooves in the packed soil. His breath comes in shallow gulps.
“You’re trembling,” Astarion says softly. His hand runs over Tav’s ass, light and teasing.
“Are you frightened?”
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t think so, pet. That’s not why you tremble is it?”
Tav stays silent. He can’t allow Astarion such an easy victory. He won’t beg for the pale elf’s touch, he won’t buck his hips to rub the hardness of his cock against the slim, muscular thigh beneath him, he won't be conquered as easily as this.
He gasps as Astarion’s hand closes unexpectedly around the base of his tail. “You lift it so beguilingly for me. Begging without words.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” But he’s glad his face is hidden because he can feel the flush creeping over his face.
“Nevertheless, it’s in the way, darling. Here’s an idea; put your wrists together behind you, and wrap that pretty tail around them. Save me the trouble of holding you still, and maybe I’ll go easy on you, hmmm?”
Tav bites at his lip. He’d like to tell Astarion to fuck off. Tying myself up with my own gods damned tail for his convenience!
No self-respecting orphan of Avernus would consider such a thing. And yet, here he is, doing as Astarion has commanded. Here he is, spreading his legs wider, offering up the part of himself that most needs Astarion’s attentions.
“Stop messing around and fuck me. If you want me to beg again, then fine, I’m begging.”
“Now, now, this is a punishment, remember?”
Astarion’s hand comes down hard on Tav’s ass, and he yelps in surprise.
“Come now, a little tap like that can’t have hurt. A powerful sorcerer like you.”
“I wasn’t ready!” Tav protests, and Astarion laughs.
“Sweet thing, you are always ready.”
Outside he hears laughter. The sun is sinking and the others are gathered at the fire to drink and spin tall tales. Do they know what the two of them are up to in here? They can probably guess at part of it, but now another thought occurs to Tav. If Astarion really means to go through with this the others are going to hear . The campfire is not close, but it’s close enough. It’s one thing for them to know that he and Astarion are fucking-they aren’t the only ones after all- but it’s quite another for them to hear the elf spank him for, gods dammit! His face blazes hotter and he squirms on Astarion’s lap, earning himself another swat. The crack of flesh on flesh is sharp. Hells, they’re definitely going to hear.
“Is it too late to say I’m sorry?”
“Obviously.”
“But…”
“You’re worried they’ll hear you, aren’t you, love?”
Tav frowns. “Are you…tadpoling around in my mind?”
Astarion sighs. “Of course not. You’re just painfully easy to understand. Let me ask you something, darling. Are you ashamed of being my plaything?”
“No! Of course not. It’s just…”
“If you ask something of me, then I will give you what it is you need. Every time.”
Astarion’s nails graze the skin of Tav’s buttocks. Not hard enough to break skin, but cruel enough to make him shiver.
“I…I didn’t ask for this.”
Astarion laughs. “You’re an excellent liar, sweet thing, but you can’t lie to me. But perhaps you’d like me to stop? Send you out there to sup execrable wine by the fire? You’re free to go if you want to.”
Damn him!
“Alright. I don’t want to. I want to stay here. I want…” Tav pauses, working up the courage to finish his sentence. “I want you to punish me.”
“Good boy.”
At first he tries to bite back his cries. It should be easy, he suffers worse pain than this in battle, but this is different somehow. Personal. Intimate . Astarion doesn’t go lightly on him, and slight as he is, those well-muscled archer’s arms are powerful.
Each slap on Tav’s ass makes him squirm, grinding his leaking cock into Astarion’s lap. His tail tightens around his wrists almost painfully, slipping with the sweat that beads up from his skin. When Astarion grabs his horn and pulls his head back he gives up any pretense and cries out, giving in to the pain of Astarion’s hand landing again and again on the already scalding flesh.
He can feel Astarion’s cock pressed into his side and he wants it inside him, wants a quick brutal fuck in the dirt, biting and scratching and snaking like beasts, but gods if this isn’t nearly as good.
All the burdens and worries of the last few weeks are driven from his mind by the pain and the closeness of Astarion. He is not the leader of this band, or a hero with a world to save, he is a whelp over the knee of his master and his only job is to exist in this space. To ride the pain. To submit. He thinks again of the Priest of Loviator. He understood . He had begun this lesson all those miles ago. Could Astarion be the one who will end it? Is this man the one he has been searching for? The one truly capable of being his Master?
No, this was supposed to be a little fun on the road. Nothing more.
And surely Astarion cares nothing for him. Can that fractured heart even hold feelings any more? Better not to think of that now. Better to let himself be held in the moment, the strong, beautiful body beneath him. The cruel, strong hand making him suffer, making him sing his tribute in pain.
And it is fun. Just fun? Gods, let that be all .
Astarion stops just when the pleasure threatens to tip over into pure torment. He places his palm-still so cool- on Tav’s ass.
“Hot as the Hells. You won’t sit well for a ten day.”
His tone is amused, gloating and it sets Tav’s need flaring.
“Enough. You win. I’m properly contrite. Now will you please…”
Astarion interrupts him by pushing him gently but firmly off his lap, and Tav hisses as his buttocks contact the ground.
“Hells! I won’t sit well for a moon, never mind a ten day.”
“Luckily you look just perfect on your knees. And…” Astarion reaches out a booted foot and presses Tav’s stiff cock against his belly. “It looks like you didn’t hate it entirely.”
“Are you going to fuck me?”
His need makes him clumsy, but he’s never wanted Astarion this much. They’ve never taken this little game (a game is all it can ever be) so far before.
Astarion laughs. “Fucking you would be a reward, darling, much as I’d like to. No. You are being punished, remember? Now dress. I’d enjoy the fire before we sleep. The nights grow colder.”
The brush-off, yet again. Even when they do fuck, he feels Astarion slip away from him in the moment. He can even make an educated guess as to why. For two centuries Astarion has used his sexuality in service to the master he loathes. No wonder he has complex feelings around coupling.
And I don’t want complex. Someone could be the one to help him unsnarl his desires. Someone could give him the power to be master of his own desires, but is that someone me? Don’t I have enough on my plate?
It would be a comfort if he had the conviction to listen to that stern inner voice. He can certainly manage it when the two of them are apart. The problem is they seldom are apart these days. And in fact Tav finds any excuse he can to be close to Astarion.
And in fact, I think I’m falling in love. Never mind letting him master me, I need to master myself, or this is going to be bad.
He ought to go back to the fire with the others, to find a bottle of something strong, but instead he dresses slowly, wanting to spool out the time alone with the pale elf who watches him so intently. If I thought, even for a moment you could care for me the way I care for you...
But it’s Astarion who makes the move to leave, and Tav has no choice but to follow him. The sun has fled now and the fire crackles invitingly. Karlach is telling a tall tale about Avernus, Wyll chiming in at the more outlandish parts. One hundred devils, not one thousand, and no, that pit of hellfire is two hundred feet wide at best, not boundless.
Tav smiles to himself, and moves to join them, but is stopped by Astarion’s hand on his shoulder.
“Not yet, pet. A punishment is only a punishment if it has time to sink in. If you go back to them now you’ll drink and spin tales and you’ll forget.”
He scratches a rough X in the ground with the toe of his boot in the dirt outside his tent.
“You’ll kneel with your forehead pressed to the mark, and you’ll think of your aches and your bruises and you’ll dwell on the one who gave them to you.”
Does the firelight hide his blushes? Tav hopes though.
“But...”
“Yes, darling.” Astarion leans in close. His breath is on Tav’s lips, close enough to kiss, maddening. “They’ll all see you. They’ll all know that you’re mine. That’s what you want isn’t it? To be mine?”
What I want to know is if you really mean any of this.
But his words are strangled in his throat, and instead of speaking he kneels, presses his forehead to the cool earth.
“Good,” Astarion says. “I’ll call you when you’re finished. And you’ll come running, won’t you love?”
“I usually do.”
“You do, don’t you? Sometimes I wonder why.”
“Sometimes I do too." Go on, say something. Stop being such a coward. "Look, Astarion...”
But the elf is already walking away to sit at the fire with his fellows, leaving Tav alone in the dark.
To wait