Work Text:
“Astarion…. Where did you find this?”
“Oh, I have a few contacts around here. You know, people who can provide with such… toys.”
The vampire spawn was laying carelessly on the bed, shirtless and propping himself on his elbows. His eyes were observing Ellith, who was inspecting the device. Nothing the bard had never seen or used before, but that was a long time ago… before Astarion, before the tadpole. Through their broken memories, they could still feel that it was the kind of tool they had enjoyed in the past. And something they could still enjoy today.
“What do you say, darling?”
Holding the intricate belt high in front of them, Ellith tilted their head. The phallic piece fixed to the leather was of average size, but even if Ellith knew Astarion was quite experiment with the matter at stake, they couldn’t stop the hesitation which was crawling through their mind. “Are you sure, dearest?” They asked, one eyebrow raised. “I mean… Are you sure you want to be… taken?”
He chuckled. “By you? every night...”
The cheeky smirk on his lips, and the genuine desire in his eyes were too endearing to be ignored, and Ellith giggled along. But it wasn’t just about lust and attraction, and they knew it. It was more than sex; it meant trust. And there was nothing more exciting than that.
“You’d be the one in control anyway.” Ellith stated, if only to remind Astarion of their own trust in him. To remind him that he’s the only one in this whole world who’s allowed to tell them what to do.
“I expect no less from you, my love.”
For a moment, the time seemed to stop, as they both looked in each other’s eyes in silence. A comforting, safe silence, filled with quiet affection and gratefulness.
“Safeword ready?” The bard asked as they slowly started to unbutton their shirt.
“Always. But I doubt we’ll need it.”
Ellith wasn’t so sure. Each new sexual exploration with Astarion could lead to something new, ecstatic or emotionally challenging. And although the bard was ready for both outcomes, they'd do everything in their power to avoid the latter. “Keep it in mind, just in case....”
He nodded, and before Ellith’s trousers could fully reach their ankles, Astarion was lunging towards the edge of the bed, his delicate fingers easily finding their way to the bard’s soft hips, gently digging into the flesh. Face buried deep in the crook of their neck, teeth grazing teasingly against the tender skin, there was no trace of hesitation or discomfort in his touch; movements hasty and clumsy enough to translate his genuine arousal. Nothing like the expert but detached automatisms he had relied on for too long.
He had nothing to prove. Ellith had made it clear more times than necessary.
Warmed up by the little snack he had nibbled on earlier that night, Astarion’s skin felt healthy under Ellith’s fingertips, but beneath the sweet scent of his signature perfume, the bard could still detect the tantalising aroma of death. A comforting smell for the redeemed Bhaalspawn, a soothing whiff from their forgotten, macabre past.
Ellith’s fingers slowly glided up to brush through his silver curls, fingernails carefully scratching his scalp, and despite the fire his touch had kindled in their stomach, they pulled away from his embrace. “If you want me to put this thing on, you’ll have to let me go for a moment.”
He grinned against their cheek, and Ellith could have bet that a soft purr was rising in his chest. “All right darling, but don’t make me wait… I’ll fetch the oil in the meanwhile.”
The belt fit perfectly around Ellith’s waist, but the strips around their thighs were a little loose. A few adjustments later, Ellith was climbing on the bed, the phallic instrument standing proudly between their thighs. The little phiale of oil was gleaming nicely in Astarion’s hand, and the bard reached out to cease it before he could open it.
“Leave it to me, dearest…” they smiled, crouching between the vampire’s open legs. “Just relax, and let me be do all the work.”
A satisfied grin crawled on his lips, making him even more desirable than usual in the soft moonlight piercing through the curtains. He reclined against the mattress, fingers already fumbling with his waistband. “At my service, aren’t you?”
“Exactly… and I expect you to guide me through it.” Ellith winked as they helped him rid himself of his breeches and underwear.
“You can count on me.” He breathed a happy, satisfied sigh.
He was already hardening, but Ellith wanted to take their time and give their lover the chance to enjoy the full scope of pleasure. And it started with long, soft caresses on his chest and hipbone, fingers dancing gracefully against his pale skin, the softest touch circling around his nipples and crawling up to tease the tip of his ears. Not an inch of his chest and neck was left unattended, and the bard was keeping a careful eye on every single reaction, every moan and shiver, making sure Astarion was plainly enjoying the sensations.
As their tongue was busy lavishing his nipples with gentle stimulations, Ellith felt his cock twitching against their thigh. They smile and pressed a gentle kiss on the hardening nipple.
“Enough teasing, El…” He breathed, repressing a moan. “I need your lips around me, and those long fingers of yours inside.”
“As you wish…”
The bard’s tongue travelled down his navel, leaving a few gentle kisses and bites along the way until it reached his crotch. Astarion's body was a land Ellith had explored many times before, but every touch felt like the first one, a never-ending rediscovery of the beauty of his curves and ridges, of the softness of his skin and the addictive taste of his hardened flesh. There was no hesitation in Ellith’s careful movements as they took him in their mouth, but their eyes never left his face, not even once. The sight of his shameless ecstasy was a masterpiece in itself, but the bard was also scanning it in search of any trace of discomfort. They had learned to detect Astarion’s pretence, to decipher his mask, and to talk his body language. And they knew he could still, out of old, poisonous habits, discard his own comfort and pleasure.
Something Ellith refused to let slip again.
Thankfully, the vampire spawn showed no trace of unease, abandoning himself to the sensations as Ellith’s lips moved slowly along his shaft, tongue rolling around the tip. He bucked his hips up, parting his legs a little wider. The half-drow understood the assignment, and before long their tongue was travelling down his scrotum, only to stop against the tight muscles of his entrance.
“Yes, please….” He mumbled, his fingers lost in the bard’s red mane.
One hand cupping and massaging his testicles, the other one still busy with his cock, Ellith started to lick, eager but attentive. They could feel his muscles throb against their tongue, slowly relaxing as it carefully pushed in. Astarion’s whines were getting louder, more impatient, reaching that beautiful high note Ellith enjoyed so much. They’ll never be able to make a song as a beautiful as this.
When their thumb left his balls to stimulate his entrance in tantalising circles, Astarion’s body jerked.
“Colour?” Ellith asked immediately.
“Green… Ve-very green, oh GODS! Please don’t stop.”
Another kiss, longer this time, on his inner thigh, and they kept on stroking him slowly. His body was still writhing lasciviously, drowning in the different stimulations, and when Ellith felt him relaxed enough, they pulled away to reach for the phial waiting patiently on the bed. And as they opened it and covered their fingers and his flesh with oil, he ran both of his hand through his own curls, breathing hastily, impatiently, his whole body vibrating with need.
Each of the bard’s movements displayed a natural expertise that couldn’t be discussed, but there was an unmistakable tenderness in every touch, every kiss, every flick of their tongue. Even as they pushed their thumb in, with their other hand gently holding his cock, the thrust was as gentle as a caress, treating his body like the most precious and delicate treasure.
Of course, Ellith knew that Astarion was tough, that he could take it roughly. But they wanted – needed – this moment as an opportunity to pamper him, to worship his form as a divine relic. They wanted him to understand that he deserved nothing less than absolute, adoring respect and care.
Their thumb was working his muscles diligently, drawing a few adorable moans from his lips. “How are we doing…?” Ellith asked in a tender whisper.
“Mmmh…” He cast a lazy glare at the bard, his crimson eyes filled with delight. “Yes...All right… I need you to… keep going.”
And they indulged.
Serving him like this, waiting for his signal to do anything, it had felt alien at first. Even without any memories from their past, Ellith could feel that they weren’t used to serve, to indulge and to wait. They had felt it that first night with Astarion in the clearing. They had felt it with Gale and Halsin. Even when they had been making out with Minthara, it was clear to both of them that they were longing to take the upper hand. What they had learned about their past with Gortash had only confirmed it. Back then, Ellith never served, they never knelt or complied; They took, in the most selfish, self-indulgent ways. Even if it meant violence. Especially it meant violence.
But with Astarion, they had discovered the pleasure and ecstasy which relied in shared abandon, the powerful delight of trust and the beauty of a passion which could be both chaotic, soft and respectful.
It had been a necessity at first, to make sure they wouldn’t hurt him in any way, but the necessity had soon turned into a combination of growing tenderness and self-discovery through a loss of control Ellith had rarely experienced before. It was about letting go, allowing themself to discard the reins that hindered them, but also the reins they used to force their will onto others, out of fear and distrust. As they had started to let Astarion take full control of the situation, the feelings that were alien at first, and somehow terrifying, had soon appeared as a deep relief, a liberation from chains that kept their own sex as a slave to their greedy fears. Those specific fears which had guided their cruelty and selfishness for too long.
But now, Ellith could find their own pleasure in Astarion’s guiding hand, their sex dripped with each new instruction he would give them, with each whimper he’d utter. They could give themself to him without fear, without restraint, without concern for their own pride and dignity. Because they trusted him. The only thing they had to worry about was his well-being, and they bloomed through that role.
They pushed a second finger in, gently massaging the inner muscles while stretching the entrance. His hips were moving slightly, his back arching each time they pushed deeper. The mumbles that fell from his lips were a mess of encouraging words, asking for more. Each flick of the bard’s tongue was a note of devotion.
Ellith marvelled at how warm he felt inside – was it because he had fed a few hours before, or was he always that warm inside? An intrusive thought that didn’t exactly disturb them, but which had nothing to do in their bed when Ellith was knuckle deep into their lover’s ass. They knew where that thought was coming from, a deeply rooted fascination for innards they weren’t fond of. Exhaling, they caste it away to better focus on the handsome whimpering man in front of them.
down their throat. Astarion answered with a graceful moan of his own.
“Do you feel ready, dearest?”
He nodded hastily. “Yes… please. Take me.”
Without further ado, Ellith straightened up, still kneeling between his thighs, to have a better look at the device they were wearing and his abandoned body. A delicious shiver ran up their spine.
The oil dripped from the phial onto the prosthetic phallus, and a few more on Astarion’s flesh. Glistening, shining and oh so ready for them
Astarion bucked his hips once more, cupping the back of his knees with both hands to better offer himself.
Another intrusive thought, much more disturbing this time: how many times did he have to do it without wanting it? How many times had his body been penetrated by force?
“Darling…? What are you waiting for?”
His impatient voice almost startled the bard, who realised in that moment that they had been still for a few long seconds, their own hands around his ankles. They looked him in the eyes, chasing a ghost, an echo, a trace of his former torments. They saw nothing but desire, eagerness and excitement.
“You… You push yourself against it, love.” They advised. Somehow, they were understanding that they didn’t want to ‘take him’, they didn’t want to break into him. It was their first time using such a toy, and Ellith wanted him to use it his own way. The acknowledgement came quite as a shock, but Ellith accepted it. That was the person they were with him, the person they wanted to be: careful, preventive and unimposing… for better and for worse.
Astarion rolled his eyes playfully. “I thought you would be doing all the work.”
“True…” Ellith whispered, unable to repress a tender smile, a soft irony playing in their voice. “But you’re still the one in charge, so you better accept your responsibilities.”
The vampire let out an over-dramatic, impatient sigh before wriggling his hips forward, pressing his asshole against the tip of the instrument. All the while, the bard’s hand never stopped massaging his testicles, fingers spreading the oil all over his tenderest skin.
He pushed against them, just enough for the tip to slide in, and the sigh that fell from his lips sounded like the sweetest sonata.
Fingertips gently stroking the vampire’s thighs, Ellith remains still, waiting for their lover to adjust. It didn’t take long, and soon, Astarion started to roll his hips, imposing a slow but steady rhythm which Ellith diligently followed.
A few encouraging words were falling through his every moan, and Ellith relished the sight of this beautiful man writhing softly in front of them. A man who trusted them enough to abandon himself completely, letting go of his retrains and defensiveness in the sanctity of their shared intimacy. His cock was still leaking against his crotch, bulging veins showing on the underside, and Ellith had to keep themself from reaching out to its tempting taste. Instead, they ran their hands along his sides, before holding onto his waist to better ground themself.
It felt perfect, to be able to pleasure him, to allow him to let go and to claim his own body agency again through mutual trust and delight.
“Does it feel all right?” The bard asked as they gently pushed a little deeper, sticking to the that same slow rhythm.
“Y-yesss, love…”
The sound of his languid voice was more than enough to make the bard soaked, and the rhythmical pressure of the device against their sensitive nerves began to slowly blur their mind. Eyes closed and encouraged by Astarion’s melodious whimpers, Ellith carefully waved their hips, pressing even deeper into him.
“Ah! Aah.. Da-darling…” He yelped, a note of desperation in his voice. “I need y-you to… touch m-me… gods!”
How could they deny him?
Their hand found their way back to his cock, but they didn’t immediately stroke it. Instead, their fingers danced delicately over the flesh, fingertips tracing the bulging veins. He answered with a loud moan and his head feel backward against the pillow. Ellith expected him to come at any moment now, and they were already drooling, starving for his semen.
But he didn’t come. And as Ellith kept on pushing gently inside of him, they noticed that the vampire had turned silent all of sudden.
Astarion’s eyes were closed, and his head rolled to the side, which allowed the bard to have a better look at his features. His eyes were closed, lips firmly tightening, jaw visibly clenching, and a deep furrow on his brow.
“Colour?” The bard whispered as their hand fell still on his stomach.
“Mmh…? Green…” He answered in a datched whisper that didn’t convince them.
Ellith stilled the movement of their hips, and even as Astarion kept on pushing against the toy, they felt their own arousal slipping away. “Astarion…”
“Keep going, darling…”
They knew this voice. It wasn’t the voice of the Astarion who was enjoying himself, it was the voice of the Astarion who was forcing himself to believe he was enjoying himself.
“Are you here with me, Astarion?”
“Mmhh…”
He kept his eyes closed, and even if he moved to take it deep, Ellith could feel that his mind was no longer thriving in the moment.
“Psaltery.”
The safeword, as it fell from the bard’s lips, didn’t go amiss. Astarion went still, eyes now wide open and staring at his lover. Surprise and confusion were soon replaced by disappointment. “Aren’t you enjoying it, darling?”
“I can’t. not if you are not enjoying it”
“I am!”
Shaking their head, Ellith gently pull out of him. “You’ve been pretending for the few past minutes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I cannot do this.”
It took them a few seconds to unfasten the belt and discard the device, and once it was done, they lied down on the bed beside the vampire spawn. Their eyes fixed on the ceiling, Ellith didn’t even try to touch him. They felt sick… and sad. Not because they couldn’t keep going, but because they felt like they had made him feel… bad.
As for Astarion, he was obviously upset. “By the hells, El! What’s all this about?!” He scolded, sitting up. “I thought we were having fun!”
“No, Astarion. You weren’t enjoying it.”
“And pray tell me, how would you how I felt? What makes you believe that you know better than I do?”
Ellith sat up, facing him, and their own voice was starting to match his irritated tone, frustration imbuing each words. “I could feel that you were here.”
“As far as I know, darling…” Astarion began with a sarcastic tone, “It’s my body, and my mind. And I know what I’m doing.”
“Are you really?” The bard asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow.
The vampire hissed, his body tensing as he turned away to rest his feet on the ground, but he didn’t stand up. “I’m not some kind of fragile doll! I don’t need you to infantilise me, Ellith!”
“Well…” Ellith’s tongue rolled in their mouth. “Excuse me for trying to take care of your well-being! Unless you’d rather have me abuse you?”
The atmosphere between them was becoming poisonous, heavy with a tension none of them could properly dispatch yet.
“Stop with this nonsense.” Astarion hissed, fangs showing behind his lips. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”
Ellith was fuming, and they folded their arms against their chest to give themself an illusion of grounding. All they’d wanted was to make sure Astarion was enjoying the experience, and protect him from himself. And now he was resenting them for that? It felt unfair, and positively hypocritical of him.
“And so? I should let you use me to hurt yourself?” They snapped back, repressing the sadness that threatened to break through their voice.
“I am not…! This is ridiculous.” Without a single gaze toward the bard, Astarion picked up his underwear and put it on hastily. “We have a safeword for a reason! If I don’t use it, El, it means I’m fine.”
“But it’s not about being just ‘fine’; it’s about enjoying it fully. And you weren’t enjoying it!”
“How would you know?!” He rose his voice, agitating his hands confusingly. “You have no idea what’s going on in my body!”
“Then TELL ME!” Before Ellith could realise it, they were kneeling up on the bed, their naked body tensing but still proud and determined despite the cooling sweat that covered their skin. “Tell me what’s going on!”
Astarion winced. “Forget it.”
After a dismissive shake of his head, he headed to the bathroom and smashed the door behind him, leaving Ellith alone with their own confusion and shame. And anger. Not against him, or at themself, but against everything that kept on tormenting Astarion. Against Cazador. Against the marks the old bastard had left upon his body and mind.
They knew they shouldn’t feel frustrated; they should accept whatever contradictory feelings were haunting the vampire spawn's mind. But it was hard. Being targeted by his spite for trying to protect him from himself.
The bard hissed silently.
It felt like Astarion was using Ellith’s natural cruelty – that very cruelty they were trying to discard – only to redeem his own crimes through a revival of his past abuse. Dragging himself on a path that only led him back to what Cazador had made of him: a puppet for others to play with.
It was insufferable.
Suffocating from the assault of their own dark thoughts, Ellith ran too the window and opened it wide. The moon was still high up in the sky, its light shining delicately on the little town they had settled in a few days before. Everything was quiet, including the inn. The half-drow took a deep breath, taking in the flowery scent of the early spring night.
No sound was coming from the bathroom.
Were they really infantilising him? Were they the one to blame for being too… overprotective?
Astarion was right: it was his body, and nobody should tell him what to do with it. But Ellith couldn’t help thinking about that day with the drow twins and Halsin in Baldur’s Gate. His absent look while they were in bed, his diligent serving, and how disappointed and upset he had felt afterwards, realising that he wasn’t able yet to enjoy such experiences. It had been a harsh lesson, for both of them. Although Ellith’s bleeding guilt was not to be compared to Astarion’s torments, they’d never forget how terrible they had felt afterwards. And Astarion had remained so quiet. Unwilling to share whatever trouble had been haunting him. Even Halsin hadn’t been able to sooth the lingering struggle the vampire spawn had been going through…
Never again, Ellith had thought back then.
And yet, here they were. Dealing with exactly the same situation, except that, this time Ellith had addressed the matter before they went through it all.
Astarion should be grateful, shouldn’t he?
Ellith’s fist punched the wall beside the window, not hard enough to leave a mark but still enough to hurt.
Not even a drop of blood.
Disappointing.
The bard glared at the bathroom door. No light was filtering through the cracks… He was in the dark. No moonlight, no firelight.
‘A year of silence. Months of Scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out. More months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.’
Astarion’s words were echoing through the bard’s mind. Darkness and isolation. Starvation and desperation. Why did he had to punish himself again?
Another wave of shame washed over Ellith, accompanied by a sadness they could barely fathom.
It wasn’t about them. It had never been.
Astarion was dealing with something Ellith would never completely understand, something they had no power over.
And it was terrifying. Not being able to control what was tormenting him. Not being able to prevent it, no matter how many safety nets they displayed for him.
Ellith was powerless, and maybe that was why they took it personally when his struggles had nothing to do with them. They could kill Cazador again and again and again, kill all the spawns, including Astarion’s former targets, it wouldn’t change a thing. The marks had been left, and neither their spells or blades, not even their songs, would keep the past away.
What was there left to do?
'He needs your patience, little owl. Your hand in his. Your shoulder to rest on.'
The bard had discarded Halsin’s advice back then, thinking it too soppy. Thinking that Astarion would also reject such display of tenderness.
“This isn’t about sympathy.”
The vampire spawn had uttered the words so long ago, but Ellith could still remember his serious, adamant tone. He didn’t want to be pitied, and they had always tried to respect that.
And tonight… Tonight they had tried to act upon his trauma, to prevent it through a certain form of… control? Because of pity?
Shit.
Ellith felt sick again, for other reasons. Their eyes were still fixed on the bathroom door, but they couldn’t hear a thing – not even a breath.
A silence which belonged to undeath, when nothing could shine upon it.
Grabbing the bed sheet and wrapping it around their body, the bard finally decided to walk toward the silent door. They leaned against it before giving it a very soft knock.
No answer, and a painful knot rose in their throat.
Another knock, which again, received no answer.
The knot grew bigger.
Ellith had to clear their throat to make their voice audible, and when it came out, it sounded much sadder than what they had expected. “Dearest…?”
They heard a sigh. But no word.
“Astarion… I’m sorry.”
Apologising wasn’t something Ellith was familiar with. It was something they had to learn in the course of the past year, and the words still felt alien. Alien but true, and somehow, relieving.
“I get why you’re mad at me…” They continued, as their body slid down against the wall until their butt hit the ground. The bard’s hand was lingering on the door, but they had no intention of opening it without Astarion’s consent.
“I’m not mad at you.” Came his voice, not broken, but unusually stern, hallow. It only deepened the chasm in Ellith’s chest.
They heard him let out another deep sigh, followed by his footsteps and little sound against the door. The smell of his cologne slipped through the cracks and Ellith could tell he too was now leaning against the door. They were only separated by those heavy wooden panels. It was nothing but it meant everything. Only a threshold to cross, but a sturdy one.
“I… I didn’t mean to infantilise you…” The bard whispered. ”I was just… scared”.
Anyone who knew Ellith could have told that it did cost them to admit it. Fear was more than familiar, but their inner pride kept them from admitting it. Fear, they thought, was a vulnerability they couldn’t afford.
The admission wasn’t lost to Astarion’s ears. And he made it clear through the bitter chuckle that echoed behind the door. “You cannot control everything, darling. Tou cannot control how I feel. You must let me… do it on my own.”
By Jergal… How could he know them so well?
“I wasn’t trying to control you, dearest.” Ellith shook their head, not yet capable of admitting the harsh truth.
There was a click, and the doorknob slowly turned until the door opened – just enough for Ellith to have a peek at their lover through the narrow opening. Their half-drow eyes were keen enough for them to see him in the dark. He was indeed sitting on the bathroom floor, his back against the wall, and as his hand slowly fell from the doorknob, Ellith relaxed a little.
They stared at each other, surrounded by thick darkness now that the moon was hiding behind the clouds, as if the Selûne herself was giving them some privacy.
“I know what you do when you’re afraid, darling. I watch you.” Astarion whispered, keeping his gaze on the bard. “You need to take the upper hand. You need to become the puppet-master you used to be. Even when you mean well.”
What else could Ellith do other than lowering their gaze. Guilt sneaked into their stomach again. Speechless.
Astarion’s hand slid on the floor until it reached Ellith’s fingertips. He didn’t take their hand, but his light touch was nonetheless reassuring. Reassuring enough for Ellith to find their own voice back.
“I want to… keep you safe. From yourself, from myself.”
“That is…not your job, sweetheart.”
“Why not?” Ellith frowned, their voice finally breaking. “We’re partners; you got my back and I got yours! That was the deal wasn’t it?”
“Yes, yes… “Astarion looked up at the ceiling, the back of his head falling against the wall behind him. “But I never expected it to involve what happens in our bed.”
Ah. That was almost ironical. When Ellith had sworn that they’ had his back – almost a year before – they knew very little of his past, and he was still pretending to be that over-confident seducer who only lived for carnal pleasure. A walking fantasy he had been forced to embody for way too long. He didn’t even really like them back then. He just needed a shield which he expected to discard as soon as he’d feel powerful enough to defend himself.
But then everything had spiralled in unexpected ways, for both of them. and they had to untangle the knots of painful unsaid and lingering toxic habits.
Get rid of the masks.
“We don’t have to be on a battlefield to keep each other safe…” the bard whispered, one fingertip brushing against his thumb. “We can – should – do that on daily basis.”
“You don’t get it.” Astarion’s hand recoiled, and he wrapped his arms around his knees.
Taking a deep breath, Ellith clung to Halsin’s advice: ‘Be patient. He’ll come to you’. Patience they could do, and they had proved it many a time before. But this was beyond patience – it was a battle of shame and pride, of self-loathing and terror.
“Astarion…” Ellith’s voice rose in the dark; quiet, almost timid. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No. Never.” His eyes were suddenly back on them, confident and assertive. “I already told you so, didn’t I?”
Indeed. How many times had he repeated that he wasn’t afraid of their darkness? And yet, somehow, Ellith still needed reassurance. After all, they knew what they were capable of, and so did he.
“You’re not the problem, here, darling.” He explained, his arms leaving his knees to spread as if he was demonstrating something. “I just… can’t deal with your concern about our intimacy. It makes me feel… weak.”
Oh. Now that was making sense.
“Dearest, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known… after Karlach.”
He chuckled at the mention of their fiery friend, but didn’t deny it. No one could deny it. But it seemed like the little touch of casualness eased his nerves, and before long, he was shifting on the ground so that his body could fully face the bard. One knee up, his elbow resting on it.
“You see darling, I’ve always considered myself a hedonist… as far as I can remember, at least. And maybe it’s a version of myself that was crafted by Cazador. But even now, even after everything, I think my real self is all but a prude. Thinking about all the things we could do together, or even with others, it excites me, arouses me. I like it! But then…”
His voiced trailed off, and the frown on his brow deepened. He was searching for his words.
“But then you can’t fully let go...” Ellith tried. “Is that it?”
“Well.. That’s a way to put it.” He mused, pursing his lips. “Sometimes I can… get lost in pleasure and stop thinking about the past. But not always. And it makes feel… incomplete. Half the man I’m supposed to be – a failure.”
Ellith took a moment to reflect on his words. They knew Astarion was struggling with memories of his existence as a slave, but they’d never imagined that his self-esteem was also relying on his capacity to… fuck them.
“Astarion… You don’t have to get hard, or stay hard, to make me happy.” Ellith mumbled, searching for his crimson eyes in the darkness of the place. “My affection for you doesn’t rely on your erection, you know. I thought that was clear enough.”
“I…” He was hesitating, but his free hand found Ellith’s fingers again. “I know, but a part of me doesn’t accept it. I refuse to have you pity me just because I can’t come undone with you.”
“And I refuse to pity you, dearest.” The words had left Ellith’s mouth before they could even process them. “You know, your cock isn’t at the core of our relationship, right? I mean… I love your cock, obviously, but it doesn’t have to be hard for me to love you. You’re not less of a man if you don’t fuck me through the night.”
A succession of loud chuckles escaped the vampire spawn, and Ellith immediately relaxed. The music of his laugh, especially when they were the one making him laugh.
“Darling…” he breathed, playful note hanging in his murmur. “Only you can be so indecent and so sweet at the same time.”
“I know. That’s my special power.” Ellith claimed, playful too, but nonetheless proud.
This time, Astarion’s hand fully grabbed Ellith’s fingers, squeezing them gently. “And that’s why I can barely resist you.”
Quite unexpectedly, Ellith giggled like a schoolkid, which ultimately made Astarion laugh again. Ellith thumb brushed against his palm, and through the shadows, Ellith could see him slide closer.
“I love making love to you, darling.” Astarion whispered, his voice shaking a little. “I do. And I love it when you make love to me.”
At the sound of his statement, something shattered into Ellith chest.
Make love.
That’s what they were doing.
It wasn’t raw sex. It wasn’t even about lust.
It was about love. About being together.
Yes.
Making love. As if, creating their own loving language. A language they had to invent, beyond the safeword, beyond the colour system. They had to make it their own.
“It’s not just about sex.” Ellith concluded. “I fell in love with the man who told me he needed a break in terms of sex. I fell in love with the man who felt more comfortable snuggling, clothes on, rather than fuck me like whore. Even though I am, quite literally, a whore.”
“Hm.” He hummed softly as a cunning but tender smile crawled on his lips. “I like you naked too, my sweet little slut.”
After a genuine chuckle, the bard slid on the ground, squeezing their body through the door to get fully into the bathroom.
“Sweet, hm?” They repeated playfully. “I’m still trying to understand what it means.”
“Oh no, I mean you taste sweet.”
This time, Ellith’s giggles turned into a loud cascade of laughter. “Of course, what was I thinking?”
The atmosphere around them lightened, as if a heavy burden had evaporated with Ellith’s laughter.
“Still…” Astarion continued, his playful tone slipping away, although he was still smiling. “I don’t know what to do… how to solve this.”
“We need to learn how to let go…”
“We…?” Astarion gentle caresses on the bard’s hand suddenly froze. “… You too?”
“I told you… I’m afraid. Terrified that I might overstep...” The words flew naturally from their lips, as if it wasn’t something they’d been denying for months. “The Urge is gone but there’s this dark thing inside me which still yearns for violence and blood. What if I let go and… hurt you, in a way or another? What if I… forget how much I care about you?”
It felt weird, to finally be able to let it out. To acknowledge it while saying it in such a mundane, instinctive way. It felt so easy. Unexpectedly easy.
A bitter chuckle rose in the bard’s throat. “Seems like I’m as good as you when it comes to denying myself.”
Another squeeze, and Ellith gaze fell down on their entwined fingers.
“Darling, I never realised you were… holding back.”
They shrugged. Astarion sighed. And a long silence followed.
When the vampire spoke again, hesitation and sorrow was coating his shaking voice. “You know, El, perhaps you were right. Perhaps I use you sometimes…”
The admission hit like a knife in the chest. Ellith closed their eyes, lips pinched as anxiety rose in their heart.
“Not all the time, mind you!” He added hastily, his other hand moving in the dark to cling onto the bard’s forearm. “I’m not even sure why I do that… Why I have you do things that will ultimately … hurt me. Maybe there’s a part of me which hopes that, this time, it won’t hurt. And sometimes it works, it doesn’t hurt. But on some rare occasions…. It does.”
“Like tonight?”
He nodded slowly, and Ellith tried to compute the words. “So, it’s like… a test? Or a self-inflicted punishment?”
Through the darkness, they could see him chewing on his inner lips, a habit which they knew could be painful. He lowered his head. “I don’t know, darling…”
He knew, that Ellith was sure of. But now wasn’t the time. Not yet.
“It’s unfair!” He suddenly burst out, baring his fangs in frustration. “Even dead, he still haunts me, everything he did to me, it keeps on harassing me! The son of bitch marked me forever and there’s no way out!”
His voice receded, and Ellith realised they had been holding their breath for a long moment. They understood, probably better than many, but they had no solution.
“It’s been only a few months, Astarion… give yourself some time.”
“I already gave him two hundred years, isn’t that enough? Have I not suffered enough?”
Anger was floating through his words, but there was a deep sadness too, a desperation which made the bard’s heart bleed.
“He turned me into this… neither alive nor dead body, half a man, half a monster… Pathetic.”
It stung to hear him talk like that about himself. Ellith refused it and they had to force themselves to not retort with harshest words.
Instead, they watched him grind his teeth for a while.
“May I hold you, Astarion?” they finally asked, as the sight of pain sipped in their heart like poison.
Another silence during which he slowly nodded.
Taking their arms and hand out of his gentle grip, Ellith wrapped them around his shoulders, and his head instantly fell against their chest, his body still tensed but giving into their comforting embrace “You’re no monster, Astarion. Neither am I – not any more. And you… You’re the bravest man I’ve ever met.”
They couldn’t tell if he believed them in this moment, although their words had rarely rung so true. The bard fingers started to gently run through his hair, slow and soothing movements which seemed to directly affect him as he relaxed against them.
“Please, dearest… Don’t ever let me hurt you again…” The bard breathed.
“I… I will try, El.” He murmured, wrapping his own arm around their waist.
“We can make it through. After all, haven’t we already made the impossible possible?” the bard replied, mimicking Astarion’s voice.
He chuckled and looked up at their face with a soft smile. “That we did.”
“If we can defy gods and devils and yet survive, we can find a way out of… whatever you’re going through.”
He seemed to ponder their words for a moment, until he suddenly got up, stretching one hand in Ellith’s direction. They took it without a single hesitation, and let him pull them back on their feet. “Come on…” He whispered, his eyes shining again in the dark, though there was no trace of tears or sorrow in them any more.
Leading them back to the bedroom, which was bathed in moonlight again, he kept his fingers clasped around theirs. His shirt was falling loosely around his chest, barely covering his underwear, but the fine fabric was highlighting the beauty of his form in pale light. As for the bed sheet that was covering Ellith’s, it was slowly slipping down their small breasts. When Astarion noticed it, a tender smile floated on his lips.
“You don’t have to play coy darling…” he purred softly, not with lust, but with affection; they both knew self-consciousness wasn’t something which burdened the bard.
It didn’t take him long to make the sheet fall down his lover’s form, and once their body revealed in the moonlight, he rested his hand on their hips, his lips reaching for a kiss. A soft, almost timid kiss, but which lasted long enough for Ellith to lean against him, their own arms sneaking around his neck.
They were peacefully standing in each other’s arms, nose against nose, inhaling each other’s breath in silence, when Ellith started to hum a soft melody of their own making. A song they’d been working on for several weeks, but which was new to Astarion’s ears. And as their voice grew louder, Astarion started to sway slowly, taking them into a calm, delicate dance.
Intimacy without intrusion. A quiet passion, a harmonious understanding. Music as a shield to keep them from the rest of the world, but also from the challenges that awaited them.
It was just the two of them, dancing slowly in the moonlight. It felt more erotic than anything that could have happened in their bed. More sensual than any caress.
They no longer needed words. Their dancing body was speaking for them.
Music. Heartbeats. The gentle swaying of their body, in harmony.
They’ll find a way out. Together.
They were hopeful. Genuinely hopeful.