Chapter Text
Astarion peered through the trees to find their darling leader settling on a large rock overlooking the river.
She was alone. Blessedly alone.
He had been on the way back to camp following a hunt when he picked up the scents of soap made from goat’s milk, honey, and lavender on the breeze, unpolluted by the smell of any other companion. It was a rarity to find her away from the others, needy as they were. It was pitiful how little they could all accomplish without her, and made his progress with her more difficult.
But he wasn’t quite done looking, not just yet. He gave into temptation to try and get closer without being noticed. What was the harm? It was hardly a challenge, even if the light through dissipating clouds threatened to give him away. The beauty of the golden hour before dusk was something he had revelled in every day since waking up on the beach. He watched as the sunlight danced through the leaves to shift languidly on the ground around her. With the sky now painted in the hues of sunset, her dark curls shone with a reddish tint he hadn’t noticed before.
His last two hundred years had been spent in the dark. Who could blame him for wanting just a few more moments to appreciate the light? He told himself the sunlit profile of the barmaid from Rivington was just a minor element of the scenery. Her skin was littered with freckles, and so pale that he could see the lightest blue outline of her veins where they came close to the surface. He watched the rise and fall of her ample chest as she took a deep breath. His gaze drifted to the way her full thighs spread where they pressed into the rock.
In all his years of servitude, he had only ever been free to pursue and seduce prey that fit his master’s preferences. Unmarked skin, no more muscular or larger than average, no one not conventionally attractive in the way Cazador deemed fit. Not knowing the pleasure of getting lost in a body like hers felt like another way he’d been starved.
She wasn’t as heavily muscled as Karlach, and was fuller-figured than Shadowheart or Lae’zel. She was undoubtedly strong. The way she could draw back a bow as tall as she was, and swing an axe clean through their unlucky enemies was a testament to that. When he had pressed against Tav while he fed from her before, he’d moaned into her neck before he could stop himself, wanting to sink into her softness as deep as he could get. Her body had dips and curves around the muscle beneath, and Astarion was very interested in finding out what more of that felt like under his hands.
His trousers started to feel a bit snug, and the discomfort brought him back to himself. It wouldn’t do to greet her that way… at least not yet. Astarion forced his gaze back upward to see moisture collecting under one of her eyes before she quickly wiped it away. He had always liked brown eyes, and hers had scattered patches of green, the left one more so than the right.
He considered using the power of the tadpole to pry at her thoughts, but decided against it. The parasites had an annoying habit of unexpectedly broadcasting the thoughts of their host to other nearby tadpoles, and he didn’t want to risk discovery. She wasn’t facing him when she spoke, which caught him off guard.
“Are you looking to get punched again?” She turned to him then, eyes dancing with mirth when she saw his confusion at being found out. Her teasing betrayed none of the emotion he’d spied on. She had tucked it away quickly, and it made him suspect that was a skill she’d used often.
Tav arched a brow. “Shadowheart might not let you get away with just one, if you were sizing up a surprise nibble.”
He bristled at the mention of the cleric. She’d hauled off and punched him square in the jaw following his… indiscretion with Tav, nevermind that he’d revived her well before morning. He schooled his features into a more amiable arrangement and stepped into the light. “It’s not often I’m noticed before I decide to be. You might be more canny than I gave you credit for.”
So kind of you to admit your low estimations,” she laughed. “You might be more of an ass than I gave you credit for.”
Astarion scoffed, then hauled himself up onto the rock beside her, suppressing a wince. He was still sore from their fight with the hag the day before, but he had no intention of sharing that. He decided to scold her instead.
“My my, such language from the mouth of a lady.” scooting just close enough to brush his knee against hers, and lean back on an arm placed behind her.
“Pretty as you are Astarion, you might be more lady than I am,” she teased as she bumped her knee against his and gave his ribs a playful swat.
He caught her hand and leaned experimentally into her space. She didn’t back away, and it emboldened him further. “I think you’ll be pleased to find,” he brought her hand to his mouth, lips brushing lightly over her knuckles, “that is explicitly not the case.” He pushed his tongue between her middle and index finger in a quick, suggestive lick.
He let slip a soft hum of pleasure when she’d subconsciously leaned toward him, and he could hear her heart rate start to pick up, eyes transfixed on his tongue as it ran over his lips.
Good, he thought.
He tilted his head and leaned to close the space between them, and…
WHAP!
He was hit square in the back of the head with a ball and nearly jumped a mile out of his fucking skin. Scratch bounded down the trail and Tav shrieked in mock terror when Scratch jumped into her lap for a lick. The dog leapt away in search of the ball just as Karlach burst from the trees to scoop up the toy, squeaking it excitedly.
“We’ve been wondering where you wandered off to,” she said as she played keep away from Scratch. The tiefling held up the ball as their canine companion hopped and barked. “Supper is almost ready!” She tossed the ball down the trail, and once the dog had given chase, she glanced over and did a double take. “Gods below, Tav! What have you done to make Fangs look like that?!” Karlach’s attention was pulled away by an excited bark, and she started back up the path toward camp.
When she turned back toward Astarion he looked positively murderous. The tension of the moment snapped within her like a bowstring and she erupted in laughter. This made him frown even harder as he leaned back to huff out an exasperated breath.
She wiped her eyes, now watery from laughing as she looked out over the river. She was grateful for the chaos. Tav was even grateful for Astarion sneaking up on her in the middle of her melancholy. If she’d tracked their time since the crash accurately, today would have been the anniversary of her mother’s untimely departure from the material plane. Astarion was her distraction once again as she peeked over to where he sat pouting. Presumptuous of him to assume she wouldn’t be pleased if he had been a lady, as that was often her preference. He can pout a little longer as punishment, she decided.
It was a very brief punishment.
The sun had set lower on the horizon behind him, casting gold and orange rays through his tousled white curls, framing him in light, and turning her thoughts effectively to mush as he glared out over the river.
He felt her eyes on him, and shot her a withering look. “What now?”
She smirked at his tone, and reached toward his face. He was still frowning, and glared at her hand before raising one eyebrow in silent question. She ran her thumb over his cool skin to smooth out the frustrated wrinkles above his nose. He rolled his eyes, but leaned into her hand as she cupped his cheek.
Tav watched as he closed his eyes, still pressed against the warmth of her palm. He leaned into her, nuzzling into her touch like a cat might. His usual predatory gaze and mercurial nature made it a fitting comparison, to be sure. Astarion cut her musings short when he sighed and leaned away.
“We’d better get back.” He said as he hopped off the stone and offered her a hand to do the same. “As diverting as this has been, I’d hate to be hit by yet another one of our companions for over-indulging in your company.”
Astarion had made her laugh again at his lament. He carefully assembled his usual aloof expression- regardless of the little flip that had just taken place in his stomach.
They returned to camp, everyone mostly to their own devices as Gale and Wyll squabbled about the most artful way to plate dinner. Astarion sat in front of his tent mending a hole in his blanket. He had been taken by the nautiloid during a rare moment of idle time, laying on that blanket looking up at the sky in the garden of the Szarr mansion. The clothes on his back had been his only possession, other than the quilt he’d been relieved to find amongst the wreckage of the crash. He’d been buried with that blanket. Holding on to it for two centuries of pure shit had left almost more holes than fabric, but he couldn’t seem to give up on it. For now he’d do his best and stow it away for safe-keeping.
Astarion’s gaze shifted to the fire, where the rest of the group had gathered for their evening meal. He was happy enough keeping his distance now that he didn’t have to hide his true nature. It was no surprise that the object of his interest was an innkeeper’s daughter, the way she doted on the rest of them and seemed quite at home in the center of the crowd.
Wyll was standing and gesturing animatedly, pantomiming killing some great beast as he told one of his countless stories of heroism on the frontier. Tav had taken a seat across from his tent (surely on purpose, he told himself). He watched as she whispered discreetly to Shadowheart, nudging her lightly, and tilting her head towards Wyll. Shadowheart snorted and threw her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Wyll stopped mid flail to glare, and Tav just shrugged feigning innocence. Wyll continued on, and Shadowheart elbowed Tav before scooting closer into her side.
That could be a problem, he thought. Astarion had no illusions about what skills his life in the shadows had left him. He had seduced thousands, an endless parade of lovers, while using himself as bait to bring back dinner for his master. Pleasure was just one tool he had perfected to guarantee survival. He had honed his abilities as a Rogue to slip from shadow to shadow, unseen and unheard. This was a crucial development during his servitude, ensuring the successful slaughter of anything meant to cause harm, as well as to make himself as small and insignificant as possible to avoid the murderous ire of his master.
He had already proven himself a valuable asset in battle, but they could all fight in their own way. He needed to make himself indispensable, not likely to be discarded if his abilities weren’t of use in the coming days. He watched as Tav met his gaze across the camp. He gave her his most suggestive wink, and she rolled her eyes and averted her gaze as a blush crept across her chest and cheeks. It would be easy to put his gentler skills to work with her.
The element of pretense made his stomach feel sour. Luckily for him, that was just another familiar occupational hazard.