#field study bg3 fanfic

[grandmother-goblin]

Asking Nicely

Masterlist

Summary: After an argument with Cas, Astarion decides to try to set things right. Although seduction and manipulation are on his mind, he never expected to be so thoroughly seduced himself.

(This is an excerpt of the rewritten sex scene from chapter 6 of my long fic, Field Study!)

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for smut.

Word Count: 5k

Tags: Smut, oral sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, penetrative sex, enthusiastic consent, mild begging, mild disassociation, references to past trauma.

Though he would never admit it, Astarion needed that day of rest. Not just for his body, but to give himself time to sort through the thoughts swirling around in his head. Mainly, it gave him time to figure out what he wanted to do about Cas.

He needed to set things right with her. Both as an ally and as the closest thing he had to an actual friend. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had anything close to friendship with someone. It would have been foolish to give it up so easily.

It didn’t take much to see his relationship with Cas was different. She spent her time with him because she enjoyed his company, not because she had nowhere else to go. As much as his instincts told him to twist her kindness, generosity, and naïveté to his advantage, part of him didn’t want to. Deep down, he knew that he simply enjoyed her company as well.

The dark desires that came with immortality easily infiltrated his genuine feelings. It was difficult to pick between the thoughts, or to figure out which ones were tainted by his affliction. Did he really want something more than friendship with Cas? Was his desire for more fueled by a lust for power or something else entirely?

He didn’t get to dwell on his thoughts long before Cas and the others returned to camp. Lae’zel seemed beyond pissed off, paying no mind to anyone or anything as she immediately went to work dismantling a training dummy with an ax. If he had to make a wild guess, something went terribly wrong with their quest to find the Gith crèche. Despite his awkward conversation with Wyll, it seemed staying at camp was by far the more enjoyable option. He did not want to imagine what it was like to walk miles upon miles alongside an enraged Githyanki warrior.

Cas and the others, thankfully, didn’t seem to share the Gith’s frustrations and simply went about their business as usual. 

When Cas acknowledged Astarion with a soft smile and a nod, his heartbeat quickened in his chest like an answer to his previous question. The dark desires courtesy of his vampiric nature were cold, calculating, and yawningly empty. Whatever was stirring in his chest was anything but. Warm and pleasant, like a thick blanket around his shoulders that guarded him from the cold.

Her smile melted away some of his anxieties. Despite his behavior from that morning, she didn’t seem to hold a grudge. She was giving him another chance. A chance that he did not want to waste.

Astarion went out to hunt while his companions busied themselves with their own dinner. By the time he returned to camp, Wyll was sharing a drink with Shadowheart, Karlach, and Gale around the campfire, laughing and telling stories while Lae’zel was still beating that innocent training dummy into oblivion. When he asked where Cas had wandered off to, Wyll cocked his thumb towards the river and said she went to wash up.

Perfect. Just the opportunity he needed to get a chance to chat with Cas alone, away from the potential interruptions from camp. Although interrupting her bathing wasn’t ideal, he didn’t want to sit around and wait for a more appropriate moment either.

Between the sound of friendly chatter and dull thuds of Lae’zel’s steel blade meeting packed straw stuffed in armor, none of his companions seemed to notice when Astarion snuck off. 

Enough time had passed since Cas had left that he felt she’d be done with her bath and he was hoping to intercept her on the way back to camp. When he spotted her, it appeared as though she had just gotten out of the water. A beige towel wrapped around her torso, barely covering the curve of her ass as she carded her fingers through her damp hair. The faint scent of lavender scented oil and soap reached him just as Cas noticed his presence.

Her dark brows furrowed at him in question, but she continued working the lavender oil through her hair, focusing on the tips. “Please don’t tell me you were watching me bathe,” she said dryly.

“I considered it, but no.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets as his eyes were drawn to the way the towel clung to her subtle curves. “I just wanted to catch you alone for a moment. Figured we needed to talk about some things.”

Cas dabbed a few more drops of oil into her palm and began to work it through her hair. “I suppose we do,” she said and exhaled deeply as she averted her gaze. “I’m sorry for what I said last night. It wasn’t right for me to accuse you of using me for my brother when you had only just found out about him.” Her fingers worked through her hair, but in a way that was more nervous than productive. “I won’t bore you with excuses, but I am sorry. You didn’t deserve it. I hope you’re able to forgive me.”

Not what he was expecting, but he didn’t disapprove. The words stirred a funny, unfamiliar feeling inside him. When was the last time someone he knew apologized to him? For anything at all? While the apology was nice, and appreciated, it was something else she said that dug deep in a way he hadn’t expected. 

You didn’t deserve it.

For centuries, there was always a reason why he deserved every moment of agony he endured. He failed to bring back prey for Cazador. Or he spoke too loudly. Or too softly. He wasn’t standing straight enough. Didn’t smile when he was supposed to. Stood six inches to the left of where Cazador expected him. According to Cazador, he had deserved every harsh word, every cut along his skin, every missed meal. For centuries, the only things in life he didn’t deserve were the good things.

Cas adjusted her towel, holding the thin material in place more with her arms crossed over her chest than with the corner tucked over the edge. She laughed sheepishly and brushed a damp lock of hair behind her ear. “I suck at apologies,” she said, her eyes almost pleading as they fixed on his face. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you–”

A smile crept across his lips as she bumbled over her words. Adorable. How could he have ever been upset with her? It was difficult to hold much of a grudge when she was wrapped in a towel like a gift and spoke such sweet words.

“I suppose I can forgive you, darling,” he said, as if forgiving her was some dreadful chore. A droplet of water ran down her neck to the hollow of her collarbone before it disappeared beneath her towel. Astarion licked his lips. “But if you insist on making it up to me, I might have some suggestions.”

The subtle sound of her heartbeat quickened in his ear as her mind went exactly where he wanted it to go but the noise was quickly drowned out with a laugh. “And what might those suggestions be?” she asked as she took a single step closer, keeping herself just out of his reach.

Astarion feigned interest in a non-existent speck of dirt beneath his fingernails, which only seemed to amuse Cas more. “Do I really have to spell it out for you, darling?” 

His eyes wandered over curves the towel scarcely kept hidden, from the swell of her breasts to the roundness of her hips. As much as he wanted to close the distance between them and tug the towel loose, he resisted. He was a gentleman after all. Well, that was a lie. But he could very well pretend to be enough of a gentleman that he would at least ask before ravishing her on the spot. “I’m suggesting that we kiss and make up.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” A smirk on her lips said she was intentionally being difficult, like she was waiting for him to just ask her outright. “Or are you more interested in the ‘kissing’ part?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “You’re cheeky, aren’t you?” he said as his gaze landed on her full lips. “If you aren’t interested—”

“— I never said I wasn’t interested,” Cas said as she stepped closer until they stood toe to toe, her chest brushing against his. “But I want to make sure you’re certain about it. Now that you know who I am—”

He didn’t bother to wait for the end of her sentence. Astarion cupped her face between his hands and covered her lips with his own by way of an answer. He was certain. In this situation, her being the Huntsman’s little sister mattered as much as him being Cazador’s spawn. Which was to say, not at all. For a few moments, they could both forget who they were and the situation they were in.

A sound of surprise came from deep in her throat as his tongue brushed against hers. Sweet peppermint coated his tongue as he stroked hers, and it might as well be his new favorite flavor. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt as his hands slipped to her waist. He pulled her body flush against his so she could feel the effect she had on him. His cock, already half hard at the sight of her, swelled and thickened between them. “I want to take this towel off,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. 

When he bit her earlobe, she made a sound that fueled something primal deep within him. Something that only understood need, want, and possession. Something that took the fire in his core and doused it in whiskey, making the flames burn even brighter. His fingers hooked into the towel impatiently, wanting and waiting. He would still play the gentleman, though he wanted to be  anything but being gentle.

Her hips pressed into the hardened length and he groaned at the moment of relief the pressure provided. Her movement was slow and deliberate. Taunting him, daring him to take what he wanted. Then her hand slipped between them as she palmed him through his trousers.

She unbuttoned the front of his pants and Astarion suddenly found it a little hard to breathe as her deft fingers ghosted over the inside of his briefs. It was the first time Cas had touched him like that: the first time she had gone for what she wanted rather than following his lead. A sense of familiar numbness mixed with excitement. It felt different than the countless others who had touched him. It wasn’t blind demand fueled by lust. She seemed to be focused on him as she wrapped her warm hand around his aching length.

She stroked him gently and a groan rumbled deep in his throat as he pressed himself into her palm. “You want this, don’t you?” His words were a sultry whisper against her ear. “You’ll have to ask nicely.”

Cas hummed in contemplation as she kissed down his neck. Carefully, she slipped his shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the grass behind him. 

Then she lowered herself to her knees.

“Love,” he said, caution sneaking into his tone. “What are you doing?”

Of course, he knew exactly what she was doing. He just didn’t know why she was doing it. What in the Hells was she playing at? He was supposed to be the one in her position, the one offering pleasure, but not the other way around.

Lustful, doe-like eyes gazed up at him as she traced her finger from base to tip. “I’m asking nicely.” She licked her lower lip and her eyes went back to the bulge just inches from her face. “Unless you’d rather I do something else with my mouth. It’s up to you.”

Some mechanism in his brain sputtered. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had made such an offer. Years. Maybe decades. Hells, she even left the choice up to him. She actually bothered to ask what he wanted in the first place and…. 

He could say ‘no.’

The realization sent a shockwave through him. For the first time in centuries, he could refuse someone.

Somehow, he knew she wouldn’t push it if he told her that he wasn’t interested. It would have been a lie, but just the knowledge that he could refuse her made him feel more powerful than he had in ages.

His heart picked up speed and his throat felt a little tight. “You’re sure?” he said, and mentally slapped himself. Gods, he was supposed to be seducing her! Not… whatever he was doing at that moment. 

What the Hells did this woman do to his brain? Sometimes, he swore she affected him more than the tadpole.

Part of him expected her to change her mind. After all, her own pleasure was the only thing she wanted, wasn’t it? That was all anyone ever wanted from him. If his needs ever got taken care of, well, it was usually just because he got lucky.

“Very,” she said and kissed him through his briefs. Then, with a playful tilt of her head, she added, “Please?”

Astarion ran his fingers through her still damp hair. “If you insist, darling.”

Easing down the waistband, a faint hint of redness colored her cheeks as she took in the sight of him. Fuck, he had been in Cas’s position hundreds of times that it felt almost wrong to have someone kneeling before him.

Cas looked up at him with eyes that were simultaneously so innocent and so mischievous. Slowly, she dragged her tongue along the underside of his shaft and his fingers tightened in her hair. Just that small touch made his whole body tense as heat rose to his cheeks.

“Let me know what you like,” she said before wrapping her lips around the head of his cock.

His jaw fell open as she took him into her mouth and every single thought he had vanished. Nothing registered except for the warm, slick, heaven surrounding him. For a moment, he just watched her. Her movements were slow and delicate, like she was savoring him. And he wasn’t sure if anyone had ever paid him attention the way she was. He couldn’t bring himself to look away even if he wanted to, mesmerized by her lips wrapped so beautifully around his cock.

“Fuck, Cas,” he hissed. His fist tightened in her hair as he eased his cock further into her mouth, guiding her into a deep, steady rhythm. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

Cas was a quick study, figuring out exactly what he liked with just the smallest direction. Shamelessly, his eyes locked onto the sight of her lush lips sliding up and down his cock, following her movements, unable to look away even if he wanted to. He groaned when she sucked him a little harder, and took him a little deeper until the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat.

Gods, he couldn’t remember the last time someone touching him felt… not terrible. Heat pooled in his gut as his hips bucked involuntarily. Fuck. If he didn’t stop her, it was going to be over before it ever really started.

“That’s enough, darling,” he said, his voice somewhere between a groan and a primal growl. With his fingers tangled in her hair, he eased her off of him before he came down her throat. With a wicked glint in her eye, her tongue lapped over the head of his cock once more and he bit back a moan.

Her hands settled on his hips as she gazed up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Waiting. Watching his reaction with parted lips.

She must have seen something in his face because then she breathlessly asked, “Do you want to stop?” The question almost made him want to laugh.

Astarion leaned down, putting his face close enough to hers that he could feel her breath across his lips. “That is the very last thing I want to do.”

His lips crashed against hers in a bruising kiss. It was like something ignited in him like a shot of whiskey tossed into an open flame, sudden and intense. Like the fire spread beyond his body, Cas inhaled deeply as her fingers sunk into his hair with unabashed passion. Astarion wasted no time pushing her down onto the grass. 

The towel Cas had wrapped around herself had loosened completely and began serving a much nobler purpose of keeping them off the grass. Mostly. It was an admittedly small towel, but it was better than nothing at all. 

Every instinct he had told him to plunge his cock inside her and fuck her until she couldn’t see straight. Once he removed the rest of his clothing, it took every bit of willpower he had not to do just that. Cradled between her thighs, his hard length prodded her entrance, teasing her as she arched to meet him, desperate and wanting. But he didn’t press into her just yet, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Normally, for him, sex was just about going through the motions. It was something that he had been forced to do for so long that he didn’t even have to really think about it. But Cas had completely thrown him off with a few words and a blow job. Gods, she had actually been willing to stop before she ever got her pleasure. She didn’t even seem to be upset by the prospect. All he had to do was say the word and… that was how it was supposed to be, wasn't it?

But after centuries of being denied even the most basic human decency, it felt like a godsdamned gift.

Astarion’s lips moved against hers, hot and eager, as he held his weight above her with his palms on either side of her head. He dragged his mouth down the column of her throat, over the lovely bruise on her neck, more interested in tasting the salt of her skin than the blood that pulsed beneath. His lips wandered to her collarbone, then her full, rounded breasts. Her dark nipples tightened to stiff peaks as his tongue flitted over the tips, one after the other. 

“You’re gorgeous, darling,” he said, his voice thick and unrecognizable and far too full of desire. He drew her into his mouth, sucking the most sensitive part of her breast until she was squirming beneath him.

A small gasp passed her pretty lips when his fingertips brushed over the heat between her thighs. “Already so wet for me,” he purred as his fingers delved into her.

The response was immediate. Her hips rocked to meet the movement of his fingers as he kissed between her breasts, his lips trailing down to her firm stomach, lower and lower. His thumb strummed over her clit in practiced motions as he kissed her mound and her inner thighs. Everywhere but where she wanted him. Even in the moonlight, he could see the red flush to her cheeks and the sighs that escaped her lips were like music to his ears. 

“Astarion,” she said, his name like the softest caress on her breath. Her fingers tunneled through his hair, blunt nails trailing over his scalp in a way that made his skin prickle with pleasure. Though he expected it, she did not pull or guide him to where she so obviously wanted him.

He glanced up at her and eyes met for a brief moment. A spark of electricity shot through him. Something more than lust, more than simple desire. It was too much. He closed his eyes, breaking the connection, and lowered his mouth between her legs. 

Cas’s breath hitched when the steady rhythm of his thumb on her clit was replaced by his tongue. Like she was fighting the urge to hold him there forever, her fingers tensed in his hair without pulling it. As he dragged his tongue through her folds, his fangs ached with the sudden urge to bite her. To taste all of her; blood and sex. He let his fangs graze over her without breaking the skin, sending a satisfying shiver through her.

Cas arched when he began to suck on her clit. His fingers curled within her, stroking her sweet spot in a way that had her hips lifting off the ground. He pressed his forearm over her hips, pinning her in place as he licked, sucked, and tasted her.

Her legs pressed around his ears, her thighs trembling as her walls tightened around his fingers. “I’m going to come,” she panted as he lapped at her swollen clit like he was trying to brand her with his tongue.

It was only another second before her whole body began to shake. Then all of Cas’s muscles went taut as she let out a choked moan, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she came undone. Astarion glanced up and was greeted with the sight of her flushed face and her hand clamped over her mouth as she tried to muffle herself.

Gods, was she beautiful. 

While Cas caught her breath, Astarion withdrew his fingers and pressed soft kisses to the inside of her thighs. He trailed kisses up the length of her body, his cock aching to be inside her.

His heavy length ground against her soft skin, desperate for any sort of relief and impatient for a response. The need he had to feel her around him, to fill her with all of him, was indescribable as it was instinctual. He spread her thighs with his knee and pressed himself against her, sighing as the slickness between her legs teased his cock, warm and welcoming.

“Tell me you want me, darling.” His lips brushed against her neck as he spoke.

“I want you.” Cas raised her hips in encouragement. “Please.”

Something primal rumbled in his throat as he notched his tip against her entrance. “I love hearing you say ‘please.’” He thrust into her with one deep, hard, steady plunge that buried him to the hilt. 

Her mouth fell open as her pussy clenched around him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as if trying to pull him even closer, deeper. “Gods, yes,” she said as she pressed her face into his neck, nipping his pale flesh as she rolled her hips against his.

Astarion went still as his breath shuddered, cock throbbing inside her and his hips pressed against hers. Though he had done this exact thing thousands of times, she felt so incredible. So warm and snug around his length as she pressed delicate kisses over his neck to his jaw. Then, with her hand on his cheek, she captured his mouth with hers.

For a moment, something like shame and trepidation flickered within him, before he kissed her back. There would be time to dwell on that later. It was different with Cas. Cas wasn’t a victim, or a target, or just another meal for Cazador.

She was… so good to him. She defended him, protected him. Though she was obviously attracted to him physically, it was clear that there was something more. There was something in the way she smiled and laughed with him. Something in the way she wanted to spend time with him, hear his thoughts, and was willing to stand her ground when they disagreed. 

For the first time in centuries, he might have an actual friend in Cas. A real connection. Usually he couldn’t wait for his sexual encounters to be over, but with Cas, he almost didn’t want it to end. 

Worst of all, he was still manipulating her.

He was using her the same way others had used him.

She was far too valuable, and he had to keep that in mind. His feelings on the matter be damned. He could push them aside, just like every other time they got in the way of what needed to be done.

“Is everything okay?” Cas asked, her voice thick with lust as her brown eyes watched him with a touch of concern.

With a rakish smile, he rocked his hips. “All of your nipping makes me want to bite you back.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily and grazed his fangs along her neck.

Before she could think to question him, he withdrew almost completely and slammed back into her. A pleasured cry tore from her lips as her blunt fingernails bit into his shoulder. Astarion gathered her in his arms and his hips gently rocked into her, the practiced movement putting steady pressure on her clit. Her walls fluttered around his cock, and every time he slid in deep her breath sighed out as she held him tight.

He couldn’t remember the last time sex had made him feel so connected to another person. So close and so vulnerable. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked a lover in the eye as he was inside them. It was as liberating as it was terrifying.

Cas’s hands roved over the contours of his body, from his shoulders to his ribs to the curve of his ass. Fingertips traced over the marred skin on his back like she couldn’t even feel the scars. No part of him went untouched. No tormented past, no uncertain future, just her body against his like nothing else in the world mattered except their pleasure.

It wasn’t long before she was quaking, her eyes shut tight as she took every last inch of him. With a soft cry, she was coming again, biting into his shoulder to stifle herself. Fire spread across his skin as he picked up the pace. Sweat clung to their bodies as he found a steady rhythm. Just two people at the utter mercy of each other’s touches and her moans were like the sweetest harmony to his ears. 

His eyes roved over her parted lips, her flushed cheeks, and the way her breasts bounced as he rammed into her over and over again. A sight just for him, and he wanted it branded in his memory. His movements became uncoordinated and reckless, immersed entirely in the feel of her. With each thrust, the fire pooling low in his abdomen grew stronger, wilder, until it burst into an inferno. He followed her over the edge, spending himself deep inside her as flames ignited him from within.

When Astarion slumped over her, Cas wrapped herself around him tight like she needed him close. Her heartbeat pounded in his ears as they both caught their breath. A comfortable, satiated, silence fell between them, the sounds of night and the rush of the nearby stream grounding them back to reality. 

Astarion rolled them onto their sides. Cas curled into him, her arm draped across his middle as his fingers traced along her spine. His mind eerily blank, he smoothed her still damp hair with the palm of his hand as they listened to cricket song.

It was peaceful. Calm. He just wanted to hold her for a bit longer. To feel the heat of her skin against his as they laid together without doing anything more at all. To just be.

But it was far too soon to be getting sentimental. 

At the end of the day, it was still about protection. And repayment for everything she had done for him. It would have been foolish to wish for anything more. 

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?”

“Do you really need to ask?” She raised a brow at him, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her attempt at sass. As if she was suddenly shy, Cas buried her face into his chest and said, “I think I left a love bite.”

An unexpected bark of laughter passed his lips. “It’s not like I haven’t done the same to you, darling.” 

She traced a splotch of red skin on his shoulder with quiet fascination. “You’ll be able to cover it pretty easily,” she mused as she pressed a kiss to the mark.

“You didn’t cover yours.” Astarion’s fingertips brushed over the fading bruise surrounding the two puncture wounds on her neck that no one else could claim. “Though, I do think it’s only fair that I return the favor,” he said as his mouth found the junction between her neck and her collarbone and inhaled her scent: lavender mixed with the salty scent of sweat. A mischievous grin grew on his lips as he gently nibbled her soft skin. Not hard enough to leave another bruise, but just to make a point. 

Cas pushed herself away from him with a laugh. “Don’t you dare,” she said and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory it brought to mind. The one of the night where she so generously allowed him to drink her blood and he tried to go in for seconds. She had laughed and pushed him away then, with the same words on her lips.

They fell into easy conversation as they cleaned up and dressed. When Cas offered to fix his mussed-up hair, she did so with an uncertain smile, her eyes darting to his lips every few seconds. Unsure if she was being too forward, or being too tender, for whatever their relationship was. He soothed her worries with a kiss.

It wasn’t often he had that simple luxury. That he got to spend some time with someone after he had slept with them. Usually they left because they had been satisfied or because Cazador had taken them. Either way, his job was done once the clothes came back on.

He didn’t know what his relationship with Cas was. Or how sex might change it. But he knew one thing for certain: he didn’t hate it.

If anything, he wanted more.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[bg3ficreviews]

'Too Many Burdens to Bear' - #BG3 FanFic Review

Re-posted with the permission of the review author, @mishtress.

Friends, I bring you a review of a fanfic that I hold very close to my heart, and written by a very dear friend.

Too Many Burdens to Bear is an in-depth, insightful exploration of what it means to be a survivor of sexual violence and trauma. In it, @autistichalsin explores the toll that profound, untreated trauma can have on not just the psyche of a survivor, but also those who love them most. The story is centred around Halsin Silverbough, the once Archdruid of the Emerald Grove, and his lover and partner Kiaran, himself a victim of profound trauma as a result of his Bhaalspawn lineage, in a post-canon setting.

Burdens is a difficult, heavy read, and not for the faint of heart. That said, the way the author has navigated the deep complexities of trauma - not just for Halsin, but Kiaran as well - is a masterwork that few writers will ever achieve in their lifetime. I review books professionally as a journalist. I have studied works like JM Coetzee's award-winning novel Disgrace at length in an academic, university setting for a number of years. Coetzee won a number of awards for Disgrace, which also explores sexual violence. And yet, Coetzee's work cannot begin to even hope to compare to the nuanced, trauma-sensitive and profoundly compassionate narrative and story that autistichalsin had embarked upon in Burdens.

Shame is a prominent theme in Burdens as Kiaran tries to help Halsin overcome his profound sense of shame after his years held in captivity as a sex slave in the Underdark. Halsin's traumatic experiences are triggered after a horrifying encounter with someone from his past, and his anger, fear, and self-isolation in response threatens to destroy the couple. And yet, their love for one another and mutual trust perseveres through Halsin's pain as the couple try to find a way to help the former Archdruid find healing after centuries of repressing the most traumatic moments of his life.

Autistichalsin deftly, carefully, and compassionately explores the deep wounds that remain after sexual assault, with a particular focus on how such trauma can alter how survivors relate to sex, love, and romantic partners.

I have never, ever, in my entire life, read any work that so expertly navigates sexual violence, trauma, and the profound difficulties survivors must face on the path to healing, and particularly in relation to reclaiming their sexual agency. I have never before read a work that so insightfully examines the impact trauma can have on the mind of survivors, and how thoroughly and completely sexual violence can fuck up the way we think about ourselves and the world around us. I have worked in and researched the trauma field for a very, very long time (both academically, and in trying to understand my own experiences of sexual violence). There is not a single line, turn of phrase, or description of Halsin and Kiaran's experience that I could not somehow relate to or that I have not heard other survivors express over my many years - spanning more than a decade - working in this field.

This work deserves to be classed among the world's leading fiction that explores the vastly underrepresented field of recovery from sexual violence and how survivors strive to find healing and joy in sex after the most brutal and intimate of violations. As a rape and abuse survivor myself, I have found hope and healing in Burdens and the beautiful, loving and heartfelt relationship between Halsin and Kiaran. I hope other survivors find the same comfort that I have with this truly wonderful work.

As always, mind the tags on AO3, as Burdens includes heavy themes as well as NSFW elements. You can find Burdens here, and it is an ongoing work. I have included a snippet below the fold, and a picture of the husbear taken by @druidicwhisper.

Chapter 1

Halsin was hurting.

Kiaran wasn’t sure why- wasn’t sure what had happened. And he wasn’t sure how, or even if he could help. But the past few weeks, it had become glaringly clear that something was wrong. The elf loved to talk, and yet he had been so quiet, even when surrounded by the commune’s orphans. Even at night, when telling them their bedtime stories, he opted to read from a book instead of telling one of his own tales. And his voice was so distant while doing so, too, like he was going through the motions of reading while his mind was elsewhere.

If it was just that, Kiaran might have thought Halsin simply had a lot on his mind in this transitional time in their lives. They hadn’t been at their commune for too long, after all, and surely Halsin was thinking of many heavy things as they reclaimed the land that had spent the past century covered in shadow. But Halsin was distant from Kiaran, just as he was with the others: deliberately so. Kiaran could tell it was deliberate, for Halsin pulled away almost half the time Kiaran reached for him now. Even at night, in his meditations, Halsin would jolt when touched and then proceed to find somewhere else to rest, with a mumbled apology and a promise to find him later.

No, something else was clearly the matter, and Kiaran didn’t know what, nor did he know how to ask Halsin. True to form, his kind and supportive partner was all but unable to ask for help, no matter how much he needed it, and that went doubly so when those troubles were of the emotional sort. Halsin had admitted once to having gone for so long without confidantes thanks to the Shadow Curse that he was still adjusting to the idea it was possible for someone to care about his troubles.

Kiaran kept wracking his mind for an event that might have triggered such a reaction, but nothing came to him. Their lives had been blessedly quiet since arriving at the commune; their greatest worries were in blending the multiple cultures their members came from, in maintaining their food stores properly, and other such mundane issues. No longer were they balancing the world’s fate on their shoulders, or fighting to break a Shadow Curse, or doing anything that resembled the other traumas Halsin had fought against in his long life.

Unless…

Kiaran frowned suddenly. Could that be it? Maybe Halsin was so used to living one crisis after another that he was unprepared for true peace. Maybe his mind was still experiencing the tumult, even removed from the situation. After all, it wasn’t like the last century had been conducive to healing, and the idyllic calm would give his mind plenty of time to wander to those deep wounds that had never healed, only half-scabbed over.

Kiaran watched Halsin, currently in bear form, curl in on himself in the corner of their hand-built treehouse. It was only a theory, but it was the best lead he had, really. If it turned out to be something else, Kiaran might never figure out what it was unless Halsin volunteered the information himself, and that seemed highly unlikely, if Halsin hadn’t said anything already.

There was no way to find out but by talking to him, Kiaran supposed. He sighed and wandered over to Halsin’s spot, sitting next to the wildshaped cave bear and petting his fur. “Hello, love. Can we talk?” he asked softly. “I… won’t beat around the bush here, sweetheart. I’m worried about you. Very worried.”

Continued on AO3 here.

#halsin silverbough #halsin #bg3 fanfic review #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 1

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: Grappling with changes that came along with his newfound freedom, Astarion unexpectedly catches feelings for a socially awkward, yet incredibly sweet, ranger from Neverwinter. Astarion doesn’t want to put a name to those feelings. Doesn’t want an attachment that could be ripped away at a moments notice. But damn, does Cas makes his conviction to remain unattached, to use her as a tool, seem impossible.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 4.5k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of past trauma, manipulation, alcohol use, vampire typical blood drinking.

Fear had a way of leaving scars on the mind like blows left bruises and cuts on the skin. No amount of wine could wash away his nightmare, but that did not stop Astarion from trying.

Crickets chirped into the crisp night air and the occasional frog croaked somewhere deep in the dense foliage bordering the nearby river. Even if running water once burned his skin like acid, Astarion hoped the sounds of the gentle river and creatures of the night would lull him back into some sense of calm. Those failing, however, he could at least count on the alcohol content of the shitty wine he swiped from the Druid’s grove. 

It was better than nothing. 

Astarion let the glass bottle dangle between his fingers as he leaned against the mossy base of an old tree. Between its sparse leaves, the light from the stars and moon dotted the grass beneath his feet with silver slivers. A beautiful night, under any other circumstance. 

As it was, between the nightmare and the novelty of sleeping in the woods, Astarion felt like someone or something was lurking in every shadow, waiting for the right moment to strike. Despite most of his companions sleeping meters away, and another patrolling the area on the lookout for such threats, Astarion had tucked a dagger into his belt before he snuck off alone.

In the days since they escaped the mind flayer ship, Astarion had volunteered to keep watch at night. Brain worm or not, Astarion still needed to hunt. Even if everyone in his vicinity was on the cusp of becoming monsters themselves, he still couldn’t trust them with the knowledge of his affliction. Most didn’t seem to suspect a thing. Even if they did, walking in sunlight kept that suspicion from turning into an accusation.

What would Cazador do to him when he learned Astarion could walk in the sun, and he couldn’t? Astarion took a swig of wine and grimaced. 

Cazador would probably just kill him. 

Being able to walk in the sun would be completely unacceptable to his master. No. His ex-master. Astarion let the wine linger on his tongue for a moment. 

Was Cazador still his master? Did he still have complete and utter control over him? The illithid tadpole had changed so many things. So many of the rules that all vampires had to abide by, no matter how powerful they became. Were Cazador’s commandments among them?

There was nothing stopping Astarion from finding out. The first rule was by far the easiest one to test. Thou shalt not drink from thinking creatures. Four such creatures laid in the bedrolls, helpless in their sleep, curled up by the campfire. The fifth… who knew where the hells Cas went. Supposedly, she was keeping watch, but Astarion had not seen a glimpse of her in the half an hour he’d been up. 

From the little he knew about Cas, she seemed to be the responsible sort. So either something terrible happened or she was just lurking nearby with her nose buried in that journal she always seems to be writing in. Cas had explained it was a field journal. Astarion saw a drawing of a leaf on one page so he assumed it was all nature related, but he did not care enough to confirm.

Closing his eyes, the sounds of nature served as a soothing background to the thoughts trampling through his mind. Would it be worth the risk? To try to bite one of his companions? No. He should just wait until… he had an opportunity that might never come. Something stirred in his stomach, a mixture of fear and anxiety that made him want to get up and do something. Clearly just ruminating on his problems only made them grow.

“Astarion?”

Astarion started, eyes flying open while his hand gripped the hand of the dagger that was tucked into his belt. Embarrassment flooded his face from his cheeks to the tips of his ears when his eyes landed on someone who was very much not a threat. At least, not at the moment.  He was so in his head that for a split second he thought it was Cazador. Not that Cazador sounded at all like that or would speak to him so gently. 

It was just Cas.

Although Cas wore the same leather and hides she did in battle, she clearly was not expecting a fight. For one, her brown hair fell a few inches past her shoulders instead of tied back in a ponytail and her beige coat made from some animal’s hide was tied around her narrow waist, leaving her upper half completely unarmored and vulnerable.

Cas crossed her bow-toned arms, her expression utterly unreadable except for the smallest hint of amusement on her lips. “This is the second time you’ve pulled a knife on me, Astarion,” she said, as if she was admonishing a child for staying up past bedtime. “Is there something we need to talk about? Anything you want to get off your chest?”

Astarion exhaled, tension flowing out of him with the breath. “Terribly sorry,” he said with an apologetic grin. “I wasn’t expecting to see your lovely face at this time of night. You never know what could be lurking in the shadows.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, dismissing his second attempt on her life just as easily as she did the first time. “I didn’t mean to creep up on you.”

Astarion chuckled despite himself and pulled his hand from the hilt of his dagger. “Apology accepted, my dear.”

Cas adjusted her bow over her shoulder and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes following the blinking fireflies that permeated the night sky. Silence fell between them and somewhere near the river a frog croaked over the chirping crickets like a crier over a crowd, but Cas seemed unbothered by the sudden lapse in conversation that Astarion found uncomfortable at best. Unfortunately, Cas could not hold a conversation nearly as well as she could hold a knife or a bow. 

Astarion sat up and cleared his throat. “Did you need something? Or are you just going to stand there like foliage?”

Brown eyes flickered to him. “You should be resting for tomorrow,” she said. “What are you doing up?” 

“I’ve gotten my rest for the evening,” Astarion lied easily. There was no way he was going to share his nightmare with her. Even though she did seem to be the trustworthy sort, Astarion did not want to involve her in his business if he didn’t have to. “Besides, I got a feeling you might need some help keeping watch. You’ve been doing a piss-poor job considering you’ve been missing for the last half an hour.” 

Cas rolled her eyes. “I was checking the fish traps, if you must know,” she said. “With the pemmican I made yesterday, we should have enough food to last a while if we don’t care for variety. But eating the same thing day after day can get tiresome.” 

“True,” Astarion said and tried not to think about the thousands upon thousands of rats and bugs Cazador forced upon him. 

For the first time in two hundred years, he could actually pick what he wanted to eat. The wilderness provided an endless array of entrees to choose from: deer, boars, bears, whatever he wanted really. Maybe, just maybe, even the wood elf standing right in front of him was fair game. Maybe when she turned in for the night, he could….

No. Even entertaining the thought could spell trouble, given the brain worms and their unpredictable tendency to link minds when he least expected it. The last thing he needed was to be chased out of the only group of people that might be able to help him. 

Yet, the thought persisted. Out of everyone in their rag-tag party, Cas seemed the least likely to murder him on the spot. Especially given how she so willingly accepted a Gith into their little group. Surely a vampire was not as bad as a Gith, right?

He needed to hunt. It had been almost a day since his last meal and, although he was used to being hungry, it was still something he’d rather avoid. Going out into the forest was another thing he’d rather avoid given his nightmare. Cazador could have lackeys lurking anywhere, ready to kill him or worse. Between the Gith and the famed Blade of Frontiers, they might think twice before tangling with his new companions. Even Cas, a backwoods ranger from Neverwinter, was a force to be reckoned with.

“Would you care for some company?” asked Cas as she shoved her hands in her pockets, trying much too hard to pretend she didn’t care about his answer.

Astarion raised his brows but gave her a flirtatious smile, inviting her to join him. “What kind of company are you offering, darling?”

“The quiet kind that won’t wake up the whole camp,” she said and settled into the grass next to him, close enough that he could feel her warmth. 

Personal space, he realized early on, was not something Cas was great at. When they had been at the Emerald Grove, Nettie had all but told Cas to stop breathing down her neck while she dug up notes on the tadpole from Archdruid Halsin. Astarion did not take the proximity personally. It was just how she was and, in that moment, he was fine with that. 

“A pity,” Astarion said with a wry grin. “We could always ask them to join us.”

Cas snorted softly and shook her head. “I would rather we didn’t, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Not fond of our companions, are you?”

She shrugged. “I like them when they aren’t talking to me like I’m an idiot.”

“Ah, so not at all then,” Astarion replied lightly. 

Cas did have a point. The Gith talked down to everyone, which was to be expected from her people and her way of life, but the others did not have such a strong excuse. While Gale was polite, he tended to talk to Cas as if she were a child. Shadowheart also acted like Cas was burdened with some inexplicable naïveté about how the world worked. Lucky for him, their companions had set the bar for common decency so low Astarion tiptoed over it without even noticing.

Well, he and Wyll. But Wyll seemed far too focused on finding a devil called Karlach to pay Cas much mind. 

Clearly not wanting to gossip too much about their companions, Cas changed the subject and they fell into easy conversation. Oddly enough, chatting with Cas felt almost natural. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t some unlucky soul he was seducing to bring back to Cazador. Or one of his siblings who would have pounced on the opportunity to stab him in the back. Not that Astarion could trust Cas, but she was pleasant enough that he could at least try to enjoy himself.

For a few precious moments, Astarion even forgot about his nightmare. But it crept back all too soon, like little tendrils of smoke that grew until it completely clouded his mind. 

It wasn’t like Cazador could let him have anything nice. Not even a moment. 

Cas seemed like the type that would have delighted Cazador. Exactly the type Astarion would have targeted whilst prowling the taverns and inns of Baldur’s Gate to bring back for him. Attractive, young, and stupidly trusting. It would have been all too easy to lure Cas back to the palace. Just some wine and a few kisses, he would touch her just right and make her want more, then he would walk her through doors that she would never walk out of again.

Cazador would get a lovely meal and Astarion would be left with nothing but hollow numbness.

But it didn’t have to be that way anymore, did it?

Regret started gnawing at the back of his mind as Astarion noticed a vein on her wrist. He never should have asked for her to stay. Not a slight on her company, of course. He was just too hungry to think straight. 

Were she not the most valuable ally he had in recent memory, he’d have half a mind to pin her down and sink his fangs into her skin. Maybe she would fight him, maybe she would submit. He had never bitten someone smart enough to truly fight back, so he had no idea what to expect.

Astarion swallowed and stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. Just not at her. Not at the lovely veins on her wrists and necks. Trying to focus on only the sounds of crickets contested against the metronome of her pulse. 

He should really leave before he did something stupid. If he even could do something stupid with Cazador’s commandments still ringing in his ears. If he tried to take a bite, could he—

“I’ve been thinking a bit about the other night.” Cas brought her knees up to her chest, snapping him from his thoughts. “When you said you didn’t want me to run off when all of this is over.”

“What about it?” He had forgotten that entire conversation until she mentioned it. It was adorable that she remembered.

“What would you want to do?”

“You know, I hadn’t thought that far.” He hadn’t thought about it at all, truthfully. “Like I said before, you’re an incredible ally. It would be a shame just to go on our merry way once the brain bug is gone. But when it comes to what to do—” Astarion gave her a suggestive smile and lowered his voice “—I can think of a few things.”

Cas rolled her eyes as if she were painfully aware of his attempt to steer the conversation in another direction. “Don’t you have loved ones back in the city? A life you want to get back to?”

“Not one I want to return to, no,” Astarion replied and averted his eyes to the forgotten bottle of wine dangling between his fingers. Though the mind flayers inadvertently allowed him to flirt with freedom, at the end of the day he was still bound to Cazador. The last two hundred years had been focused around that bastard up until a couple days ago. The mere thought of returning was enough to make his throat feel tight. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“I wasn’t going to pry,” said Cas as she bumped his shoulder good-naturedly. “Put that face away before you wear it out.”

His brows drew together. “What face?”

“The one with sad puppy eyes.” 

“I don’t make ‘puppy eyes,’” Astarion rebuffed, only slightly offended by the accusation. Not that he had seen his eyes in two hundred years, but vampires were better known for piercing, blood-chilling, glares than sweet ‘puppy eyes’. Astarion scoffed at the sheer audacity of the statement. 

“You do too,” she said with a soft giggle. “Even though they’re red like a vampire’s, they’re surprisingly effective.”

His stomach sank. Surely she didn’t mean anything by the comparison, right? No need for the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end, though they did anyway.

Astarion forced a smile as he passed her the bottle of wine. “That’s an oddly specific description, darling.”

“If the shoe fits.” Cas smiled back and tapped her dainty white canine teeth to emphasize that his eyes were not the only things she noticed. “I think they’re very pretty, by the way. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“None taken.” Astarion idly tore at the blades of grass beside him and tried to quiet his nerves. “Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if I was a vampire?”

“You specifically?”

“Humor me.”

Cas stretched her long legs out in front of her and leaned back on her palms, chewing her lip as she took her dear sweet time mulling over her answer. Several long seconds passed. That croning frog started up again, and Astarion briefly considered adding the nuisance to the menu that evening.

“Nothing,” she said finally and took a swig directly from the bottle. “Why would I do anything?”

“Really?” He turned to face her, his eyes wide (and definitely not ‘puppyish’). “You’re confronted with a monster who wants nothing more than to drink your blood, and you wouldn’t want to ram a stake through my heart?”

“Well, I’m assuming you’re not trying to murder me,” she said. “Obviously I would defend myself if you were. But if you’re not trying to murder me, and you happened to be a vampire, why would I do anything at all? It’s not like our situation has changed.”

“Except it has, sweetheart.” Astarion wrapped his fingers lightly around her wrist, his thumb brushing over her pulse, feeling it beat against his skin. “Because if I were a vampire, I would need a source of blood to stay strong.”

Cas looked down at where his ivory skin practically glowed against her rich copper flesh but made no move to pull away. “Plenty of bandits and animals out there,” she said, her voice nonchalant even as he heard her heartbeat quicken. “You’d be doing us a favor.”

“But what if I wanted something a little closer to camp?” Astarion traced his thumb over the dark blue veins of her inner wrist. Her pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the noises of the night. His mouth almost watered just from the gentle throb of her pulse beneath his fingers. 

“I’m not sure how accepting our companions would be,” Cas said, talking as if they are merely picking a spot to have dinner with no regard to what was on the menu.

“And what about you?”

Deep brown eyes locked onto his, both curious and maybe a little hesitant. “Is this still hypothetical or is this a confession?”

“A confession, darling,” he said with a breath of laughter, like she should have known the conversation was never hypothetical to begin with. “What do you say? It won’t hurt, I promise.” His eyes dropped to her slender neck. “Please.”

Her chest rose with a deep and steady breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. “I’m not worried about it hurting.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s risky,” she said. “And I’m not too keen on dying, either by turning into a vampire or by exsanguination. Or having to fight you off of me. I know my limits and you’ll probably win if it comes to that.”

“I’m merely a spawn, so I can’t turn you. As for your other concerns—” he brushed a loose strand of hair away from her neck, eyeing a dark vein crawling towards her pointed ear “— I’ll be careful. If I go too far, I’m sure you’ll figure out something.”

A flicker of a memory passed through his mind accompanied by a needle like prick to his brain as the worm connected their thoughts. For an instant, he saw through Cas’s eyes: a warm, wooden, candlelit washroom with a porcelain wash basin below a rustic mirror framed with tree branches. A handsome male wood elf stooped over the basin. With a blood soaked towel pressed against his neck, his expression was utterly calm in the mirror as he said something muffled by the memory. Astarion couldn’t be sure, but he swore he heard the word ‘mistake’ in the elven tongue. When he dunked the towel into the basin, four deep puncture wounds marred the side of his neck and dragged towards the front of his throat. Blood trickled down the basin and so did the memory, fading into anger, fear, and a strange sense of admiration.

Astarion blinked away the vision and his eyes fell to her neck. To the same spot where the wood elf from memory was bitten. Just below the jawline. 

If the worm showed any of his memories to Cas in return, she did not acknowledge it. Maybe, in some cases, the connection could be one sided. There was still so much they didn’t know about the beasts nestled in their heads, but it had only helped them so far. Astarion in particular. It wanted him alive, and it wanted him to see that particular memory. Astarion did not know what it meant, nor did he think it was a good time to ask. Not when he felt so close to something so forbidden.

“I think if you want to have your fangs at my throat,” Cas began slowly and produced a dagger from a holster latched around her thigh, “then it’s only fair I can hold this to yours. For insurance.”

Astarion eyed the white metal blade he had seen cut through goblins like butter. “That won’t be necessary, my dear,” he said with a forced smile that he hoped was reassuring. “I’m not some monster. I won’t go too far, I promise.”

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem,” she said. “Up to you.”

Astarion gave an exasperated sigh. It was too good of an opportunity and he would have been a fool to pass it up. “Fine,” he said as if she suggested he wash dishes or some other mundane chore. “Come here. Let’s make ourselves comfortable.”

After a short, albeit awkward, conversation, they figured that it would be easiest for Cas to sit on his lap facing him. With her knees dug into the earth on either side of his hips and the side of her face pressed against his cheek, any onlooker would think they were a couple of lovers having a midnight rendezvous.

Though her dagger did not touch his skin, he could feel its presence like a pair of eyes watching from the darkness. Astarion wrapped one arm around her waist and brought his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her hair aside like a silken curtain. He dipped his head and the tip of his nose traced the column of her neck as he inhaled her scents. The salt of her skin mixed with campfire smoke caught in her leathers barely masked the rich aroma of her blood. Saliva pooled in his mouth in anticipation of the decadence beneath her skin.

“Remember, not too much,” she cautioned, her voice low. “I don’t want to be woozy tomorrow.”

He did not dare to move. Not when he was so close. “You can trust me, darling,” he said, his lips hot against her neck as if the ghost of a kiss would soothe her. 

His heart raced and a chill crept up his spine. What if he couldn’t do it? What if Cazador’s commandments still had a hold over him? He opened his mouth and let the tips of his fangs graze her delicate skin. 

Only one way to find out.

Muscles tightened beneath his fingers and Cas gasped in his ear. Blood, the most amazing blood he had ever tasted, filled his mouth and trickled down his throat. 

Warmth blossomed through him, starting at his stomach and reaching his fingertips. His arms wrapped around her small frame tighter, holding onto her like a moment about to fade away. The blood was decadent. Savory. Like the most perfectly cooked steak in the fanciest restaurant in town or a vintage wine a lord would serve his guests on a special occasion. In comparison, an animal’s blood was like boiled rice and watered down beer. No wonder Cazador forbade it: it was just another way to deprive his slaves of any semblance of joy the world had to offer.

Gods. It was wonderful. Incredible, even. The blood still flowed from his bite mark on her neck, but he already found himself wanting to sink his fangs into her again. And again. And again.

“Astarion.” He felt the vibrations of her voice when she spoke, quiet yet commanding. “That’s enough.”

He wanted to pretend he didn’t hear her, but the cold metal against his neck quickly changed his mind. He dragged his tongue across the fresh wound, lapping up the blood with the efficiency of a cat before he withdrew from her. 

“That was amazing,” he marveled as he licked the last of the blood from his lips.

Cas stumbled off of him, legs shaking and face pale as she sank into the grass beside him. She pulled her bag into her lap, retrieved a clean rag and pressed it against her neck. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, and it almost looked like she was going to be sick, which would have completely spoiled the moment.

After a few seconds, Cas asked him to open the water bottle that was in her bag since both of her hands were currently occupied. One kept her from slumping into the grass while the other was red with blood that seeped through the rag.

She splashed a fresh towel with the water and wiped at her neck. “Water can’t take the place of a healing salve, but at least it can wash away some of the anticoagulant in your saliva.” She tried to laugh but it came out more of a pant. “As if nature didn’t make vampires deadly enough.” 

Astarion must have made a face because a weak smile tugged at her lips. ‘Anticoagulant’ was not the most appealing word to hear after the best meal of his life. However, it seemed she knew what she was talking about. The first rag, once a beige color, had already turned a deep red. However, Astarion was too caught up in the exhilaration of drinking the blood of his first thinking creature to dwell much on it. 

Exsanguination be damned, he could not remember the last time he felt so strong. So happy.

Cas scooted back until she could lean against the tree. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as she closed her eyes. 

Something stirred within him, deep and primal, and he found himself leaning over her. The scent of her blood was still so strong, captured in that rag she pressed to her neck. Before he could get any closer, he felt a firm push against his chest.

“Don’t you dare,” Cas said, but without any malice behind her words. Like a playful warning, knowing what he wanted to do yet believing he would not actually do it. 

Oh how wrong she was.

Lucky for her, she still had her uses.

Astarion put some distance between them despite his every instinct urging him to keep feeding. He cleared his throat. “As delicious as you are darling, I should probably find something more filling,” he said. Then, just to be polite towards his most gracious donor, he added, “Do you need anything before I set off?”

Cas shook her head. She pulled the towel away and dabbed at her neck with two fingers, winced, and replaced the rag. “I’ll feel better once I eat,” she said and began to shift through her bag with her free hand. “You probably will too. Happy hunting, Astarion.”

For some reason, the words made him feel warm inside. Or maybe it was just the blood. In any case, he found himself smiling at her. “This was a gift, you know. I won’t forget it,” he said and stalked off into the forest, his nightmare long behind him.

---

Next Chapter

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 13

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: After Astarion and Cas's tryst in the woods, they have a much needed conversation about their relationship.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.8k

Chapter Tags: Fluff, admitting feelings, cuddling, hand holding, she's wearing his shirt.

“Do you have any interest in astronomy?” Cas lounged beside him on the blankets and bedroll she had laid over grass beneath them, gazing up at the starlit sky.

After their tryst in the forest, Astarion had carried her all the way back to their private, makeshift campsite on the border of the river. Crickets and frogs mixed with the gentle rush of water as fireflies blinked wherever he looked. Though it was well past midnight, the summer air was still warm. Warm enough that Cas felt comfortable laying around in her panties and his shirt without making use of one of the blankets.

His shirt was far too big on her, but he couldn’t help but stare. He didn’t normally wear a shirt when he rested, so he didn’t mind the theft. In fact, he kind of liked seeing her wearing something of his. Cas claimed she wanted it because it looked comfortable, but he had a feeling it was more than that.

It almost felt like she was claiming him, in a small, private, way. Just like he had claimed her with his bite mark, she claimed him by wearing his clothes. But it was more subtle than the bite. Less permanent. While those twin puncture wounds on her neck aggressively marked her as his, she quietly marked him in return. Cas knew him well enough to know he would never allow her to mark him physically. But the fact he was allowing her to wear his clothes at all…. It was something. Something difficult to explain.

Just like his feelings towards her. Difficult, confusing, and often contradictory. It was like everything about her, about their relationship, ran perpendicular to what he knew. The lifetime of cruelty Cazador had drilled into him insisted that none of it was real. That he didn’t deserve her or the moments of peace she gave him.

But there Cas was. Laying beside him with her dark eyes glittering with the reflection of a million stars. Gorgeous and understanding to a fault, but all his. At least for tonight.

He didn’t dare think beyond that.

“Eroc tried to teach me some constellations once upon a time,” she continued, completely unaware of all the thoughts coursing through his mind. She drew an invisible line with her finger as if to paint an image in the stars. “I can recognize them, but I can never remember their names.”

Astarion hummed, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t because he found the conversation boring. In fact, he typically enjoyed talking about everything and nothing with Cas. But he felt like there was something they should have been doing other than talking.

Hells, she was practically laid before him like a gift that was already partially unwrapped. Long, slender, legs bare beside him and the v of his shirt revealing the soft curve of her breasts. He could have her so easily. Any way he wanted her. That was what they were supposed to be doing, right? Wasn’t the point of the entire night to get lost in one another? To have fun?

They hadn’t promised anything else. All he knew was that she wanted him enough to look past his mistakes. But he couldn’t fathom why.

Briefly, he wondered if Cas would have suggested the hunting idea if he was anyone else. If he wasn’t a vampire. Hunting her, biting her…. Was he fulfilling some deranged fantasy of hers?

No. Cas wasn’t like that. They had talked a little bit about her research, and that research seemed to be the extent of her interest in vampires. At least, vampires in general. From what he knew, her friend Eroc was working on various treatments and quality-of-life improvements for those cursed with the affliction. Most likely for his own sake rather than for the benefit of vampires everywhere. However, Astarion never bothered to ask for details. It seemed pointless at the time.

But now? Now he wanted to know everything that was going through Cas’s head. What did she really think of him? Why did she still want him, even after what happened with the drow? Did she mean all of the things she said?

‘You’re clever and funny and you’re one of my favorite people to talk to.’

‘Whatever you’re doing with me — this whole sneaking kisses in the middle of the night — doesn’t need to happen for me to help you.’

‘Thank you for being my friend and making me laugh.’

Then there was the portrait she made for him. It was the most wonderful gift someone had ever given him. She had put thought and time into it, and wrapped it up and left it as a surprise for him. He certainly didn’t deserve such kindness. Not from her and definitely not at that moment.

He didn’t deserve someone like Cas.

Instead of looking at the stars, he tilted his head toward her. She was the prettier sight, after all. And the gods knew she shined just as bright. She seemed so relaxed. Content. Like she wasn’t expecting anything more than exactly what they were doing.

Fuck….

He was falling for her, wasn’t he? Oh, who the hells was he kidding? He had started falling for her the night she let him bite her. Or maybe the night when she brought him a bottle of wine. Maybe when he watched her draw while they were keeping watch in the swamp or when they discussed the changeling detective novel. Moments of where she didn’t gain anything from him except his company.

Hells, Cas had given him her blood just because he had asked. Without any expectations or asking for something in return. Just because she had wanted him to be strong. To be happy.

Strangely enough, Astarion found himself wanting her happiness as well. Not just his own. And he wanted to be the one who brought a smile to her face.

But that could never happen. Not while Cazador loomed over Astarion’s shoulder like a headsman with an ax. If Cazador ever regained control over him, if he ever found out about Cas…. Astarion would have to bring her to his old master, wouldn’t he? With a snap of his fingers, Cazador could turn Astarion from Cas’s lover to her tormentor. Or her executioner.

He couldn’t bear the thought.

“Astarion, are you okay?” Cas’s soft-spoken question snapped him out of his thoughts. A cute little frown tugged at the corners of her lips and he wanted to kiss it away. She turned onto her side, propping her chin on her palm as she gazed down at him, eyes full of concern. “You’ve gone quiet.”

“Just thinking, sweetheart,” he assured with a practiced smile. Force of habit, he realized. He gave false assurances all the time when he was luring people, but he didn’t want to deceive Cas. Yet, he wasn’t quite sure how to tell her what was on his mind. Or if he even should.

Her brow drew together slightly, but her frown didn’t fade. “About?”

It was supposed to be a fun night. He couldn’t let himself ruin it because he couldn’t get out of his own head for a few hours.

Astarion brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, letting his fingertips ghost over her soft skin. “About how beautiful you are and how lucky I am to have met you,” he tried, his false smile still firmly in place even though his words were technically true. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

A puff of laughter passed her lips as she rolled her eyes. “Now tell me what you’re really thinking about.”

Instead of replying right away, he caressed the side of her face and guided her lips to his. For a second, she held back, simply letting him kiss her. But then she relented. He rolled her onto her back and caged her beneath him, kissing her slowly. Giving himself a few more seconds to think.

Hells, he wasn’t even sure how to define his relationship with Cas. Beyond the fact that they both seemed to enjoy each other's company both in and out of the bedroom. What if she just wanted a fling? What if he was simply thinking too much about it because… she was special to him? Maybe it was time to admit that he wanted more. Though he wasn’t sure what “more” entailed.

But their relationship still seemed so fragile. It wasn’t but a few hours ago that he had convinced himself that Cas wanted to end their love affair. But they never really talked about what they wanted. All he knew was they wanted each other.

A warm, gentle, hand pressed against his chest until he broke the kiss. Once he did, Cas immediately cupped his face in her hands as if to stop him from trying the same tactic twice. “You’re trying to distract me,” she chided, a soft smile on her pretty lips. “If you don’t want to talk about something, just say so. I’ll leave it alone.”

“Like you are right now?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and the look of annoyance on her face drew an unexpected laugh from him. It was a more playful sort of annoyance than something that stemmed from a place of genuine frustration. Though he couldn’t really fault her if it was genuine. He was being difficult on purpose.

“Stop looking at me like that or you’ll wrinkle your pretty face prematurely,” he said and smoothed her brow with his fingertip.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world, she looped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him, eyes full of mischief. “Is that what happened to you?”

“How dare you.” Astarion placed a hand against his chest with mock offense. “You drew that lovely portrait of me and didn’t capture a single one? Here I was thinking you were a competent artist.”

Cas shrugged. “I took some liberties,” she teased but then her smile fell as her dark eyes locked with his. “And you’re still trying to change the subject.”

Instead of answering right away, he leaned down to kiss her again only to be blocked by her palm over his lips. She bit back a smile and shook her head. “Astarion.”

“Fine,” he groaned. “There is something that I want to ask you about. Something kind of important.”

“Okay,” she said as she settled back against the bedroll, her fingers playing idly with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Ask away.”

Shit. His nerves caught in his throat. He was committed to asking her now, wasn’t he? He couldn’t retreat without drawing her suspicion. Briefly, he considered just making something up. A question that sounded important but that he really didn’t care about. That way no matter how she answered, he wouldn’t get hurt.

No. He had to be honest. He had to talk to her if he didn’t want things to blow up in his face like they did before. If she didn’t give him the answer he hoped to hear, well, he could always improvise. He was good at that.

Before he could lose his nerve, he took a deep breath. “What made you decide to give me another chance?” he asked. “I was surprised that you still wanted me after, well, everything.”

There. The words were out and there was no taking them back. It wasn’t the exact question he wanted to ask, but he felt like it could get him the same information regardless. If he were to have any hope of having something real with her, then they had to be able to have hard conversations.

“To be completely honest, I was surprised too,” she said, her tone soft and contemplative as her fingers paused in his hair. “I didn’t want to at first. And I probably won’t if something like that happens again.”

Astarion could have guessed as much. It was completely understandable after all that happened. Nevertheless, the words still stung.

“But after we talked and you gave me some time to think….” Cas shrugged and gave him a gentle smile. “I realized how much I enjoy our time together. I like you a lot and I have fun with you. I didn’t want to give up what we could have over one mistake.”

Something about her choice in words didn’t sit quite right with him. On one hand, she could be completely genuine and meant exactly what she said. Nothing more and nothing less. On the other hand, ‘spending time together’ and ‘having fun’ were euphemisms he frequently used for activities of a more carnal nature. Considering how most of the time they spent together ended with them doing things with their mouths other than talking ….

He tried to shake the thought. He couldn’t let his mind go down that path, no matter how badly it wanted to. Cas was different. No matter how many times the ghosts of his past told him that nothing had changed, he only had to look at the woman in front of him to know that wasn’t true.

If Cas only wanted him for his body, she wouldn’t have been so upset over what happened with the drow. Even though their conversations turned into something more, Cas was never the one to initiate it. He did. He initiated their first kiss, second, third… their first time together, their second… Even if she was the one to suggest the idea of him hunting her, he was the one to agree to it. Knowing what he knew about Cas, she wouldn’t have batted an eye if he had said no.

His mind drifted back to the night when she saved him from that monster hunter. Afterwards when they kissed and then he changed his mind. Cas didn’t push it, even though she was very into it.

Cas never pushed him into doing something he didn’t want to do.

But… he needed some reassurance, he realized. Between the passionate kisses at the party and him taking her in the woods like a wild beast, he just needed to hear that she still saw him for more than just a body to be used. That she saw a real person inside the vampiric husk of the man he once was.

“You like me that much?” he asked, his voice much smaller than he intended as he stroked her arm with a featherlight touch. “What do you like about me?”

Cas grinned at him. “Are you looking for a sincere answer or just flattery?”

“Sincerity, love,” Astarion said and leaned down to kiss her neck. Just to give himself a moment. A brief reprieve from the kindness and patience in her eyes. He wasn’t used to anyone looking at him the way she did, so just to keep the mood light he added, “Then you can flatter me all you like.”

She hummed as her hand traced along his spine, over the bumps and grooves of his scars, from his shoulder blades to the small of his back. But the touch didn’t feel sexual. It felt nice. Comforting even. “I’ll tell you only if you answer a question for me first. Deal?”

As if she had asked him to fold the laundry or some other boring chore, Astarion huffed. “I suppose it’s only fair,” he said.

Even with his agreement, there was a sense of anxiety radiating off of her. Anxiety that worked its way into his veins and made him nervous in turn. Not knowing what to do, he delicately nipped her neck, lavishing attention around the bite mark, everywhere he knew she liked. Partly as an attempt to soothe whatever worried her. But there was another part of him that said that the better he made her feel, the more likely it was she would give him the answer he hoped for.

“Ask me,” he whispered against her ear, his voice falling into the tone he so often used when he was seducing people.

A shiver went through her when he nibbled her earlobe. The peaks of her breasts brushed against his chest through the material of her shirt— his shirt — when she arched into him. “Is this all you want from me?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of her pulse. “Sex?”

Astarion stopped. It seemed like the whole world went utterling silent as her words. He blinked twice as his brain caught up with what Cas had just said.

A laugh threatened to burst out of him, but he bit it back. It wasn’t because he found the question funny. That wasn’t the case at all. But because it never once occurred to him that she could be worried about the same things he was.

Cas had every right to be worried. After all, he had planned to use sex to manipulate her feelings for him in the first place. A plan that ultimately failed, considering how he got tangled up in his own trap, but the plan had existed nonetheless.

Placing his palms flat against the bedroll on either side of her head, Astarion hovered over her so he could see her face. There was a false smile on her lips as she tried her best to pretend she didn’t care about his answer, but he could hear her heart beating like a war drum. A tear glimmered in her eye before she quickly blinked it away.

“Is that what you want?” he replied, his voice tight despite how he tried to sound indifferent.

“Not really,” she said. “But if that’s what you want or if you don’t feel ready for anything more, it would be wrong to try to change your mind.” Cas averted her eyes as though it hurt to look at him, and in the quietest voice she added, “No matter how I feel.”

The answer shouldn’t have surprised him. For two centuries he was subjected to the whims of a cruel man. What he thought, what he wanted or what he felt never mattered. Obey or be punished. That was his entire existence. But Cas was giving him a choice. A choice he never could have fathomed only a few weeks ago.

Astarion rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and breathing in her scent. “What would ‘more’ look like?”

A single, nervous breath of laughter passed her lips. “I don’t know,” she said. “Going on fun dates. Or dates that go so terribly we can laugh about them years later. Doesn’t really matter as long as I get to spend time with you. I just want the chance to get to know you better, because I like what I know so far. You’re smart and sweet and so fucking funny I—” Cas shook her head as color darkened her cheeks. “I’m going to stop talking before I embarrass myself.”

“Oh no,” he protested as a smile, a real smile, snuck onto his lips. “Please go on about how wonderful I am. It’s great for my ego.”

It was amazing what just a little bit of reassurance did for him. Hearing the words from her lips melted away his fears for the time being, leaving only a vague sense of hope in their place. Cas liked him. Him. Not just his face or his body. Or the fact that he was a vampire because that apparently did it for some people.

Just him.

Centuries of being used, of being exploited and abused, screamed at him not to believe her. Told him there was no way she was telling the truth. That all of this was just another bizarre act of deception and cruelty.

But he didn’t need the tadpole to know she meant what she said. It was clear in her eyes. It was clear in every part of her. Everything she had done for him, from fighting for him and even fighting against him when appropriate. It was because she saw him as a person. Not a plaything, not just someone to be used and discarded. But someone worthwhile.

Astarion took her hand in his and pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I don’t want this to be just about sex either, love,” he said, doing his best to hide the faint tremor in his voice. “I’ve had enough of that to last several lifetimes. I don’t want to be thought of in those terms, especially not by you.”

Something about her expression softened. Cas smiled at him, all warmth and adoration. “If anyone thinks of you that way, then they’re missing out on all the best parts of you.”

Those might have been the kindest words anyone had ever said to him. The words were like honey. Sticky and syrupy, making him vaguely uncomfortable, but also so sweet that he almost didn’t mind. Darkness at the back of his mind told him to wash it all away before he gave in and drank it all in.

After all, some of the most fatal poisons tasted deceptively sweet.

Words failed him. It wasn’t often he found himself not knowing what to say. He had a quip or a snappy comeback for just about everything. But all it took was a few kind words to leave him utterly speechless.

So instead of saying anything at all, he kissed her. He kissed her like she was the most precious thing in the world. His lips moved against his in a slow, silky caress. Different from any of the kisses they shared before. Less urgent. Something to be enjoyed for what it was rather than what it could lead to.

Cas’s fingers sunk into his hair and she kissed him back as if she were trying to breathe him in. Like he was someone to be cherished. Someone treasured. With no pressure for anything more.

They didn’t have sex again that night. They kissed between conversations about everything and nothing. They listened to the crickets and the sounds of the lazy river as they gazed at the stars that painted the perfect indigo sky. Cas pointed out some constellations, but since she didn’t know the names, they made some up.

One of the names he proposed (and the subsequent reasoning for the name) had Cas laughing so hard she started crying. He tucked the name away in his memory so he could remind her when she least expected it. Just to see her smile. Or maybe to make her laugh at an inappropriate time. Whatever suited the occasion.

As it turned out, Astarion had an interest in astronomy after all.

—

As much as Astarion loved the sun now that he could tolerate it, the morning light crested over the horizon far too soon, painting the dawn in shades of orange and pink. However, it was still nice to watch the sun rise without having to run for the nearest spot of darkness. What made it even nicer was Cas snuggling up next to him, her head against his shoulder and her legs tangled with his beneath a soft blanket.

For a while, he simply enjoyed the moment. Warm, comfortable, with his hunger for blood sated and a beautiful person who cared for him beside him. What more could he want? Beside getting rid of the tadpole and ensuring Cazador died a gruesome death, of course. Those pressing matters aside, he felt almost… happy.

It wasn’t too long before Cas stirred. She smiled at him as she bid him good morning, her eyes still a little tired and her hair a mess. It was cute. Endearing even. It was something he could see himself getting used to all too easily, starting his day with her.

Perhaps they could start sharing a tent.

But he was getting ahead of himself. There was far too much to do, far too much that could go wrong, before he could even entertain such ideas. For all he knew, they could both be mind flayers tomorrow. Or one of Cazador’s monster hunters would come and snatch him away.

So as much as he would like to, he couldn’t let himself get comfortable. It would only lead to disappointment.

Part of him wanted to sequester themselves away for a few more hours, but Cas needed breakfast and he needed to get back to the real world. But as they dressed and packed up the campsite, erasing any physical evidence of their night together save for the bite mark on Cas’s neck, Astarion tried to commit everything he could to memory. Just to have something wonderful to keep in the back of his mind for a rainy day.

Dried leaves and twigs crunched under their feet as they leisurely made their way back toward camp. They weren’t taking the most direct route, he realized, but he didn’t mind. Just a few more minutes for just the two of them.

Walking shoulder to shoulder, he felt calloused fingertips brush against his skin once, hesitating. As he glanced down he saw Cas's fingers loosely intertwine with his own.

“Is this okay?” she asked, her voice hushed as though not to disturb the stillness of the forest.

Astarion swallowed and held her hand a little tighter. “Of course, love,” he said just as quietly, down by his best to sound casual even as his heart felt like it would burst from a simple act of innocent affection. “So long as you recently washed your hands.”

She gave him a broad grin, as bright and brilliant as the morning itself. Gods, he never thought he would love seeing someone smile so much. Seeing her happy made him feel happy in turn. It was a foreign feeling, one that he didn’t completely understand but he was in no mood to contemplate.

Her thumb brushed over his as she gazed up at him, furrowing her brow as if she was unsure about something. “Define ‘recently.’”

“Oh, just in the last tenday,” he replied as if that were perfectly reasonable. “I’m not overly picky.”

Mischief glimmered in her eyes as she gave him her best sheepish smile. “You might want to let go of my hand then.”

“Never,” he said and pressed a kiss to the back of her very clean, washed-as-of-that-morning, hand.

Cas gave a girlish giggle, a short and sweet sound that he already wanted to draw from her again. If it was because of the joke or the gesture, he couldn’t tell. But it didn’t really matter either way. What mattered was that he was enjoying the moment with her.

He wanted to enjoy every moment he could get.

She had all but given herself to him entirely last night. Not because he tricked her or coerced her, but because she chose to. Because, for whatever reason, he made her happy. The gods had given him so few gifts, and he wasn’t about to question it.

After everything they talked about, after the time they spent together and the way she made him feel, he would fight tooth and nail to keep her. It meant that he had to kill Cazador. No matter what. It was the only way he could keep them both safe. The only way they might have something of a future together. For however long that could last.

With Cas, he could picture himself living again. Truly living. That was worth whatever perils that laid ahead of them.

All too soon, their campsite came into view, and one of the best nights of his life had officially come to an end. Astarion flexed his fingers around Cas’s, unsure if he should let go because of their proximity to camp. He didn’t know if Cas would be okay with their companions seeing them like this.

Even though they all knew that he and Cas had been intimate with one another, none of them seemed to be aware of the nature of their relationship. Hells, he barely knew what their status was. We’re they a couple? Dating? Some weird limbo between friends and lovers?

A sharp gasp from Cas pulled him from his thoughts, startling him. His head whipped towards her, trying to identify what had happened. To make sure she wasn’t hurt. But he only saw a smile spreading across her face as she stared straight ahead towards the camp.

He followed her gaze and almost swallowed his tongue. His entire body iced over in an instant. Time seemed to stand still and a high pitched ringing in his ears drowned out any other sounds.

Leaning against a tree at the edge of the campsite was a man Astarion had never met, but he immediately recognized.

A wood elf. Copper skin. Sharp facial features. Dark brown hair. Even darker brown eyes.

Eyes that went from Cas’s face, flickered to the bite mark on her neck, and trailed to where her hand intertwined with Astarion’s. Like an eagle locking onto his prey, the elf’s eyes finally landed on him.

And all Astarion could do was stare back as the Huntsman of Neverwinter approached.

---

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 14

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Astarion comes face to face with Cas's older brother, a famous and brutal monster hunter, and fears for his life.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.1k

Chapter Tags: Meeting the family, sibling tomfoolery, relationship talk, kissing.

Every one of Astarion’s survival instincts had agreed on one course of action in that moment:

Run.

Run as fast and as hard as his legs would take him. Run until he found a place to hide deep within the depths of the woods. Or the dark bowels of a cave crawling with spiders. Hells, he’d even go back to that goblin-infested hellhole.

Then maybe, just maybe, he would buy himself a few more precious moments before the Huntsman of Neverwinter rammed a stake through his heart.

He swallowed as his eyes scoured over the Huntsman; the man was nearly as large as Halsin. Fitted leather armor emphasized his muscular build and sunlight glinted off the steel of the (menacing) sword strapped to his back and the daggers secured to his belt. And those were only the weapons Astarion could see — who knew how many other lethal instruments the Huntsman might have concealed on his person.

There was a sharpness to the Huntsman’s features that reminded him of Cas. But his face held none of her softness.

His dark eyes were alert and calculating, like a hawk perched high on a building as it tracked a mouse scurrying about an open street. Four prominent scars marred his neck — two pairs of separate, unmistakably vampiric bite marks — that tore down to his collarbone like he had ripped the vampire away with their fangs still embedded in his throat. The man moved with easy, confident grace like he knew damn well he was the most dangerous being for miles around.

A man who turned monsters and predators into mere prey.

Gods. Cazador would hate him.

The man exuded power in a way Cazador could only dream of. There was a natural, unspoken charisma to the Huntsman that his former master would never have been able to emulate even if he tried.

It was a presence that commanded respect; not because he expected it, but because one couldn’t help but give it freely.

Astarion was pulled from his musings when Cas’s fingers squeezed his gently. “Just be yourself,” she said, her voice echoing in his mind as the tadpole squirmed. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Nothing to worry about? Was she out of her mind?

As much as he wanted to believe her, experience and instinct told trust the truth of what was standing before him. And the truth was that he stood face-to-face with a large elf who was armed to the teeth and had a reputation for killing monsters. Efficiently.

Although Cas didn’t treat him like a monster, Astarion couldn’t be certain that her brother would extend him the same courtesy.

Yet if the stories were to be believed, the Huntsman would have long since sent him to Kelemvor already - had he been inclined to do so. Even the exaggerated tales told by bards made a point to emphasize how quick the Huntsman was. And how his prey never saw him coming.

But, Astarion was still in one piece. For now.

Even with that in mind, a lump remained firmly lodged in his throat as his feet stayed rooted to the spot. His fingers tightened around Cas’s hand, holding it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the Material Plane as he stared at the Huntsman.

Planning had never been Astarion’s strong suit. As much as he had wanted to have the Huntsman as an ally against Cazador, he never considered how an actual encounter with the man might go. And he most certainly never envisioned meeting the Huntsman…

Well…

He certainly never envisioned meeting him like this.

What in the hells was he supposed to say? ‘Hello Mr. Huntsman, Sir, you see, we were just coming back from a nice morning walk. The bite marks? Well that certainly wasn’t from last night when your little sister was on her hands and knees begging for my cock. Where did you get that idea?’

Yes, because that would certainly win him over.

As if hearing Astarion’s thoughts, the Huntsman’s eyes snapped onto him. He couldn’t help but shrink under the man’s gaze, subconsciously curling in on himself as he looked everywhere but at the threatening presence looming before him.

Was looking away the smartest decision? No. But maybe if he made himself seem pathetic enough, the man would take pity on him and let him live.

Honestly, that plan had a better chance of working than running away did.

What had he been thinking — seducing the Huntsman’s sister? Did he expect the man to immediately welcome him into the family or something? For the monster hunter not to question the motivations of a monster? For him to say ‘Thank you for sleeping with my sister. To show my appreciation, let me kill Cazador for you’?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Cas.” The Huntsman’s voice broke through Astarion’s thoughts. There was a soothing quality to it, a deep and rich timbre that could probably make the reading of bank records sound interesting.

Much to Astarion’s immediate relief, the Huntsman’s attention had returned to Cas, releasing him from the oppressive weight of the man’s gaze. Now that it wasn’t on him, Astarion almost felt like he could think straight again.

Cas had said that he had nothing to worry about, so perhaps he should just… trust her. She knew her brother better than he did, after all.

Despite how he tried to reassure himself, his nerves remained on edge. Centuries of conditioning told him that he was far from safe in the Huntsman’s presence, and no amount of positive thinking could change that.

When he felt Cas’s fingers detangle from his, a tendril of dread slithered through him. Immediately, Astarion wanted to take hold of her hand again. Though he would never admit it, holding her hand felt like the only thing keeping him grounded at the moment.

Or from running off into the woods like a coward, at the very least.

When her hand slipped fully out of his, he closed his fingers around the open air as if trying to grasp at an invisible tether between them.

Seemingly obvious to Astarion’s tumultuous inner thoughts, Cas started towards her brother.

“How long were you ominously posing there for?” she asked cheekily.

The Huntsman said nothing as he lifted her off her feet and pulled her into a hug so tight that Astarion swore he heard some of her bones pop.

A strangled sound came from Cas’s throat as she half-heartedly (and unsuccessfully) kicked at him. Her arms were pinned to her sides, rendering her practically helpless until the Huntsman decided to let her go. “You’re crushing me,” she groaned.

“I am so fucking pissed at you,” he said, his muscles bulging as he squeezed Cas even tighter. “I thought I lost your stupid ass.”

“Can’t breathe,” Cas squeaked with another pitiful kick of her legs. “Being squished.”

“Good,” he said before placing her firmly on the ground and releasing her from his embrace. The Huntsman settled his hands on Cas’s shoulders and bent down to eye level with her. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I couldn’t find you?”

Cas averted her eyes, and her brother repositioned himself to stay within her line of sight. With the new angle, Astarion could see the man’s expression. There was a slight furrow to his brow and his lips tugged almost imperceptibly downward.

“I tried to reach out as soon as I could,” she replied, still doing her best not to look at her brother, her voice sounding smaller than Astarion had ever heard it.

For some reason, Astarion wanted to reach out to Cas and make that distress in her eyes disappear. He yearned to pull her into his arms and… oh, he didn’t know. Provide some comfort, maybe?

Gods, when was the last time he had wanted to comfort someone? He wasn’t even sure he knew how.

The Huntsman dismissed Cas’s response with a shake of his head. “You never should have been in this position in the first place,” he said sternly, like a parent lecturing a child. “That nautiloid was going after me. Not you. If you hadn’t—”

“I couldn’t let it get you!” Cas snapped as she took a step back, breaking her brother’s grasp on her shoulders.

Her outburst didn’t appear to surprise the Huntsman one bit. He just continued to watch her with a slightly melancholy and expectant look in his eyes — as if he already knew what she was going to say and was just waiting for her to say it.

“I had the opportunity to save you for once, so I did,” Cas continued, her voice taking on a calmer tone once again. “The people of Faerun can’t afford to lose you.”

“And I can’t afford to lose you.” Though the Huntsman’s voice was level, Astarion could hear a tremor of fear behind it.

Her brother was furious, there was no doubt about that. Yet, that anger seemed to be born out of more than just fear of losing her. It seemed to be born out of love. Something Astarion wasn’t sure he had ever experienced, he realized.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, crossing her arms like she was trying to hold herself together..

“It’s okay.” The Huntsman straightened and ran his fingers through his short, brown hair as he exhaled deeply. “We can talk about this later. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Cas nodded and pursed her lips, like there were more words she wanted to say but she had stopped herself. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”

Throwing his arm around his sister’s shoulder, the Huntsman gave her a brief squeeze before stepping away.

Then the man’s eyes locked onto Astarion’s once again, and even though he was smiling, the intensity of his piercing gaze was unsettling. It was like the Huntsman’s eyes were dissecting him, peeling back all of his layers to the undead heart in his chest.

A chill went up Astarion’s spine and his insides twisted uncomfortably, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stare back. He could only hope that the Huntsman couldn’t see the darkness that lurked within.

He swallowed, tilting his head up toward the Huntsman as the man stopped directly in front of him, blocking out the morning sun like an eclipse.

If he thought any of the gods might have listened, this was when Astarion would have prayed.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you,” the Huntsman said, his smile turning apologetic as he extended his hand cordially. “I’m Vesryn.”

Vesryn’s hand was heavily calloused and littered with scars — clear evidence of his decades of hunting and wielding weapons, although it looked like he at least tried to take care of them. Given all the politicians, patriars, and nobles he brushed elbows with when he made special appearances, he probably felt like he had to. Signing autographs, shaking hands, kissing babies; all the things a celebrity of his caliber did.

Carefully, Astarion grasped his hand and introduced himself in turn, his voice sounding high pitched to his own ears.

Gods, were his palms sweaty? He hoped he didn’t just shake the Huntsman’s hand with sweaty palms. How mortifying would that be?

“Astarion,” Vesryn repeated back to him, a flicker of recognition flashing across his eye. He released his grip and placed his hands on his hips, taking on a more relaxed posture. Or perhaps he was trying to subtly wipe the sweat off of his palms. “It’s good to meet you. Cas mentioned you in one of her sendings.”

Surprise mixed with a feeling of flattery at his words. More importantly, Astarion felt relieved. Tension eased from his shoulders and the lump in his throat diminished.

Maybe the Huntsman just didn’t know Astarion was one of the very monsters he was famous for hunting yet. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course the bloody Huntsman of Neverwinter knew he was a vampire. Even with his ability to walk around in the sun, there were a couple of things about him that were very hard to miss.

Not to mention, the bite mark on Cas’s neck.

Though if Vesryn took offense, he was doing a spectacular job of hiding it. In fact, Vesryn seemed sincerely happy to meet him. He didn’t seem like he wanted to attack, kill, or maim him at all.

And that felt… wrong.

Astarion cleared his throat, hoping his voice would go back to normal. “Did she now?” he asked, not knowing how else to respond. “All good things, I hope?”

If he were talking to anyone else, he might have come up with something witty. But he needed to play it safe. At least until he had a better idea of what kind of person Vesryn was.

Historically speaking, his smart mouth got him into trouble more often than anything else he did. Just because Cas found him funny didn’t mean her brother shared her humor.

“Twenty five words a spell and she used most of them telling me how handsome and wonderful you are. It was nauseating, really.”

“Vesryn,” Cas hissed and slapped her brother’s armored arm as an adorable redness tinged her cheeks.

A cheeky grin tugged at Vesryn’s lips. “She actually used two spells.”

“I did not,” Cas protested, her face flushing further even as she rolled her eyes. “Don’t believe a word he says. He’s just trying to embarrass me.”

“Trying? I’m succeeding,” Vesryn replied, standing straighter with an air of self-satisfaction. Then he playfully poked at Cas’s ribs, making her jump. “You don’t normally get this flustered in front of someone. You must really like him.”

“Ves!” Another smack landed against the Huntsman’s armor, followed by a bellow of laughter.

Vesryn rubbed over the spot Cas had hit with an exaggerated wince. “I can’t believe you’re being so mean to me in front of your friend.” He glanced at Astarion with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Is she this mean to you?”

The smartass in him told him to say ‘yes’ but his survival instincts reined him in. “I’ve always found her to be delightful company.”

“Oh, lucky you,” he replied and cocked his chin toward the forest. “Take my advice and run while you can. She only gets worse.”

Cas groaned and dragged her palm down her face. “Remember when I said I was glad you were okay? I take that back.”

She placed both hands on Vesyrn’s chest before firmly and persistently pushing the wall of a man back toward the direction of camp. It wasn’t until she managed to make him budge a single step that they both started to lose their composure. “Get your ass out of here,” Cas said, her voice sounding like she was trying to hold back a laugh.

“See? So mean.”

“Yes, I’m a bully,” she agreed and pushed him another step. “Can you give Astarion and I a moment? We were talking about something.”

“‘Talking’, sure.” Vesryn made finger quotes in the air but then relented, letting Cas push him a few more steps toward camp. “Okay, okay, I‘ll give you a few minutes. No need to be so pushy.”

Cas made a shooing motion with her hands like the Huntsman of Neverwinter was nothing more than a wayward pigeon. “We’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

Vesryn threw a smile over his shoulder, the kind a storybook hero or a handsome prince might give their admirers. “It was nice meeting you, Astarion,” he said before starting back toward the campsite.

‘Nice’ wasn’t the word Astarion would have chosen. It was anxiety-inducing, terrifying, and worst of all… confusing? But it definitely wasn’t ‘nice’.

The Huntsman was nothing like Astarion had expected — the man hunted monsters such as vampires for a living. There were tales of him slaying all manner of creatures from devils to dragons. Not to mention how a mere decade ago, Vesryn had killed a vampire lord, the Collector. A vampire so ancient that he made Cazador seem like a child in comparison. And if the stories were to be believed, Vesryn had killed the Collector in the monster’s own lair amidst hundreds of spawn.

There was no doubt in Astarion’s mind that the Collector had done what any vampire lord would have done: using his spawn as fodder in an attempt to save his own skin, and most certainly, Vesryn had killed them all.

And yet, Vesryn was being downright friendly with a vampire spawn who quite obviously fed on his little sister.

Perhaps if Cas hadn’t been around, things might have been different. Perhaps the friendliness was just an act to throw Astarion off guard and make it easier to ram a stake through him when he least expected it. If that was the case, the Huntsman had certainly succeeded in throwing him off.

Still, there was something about Vesryn that seemed so genuine. His handshake was firm, but not dominating. His eagle-like eyes, keen and observant, were also warm and curious. Then there was the way Vesryn interacted with Cas with such open affection and camaraderie — it was disarming to say the least.

As the Huntsman’s form retreated, Astarion felt a weight lifting from his chest. Like the man’s presence was a heavy fog that emanated from his very being, enveloping those who didn’t know how to navigate it.

Though Astarion had never been in the presence of a god, he suspected it probably felt a little something like standing in front of the Huntsman of Neverwinter.

The nervous, prickling sensation on his skin eased as he felt himself begin to relax. He exhaled slowly, trying to breathe out the tension that coiled in his veins.

He hoped he hadn’t accidentally made a fool of himself in front of the Huntsman. Not that it really mattered, but he wanted Vesryn to have a good impression of him. It would probably please Cas if he and her brother were on good terms after all.

Instinctively, something old and ingrained tried to push back against the selfless thought despite the fact that he was becoming more and more comfortable with caring about someone other than himself.

A few weeks ago, Cas’s happiness wouldn’t have been the first thing that he would have thought of when it came to building a relationship with the Huntsman. Hells, even a few days ago his motives had been purely selfish. The only feelings that had mattered were his own, and Cas was nothing more than a tool he could use to get what he wanted.

How quickly things had changed.

A brush of her fingers against his palm drew him from his thoughts. “Are you alright?” Cas asked with gentle amusement. “That’s not how I pictured you meeting my brother.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” Astarion intertwined his fingers with hers, the simple connection like a balm on his frayed nerves. “Did you really tell him about me?”

Cas shook her head. “He asked who I was with, and I gave him everyone’s name. Anything else he knows he either picked up from just now or from talking to everyone back at camp.”

He gave a mock pout, as if her not gossiping about him was a huge disappointment. When she gave him a smile in response, he stepped into her space and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her close enough that her chest brushed against his when she took a breath. That little touch was enough to send a thrill through him, and part of him was tempted to steal her away again.

For whatever reason, he felt like everything was about to change.

He wanted a few more moments with just the two of them. A few more moments where they could pretend their problems didn’t exist and they could just be together.

“Pity,” Astarion said, his thumbs brushing over the jut of her hip bone through the thin fabric of her shirt. “I would have loved to have heard how wonderful and beautiful I am.”

Cas blinked at him, looking completely unimpressed. “You’re wonderful and beautiful,” she said flatly.

A smile tugged at his lips as he pulled her flush against him, his hands sliding around to her backside. “For the love of the gods, would it kill you to put some enthusiasm into it?”

Cas slipped her arms over his shoulders. “I think you heard plenty of enthusiasm last night,” she replied in a low and husky voice that made his blood stir.

She tilted her face up toward his, her lips just a breath away from his own with a silent invitation. It was an invitation he was all too happy to accept. His mouth caught hers in a brief, sugary sweet kiss. Nothing but the gentle pressure of her lush lips against his, the subtle and intoxicating taste of her on his tongue. It would have been all too easy to lose himself in that moment.

Before he fell too deep into whatever spell she wove around him, he pulled away. Her brother was waiting only a few hundred feet away, and Astarion didn’t want to push his luck.

Cas tasted her lips as though she already missed his touch. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her head tilted thoughtfully as her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Vesryn is going to ask about you and me,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t want to tell him anything you don’t want me to.”

Of course, the Huntsman was going to ask about their relationship. What kind of big brother would he be if he didn’t? Especially considering Astarion’s nature, it only made sense that the monster hunter would at least check in on her.

Yet, Astarion had never expected Cas to ask for his thoughts. Or his permission. He just figured that Cas would tell her brother whatever she felt like without any input from him.

“What were you thinking of telling him?” he asked, feeling a little off-guard and wanting to get some idea of Cas’s stance on the matter before he risked fouling things up.

Cas shrugged. “That we’re friends,” she said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to her, but to him? He wasn’t sure if anyone had considered him a friend before. At least, not enough of a friend to tell their family about him.

Yet, describing their relationship as something as simple as friendship didn’t sit quite right with him. After all they had been through together, after all the battles they fought, after all of their long conversations over a bottle of wine or the time spent with her skin against his…. It felt like what they had together was more than just friendship.

So much more.

Astarion tucked his finger under her chin, tilting her head up to better see her eyes. “Just friends?” he asked as he swiped his thumb across her lower lip — a reminder of all the times their lips had touched. “Is that all that we are?”

She wrapped her fingers around his hand and gently lifted it from her face. “What else would you have me say?”

That was the real question, wasn’t it?

What did he want her to say?

Cas wasn’t one of his victims or just another target. She wasn’t just a shield for him to hide behind, or a stranger with powerful connections. She wasn’t just another night he wished he could forget.

She was something.

They were something.

What that something was, he couldn’t put a name on it. But he knew what it wasn’t: just friendship.

Friendship may have laid the foundation, but they’d built something together that went far beyond that. Whatever that something was, it was messy, complicated, and probably not completely structurally sound — but it was theirs.

They could fill in the cracks as needed.

Cas gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, taking his silence as the answer he didn’t know how to articulate. “That’s what I thought,” she said lightly and laced her fingers with his. “We don’t have to figure it out now.”

An odd feeling of disappointment settled in his stomach. Part of him wanted her to change her answer. Or at the very least, agree that they were more than just friends.

Because people who were just friends didn’t do what he and Cas did.

He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of her fingers. “I suppose it’s kind of nice not to know exactly what we are, if I’m being completely honest,” he said as he gazed into her eyes. “But I am glad that ‘friends’, at the very least, is a certainty.”

Cas smiled at him. “Me too.”

---

Beginning

Previous Chapter

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 12

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Cas and Astarion have come to an agreement: she will wander off into the woods, all alone and far from camp. Then Astarion will hunt he will hunt her. And when he catches her, he can do whatever he wants.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.9k

Chapter Tags: Smut, primal play, predator/prey, light dom/sub, consensual non-consent, fingering, penetrative sex, hair pulling, rough sex, implied breeding kink, he calls her a "good girl".

Note: This chapter has already been posted as an excerpt. Posting again just for consistency!

The grass and moss under Astarion’s boots didn’t make a sound as he crept through the sparse, ancient forest that bordered the river. Pale moonlight trickled through the branches and leaves above, casting the world in silvery-blue light. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted over the chorus of crickets. The summer heat had lingered into the night, comfortable and warm. Perfect for a night spent under the stars.

It reminded him of one of his first conversations with Cas. The one where he told her she was a valuable ally and he wanted them to stick together. At the time, they were just some pretty words he said in the interest of self-preservation. He never anticipated his flattery would become reality.

Oh, how things had changed.

Though his little game with Cas had begun the moment she left camp, he decided to give her a bit of a head start. Just to keep things interesting. With his vampiric senses, he would have no trouble at all finding her in the forest. When he really focused, he could detect the faint scent of her blood. And when he was close enough, he could even hear the sound of her heart beating in her chest.

Even though it was just a game, he wanted to give her the real experience. Or something close to it. Plus, he wanted the satisfaction of hunting her down. Of overpowering her and making her his. Though it was all just pretend, the feelings were real. At that moment, he felt powerful. Like the apex predator that a vampire was meant to be.

Cas had freely given him that power, for no other reason than she liked him. Not because he had seduced her, or frightened her, or coerced her in any way. Cas genuinely liked him. It was a little difficult to wrap his head around, if he were being completely honest with himself. It wasn’t often that he had the chance to actually get to know someone beyond superficial pleasantries. He hadn’t had the opportunity to make a real friend in… well, since he was turned into a vampire really.

More importantly, Cas had placed her trust in him. Asking him to hunt her, even for a game, was literally placing her life in his hands. Not to mention her pleasure, but he was certain he had that part handled. Controlling himself when he bit her was another matter. He was reasonably certain he could hold back. Probably.

No. He had to hold back.

Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do.

He caught the scent of her on the breeze and followed it. It took him to the edge of the forest, where the trees thinned out as they met the riverbanks. Croaking frogs and the gentle rush of lazy rapids mixed with the sounds of the forest. The noise was a good thing. It meant she was less likely to hear him.

Cas had said she would pack up some things before she wandered off into the forest, and it looked like she made good on her promise. She had opened a bedroll and laid it out flat, making it big enough to keep both of them off of the bare ground. A folded blanket, one he had seen in her tent before, was draped over her bag. Astarion had no idea what she had packed in the bag, but he could only hope it was something fun.

But knowing Cas, the only things she brought would be boring and practical. Was it strange that he was starting to appreciate that about her? She was always prepared, but not to the point where it was excessive. It wasn’t a trait he typically thought of as attractive, but he definitely liked it when it came to her.

Since the day he met her, Cas had always been the one keeping everything together. In fact, he couldn’t think of many times Cas wasn’t working. Except for when she was with him. It had been constant planning, prepping, following leads, traveling, and fighting. And she bore the brunt of it. She was the de facto leader of their little group, yet most of their companions fought her on each decision she made.

Sometimes, when she thought no one was looking, her mask broke a little. Frustration and exhaustion would quietly seep through the cracks. Yet, she would always have it fixed back up by the time someone needed her. And someone always needed her.

Even at that moment, she still worked, making sure they had a comfortable place to spend the night. Being responsible and taking care of them.

Well, that was about to change.

Tonight, Astarion would be the one to take care of her. Once their game began in earnest, she wouldn’t have the chance to think about a damn thing.

That was one of the reasons why she wanted him to hunt her in the first place, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just for his own pleasure, but for hers as well. She wanted to relinquish her power, even just for a bit, and he was more than happy to take it. He would take away her decisions, her choices, and her responsibility.

Tonight, she belonged to him. And the only thing she had to worry about was whether or not she could keep up.

Slowly, he closed in on her. Inching closer and closer until his heightened senses could detect her heartbeat. Steady and calm. She was sitting only a few feet away, and he could easily tackle her to the ground right then and there. But where was the fun in that?

He wanted the hunt.

Taking a risk, he used the little magic he was capable of to create a minor illusion. Just the sound of a twig snapping and some footsteps some thirty feet to his right. As perceptive as she was, there was a good chance she would see right through it. But that didn’t matter. As long as it distracted her for a moment.

Her head whipped toward the sound immediately. Her whole body went still as her heartbeat picked up speed. Startled, but excited.

A little smile crossed her lips as she got to her feet and followed the sound. With her back turned to him, he watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked. She was still wearing the same outfit she was at the party, which was a little unfortunate. Tight leather leggings and laced up boots were not the easiest articles of clothing to remove in the heat of the moment.

Oh well. That wouldn’t be a problem for him.

He casted another illusion a few feet away from the first one, making the sound come from the opposite side of a thick tree. If she wanted to investigate it, she would have to go around, which would give him the perfect opportunity to close in on her without being seen.

When he was close enough to touch her, he created one more auditory illusion. Footsteps coming from just out of her line of sight. As soon as she moved to follow the sound, Astarion struck.

One arm darted around her waist while his hand covered her mouth, muffling her startled yelp. The sound of her pulse roared in his ears. He hauled her back against his chest, holding tight, and his lips brushed against her neck as he said, “Hello, darling.”

She had said she was going to fight him, so it shouldn’t have surprised him when she did just that. Cas twisted in his grip. Hard. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but it took him aback enough that she was able to wrench herself free. The movement almost made him lose his balance as he stumbled back, catching himself on the tree.

And Cas took off running.

Well, if that was how she wanted to do it, he was more than happy to play along.

The urge to give chase was strong, but he resisted. Cas was faster than him. Not only that, his little stumble had allowed her to put a good amount of distance between them as she ran deeper into the forest. Keeping his senses honed in on her, he slipped into the shadows to follow.

Whenever he hunted, it was like a more animalistic part of his brain took over. Something more primitive. It made all of his worries vanish as he turned his focus on one thing: his prey. The need to capture and consume. And Cas was the most captivating sort of prey a vampire could ask for.

He considered using the minor illusion again, but Cas was unlikely to fall for it unless she wanted to play exceptionally dumb. But he liked that she was making him think. Making him work for it. It would make it all that much sweeter when he finally had her under him. His fangs ached and his cock twitched at the thought of having her the way he wanted. Fangs in her throat while he fucked her.

That was a goal worth working toward.

It didn’t take long for him to find her again. The smell of her blood had invaded all of his senses, and he couldn’t help but follow it to the source. This time, she was in a better spot for an ambush. A small clearing in the midst of some brambles and wide trees. There was a clear look of ‘where did he go?’ on her face as she glanced about, searching for him.

Staying silent and still, he listened to the sounds of crickets and the rapid beat of her heart. Letting her anticipation grow. Letting her wonder when he was going to strike next. And from where.

With the way she was looking around, it would be difficult to get close without another distraction. Or a potion of invisibility. He mentally slapped himself for not bringing one. Sure, some might call using an invisibility potion for this sort of purpose a waste, but he certainly didn’t.

Instead, he decided on a different approach. Since it was only a game, he knew Cas would eventually backtrack to look for him. So he decided to wait for her, his back pressed up against the trunk of a tree and his ears tuned for the first sign of her approach.

Thankfully, he did not have to wait long. He shifted around the tree quietly, staying out of view as Cas walked past. Completely unaware of him, by the looks of it. Once her back was to him, he crept in closer and closer. Until he could hear the soft sound of her breath and smell the lavender of her soap.

This time, he wouldn’t let her get away.

Cas had no time to react when he hooked his arms around her waist, trapping one of her arms to her side, and dropped his weight, toppling both of them into the grass. Before she could squirm away, he rolled her onto her front and pinned her beneath him. Capturing his prey.

“Get off me,” Cas hissed, the side of her face pressed into the grass as a playful glimmer lit her eye. She bucked back into him, trying to loosen his hold, but only succeeding in grinding her backside against him.

Astarion caught both of her wrists with one hand and pinned them above her head. Forcing her to submit to him. Already, his cock strained against his trousers and he leaned forward, letting her feel it. With his free hand, he swept her hair away from her neck and wrapped it around his fist. His lips brushed against her ear when he spoke, “Is that the best you can do?”

“What do you want from me?” Cas bared her blunt little teeth as she continued her futile struggle, her words were almost a growl even as her pupils were blown wide with lust.

His lips trailed from her ear and down her neck, nipping at her skin as he went. A threat and a promise. But not yet breaking the skin. “I think you know what I want, love,” he said and licked up her throat to the corner of her jaw. “Why don’t you be a good girl and just let me have it? Make it easier for both of us.”

When she tried to wriggle out from under him, he tightened his grip on her hair. She hissed at the sudden pull against her scalp. “Let me go,” she said. “Or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” he said, his voice low, heated, and taunting. He had completely overpowered her. Even if she were fighting for real, she’d have a hard time throwing him off.

Cas sucked in a harsh breath when his thick length pressed against her core from behind. “Or I’ll scream.”

“Oh, my dear,” he said and his lips moved down her throat until he reached the juncture where her neck connected with her shoulder. Avoiding the use of his fangs, the blunt edges of his teeth clamped down in a soft bite and a shiver coursed through her. Then he whispered in her ear. “I can definitely make you scream.”

With his hand wrapped in her hair, he tipped her head back and crashed his lips onto hers. He kissed her possessively, roughly, claiming her with his mouth. An eager moan escaped her throat as she met the kiss with equal ferocity. Pressing deeper, her silky tongue brushed against his. Needing. Wanting. The taste of her mouth was something he could never get enough of. He couldn’t help the low groan that emerged from his chest.

He tore himself away with a dark laugh. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Cas helplessly twisted against him again. “Bite me,” she snarled, still playing the role of his prey so perfectly.

“Soon, darling.” His tongue darted out and brushed over her rapidly fluttering pulse. “But first, you’re going to come for me.”

“No I won’t,” she challenged as she writhed beneath him, making him grow even harder.

He released her wrists, but wrapped her hair around his hand once more with a less than gentle tug. A wordless command. Up.

Obediently, she rose to her elbows and rubbed the taut curve of her ass against his stiff cock. Taunting him. There was suddenly far too much clothing between them. He wanted to feel her skin against his. To bury himself in her warmth. He thrusted against her once, trying to relieve the ache, and drew a soft moan from her lips as she met his movement.

Astarion’s hand traced her rib cage, feeling the rise and fall of her panting breaths. Eager for him. Excited. His fingertips hooked around the hem of her shirt and he pulled it up as far as it would go, baring her breasts to the warm night air. He leaned forward and pressed his lips between her shoulder blades as his finger skimmed over the soft curve of her breast.

“You don’t really want to get away, do you, darling?” he asked as he brushed his thumb over her hardened nipple. He pinched the sensitive peak between his fingers, earning a sharp gasp as she arched into his palm. Desperately trying to get closer. An almost sinister chuckle passed his lips as he whispered, “I think you wanted to be caught.”

“No,” Cas said, even as her cheeks flushed and lips parted in a breathless pant.

Hard muscles twitched under his hand as he trailed down the flat expanse of her stomach until he reached the waistband of her leggings. He pulled the ties at front, allowing them to loosen enough for him to slide his fingers between the leather and the soft lace of her panties. When the tips of his fingers brushed over her clit through the fabric, she arched into him with a gasp. He circled the sensitive nub, teasing her. Making her want more.

He dragged her panties to the side, allowing him access to the slick heat between her legs. Already so ready for him. His cock begged for attention at the touch, wanting nothing more than to be inside her already. But that would have to wait.

With two fingers, he eased into her and pressed the heel of his palm to her clit. Her hips grinded greedily into his touch. Desperate for more friction.

“You’re so wet you’re dripping, love,” he said and curled his fingers inside her, loving the way she clenched around him. Wanting him deeper. Closer.

And he ached to give her what she wanted. She was his prey, but he wanted to make her feel good. He wanted to give her what she needed. What she so desperately craved.

It would have been all too easy to turn things around on her. To give into his vampiric nature and just take what he wanted. But he wouldn’t do that to her. Never to her. Cas had become special to him. In such a short amount of time, she had become so important to him that the mere idea of hurting her like that sent a lance of pain through his chest.

Astarion wanted — no, he needed her to know that he could take care of her. That putting her trust in him would never be a mistake.

Slipping from his role for just a moment, he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Let me know if I’m being too rough,” he said as he continued to fuck her with his fingers, the heel of his palm rocking over her clit as he brought her closer to the edge. They had their safeword, and he trusted her to use it, but he still felt the need to check in since he didn’t know what sort of experience she had with these things. He didn’t want to go too far.

“You can be rougher,” she replied, gasping as she rode his hand.

A little smirk pulled at Astarion’s lips and he gave her hair a sharp tug, eliciting a startled yelp. “Good,” he said. Then, without warning, he bit down on her shoulder.

Cas renewed her fight, squirming beneath him as his fangs nicked her skin. Tiny pinpricks of blood welled from the site and he lapped them up with his tongue. The first taste of it was like an aphrodisiac, and he groaned in raw satisfaction. It was potent and delicious. And it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, but this wasn’t the bite he would feed from.

No, he was saving that moment for later.

The heel of his palm grinded against her clit as his fingers curved in such a way that made her whimper with pleasure. The movement of her hips grew erratic as she fucked his fingers, her eyes screwing shut and her breaths harsh as she neared her peak.

“Come on my hand, darling,” he said against her neck. “Show me how much you love being my prey.”

“No!” The protest turned into a whine as he quickened his pace, pushing her further and further until her walls fluttered around his fingers. She came with a sharp cry, her whole body shuddering beneath him as she canted her hips.

Pulling her hair back, his mouth found hers, drinking in her moans like she was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. His experienced fingers soothed her through the last few tremors of her orgasm, his palm still putting firm pressure on her clit as his fingers stroked deep inside her.

When her breathing evened out, he withdrew, his fingers glistening with her arousal. He licked her taste from his skin like it was honey. The flush across her cheeks deepened at his lewd display and his cock twitched in response.

Astarion loosened his grip on her hair, running his fingers over her scalp to soothe her skin. With one hand between her shoulder blades, he guided her down, her chest against the ground and her ass on display for him. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and pulled them down to her thighs. Nothing but a pair of black lace panties shielded her sex. He twisted the material in his hand and pulled it sharply against her overly sensitive clit, making her gasp.

He leaned forward and licked the shell of her ear. “Now,” he said as he drew her panties tighter, “tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she said, finally surrendering to him. The words ignited a flame in his chest. Even if it was just the heat of the moment, even if she would take it back come sunrise, right then she belonged to him. And that was all that mattered.

Cas arched her back, grinding herself against his erection. “Astarion, please,” she begged. “I need you in me.”

Fuck, if he didn’t need that too. He yanked the black lace down her legs and drank in the sight of her, bent over and moaning, her pussy pink and glistening for him. The woman before him knew what he was, knew the kind of man and monster he was, and accepted him. Trusted him.

And he wasn’t sure if he would ever have someone like that again.

A shudder coursed through her at the metallic click of his belt buckle. His own hand shook from raw desire as he pulled his cock from his trousers, a little bead of pre-come already leaking from the tip.

“You want this, darling?” he asked as he dragged the head of his cock over her swollen folds, slick with her arousal. He pressed the tip where she wanted it most, teasing the entrance, and she tilted her hips in an attempt to get closer. “Then I’ll give you every last inch.”

He shoved in deep in one hard, brutal thrust that buried him to the hilt, his fingers digging into her hips as he forced her to meet the movement.

Her mouth fell open and her hands clutched at the grass beneath her. “Yes,” she murmured as he slammed into her again. “Fuck me.”

Cas had wanted it rough, so that was exactly what he gave her. Snapping his hips against her ass, he fucked her with bruising thrusts. With each one she moaned, begging him for more. Loving the way he pounded into her like he was a fucking animal.

And he loved it too. Emotion threatened to well up in his chest, but he swallowed it down, focusing on the sensations. Wanting to absorb every sight and sound and commit it to memory. She was so bloody perfect for him, and he couldn’t fathom how he got lucky enough for her to fall right into his lap.

Astarion leaned over, bracing one hand in the grass beside her while the other held her throat, his mouth pressing rough kisses from her shoulder to her neck. His teeth scraped over the sensitive flesh of her throat, fangs throbbing with the need to sink into her. To claim her in every way that he could. His tongue darted over the red marks he left on her skin. “I’m going to bite you now.”

“Do it.” Her back arched as she angled her hips just right, welcoming him as deep as he could go. “Just don’t stop.”

“Touch yourself,” he said as he kissed a spot high on her neck. A place she couldn’t easily hide even with the highest collar. That was the exact spot he wanted to bite her. And she would wear the mark like a badge of honor, on display for the whole world to see. Marking her as his.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she obeyed. Her fingers delved between her legs, her pussy tightening around him as she worked over her clit. Her moans grew louder as her pleasure continued to rise. And he could only hope that the pleasure outweighed the pain of his bite.

“Good girl,” he whispered against her ear and lowered his mouth to her throat. Saliva pooled in his mouth as the urge to bite became too strong to resist.

A soft gasp of pain was the only sound she made when his fangs pierced her skin. The movement of his hips slowed until he was rocking into her gently with languid, shallow thrusts as not to dislodge his fangs. The taste of her blood made him groan. It was decadent. Intoxicating even. It warmed his body, intensifying everything.

It wasn’t until Cas started moaning again did he allow himself to fully sink into the feeling. Her warm pussy clenched around him as he drank deeply, and it was the most extraordinary feeling in the world. Fucking someone he cared about while they freely offered their blood— it was a feeling he couldn’t even begin to describe. It was a revelation. A long held fantasy that had finally come true. And he didn’t know if he could ever have enough.

Closing his eyes tight, he tried to maintain control even as his pleasure rose and sudden affection surged in his chest. Cas trusted him not to go too far. She was giving him a gift. A wonderful gift. And he didn’t want to risk her regretting it.

With that in mind, it was easy to remove his fangs from her throat. He sucked and licked at the twin puncture wounds he left behind, drinking in her blood in deep, even pulls as she writhed beneath him. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he murmured as he lavished her neck.

Her panting breaths grew louder and closer together. Her cry turned into a breathless moan as she came with his name on her lips, her inner walls spasming around his cock as he fucked her. Faster. Deeper. Chasing his own release.

All thought seemed to vanish from his mind. It was just him and her. The feel of her body. The taste of her blood. The sound of her moans as he rocked into her. It was euphoric. Nothing but raw sensation and primal need.

White-hot pleasure flashed through him, shooting down his spine as his thrusts lost all rhythm. He sucked her neck hard, blood coating his tongue as he buried himself in her. The sound he made was more animal than man as his orgasm coursed through him like a wildfire. Burning hot and out of control. Powerful spasms wracked his whole body as he spilled himself deep within her.

When his nearly agonizing ecstasy faded, he kissed her bloodied neck before he pulled out of her. His come dripped down her leg and he watched, filled with some deep, primitive satisfaction. He rolled Cas onto her back, needing to be face to face with her. To check in on how she was feeling.

She responded by looping her arms around his neck and dragging him into a luxurious kiss. Her body still trembled with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and he couldn’t stop his lips from smiling against hers. “You should let me wash the blood out of my mouth first, love,” he chided as he swiped away a bit of red from her lips with his thumb.

“Worth it,” she said as she laid back against the grass, a brilliant smile on her face that made his stomach do a little flip.

He cupped her face with his hand and she leaned into his touch. His eyes went to the fresh bite mark on her neck, and it wasn’t bleeding nearly as much as it did last time. In fact, it almost seemed like it was already starting to mend. Interesting. Perhaps he had gotten better at biting somehow? He didn’t know, nor could he bring himself to care.

Turning his attention back to her face, he ran his fingers over her scalp lightly, soothing the skin. “I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?”

“I liked it,” Cas said as she played with his hair, a dopey smile still lingering on her lips. “Though I am a little disappointed you didn’t spank me.”

Astarion raised his brow at that. “Are you now?”

In an odd surge of affection, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips before getting to his feet. He took a second to fix his clothes and Cas did the same. But before she could finish tying up the front of her leggings, he bent down and scooped her over his shoulder. “We should fix that,” he said and gave her ass a hard slap, eliciting a startled yelp, and started back towards where she had set up the bedroll.

“You don’t have to carry me all the way back,” she said, not fighting at all to get away. “It’s a long walk.”

He smacked her ass again. “You’re my prey and I caught you. I can do what I like.”

“Oh? And what else would you like to do?”

Everything. As long as it was with her. He mentally shook off the sudden thought. Where the hells had that come from? He swallowed, suddenly very glad that she couldn’t see his face from her current position.

He rubbed his hand over the curve of her backside as he walked, thinking about how to respond. Did he want to be honest with her? It ultimately worked out well for him last time. Giving her a little squeeze, he decided to go for it. “How would you feel about getting cleaned up and taking the rest of the night… slower?” Feeling a little vulnerable at his request, he added flippantly, “I want to enjoy my trophy.”

Cas was quiet for a moment. Just the sounds of footsteps and that owl hooting somewhere deep in the forest. “I’d like that,” she said.

Suddenly, his chest got that funny feeling again. The one he didn’t want to put a name to.

But Gods, it was getting harder to ignore.

---

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 4

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: In an attempt to fight off the feelings that stir within him whenever he was around Cas, Astarion wanders off into Ethel's swamp alone and nearly loses his newfound freedom.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 5.1k

Chapter Tags: Canon-typical violence, Astarion has something like a panic attack, hand holding, kissing.

Mercifully, mosquitoes seemed to have little interest in vampire blood. They were far more interested in Wyll than anyone one else, which eventually resulted in the warlock simply applying frost armor to himself and watching the bloodsuckers fly happily to their icy graves. Astarion wished he could do the same, given how the tiny pests kept buzzing around his ears like a jewelry merchant working on commission, their sales pitch to those with sensitive ears was almost as bad as their bite.

They weren’t even in Auntie Ethel’s magically beautified swamp anymore; the illusion wore off the second Shadowheart took one look at those bloody sheep. Perhaps if the illusion had stayed, the mosquitos would stop harassing them. Leave it to a hag to disguise a fetid bog as some idyllic wetland.

Oh. That was another fun revelation: Auntie Ethel was a hag.

Not in the withered-old-crone-who-fights-pigeons-over-breadcrumbs way (though that may have been true as well), but in the way she was a dangerous Fey creature that no one in their right mind should mess with. Especially not on the hag’s own turf.

Apparently, Cas did not get that memo.

Either that or she was quite out of her mind.

The discovery of Ethel’s true nature did not seem to bother Cas even the slightest. It was almost like she already knew. Just like she did when Astarion confirmed her suspicions about his condition those nights ago. Suspicions even the Blade of Frontiers did not voice aloud. Though no one said a word, Astarion knew Shadowheart and Wyll thinking the same thing he was: Cas was hiding something.

As for what that something was, he had no idea. Whatever it was, Astarion became more and more convinced that Cas was not just some ranger from Neverwinter like she had claimed. Even if the others thought she was lacking in general intelligence, there was an undeniable, quiet wisdom in which she carried herself. Calm and experienced. The kind of knowledge that couldn’t come from books or a classroom.

An hour had passed since Astarion and Cas took over night watch. In order to keep two people on guard in their temporary camp, Astarion and Cas took their meditation early so Shadowheart and Wyll could get at least six hours of uninterrupted sleep. It was a long night shift, but it seemed like the best option. They all needed to be well rested in case their meeting with Auntie Ethel went sideways.

Plus, it meant Astarion got some alone time with Cas.

Moonlight seeped through the canopy of leaves above where they rested, providing their sole source of light. A campfire was too risky. Although they chose their temporary camping ground wisely, they simply did not know the area well enough to forgo any extra precautions. Hence the double guard duty.

Though it would have been far more effective for Cas and Astarion to stand watch on opposite ends of the camp, they found themselves drawn together before long. Long conversations under the moon and stars had started to become their thing. They did not have any wine with them, but he could think of more than a few ways to make up for that.

With his chin resting on her shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her and traced tantalizing circles around her hip with his thumb, watching with quiet fascination as she worked on her field journal. A pencil drawing of the tadpole, almost exactly as he remembered it, emerged from the page with all its horrifying glory. By all accounts, it was beautiful artwork despite the subject matter. The colors she chose were ones he wouldn’t have expected, but they worked in harmony to bring out a lifelike quality in the work. Each line was precise, purposeful, and Astarion found himself deeply enthralled in the process.

Astarion brought a finger to the corner of the page, far from the bulk of the artwork. “You draw stuff like this for a living, right?” he asked. “For your vampire friend’s research.”

Cas gave an affirmative hum. “Whenever Eroc or my brother need illustrations for their work.”

“And their work involves creatures like this?” He tapped the drawing of the tadpole in the center of its razorsharp maw.

A shiver went down his spine. That thing, and its teeth, still lurked in his skull. Waiting. If it could see the drawing, perhaps it would be flattered enough to let them live. Unlikely, but the idea of the tadpole having a thimble of vanity almost made him smile.

“This is the sort of stuff they’d be interested in.” Cas swiped her palm lightly over the page, dusting away any debris her pencils might have left behind. “But no. Not this specifically.”

Deciding he no longer wanted to dwell on the beast, Astarion averted his gaze to Cas’s neck where his twin puncture wounds were still proudly on display. All purple and red against her rich copper skin. The sight of it filled him with a surge of primitive pride. Marking his territory, as it were. Any man, woman, or vampire would think twice before encroaching on her.

His lips skated carefully over the bruise, earning a soft but surprised gasp and a trail of goosebumps in his wake. The hand on her hip slipped just beneath her tunic, where soft skin pressed into his touch. With a rakish grin he asked, “Do you ever draw nudes?”

A puff of laughter escaped her lips. A delightful sound that made his stomach flutter for reasons he did not want to think about. “Are you volunteering?” She set the journal aside and leaned further into his touch. Their bodies melded together from shoulder to thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Only if you’re naked too, my dear,” he teased, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

Cas smiled as she let her head rest against his shoulder and he could smell the faintest hint of lavender in her hair. Quietly, she picked up his hand in hers, her thumb tickling the center of his palm as she studied it.

Astarion furrowed his brow. “What are you doing?”

“You have nice hands,” she said and then she laughed. “Is it terribly dull of me that I would rather draw your hands than a nude?”

No. Not at all. He actually found himself rather curious about what those drawings would look like. Not that he would admit it. “You know, there are plenty of people who’d die for the opportunity to get me naked,” he said instead.

In fact, plenty of people had. Gods. He didn’t even want to think about it more than he had to.

She bumped him good-naturedly and said with a little laugh, “I’m not that desperate.”

Part of him thought to bring up how eager she had been the other night in his tent, but he didn’t want to risk embarrassing her. Not only that, but he had just realized something: he and Cas had been sitting together for almost an hour. Touching. Yet she didn’t make any move on him save for touching his hand.

In fact, when he listened for her heartbeat he found that it was calm. Cas was entirely relaxed sitting next to him. No flutters of anticipation, no changes to her breathing. Hells, she barely reacted when he had kissed her neck.

Most people he seduced would have taken that opportunity and run with it.

But Cas seemed perfectly happy just chatting with him.

He swallowed as a pang of something rattled in his chest. Something warm, pleasant, and safe that his body desperately tried to shut down with every bit of coldness it could muster. When the warmth dissipated, so did the icy fear, leaving behind that comfortable and familiar numbness.

Perhaps he needed a bit of space. Just a bit of time to himself so the feeling didn’t threaten to come back.

Astarion cleared his throat and sat Cas upright so he didn’t topple her over when he stood. “It’s been a while since we last did a patrol,” he said, just to give himself an excuse. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, no,” he said before she could get to her feet. “You did the last one. It’s my turn.”

Cas frowned, a mixture of confusion and concern on her face. “Okay.” She drew out the word and averted her gaze, seeming almost embarrassed. “Just don’t stray too far. There might be worse than redcaps out there.”

He brushed off her concern and excused himself, leaving her looking a bit like a kicked puppy, but he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it. He had to get a bit of air. Just a moment to himself to get his emotions under control.

What in the Hells was wrong with him? Cas was nothing more than a pretty face. He had spent time with hundreds of beautiful people over the centuries. Those people, however, did not cause damn butterflies in his stomach.

It almost felt like he had an actual friend in Cas. Like she didn’t see him as something to be used. But he knew better than to get his hopes up. Chances were that Cas was just like everyone else. She just hadn’t revealed her true colors yet.

He needed to get a grip and focus on the task at hand: patrolling the outskirts of their secluded campsite.

Before they went to sleep, Shadowheart and Wyll mentioned that the campground seemed quiet and secure. So far, nothing proved them wrong. Crickets chirped and an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Active animals were always a good sign. It was when things got quiet that there was reason to worry. About a hundred meters away from the campsite he started again on the path he walked at the beginning of his shift, listening for any suspicious noises and watching for shadows. The night was blissfully calm and gave him some space to think.

Astarion ran his hands through his hair and laced them behind his neck, releasing a long breath between his lips. From the first time he laid eyes on Cas, he was physically attracted to her. That much was undeniable. He’d been with plenty of gorgeous people. Most of which he never had the luxury of getting to know. The chance of any of his relationships (if one could even call them that) turning into something more was always an impossibility.

Cazador would end it, one way or another.

With a grimace, Astarion recalled a sweet young man he had tried to spare and how Cazador punished him for it. Any sort of attachment always came at a cost higher than Astarion was willing to pay.

It simply wasn’t worth the risk.

But for the first time in centuries, Astarion had the chance at something real. An actual relationship that meant something more than a meal for his master. A relationship he could damage so easily if he wasn’t careful.

Astarion didn’t want to lose Cas’s trust or, dare he say, friendship. He didn’t want to hurt the first person in centuries who actually seemed to give a damn about him. Who asked about his day, who cared about his thoughts, wanted to know his feelings, and took extra steps to ensure he was okay. He liked having someone care about him. But it scared the shit out of him. It was only a matter of time before Cazador ripped it away just like he did everything else.

Dousing the fire that ignited in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw Cas was the smart thing to do. But as much as he tried, he didn’t think he could do that. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. After tasting her blood, tasting her lips and the salt of her skin, he was fairly certain that fire in him would implode before burning out.

Astarion stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to focus on his surroundings, but that focus quickly returned to the muddled mess in his mind. Cas was supposed to be just like any other target he had seduced. She just had to fall for him, and he had to somehow stop whatever feelings she stirred within him.

Had he not been so caught up in his own head, he might have heard it. The whisper of a spell, or the shuffling of dirt beneath the caster’s feet. A chilling sensation struck him in the middle of his chest, spreading through each and every vein from the tops of his ears to the tips of his toes.

The ice in his stomach wasn’t just the result of magic. It was from the cold realization that he could not move.

Fear crept and coiled around him like a venomous snake. With every ounce of willpower he had, he begged his body to move, to do something, before it could strike. But it was as if his body had betrayed him, under the command of another. Panic seized his heart.

No.

No, it couldn’t be Cazador. Cazador would never trek so far from Baldur’s Gate. And his control felt nothing like the magic that enveloped him now.

Footsteps approached from his right and a stocky, disheveled, man appeared in his periphery.

A Gur.

Of course it was a fucking Gur.

“With how smoothly that went, you’d think I was the Huntsman of Neverwinter,” the Gur said, his voice deep and jovial. “Old man Gandrel could take a few pointers, eh?”

If Astarion could use his tongue, he’d make some comment about how adorable it was that the Gur thought he was even a speck of dirt compared to the greatest monster hunter in recent history. Still, he tucked the nugget of knowledge away. The Gur was overconfident, that much was clear, and overconfident people tended to make mistakes.

The Gur pulled out a length of rope and manipulated Astarion’s hands behind his back. “Holding spell always makes this part a bit easier,” he said conversationally as the rough rope bit into Astarion’s skin. “Unfortunately, it won’t hold long enough to get you back to Baldur’s Gate, but that’s what old fashioned rope is for.” With a grunt, the Gur tied off the rope and somehow made the binding impossibly tighter.

The feeling in Astarion’s fingers was already fading when the Gur came around to his front, finally looking his prey in the eyes. Astarion willed his body to do something, to spit in his face or throw a punch. The holding spell held firm. Heat built behind his eyes and white-hot rage dripped from his throat to his stomach.

Not like this.

Not again.

With a sympathetic tilt of his head, the Gur produced a wooden dowel with leather straps on either side. A bit. To keep him from screaming. “It’s nothing personal, Astarion. Almost feel bad taking you away from your friends because you won’t find such pleasant company where we—”

An arrow ripped away the rest of the sentence as it tore through the Gur’s cheeks clear to the other side. Then a second arrow pierced the man’s skull in silent fury.

The holding spell released so suddenly that Astarion fell to his knees like a child’s discarded rag doll. Mere feet away from him, the Gur collapsed, eyes open and unblinking as blood dripped from the metal arrowheads.

Cas called his name breathlessly. Her bow clacked against the arrows in her hands as she rushed to his side, practically skidding to a stop in front of him. She pulled the dagger from her hip and sliced through the rope like she had done it a dozen times before. When the ropes fell away, she checked him over with careful yet efficient hands, feeling for injuries in his vital areas. Then she knelt in front of him with her eyes wide and wet.

Words were tumbling out of her mouth, question after question, but Astarion could not bring himself to focus on them. Nor could he bring himself to answer.

Just like that, he was almost captured. No warning, no time to prepare. His freedom, gone in the blink of an eye. Not just a reminder but a remembrance of his past life, like his mortality stolen once more with false promises. Images of blood, the face of a wicked devil…

No, things were different from before.

Cas had come to his rescue. And she was the furthest thing from a devil.

There was a ringing somewhere in the depths of his ears so loud it was nauseating. The cruel smiles from his longtime sadistic master did not rule over him at this very moment, though the scars from years of abuse and neglect screamed as if ripped anew.

The worry in Cas’s deep brown eyes quieted his internal storm. He began to take calming breaths, trying to make sense of these swirling emotions that felt vaster than any damnable ocean. He couldn’t make sense of the movement of her mouth as he focused on the light freckles dusting her cheeks.

Like the blood spattered across the ground, small specks of himself were all that were left from his last encounter with a Gur. Nothing could truly compare to the night Cazador “rescued” him. Yet it was the only comparison he had to draw from. For better or worse, the only reason Astarion walked the mortal planes was due to Cazador.

Cazador was the only person who had ever tried to “save” him.

Until Cas.

He felt her trembling fingers, ghosting over his cheekbones, as the warmth from her palms settled into either side of his face. Gentle. Caring. Greater concern welled in the depths of her pupils as she brushed the pad of her thumb across his clammy skin.

“What can I do to help?” Cas asked, the stark calm in her voice reducing the deafening alarm in his ear to a niggling warble. She repeated the question but her words drowned in the torrent of emotions cascading through his mind.

If Cas hadn’t shown up when she had… Astarion pushed the bombardment of dark memories aside that had tormented him for decades, drowning them out with Cas’s light. Based on what the Gur had confided, bringing him back to Baldur’s Gate alive meant the only thing awaiting him was a fate worse than death. Numbly, Astarion wrapped his fingers around Cas’s wrist, feeling her steady pulse beneath his fingertips, willing his own heart to fall in beat with her metronome.

“Please say something?” Cas laced her fingers with his. “Just so I know that whatever spell he used is completely worn off.”

Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath. “Thank you,” he said. And for the first time in centuries, he truly meant it. Words would never be enough for what she just did for him, but at the moment, they were the only thing he could give.

A small smile spread across her pretty lips and she threw her arms around him. The scent of her leathers couldn’t completely mask the metallic smell of blood, but it helped ground him. With Cas’s arms around him, he felt… almost safe. But feeling something and knowing something were different things entirely.

As long as Cazador was around, he would never be safe. And neither would she.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she said, her voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “If you had just disappeared like that I— I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“Look for me, I hope.” He tried to make the words sound lighthearted, like the past ten minutes were nothing more than dust in the wind, but his voice betrayed him with a crack.

Damn it.

Without even thinking, Astarion wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into the crook of her neck. The warmth of her body and her even breaths provided comfort he never would admit to needing.

Astarion wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. It could have been a few seconds or maybe even a minute before he forced himself to let go. Hugging wasn’t something he normally did. At least, not without a goal in mind. Certainly never for comfort.

A bloom of unfamiliar warmth grew in his chest. It felt… nice to be cared for. It wasn’t a feeling he could ever allow himself to get used to. It was temporary. Just like Cas.

He had to remember that.

Cas gave his shoulders a friendly squeeze before she let him go and said, “We should search the body and head back to camp.”

Instead of saying anything, he just nodded numbly.

They didn’t find much on the body besides hunting supplies. No note. Nothing to identify the man by and nothing to give them any clue who had sent him after Astarion. Though deep in his gut, Astarion suspected he knew exactly who would have sent a Gur after him. Cazador probably found the idea hilarious, given his history.

He and Cas patrolled the remainder of the perimeter together in silence. Astarion simply didn’t know what to say. What words could possibly suffice for what Cas did for him that night? Protecting him without a hint of hesitation, killing a man for him. It wasn’t something anyone had done for him before.

Even with a bit of time and distance from his encounter with the Gur, adrenaline pounded in his veins with nowhere to go. Fight or flight, he did not get either option. However, his body did not seem to get the memo. It was as if it was still waiting for something else to happen. Another monster hunter, a mind flayer, some threat bigger than an owl hooting away in a nearby tree. But the night was calm once again, even if Astarion wasn’t.

When Cas turned to go back to the campsite, he found himself reaching for her hand. For whatever reason, he wasn’t ready to go back. Wasn’t ready to sit at camp with nothing but his thoughts and quiet conversation. Not when everything in his head was still so loud. Not when his body still did not feel like his own. He didn’t want to be around people who were just waiting for a reason to turn on him just for what he was.

Cas raised a brow at him, but did not retreat from his touch. “Is everything okay?”

He owed her. He owed her more than she could ever possibly comprehend. And he didn’t like to be indebted to people. Especially when he didn’t know what the payment would be when it came due.

Yet the last time he had offered to repay her, she told him that he didn’t owe her anything. Past experiences told him not to believe her, but he certainly couldn’t let her know that. He also knew better than to put the offer out there again. It would not do him any good considering how she had rebuffed the suggestion of a quid pro quo before. In fact, she might even find the idea insulting.

Most polite people didn’t like the idea of exchanging favors for sex. Or at the very least, they didn’t like it when it was stated so plainly.

Astarion placed his hands on her hips and turned her towards him. “I don’t want to go back to camp just yet, darling,” he said and stepped in close to her, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him. “I just want to be alone with you for a little while longer.”

Cas rolled her lips and glanced towards the tents in the distance. “We’d be alone at camp,” she said. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

The response was so innocent, it almost made him laugh. “No, my sweet.” His hand drifted from her hip down to the swell of her backside and his lips brushed over hers when he spoke. “I just want a moment with you.”

Just with Cas. Cas had somehow become a calming presence in his life. Someone who accepted him completely for what he was. Maybe even for who he was.

Whatever he had with Cas wasn’t something he wanted to just let slip away. He wanted her reasons that went beyond wanting to pay a debt, perhaps even beyond the protection she could provide him.

He was actually kind of fond of her.

And he was beginning to believe that she might be fond of him as well.

He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her face close to his, her breath was warm against his lips and the inches between their mouths was reduced to a paper-thin sliver. “Stay with me.”

Just a moment for the two of them. With the woman who stirred some long dormant feelings back to life. With the woman who saved him. The woman he couldn’t dare let himself fall for; no matter how she made his heart pound against its cage.

Slowly, he closed the distance between them as he covered her lips with his own. A soft groan filled the air as her hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, her smaller frame pressed tightly along his front. Each breath they shared quieted the mess within his mind, and he found himself lost in the sweetness of her mouth.

Overcome with the need to get closer, to feel more of her, he lifted her against him just long enough to walk her backwards to a nearby tree. The sounds of night that enveloped them, crickets chirping and the cool breeze rustling leaves, faded as he claimed her mouth with his.

Kissing her was as sinful as it was saccharine. Her lips were lush, indulgent, and demanding all at once. His fingers tightened in her hair as her tongue licked into his mouth, igniting a fire low in his belly. A fire that had been present ever since their first kiss but laid waiting to be coaxed to a blaze.

More than anything, the kiss was pure. Honest. Like nothing he had experienced before, yet the solace brought by her lips overpowered the fear that accompanied every good feeling he had. Her arms wrapped around him, pressing their bodies so close he could feel her pulse, her every breath, the swell of her breasts and the sensual heat gathering between their bodies.

The need to get closer turned desperate, but the comfort she provided never abated. His teeth, his fangs, grazed her lower lip, careful enough not to break the skin but by no means gentle. The soft moan in her throat told him all he needed to know. She trusted him. Even with his fangs against her skin, playing on the edge of biting her, she trusted him.

It was too much.

Cas rolled her hips, the delicious friction against his hardened length teasing him. Just a few layers of clothing were all that stood between him pressing inside her, and she knew it. Her slender, demanding, fingers slipped into the waistband of his trousers and tried to pull him impossibly closer. Like being pressed up against a tree beneath him didn’t quite satisfy her.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough and it was too much all at once. The pounding of that pesky organ in his chest, the hot flush on his cheeks, the fire in his belly… he actually wanted this.

When was the last time he had wanted to take someone to bed? He had been on his back thousands of times, faces and names a blur, just forcing himself to get the job done. To do Cazador’s bidding in whatever way the bastard wanted.

His own wants, his enjoyment, never even factored into it. Sex was just one of the few weapons he had at his disposal. It was about doing what he had to to survive.

But with Cas, it wasn’t about survival. It was something else entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Cas’s voice broke through his thoughts and her hand cupped his face. “Do you want to stop?”

It was only then he realized that his hands had frozen where they had gripped her thighs. In fact, he didn’t even remember wrapping her legs around his hips. Or did she do that?

Normally when his mind drifted off someplace else similar situations, he body went on autopilot. It was all muscle memory. But he never froze.

What in the Hells was wrong with him?

Astarion shook his head. Under most circumstances, he would have been relieved to stop. But at that moment, stopping was the very last thing he wanted to do. Instead, his traitorous mouth said, “We probably should.”

Not because of her, yet it was completely because of her. Out of all the people he had been with over the centuries, none brought anything other than a sense of self-loathing and disgust. But it was different with Cas and it scared the shit out of him.

Of course, he would never tell her that.

“If we continue, I’ll have a hard time stopping myself from getting another taste,” he mumbled the lie into the crook of her neck, inhaling that scent that was uniquely Cas. Like leather and lavender, feral and feminine. He covered a pulse point on her neck with his lips and nipped the skin. Just hard enough that it would leave a little bruise and he couldn’t help but laugh when she returned the favor.

With one more kiss, she detached herself from him. No insistence to continue. No shame. No insults to his masculinity. “I understand,” she said with a sweet and sincere smile. “You do what you need to do.”

Astarion took a step back lest he act on his sudden impulse to kiss her again. It wasn’t the right time. As much as his body craved to feel every last inch of her, he couldn’t with his current state of mind.

Stopping was the right thing to do.

“I should probably find something to sink my fangs into,” he said as he shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out to her again. “Will you be alright watching the camp while I hunt? It shouldn’t take long.”

The idea of going off by himself after everything that happened that night didn’t appeal to him, but being alone was far less frightening than confronting whatever feelings being around Cas stirred up.

Cas didn’t seem to like the idea either judging by the crease that appeared between her brows. But she nodded. “Be careful,” she said. “I’ll be waiting for you back at camp.”

Resisting the urge to pull her into another kiss, Astarion stalked off into the woods, halfway convinced the only way he could get Cas off his mind was to do something reckless.

Fighting a bear would likely do the trick.

---

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur's gale 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 8

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Astarion's mind is a bit of a mess after a talk with Gale and seeing how concerned Cas got when she learned Wyll had turned into a devil. Jealously roiling through his veins, fear and self-doubt make their way to the surface, and Astarion makes a very bad decision.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 6.6k

Chapter Tags: Denial, jealousy, Astarion lets the bad thoughts win, mentions of fantasy stereotypes.

Content Warning: Astarion falls back into old habits and thought patterns in this chapter, which might be hard for some to read. If this makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip this chapter or stop reading when the drow comes into the scene.

“Eroc,” Astarion said flatly as if repeating Cas’s answer out loud would help him make sense of it. But it didn’t. “Really?”

What in the hells was she thinking?

His brow furrowed as his mind began to sort through her possible reasoning. The urge to jump to conclusions before Cas could even offer an explanation was strong, but he held back..

Given what little information Astarion knew about Eroc, the vampire would not have been his first choice of possible contacts, the main reason being that Astarion wasn’t keen on accepting help from another vampire. After all, it went so well last time. His personal reservations aside, he couldn’t understand why Cas would contact Eroc over the Huntsman of Neverwinter. Unless…

Unless Cas was hiding something. Perhaps there was more to her “friend” than she initially let on.

It wouldn’t be the first time Cas kept valuable information close to the vest. It wasn’t but two days ago that she’d finally told them about her famous older brother. Who knew what other secrets she had up her sleeve?

Keeping secrets, Astarion understood. He had his fair share of them as well, most of which he never wanted to see the light of day. But what niggled at the back of his mind was the fact that Gale seemed to know more about Eroc than Astarion did. That meant that Gale and Cas must have had some more personal conversations.

For some reason, that did not sit right with him.

Not one bit.

Astarion leaned back on his palms, trying to ignore the subtle tightness in his chest. It wasn’t like Cas was particularly close to the insufferable wizard. So why did Gale get to know something about Cas that he didn’t?

Rushing water from the nearby river filled the long second of silence following his question as Cas tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes focused on a little blue flower swaying in the morning breeze.

“I knew Eroc would answer,” Cas finally said, as if that explained everything.

Astarion tilted his head. “And your brother wouldn’t have?”

“Until last night, I didn’t know if he was still alive,” she said shortly.

“What?” Karlach’s face dropped. “What happened to him?”

“Nothing. Vesryn is fine.”

Gale frowned, his expression tinged with either pity or sympathy, and said, “I had no idea—”

“— He’s fine.” Cas cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “All that matters is that I got in touch with Eroc, who then contacted Vesryn. If we’re lucky, Ves should be here in a couple of days to help out with the tadpole situation.”

There were several questions Astarion wanted to ask, but she clearly wasn’t in the mood for prying. He couldn’t blame her, although it didn’t stop him from being curious. Why had she thought her brother may be dead in the first place?

Of course, he was glad to hear that her brother hadn’t perished. The Huntsman wasn’t all that useful if he wasn’t alive.

Astarion supposed he should be happy for Cas’s sake as well. The thought of losing her brother must have weighed on her, but that was something he could discuss with her at a later time. If she ever felt like it.

Cas didn’t force him to talk about difficult topics, so he would try not to press her either. It was only fair.

He noted Cas’s tense posture and the slight furrow to her brow. There was a sudden urge to pull her back into his lap and make her laugh by kissing her neck and to ease the tension coiled beneath her skin.

Instead, Astarion got to his feet and stood beside her, his hands safely in his pockets. When she looked at him, he gave her a playful smile. “Well, since you two are on speaking terms again, tell that brother of yours to hurry up. It’s not like I hang out with you for your sparkling personality.”

Cas’s lips tightened into a thin line, trying not to smile as her eyes twinkled with amusement. A small surge of pride ran through him, even as she shook her head and said, “You’re such an ass.”

“I was under the impression that my ass is one of my best qualities.”

This time, Cas laughed outright. “And what gave you that idea? There’s nothing there.”

Astarion leaned toward her, close enough so he could smell the lavender in her hair, and said sotto voce, “Tell that to your wandering hands. They had plenty to grab last night.”

A light flush crept up her neck and colored her cheeks as she gently swatted the back of her hand against his chest. When Gale cleared his throat, the color reached the tips of her delicately pointed ears.

“Alright you two,” Karlach said, clapping her hands like a school teacher trying to get the attention of a rowdy classroom. Though she seemed more amused than annoyed. Her expression sobered a bit as she looked at Cas. “If you’re done flirting, we have a bit of a situation with Wyll and you should probably talk to him.”

“What’s going on with Wyll?” Cas asked, and the concern in her voice felt like a lance through Astarion’s heart. “Is he okay?”

He tried not to grind his teeth as Cas turned and gathered her bag from where it lay discarded on the ground. She hadn’t even heard the answer, but just the thought of something being wrong with Wyll was enough to make her want to rush off. As if Karlach would be so calm if something was actually wrong with him.

Karlach rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, remember how he said he’d pay the price for not killing me? Mizora, his dickhead of a patron, showed up and….” She ran her hand through her hair as a muscle in her jaw visibly tensed. “The fucker turned him into a devil.”

Panic flashed across Cas’s face for a split second before a veil of stoicism fell in place. She hiked her bag up onto her shoulder, the mask faltering just long enough for her to give Astarion an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you later,” she said before turning toward Karlach. “Do you know where Wyll went?”

Karlach fell in step beside her. “He wanted to be left alone last night and he wasn’t in his tent this morning…”

A green tendril of jealousy snaked up Astarion’s spine as Cas and Karlach rushed off. Of course, Cas would immediately abandon him for Wyll. What else could he expect?

As wonderful as his night with Cas was in the moment, he couldn’t keep deluding himself.

Wyll was someone a person could actually care about. Kind, righteous, and so bloody good it made Astarion want to vomit. The type of person a woman like Cas deserved. She’d be degrading herself to settle for anything less.

There was only one plausible reason why Cas bothered with Astarion at all. It was the same reason for everyone else, and it was partly his own fault. He had seduced her, of course she wanted him for his body. His good looks and skills in the bedroom were the only things he had to offer anyway.

And yet….

Astarion exhaled deeply. None of it made any sense. Cas seemed so sincere, so happy to spend time with him. Part of him wanted to keep her close, for reasons beyond his own protection. He liked spending time with her as well. He wanted to see where things could go with her.

The heart was a fickle thing. It told him to simply pursue her because it felt good – because it felt right. It banged against the bars of its cage to which his mind held the key.

His mind was far more reliable; less prone to making foolish mistakes that his heart would leap toward blindly. It was his mind that kept him alive. His heart only caused him pain.

“She’s quite lovely, isn’t she?” Gale commented, surprising Astarion and pulling him from his thoughts. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t even noticed Gale was still lingering nearby. “You’re a very lucky man.”

“The fact there’s a tadpole in my head and we’re marching into a goblin camp later would suggest otherwise,” Astarion replied.

“Don’t be like that,” Gale said with a dismissively optimistic tone that grated on Astarion’s nerves. “Amidst everything that has befallen us recently, we have to take the good when we can find it, hmm? Cas does really seem to like you, you know.”

Astarion scoffed. “I’m sure she does,” he replied without making any effort to sound convinced by his own words. “It’d be hard not to after last night.”

Gale rolled his eyes. “I might have been out of the game for a bit, Astarion, but I’d like to think I recognize a real connection when I see one.”

“Oh, we definitely connected,” Astarion replied out of pure instinct. It was easier to make jokes and innuendos than to confront what Gale was saying.

With a groan of disappointment or disgust, Astarion wasn’t sure which, Gale folded his arms in front of him. “Listen, I’m not about to stand here and lecture you, but you’d do well not to forget who you’re dealing with,” he said and cocked his chin toward where they had last seen Cas. “I don’t know what your end goal with her is, but she’s a good woman. Treat her well.”

“Please,” Astarion said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We’re just having a bit of fun. It’s nothing serious.”

The words felt wrong as soon as they were out of his mouth, but he couldn’t take them back. Not only because of the implied accusation toward Cas, but because they simply didn’t resonate with him the way he expected. As much as he wanted to fight it, the night he spent with Cas solidified one thing in his mind: he liked her.

There was no way around it.

It was like every time his mind reached that simple conclusion, all of his past experiences and anxieties took that realization, crumpled it into a ball, and smashed it underfoot. Then the realization would slowly creep back again, a little more resilient than before.

His mind was failing spectacularly at crushing it that morning. To think, Cas would have gone back to her tent had Astarion not convinced her to stay. And had he not kissed her… she might have been perfectly content to talk about the silly Detective Kit novels with him.

Like an actual friend.

“Even if it is ‘just a bit of fun’, as you so indecorously put it, she does care for you,” Gale said, sounding a little more serious than before. “I don’t want either of you getting hurt.”

It was Astarion’s turn to roll his eyes. Despite Gale’s diplomatic phrasing, he could read between the lines well enough. As irritating as it was, Gale’s concerns were perfectly valid.

Though Astarion didn’t set out with the intention of hurting Cas, nor did he want to, chances were good that he would anyway. The degree of that hurt, however, was up for debate.

It came down to whether or not Cas truly cared about him. If he was just a pretty body she could get lost in for a couple hours, chances were good that she wouldn’t be completely devastated if she found out Astarion had been manipulating her the entire time. Experience told him that was the most likely scenario. It wasn’t like he could break her heart if she never gave it to him to begin with.

But if Cas did care about him for more than just his looks, for more than just his skills in the bedroom…. No. It wasn’t even worth entertaining the thought.

If Astarion played his cards right, Cas couldn’t possibly get hurt because she would never find out that he was less than genuine in his affections. At the end of the day, she was his best bet for survival. He couldn’t jeopardize that.

And he really didn’t want to talk any more about it. Least of all with Gale,

“I’ll endeavor not to break her fragile little heart,” he said without putting an ounce of weight into his words. He just wanted to get Gale off his back without getting himself incinerated.

Gale shook his head with a sigh. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for from you.”

Before Astarion could decide what Gale meant by that comment, Gale excused himself to finish preparing scrolls for the inevitable battle ahead of them.

It was for the best.

Enough had gone awry that morning. Astarion didn’t need to add a fight with Gale on top of everything else that hadn’t gone to plan.

He tried to push the events of the morning from his mind, but the more he thought about it, the worse he felt. Cas had abandoned him not once, but twice. Both times shortly after they’d been physical. Combine that with how she had asked him to hunt… she did know what that entailed, right?

If he was to get blood without drawing attention to himself, the easiest way he knew how was to seduce some poor sap and lead them off someplace private. Only, instead of leading them to Cazador, Astarion would be the one who got to satiate his hunger for once.

It wasn’t the same situation, but the parallels made him feel a little queasy. Moreover, when he thought of how Cas had rushed off to find Wyll, that bit of discomfort turned into quiet anger.

Cas was using him. Just because she was a nice person otherwise, it didn’t make that inescapable fact any less true. If Wyll were to make an offer to share his bedroll, Astarion wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if she accepted. Wood elves had a reputation for flitting around with multiple partners after all.

Still, jealousy writhed in his gut, poisonous and spreading. The muscles in his jaw tensed and would not relax even when he focused on doing so.

What the hells had he been thinking, toying with the idea that Cas saw him as something more than just a body? He had been a fool.

His wishful thinking didn’t change what he was. Nor did it change the fact that Cas had come to him in the middle of the night not because he was a man, or because he was someone she cared about, but because he was a vampire. A weapon. Something she could use to give her the upper hand in the fight ahead. His stomach sank with the realization that she might have tried to use her body to pay for it.

So be it.

If Cas wanted to fight side-by-side with a vampire, who was he to deny her? After all, he still needed to hunt, just as she’d asked. Though he wasn’t keen on risking his skin, at least finding his prey and the subsequent bloodshed was something he could look forward to.

—

Even though Karlach had given them due warning that Wyll had been turned into a devil, knowing it beforehand did not make Astarion any more prepared to see the transformation himself. At first glance, Wyll looked a bit like a tiefling without a tail. Two great horns curled from his head, his good eye red and black, and all of his features had been sharpened, turning him from boyishly handsome to more devilishly handsome.

Though Wyll appeared to be in good spirits, Cas still fussed over him in a way that made Astarion’s teeth clench. Wyll was completely fine! He looked a little different, but he was the same cocky, goody two-shoes bastard he was the day before. Given what little Astarion knew about warlock pacts, Wyll had gotten off relatively lightly considering he had disobeyed his patron.

Even a devil showed more leniency than Cazador ever did. If Astarion was a better person, he might have been relieved on Wyll’s behalf. Instead, he just felt spiteful.

And Cas wasn’t helping matters by giving Wyll her undivided attention.

Jealousy boiled in Astarion’s gut, spreading through his veins and tensing his muscles. Despite the lovely forest surrounding the trail that would lead them to the goblin camp, complete with blooming flowers and butterflies drifting on the wind, the only thing he could focus on was staring a hole into the back of Wyll’s skull.

Nothing stopped Astarion from joining in on their conversation, but he didn’t. He didn’t particularly want to talk to Gale either, given how their last talk went. Instead, he just trailed a few meters behind them, close enough to catch snippets of their conversation but far enough as not to be obvious.

“I really wish that you hadn’t had to face Mizora alone,” Cas said in that serious yet concerned tone of hers. “We’re supposed to be looking out for each other.”

“Cas, it’s okay,” Wyll replied with a gentle laugh, doing an admirable job of sounding genuinely unbothered. “There was no way you could’ve predicted when she was going to show. No need to beat yourself up about it.”

“If I hadn’t — ” Cas dragged her hand down her face and shook her head. “I should have been there for you.”

Instead of spending the night with Astarion, was her unspoken implication. There was regret in her tone. Remorse. He shouldn’t care. He really shouldn’t care. So what if Cas wished she had been with Wyll rather than him that night? As long as Cas was still on his side and wasn’t going to turn against him, she could do whatever she wanted with the Bastard of Frontiers.

It didn’t matter one bit.

But still…. What the hells had Wyll done to make her care so godsdamned much? What did Astarion need to do to get the same treatment? Not that he needed it, of course.

“You’re here now.” Astarion watched for just a moment as Wyll placed a hand on her shoulder before he forced himself to look away from the overly familiar gesture. “And I’m glad for it. A few moments talking with you, and I’m already feeling much better.”

Since neither of them could see Astarion at that moment, he rolled his eyes. Thankfully, he didn’t have to endure their conversation much longer. The smell of smoke and the beating of war drums was an unexpectedly welcome interruption.

Funny. He never thought that marching into a goblin nest would have been something he looked forward to, but anything was better than listening to Wyll flirt with Cas.

Getting into the goblin camp went much more smoothly than Astarion expected. Cas convinced the guards at the front gates that all of them - including Gale and Wyll - were hired mercenaries. Somehow, she played the part well enough that none of the goblins dared to question her. Astarion wasn’t sure whether to call her performance lying or acting. In either case, she was good enough to warrant a mental note of that talent in case she ever turned it against him.

Browned ivy climbed up the crumbling stone walls surrounding what once might have been a beautiful courtyard in the old temple of Selûne the goblins had turned into their camp. Crude wooden structures masked the once impressive architecture and vines slithered through the shattered remains of stained-glass windows. Amidst these ruins, an entire horde of goblins were engaged in feasting, drinking, and revelry, scuttling around the place like ants over discarded scraps of food.

A pungent mixture of wine, beer, roasted meat, sweat, piss, and animal droppings assaulted his senses, strong and unpleasant. It almost reminded him of the downtrodden sections of Baldur’s Gate, but much more lively. The goblins, along with a few drow, humans, and bugbears, were far too busy partaking in their own festivities to either notice or care about the state of their camp.

Many of the party-goers were simply chatting amongst themselves, with heavy mugs of ale in hand and boisterous laughter on their lips. Some were engaged in some sort of game that involved chasing an owl bear cub, others were tormenting a bard who looked oddly familiar while he struggled through his ballad, and very few seemed to even glance toward Astarion or his companions as they approached.

All in all, it seemed like a decent party. If one could ignore the filth. It wasn’t the type of party Astarion would normally attend, with stuffy nobles and far too much posturing.

No, the goblins’ party seemed far more fun.

Mainly because goblins embraced behavior that others would deem immoral or wrong. All the refinements of normal society went out the window when those little beasts were involved. Provided he was subtle about it, they might even look the other way whenever Astarion began his hunt. Across the courtyard, Astarion had already spotted a handsome young drow who looked like he might make for an easy target.

“Let’s hope that’s not Halsin on the spit over there,” Gale commented, pulling Astarion’s attention away from his potential prey. Gale wrinkled his nose in the general direction of where a couple goblins tended to some indistinguishable meat slow-roasting on a spit.

Huh. Astarion wouldn’t have thought goblins had the patience to slow cook anything. Learn something new every day.

Wyll made a disgusted noise. “Pray our luck isn’t that bad,” he said and glanced toward the doors to the temple. “The quicker we locate the leaders, the better chance we have of this whole thing going according to plan. We should get moving.”

Leave it to Mr.Hero to turn his back on a good time in favor of responsibility.

Scoffing, Astarion rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a wet blanket, Wyll. Surely we have enough time to enjoy a drink or two first.”

Astarion watched two drunken goblins crash into each other in a fit of laughter. Having fun like anyone at a party ought to be. But no. Not him and his exceedingly dull traveling companions. All thanks to a stupid druid getting himself captured.

“Wyll’s right,” Cas said and the innocuous words felt like a slap to the face. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

Of course, the suggestion was perfectly understandable. Astarion expected that Cas would want to stay focused on their mission, which wasn’t even what made him clench his teeth. It was the fact that she sided with Wyll.

The way he was feeling was stupid. He knew he was being petty and ridiculous. But knowing that didn’t keep his jealousy from festering inside of him like mold and rot. It was an awful feeling, and he couldn’t quite shake it.

Astarion bit his tongue, knowing there was no use in arguing further. He just needed to focus on surviving the next couple of hours, and stewing in his progressively corrosive thoughts would only be a distraction.

It was far too late to back out of their suicide mission anyways. Despite the new possibilities Cas’s connections brought to the table, rescuing Halsin still seemed to be their best bet for dealing with the tadpole. Not to mention, the goblins themselves might know a thing or two. Still, these factors didn’t make Astarion any more eager to risk his own skin.

“Let’s meet back here within an hour,” Cas said, her eyes locking with his. “Wyll and I will see what we can find inside the temple. I overheard a goblin saying that they had someone they were questioning, and I have a feeling it’s either Halsin or they know something about him. Gale can start scouting the place for anything unusual that might relate to the Absolute, and Astarion can gather intel out here at the party. Everyone in agreement?”

It was a compromise on his behalf. She was trying to do something that would make everyone happy without passing judgment.

Astarion didn’t need to gather intel from a bunch of drunken goblins, but she was giving him the chance to indulge himself. Somehow, he felt both appreciative and offended by the offer. Like Cas didn’t think he could be of any more use than just a blade in the dark, biding his time until they decided to strike.

But the party would give him an excellent opportunity to hunt, to fulfill the one task Cas had given him to prepare for the fight ahead. The crumbling ruins boasted plenty of alcoves and places to hide, and he’d have no problem either luring or trapping his prey out of sight.

The prospect of drinking the blood of another thinking creature had his mouth watering. Tasting Cas’s blood had been a revelation, but he couldn’t help but wonder how someone else might compare.

If he had a choice, he wouldn’t pick one of the dozens of goblins milling about. He had standards, after all. Although, they likely still tasted significantly better than rats.

Astarion glanced toward where he had seen the handsome drow earlier and met a pair of red, Lolth-sworn eyes. The drow did not look away, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and approval. A smile flashed across the drow’s lips and he turned to say something to a human man standing beside him.

Cas’s hand brushed along his shoulder as she stepped past him and his skin heated in the wake of her touch. “Meet us by the broken statue in an hour, yeah?”

Astarion’s eyes flashed to the drow, and then back to Cas and Wyll.

On one hand, he was eager to begin his hunt. The drow seemed like potentially easy prey. On the other hand, he wasn’t keen on Cas and Wyll going off on some adventure without him again. Not since they came back from their last adventure all flirtations and smiles.

Not since Wyll had made his intentions toward Cas known. And especially not since Cas had been fussing over Wyll after he’d received his lovely new horns.

“Actually,” Astarion caught Cas by the crook of her arm before she could start toward the temple. “Why don’t I go with you and Wyll? In case things go awry with these True Souls.”

That was a lie, but he didn’t care. He knew Cas and Wyll could more than handle themselves. After all, they had dealt with Auntie Ethel on their last field trip. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he didn’t want Cas alone with Wyll.

If that made him a possessive bastard, so be it.

While the drow lurking across the courtyard seemed like the perfect prey, he was willing to miss out on that opportunity if it meant he could keep his eyes on Cas instead. It wasn’t like he would have been able to completely focus on the drow if he was fixated on whatever Cas was doing with Wyll.

Cas didn’t question his sudden interest in tagging along, but simply nodded and gave him a friendly smile. “It’ll be good to have some backup,” she said, letting her fingers brush against his as she made her way toward the temple, with Astarion walking closely behind her.

—

It did not take them long to find a potential lead.

All they had to do was follow the sounds of screams; the telltale wails of a man being tortured, a man whose body was being pushed far beyond its limits but having no power to bring an end to his agony.

It was something Astarion was all too familiar with.

While one part of him felt some sympathy for the bastard, the darker part delighted in the man’s suffering and he couldn’t quite say why. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t the victim, or maybe it was because some part of him just wanted others to suffer the way he had. Who knew?

When they turned down a long corridor, toward the source of the noise, Cas whirled around and placed a hand on Astarion’s chest. “It’s a dead end down there.” Cas tilted her head towards a lone torch marking the end of the hallway. “Stay out here and keep watch?”

“And miss the fun?” Astarion’s brows drew together as he gave her a mock pout. Why didn’t she ask Wyll to keep watch? What could Wyll do that he couldn’t?

Cas looked up at him and cheekily mimicked his expression. “Please?”

To think she once said he had puppy-dog eyes. “Fine,” he huffed. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

Cas flashed a smile at him, and that alone almost made it worth sitting out whatever excitement was happening down the hall. “Thanks.”

“If anyone goes down that corridor, try to use the worm to let us know,” Wyll added and tapped his temple for emphasis. “We’ll try to be quick.”

“Oh no, take your time.” Astarion glanced toward what was presumably a torture chamber when another scream pierced the air. “I won’t let anyone crash your little party.”

Cas gave him an affirmative nod before she followed Wyll down the hall.

So much for not letting them have an adventure alone.

When the door to the torture cell shut behind them, Astarion was tempted to wander closer and see what was going on, but he resisted the urge. Cas had given him a job, and he would not risk her safety or disappointment for his curiosity.

Astarion huffed. Since when had he started to think like that? If Wyll had asked, he would have absolutely no problem going against the Blunder of Frontiers. But since it was Cas…. Astarion dragged his hand down his face.

He didn’t want to dwell on it.

He surveyed the room in front of him. It was some sort of great hall where goblins congregated much more quietly than they did in the courtyard. Apparently, the party did not extend to within the temple walls. Goblins lined up in front of an altar and presented themselves before an older goblin they called Priestess Gut. One by one, Priestess Gut spoke to them and then branded their skin with the mark of the Absolute.

No wonder the place smelled terrible. But the fact that it wasn’t the smell of his own skin was a pleasant change.

“You haven’t gotten a brand yet.” Astarion nearly jumped at the sound of a deep, masculine voice that came from his left.

It was the drow. He had followed them into the temple, and only the gods knew how much he had overheard.

But the man seemed relaxed. There wasn’t a hint of suspicion in his eyes as they trailed over Astarion’s body slowly. Appraisingly. A smirk of approval appeared on his dark lips when he turned his attention back to Astarion’s face.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” the drow continued amicably as he took a step closer. “But I hear you’re a True Soul, so maybe you don’t need one. It’d be a tragedy to mark someone as handsome as yourself.”

The drow stood close enough that Astarion could smell the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with the wine on his breath. The man’s eyes trailed over his body once again, but he didn’t make a move to get any closer than he already was.

Good. Astarion was used to people leering over him, judging his face and body like he was some sort of prized show animal. But he didn’t want the drow to touch him.

Although…. The drow was clearly interested in him, and he would be foolish not to use the opportunity to his advantage. Cas had asked him to hunt, and dinner was practically parading himself in front of him on a silver platter.

All he had to do was grit his teeth and… do whatever the drow wanted. Technically, what Cas wanted as well. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed it down as he plastered a smile on his face.

He had to do it. He didn’t have a choice.

If Cas and Wyll walked out now, the drow would spot them. And if he had half a brain, he would recognize that they didn’t belong anywhere near the torture cell. Their entire plan could be ruined if this drow decided to sound the alarm.

Astarion pushed himself off the wall, letting his shoulder lightly brush against the drow’s chest as he passed. “I could say the same about you,” Astarion replied, giving the same rakish grin he used to lure countless victims into Cazador’s clutches.

The drow turned his back to the corridor as Astarion wandered closer to the main chamber. Astarion glanced over his shoulder as he rested his forearms on a balustrade that overlooked the central altar and nodded for the other man to join him.

The location allowed him to be close enough to watch the corridor, but positioned in such a way the drow would have to turn around completely to see anything coming from that direction. It wasn’t an ideal scenario, but it was the best he could do without drawing the drow’s suspicion.

The half-baked plan seemed to work, because the drow followed him without a beat of hesitation. He settled himself beside Astarion, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from his body and hear the quick pulse fluttering beneath his skin.

“Was the party not to your liking?” the drow asked, an amiable smile on his full lips. “I was disappointed to see you leave so quickly.”

It was all too easy for Astarion to fall into his role of playing the rake. Charming and seducing. A familiar sense of numbness coursed through him as he looked at the drow without really seeing him.

Astarion shifted just enough to touch the drow’s arm with his own. “I would have loved to have stayed,” he said and looked up at him through his lashes. “The party is one thing, but I think I much prefer something more quiet and intimate. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The drow gave a low hum of agreement. “In that case, I’m glad that I could get you alone for a moment.” He covered Astarion’s forearm lightly with his large hand. “I’m also glad I found you when I did before that hag got her hands on you. I would have been most disappointed.”

“Trust me,” Astarion replied. “I have no intentions of going near that goblin priestess until she puts the fire out.”

With a small shake of his head, the drow chuckled. “I wasn’t talking about Priestess Gut,” he said. “I meant the skinny wood elf you walked in with.”

A flare of indignation sliced through him, shattering the numbness that had barely taken root.

Normally, such a comment would have made Astarion laugh. It still would have, if it had been about anyone other than Cas.

“The likes of her are so far beneath you,” the drow stupidly continued. “She saw you looking at me and —” he snapped his fingers “— suddenly she was all over you. Pathetic, really.”

Wait. She was? He tried to think back to the courtyard, but it all seemed to blur together.

The idea of Cas getting jealous of him appealed to him in some strange way. Like it was a confirmation that she wanted him for more than just the pleasure that he could provide. Or — the paranoid part of his mind interjected — she simply wanted to have him all to herself. To trap him, bind him to her, the same way he had been bound to another for centuries.

Astarion glanced at his nails in an attempt to appear indifferent. “She’s touchy with everyone. I hardly even noticed.”

“Figures. Typical wood elf.”

“What ever could you mean by that, darling?” Astarion knew damn well what the drow meant, but playing dumb usually worked in his favor when trying to seduce a target. Especially with cocky men looking for someone to stroke their ego, and the drow seemed to fit the bill.

The drow shrugged and gave Astarion a wicked smile, as if they were in on some joke together. “I mean they get around,” he said. “That being said, I’m sure she won’t mind if I steal you away for a bit. She has two other men to entertain her after all.”

The drow’s words shouldn’t have bothered him, but tension coiled within him anyways. Though an anonymous elf’s opinion was ultimately meaningless, an insult to Cas felt like an insult to him.

Little did the drow know, he had just dug his own grave.

“What do you say to heading back out to the party? I’d love to have a drink with you,” the drow said, his voice low as his hand rested on Astarion’s forearm.

Then the passing of two shadows in the corridor caught his attention. Astarion averted eyes from the drow just long enough to spy Wyll and Cas as they emerged around the corner.

Steaks of blood stained Cas’s sleeve from her elbow to her wrist, but she didn’t appear to be in any pain. Hopefully, that meant the blood didn’t belong to her.

As much as Astarion enjoyed Cas’s blood, he much preferred it when it was in her body or in his mouth. Anywhere else was a cause for concern.

Wyll whispered something to Cas as he pointed to her sleeve, the blood prominent in the torchlight. Cas frowned and tried to quickly hide the stain, but didn’t have anything on hand that would work.

Without a word, Wyll shrugged off his cloak and draped it over Cas’s shoulders, wrapping his arm around her as he did. Then she smiled at Wyll, something soft and earnest, and said something that Astarion could not hear.

He didn’t need to hear it. The sight of Wyll’s arm around Cas, how she looked at him without bothering to step out of his touch, was enough to make Astarion’s stomach churn.

Wood elves got around indeed.

When she finally catch his gaze, her eyes widened for just a moment before they drifted downward to where the mercifully oblivious drow still had his hand on Astarion’s sleeve. A flash of something crossed her face. Something he couldn’t identify. Before he could scrutinize any further, she schooled her features into something like indifference.

Hiding her bloodied sleeve under the cloak, she turned back to Wyll and led them both toward the temple exit without a backwards glance.

A warm hand covered his, snapping Astarion’s attention back to the drow. “Or if you don’t want to go back to the party, I wouldn’t mind having a drink somewhere a little more private.”

The honeyed words only stirred the fetid stew of disgust, jealousy, disappointment, and contempt that roiled in his gut. Once again, Astarion swallowed down the emotions like he had so many times before.

There was no question in his mind that the drow wouldn’t survive the night. Not after what he had said about Cas. Even though Cas had gone galavanting off with Wyll, leaving Astarion alone in a temple surrounded by the enemy, he still felt obligated to fulfill her request. Hell, that was probably the reason why she had left. She had seen him with the drow and just assumed he was following her orders like a faithful pup.

No matter. Cas’s request aside, killing the drow seemed like it would be fun. There were far worse ways he could spend his evening.

Astarion turned so he and the drow were face to face, close enough that he could feel the man’s breath on his skin. “I’d love the chance to have a moment alone with you, darling,” Astarion said, using a sultry and eager tone that he knew worked well on so many. “You have a place in mind?”

The drow smiled at him and placed a hand on Astarion’s hip. “I think I know just the right spot.”

---

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 5

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: After Cas's secret is revealed, Astarion finds himself in a bigger mess than he initially realized. Not only that, it seems the Wyll has eyes on the little wood elf as well.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 5.6k

Chapter Tags: References to past abuse, jealous/paranoid thoughts, Astarion gets into an argument.

When Astarion set off with the intention of doing something reckless, he didn’t expect to actually find a bear. Let alone fight it, win, and drink all of its blood. However, he felt marginally better than before by the time he got back to camp. The encounter with the Gur still weighed on his mind, but not as much as Cas did.

It was hard to shake. Cas only had to smile at him and butterflies swarmed his stomach. He was like a smitten school boy. It was laughable, really.

Astarion tried to ignore those pesky feelings, but instead found himself focusing on everything Cas did during breakfast. How she took care of everyone, from packing blackberries just for Shadowheart to pre-grinding the beans for Wyll’s coffee. Wyll had offered Astarion a cup once again, and he accepted. While the coffee still tasted as bland on his tongue as it did before, he couldn’t help but notice how Cas made a face after her first sip. He found himself wondering if he should keep an eye out for cream and sugar the next time they went out for supplies. And when Cas passed out the pemmican she had made, he found himself wanting to try it. Not because it particularly appealed to him, but because Cas had made it and he was curious.

All useless thoughts. Yet they made his stomach turn because he wasn’t sure when the last time someone had caught his attention the way Cas had.

Mosquitoes and dragonflies buzzed through the thick swamp air as they made their way toward Ethel’s “tea house”. The whole place reeked of sour earth and death. The fact Ethel had managed to disguise the putrid swamp as an idyllic wetlands to the average traveler was a testament to her power. Astarion was not keen on witnessing that power first hand.

When asked about her plans for dealing with the hag, Cas kept her answer short and vague.

“I have something she’ll want,” Cas said as they trudged through puddles and grime. “It’s better if you don’t know what it is. Hags love nothing more than misery, and she’ll love the idea that she’s sharing something I don’t want shared.”

Whatever that “something” was, Astarion could only hope the hag behaved as Cas expected so he could find out. It had to be good.

The hag’s home looked more like a decrepit shack than a place any sane creature would live. Actually quite perfect for a hag when Astarion thought about it. The signs posted around it were cute and clean and adorned with little paintings of herbs that pointed towards the “teahouse”. Cheerful bright colors on the innocent little signs were lost with the banished illusion. The whole place reeked of fey magic and trickery. The contrast between what the place was and what Ethel wanted others to see was unsettling to say the least.

A dainty, rusted bell chimed over the door to the shack. Out of habit, Astarion stopped at the threshold but quickly corrected himself. He no longer needed permission to enter someone’s home. With a self-satisfied smile, he stepped past the door frame.

Upon entering the hag’s domain, they found Ethel lecturing a heavily pregnant young woman. Mayrina, if Astarion had to venture a guess. They had run into her brothers on the road. Once when the brother had told them about Mayrina and a second time when the two were both bloody corpses on the ground.

Though they had already seen plenty of death on their travels, the brutalized corpses of Mayrina’s brothers seemed to strike Cas a little harder than Astarion would have expected. When Cas looked upon Mayrina, there was a flash of sadness and sympathy as she likely thought of her own brother. Then the look was replaced by a false mask of stony indifference before anyone else seemed to notice.

Before Cas could deliver any news about the unfortunate fate of Mayrina’s brothers, Ethel vanished the woman with a puff of green smoke. Ethel then dusted her hands on her apron, as if using her magic on Mayrina had dirtied them. “I was wondering when you were going to show up, petal,” Ethel said, turning to face Cas. “You best have one Hells of an apology for me, young lady.”

“I’m sorry, Granny,” Cas said, sounding so sincere that Astarion might have believed Ethel was her grandmother if he didn’t know any better.

Only the most powerful hags were called ‘Granny’, which meant Cas was going for the flattery route. Interesting.

“If I had known Mayrina was safe with you, I wouldn't have said anything to her brothers,” Cas continued, looking down at her hands and picking her nails like a child waiting for a scolding.

Ethel scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. “Given who your brother is, I almost believe your apology,” she said. “Now, what was it you needed? Before I kick you all out of here for interfering with my private business.”

Reaching into her bag, Cas retrieved her field journal and opened it to the latest page. The one with the picture of the tadpole. “A little help filling out some missing information here. I figured if anyone here would know about a creature like this, or if anyone was powerful enough to help, it would be you.”

Ethel plucked the journal from Cas’s hand. Her yellowed eyes scanned the drawing of the tadpole for just a moment before she began to flip through the other pages without bothering to ask Cas for permission. Not that she seemed to mind.

“Just information, dearie? You don’t want me to remove the bugger?” Ethel asked, pausing a rough sketch of a male Gith dressed in dark robes.

Cas shook her head. “Just information,” she confirmed as her eyes darted to the page for a mere fraction of a second. “I know you recognized me back at the Grove. I don’t doubt there’s something I can do for you in exchange.”

Floorboards creaked beneath Ethel’s feet when she crossed the room, settling herself in a rickety rocking chair. “Of course I did,” she said as she thumbed through Cas’s journal like it was some sort of scandalous diary. “The Huntsman of Neverwinter casts a pretty big shadow, but it’s not so big that I couldn’t recognize his baby sister.”

A deafening silence fell over the room. Astarion felt his heart drop to his stomach as Ethel took in their reactions, a satisfied smile on her lips.

That was it.

That was the secret Cas wanted the hag to reveal.

The Huntsman of Neverwinter was Cas’s brother.… Astarion watched Cas, waiting for a smile or a shake of her head. For any indication that Ethel’s claim was nothing more than a lie. Instead, he heard a floorboard squeak as Shadowheart shifted her weight from one foot to the other and a myriad of frogs droning beyond the rotten wooden walls.

A chill like needle thin tendrils of ice crept up his spine and spread across the base of his skull like shallow roots.

By the gods…. He had bitten the Huntsman’s sister.

He might as well have slipped a noose around his neck and saved the executioner the trouble. Out of all the ways he thought he would die (and he certainly would as the vampire who fucking bit the Huntsman’s sister), getting slaughted by one of the greatest monster hunters that had ever walked Faerun was not one of them.

The conversation he had with Cas on the road a few days ago sprang to mind. The vampires I know wouldn’t bite me even if I offered, she had said. Of course they wouldn’t. Astarion wouldn’t have if he had the faintest idea of who she was connected to. Bile rose in his throat and it almost tasted like betrayal.

What sort of mess had he gotten himself into?

Astarion shook the thought. It wasn’t his fault. If there was anyone to blame, it was Cas.

If the stories were true, the Huntsman was a reasonable man. Though sometimes reason went out the window when family was involved. The man would at least hear him out before staking him in the heart, right? He had to.

“Your brother is Vesryn Lichenwind?” Wyll said, his brow high and his mouth slightly agape. “Gods, that explains some things.”

That was an understatement. It explained a lot. How Cas knew so much about vampires. How she just happened to know how to deal with every monster they came across from undead skeletons to rabid gnolls. How she was so comfortable surviving out in the wretched wilderness.

It explained why Cas was so comfortable around him. Why his being a vampire didn’t seem to bother her a tick whereas most people would have very reasonable reservations.

“Well,” Astarion said as he swallowed his rising panic and plastered a smile to his face. “Wouldn’t that have been good to know. Better late than never, I suppose.”

Shadowheart folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips. “So we’re talking to a hag instead of your brother because…?”

With an exaggerated motion, Ethel looked about her home. “It looks like he isn’t here, dearie” she said and gave Cas a fairly convincing sympathetic frown. “I think you’re all stuck with dear old Auntie. Lucky for you, the Huntsman’s not the only one who might be able to help with your little problem.”

True enough, but he would probably help without demanding Astarion’s spleen or something else equally horrifying.

As much as Astarion hated so-called “heroes”, Astarion couldn’t deny that a connection to the Huntsman of Neverwinter could prove invaluable. At the end of the day, Astarion had to concede that by all accounts, the Huntsman was a good, honorable, man. Someone people looked up to. A legend even among legends.

As a young man, long before the vampiric hell that he had been living, Astarion had dreamt of meeting the Huntsman of Neverwinter. Hells, he might’ve even fancied him in the way children tended to fancy a dashing hero. And when Cazador turned him, Astarion might’ve daydreamed of what the Huntsman would do to his former master should they ever have met.

To his knowledge, the Huntsman also never bothered with Cazador. Just like every other hero, the Huntsman never came to Astarion’s rescue. Perhaps the Huntsman didn’t know what Cazador truly was. Or perhaps he simply didn’t think of Cazador as a threat.

Either way, Astarion was presented with an opportunity he could only dream of before. If anyone could sway the Huntsman of Neverwinter to make Cazador Szarr his prey, it was his precious little sister.

And having the Huntsman take care of Cazador was a hell of a lot less work than doing it himself.

With that in mind, Cas became far more valuable than he had ever dreamed. And far more dangerous than he had ever imagined.

Cas shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “If you’re able to tell us about the tadpole, Granny,” she said, “I’d be willing to tell you anything you want to know about the Huntsman.”

“Save your flattery.” She flicked away the generous title Cas once again tried to bestow. “If my sister’s heard you call me that, it would be both of our asses. Besides, I’m sure everything I need to know about him is stuffed in a library or down a bard’s throat.”

Ethel flipped through the journal until she landed on the drawing of the Gith once again. She dragged a dirty fingernail around the contours of the drawing and hummed. “I’m more interested in a ‘monster’ –” her boney fingers curled with air quotations “– he took care of a few years back. A dear friend of mine.”

With all the grace of a practiced politician, Cas’s mask of indifference did not falter at the dismissal. “That doesn’t narrow things down. Taking care of monsters is a daily thing for him.”

“Oh, but this one was a big deal, petal,” Auntie Ethel cooed as she flipped the journal shut and passed it back to Cas. “Do you remember a vampire lord known as the Collector? Hamish Slorach was his name. He had that massive museum in Waterdeep with everything a woman like me could dream of.”

Cas’s left eye twitched. “I remember him.”

Both the name and the title were familiar to Astarion. Cazador had corresponded with the Collector on a few occasions. Astarion had delivered a few letters addressed to Hamish Slorach to the post office himself on Cazador’s command. Despite Cazador’s best efforts, Astarion and his siblings all heard the story of the Collector’s brutal demise at the hands of the Huntsman.

It was the source of several news articles and no small amount of chatter in taverns across Baldur’s Gate. On one hand, people were shocked and scandalized that a magnate with connections to the aristocracy across Faerun was a vampire lord. On the other hand, the museum, the Collection, was an incredible source of knowledge that was made available to the public. Artifacts, artwork, pieces of history and magic that Gale would (and probably had) drooled over. And when the Collector had perished, the museum ultimately went with him.

From what Astarion had gathered, the museum also had a private collection: his vampire spawn. Vampire spawn of all races, sizes, colors, backgrounds. Most of which were kept in exhibits like animals in a zoo. Kept for the enjoyment of anyone willing to pay the price. For any kind of enjoyment. All their master had to do was say the word.

If rumors were to be believed, one of those spawn was key to helping the Huntsman bring down the Collector.

The rocking chair scraped against the moldy wooden floors as Ethel leaned forward, bringing Astarion’s attention back to the conversation. “I was a patron of his private collection,” she said with all the ease of a woman discussing the weather.

“Why am I not surprised?” Cas drawled as she folded her arms across her chest. Despite her tone, a tiny muscle in her jaw ticked in irritation.

Ethel cackled with unrestrained delight. “Then you should know that your friend Eroc was a favorite of mine,” she said and nodded toward the journal. “He must be a favorite of yours too, given those lovely sketches you have of him. I must say that Gith had a talented tongue.” The hag made a crude gesture and hummed as if she had tasted the most decadent dessert, and the sound made Astarion want to vomit.

One point for Cazador: the man never commanded him to have any sort of relations with a hag. Though Astarion wouldn’t have put it past him.

“I would have kept him here with me just for that big brain of his alone if Hamish would have allowed it,” Ethel continued as if they were making perfectly normal small talk. “But Eroc’s magic, that was something else. And you positively reek of it, petal.”

Cas exhaled through her nose, trying to disguise her obvious irritation as a sigh. “Are you sure that’s not the tadpole you’re sensing?”

“Ha!” Ethel slapped a bony hand on her thigh as she leaned forward in her chair. “You think I can’t tell the difference between Netherese shadow magic and a zerth’s? Please. What sort of hag do you take me for?”

The kind that gives away information for free with a nudge in the right direction, apparently. The knowledge that the Illithid tadpole also had some sort of Netherese magic tied to it was not at all reassuring. Good to know, nonetheless.

If Cas recognized the hag’s slip of the tongue, she didn’t let it show on her face. Instead, she simply folded her arms across her chest and waited for Ethel to continue.

“I haven’t spoken to Eroc in ages,” Ethel said as if she were lamenting time away from an old friend. “I just want to know how to get in touch with him and where he might be hiding these days. Tell me that and—”

“No deal,” Cas said firmly.

“Come now, dearie,” Ethel said, undeterred. “What harm is there in a little old hag like me getting in touch with an old friend? It’s not like I could hurt him.”

“I said ‘no.’” Cas tucked her journal back into her bag and adjusted how her bow hung over her shoulder. “I’ll tell you about Vesryn, but not Eroc. Final offer.”

The hag shook her head and tsked. “Then I’m afraid Auntie can’t help you, petal,” she said and stood from her rocking chair. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Though Cas’s knuckles had turned white where she clutched her bow, she managed to give the hag a gracious nod before they excused themselves. Part of him was thankful they didn’t come to any sort of agreement with Ethel. No matter how good Cas thought she was with dealing with hags, they were notoriously tricky. However, Cas did manage to gain some valuable information without anyone having to sacrifice a vital organ or getting afflicted with a curse, so that was something. Not a whole lot, but it was enough that Astarion had no good reason to complain.

Once the tea house was well out of sight, easily swallowed by the swamp once they took a turn down the road, Wyll decided to speak up. “You’re not seriously going to leave that poor girl behind?” he said, his brow furrowed and a frown on his lips. Of course Mr. Hero hadn’t forgotten the pathetic pregnant woman who was ripe for the saving. “Is that what your brother would have done?”

Cas stopped in her tracks, her brown eyes blazing in a way that made Astarion glad her glare wasn’t directed at him. “What would you have had me do?” she snapped. “Take out my bow and fight her point blank in her own home? We got what we came for, and it was a hell of a lot more than anything we learned at the Grove.”

Wyll’s eyes widened at the outburst and he took a single step back.

None of them have ever heard Cas use that tone of voice before. Astarion couldn’t tell if she was still irritated from the encounter with the hag, or if it was the Wyll’s mention of her brother; holding up her inaction against the image of a legendary hero.

“She has a point, Wyll,” Shadowheart said as she stepped into his line of sight. “Whatever is happening with that girl isn’t any of our business. We have bigger problems.” She tapped her temple just below where her circlet rested in her hair, indicating the Netherese-Illithid monstrosity residing in each of their skulls.

“I get that she’s a sorry sight, but she’s not worth putting ourselves in danger,” Astarion agreed and folded his arms across his chest. “She made her bed, she can lie in it.”

Wyll set his jaw and kept his eyes on Cas as if staring at her would make her change her mind. “There has to be something we can do,” he said, taking on a softer tone.

The fire in Cas’s eyes dulled to a soft ember as she took a calming breath. “We can discuss this later,” she said. “We need to relay this information to the others. One of them might have something to say.”

“What information? About the tadpole or about you?” Shadowheart quipped as her face feigned innocence.

Cas shook her head. “We can discuss this later,” she repeated and something about her tone sounded tired. Like whatever anger she felt finally fizzled into smoke. Without another word, she adjusted her bow over her shoulder and continued down the path.

—

The return trip to camp was considerably quicker than their trek out to the swamp thanks to finding one those mysterious runes Gale had taught them how to use. Astarion wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, but the runes allowed for them to cross great distances almost instantaneously (provided one knew where the destination rune was located). The quiet trip back to their main camp was blessedly short and they had the rest of the afternoon to plan on what to do next.

They passed on the information they learned about the tadpole and identity of Cas’s brother to Gale, Lae’zel, and Karlach. While Lae’zel and Gale were interested in the tadpole, Lae’zel couldn’t care less about the Huntsman. She had no idea who he was. Even after Gale gave an impassioned speech about some of the Huntsman’s exploits, Lae’zel only commented that she wished to face him in battle.

There was probably some comment in there about how a wood elf couldn’t compare to a Githyanki warrior. Or some vague promise to bring Vlaakith the Huntsman’s head.

Karlach, on the other hand, was a different story. She was a big fan of the Huntsman. Although she seemingly tried her best to contain her excitement at first until Cas, with an exasperated sigh, gave her permission to ask questions.

Which led to several questions from Gale and Wyll as well.

Though Cas initially seemed a good sport about all of the attention, it quickly became apparent that the topic was tiresome for her. Astarion couldn’t really blame her. Judging by her tone of voice, getting asked about her brother was a common occurrence. And given who her brother was, it was likely that the Huntsman was the only thing most others wanted to discuss with her.

“You know,” Karlach said over dinner, “I used to have a poster of your brother in my bedroom growing up.”

Cas dropped her head into her hands and groaned. “Please tell me it wasn’t the shirtless one.”

With a broad grin, Karlach tossed her head back. “Ha! What kind of woman do you take me for?” she asked and took a swig of her beer. “‘Course it was. I used to kiss his abs for luck.”

Wyll laughed and gave Cas a pat on the back. His hand lingered for a moment too long and Astarion pretended not to notice. “If it makes you feel any better, he was fully clothed in the poster I had.”

Despite Wyll’s reassurance, Cas made a disgusted noise and tried to change the topic of conversation. Though her voice was playful, there was a twinge of desperation to it that only Astarion seemed to catch. Somehow, the others found a way to turn the conversation back around to her brother in one way or another.

But by the time night fell, everything seemed to have gone back to normal. Cas ended up going to her tent much earlier than normal, but Astarion didn’t know if it had to do with exhaustion from the day of traveling or if she was simply done talking about her brother. To be fair, Astarion felt a little sick of the conversation himself, and he didn’t even partake in half of it.

Lae’zel took guard duty for the first half of the night, and she did not bat an eye when she spotted Astarion wandering towards Cas’s tent. After dealing with the Gur, and everything that happened after, he hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with her privately. Knowing what he knew now, he was eager to get her alone. Not only for another chance to seduce her, but also to find out if maybe her potential usefulness might supersede the pesky emotions that drew him to her like a moth to flame.

“She’s not there,” Lae’zel said just as he went to open the flap to Cas’s tent. “I figured you two had learned from last time and made plans away from camp.”

Astarion furrowed his brow. “Of course,” he said, his brain quickly trying to process her words. “It seems I am running late.” The lie slid smoothly off his tongue, and he wasn’t entirely sure why he said it. Force of habit, perhaps.

Where the hell would Cas have wandered off to in the middle of the night? Perhaps she was hunting. He never paid much attention to their food stores, given that he didn’t have any need for normal food, so it was a possibility.

She hummed, her strange yellow eyes giving no indication of whether or not she believed him. Then she cocked her chin toward the road. “You won’t have kept her waiting long,” she said and went back to polishing her already pristine armor.

Curious and unwilling to let Lae’zel catch him in a lie, he set off down the road. Taking a few shortcuts that he learned from his nightly hunts, and walking at a quick pace, it wasn’t long before he spotted Cas. A bandolier was slung over her shoulder, heavy with a myriad of flasks and what appeared to be smoke grenades. Her bow in her hand and quiver at her hip, he knew she wasn’t just hunting deer.

For a few moments, he stalked silently behind her, keeping to the shadows. When she turned in the direction of one of the travel runes, the very one they used when returning from the swamp, he let his footsteps be heard.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Cas whipped toward him, her ponytail nearly smacking her in the face as she did. “What are you doing?” she countered lamely and lowered her bow so it was no longer aimed directly at his chest.

Astarion found himself fighting a smile. “I see I’m not the only one who jumps at shadows,” he said, recalling the night she had inadvertently snuck up on him after his nightmare. The same night things changed between them. It felt longer than only a few days ago. If he had learned anything since his abduction, it was how quickly things could change. There was something exhilarating about not knowing what would happen next.

Although it looked as though Cas were about to head into battle, it didn’t deter him in the slightest. He could change her mind if he played his cards right. Perhaps talk her into spending a bit of time with him instead of whatever it was she was going to do. It couldn’t have been too important.

“I wanted to see you tonight,” he said, his voice low. He brushed a few stray strands of dark hair behind her ear and stepped closer so her leather armor brushed against his black linen shirt. He’d changed into the garment just before seeking her out, knowing how her eyes lingered on him whenever he wore it. Just as they were doing now, seeking out a sliver of pale skin beneath the loose ties at the front.

Delicately, he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger and said, “I haven’t been able to get you off of my mind, you know.”

That much was true. It had been true since Cas saved him from the Gur. Since he held her in his arms and tasted her on his lips. It had been so damn long since someone, anyone, made him feel something positive for a change. As much as it scared him, he wanted to hold on to the feeling for as long as he could.

“You’re not mad at me for not telling you about my brother?” She leaned into his touch obediently and the gentle pressure sent trickles of electricity through his skin.

He swallowed thickly as he tried to ignore the sensation. Not the response he wanted to have to just a simple touch. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he told himself that Cas was just a pretty woman and he was just physically attracted to her. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing that warranted the fluttering feeling in his chest.

“Not at all,” he said. Well, only a little bit. Just because she withheld such valuable information. Not so much that he was unwilling to do everything in his power to get her fully on his side. “We all have our secrets, darling. Doesn’t change what’s happening between us.” He brushed his thumb across her lower lip in a silent request.

“And what is happening between us, exactly?” she asked, tilting her head towards him. The sweet scent of peppermint on her breath made him want to close the distance between their lips.

It was too easy to forget why he followed her out when she looked at him so warmly. Like she actually cared about him. “I think you know, my love,” he purred.

“I don’t think I do,” she said and bit her lower lip. “I don’t think you do either.”

“Why don’t we take the time to find out?” He slipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt and brushed over her impossibly soft skin with calloused hands. The scent of lavender and leather filled his senses as his mouth ghosted over the faded bruise on her neck. He made a mental note to refresh the mark tonight, but with his lips rather than his fangs.

“I can’t,” she said, taking a single step back that felt like a slap to the face. “Wyll is waiting for me.”

Astarion blinked. “Wyll?” The name dropped from his lips like a cannonball, landing squarely between them.

A breeze rustled the trees surrounding them and an owl hooted in the distance. Crickets sounded off from the bushes like they were trying to fill the silence with their song.

“We’re going after Ethel,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other nervously. “I know you think it’s a waste of time. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“More than a waste of time.” Astarion folded his arms in front of his chest as unease churned his stomach. Really? She would rather fight a hag with Wyll than spend time with him? A huff of air passed his lips. Clearly she wasn’t basing her decision off of personal enjoyment, otherwise she would still be in arms. Probably with less clothing on.

It only took one look at her face to know she wasn’t going to change her mind and Astarion shook his head. “That girl isn’t our problem,” he reiterated the point that he and Shadowheart had made abundantly clear just hours earlier. “Why would you waste your time on someone who can’t help themselves?”

“I don’t give a damn about Mayrina,” Cas said as an edge of anger crept into her tone. “The hag wants Eroc, and I’ll do whatever I can to keep him safe. I won’t be able to rest until I see that bitch dead.”

“So you’re playing the hero for the vampire?” Unable to look her in the eyes, Astarion scoffed and averted his gaze to the puncture marks on her neck. A dark part of him wished he was a true vampire in that moment: as his spawn, he could compel her to stay. But that would have been wrong, even for him.

Astarion tapped his foot impatiently and rolled his lips. “He isn’t even here to shower you with praise for you putting yourself in danger on his behalf,” he said. “If you valued your own skin, you’d drag the Blade of Folly back here and forget the hag. It’s not our problem.”

Cas crossed her arms. “You’re giving a lot of criticism for someone hoping for the same treatment.”

His eyes darted back to hers and his brow creased. “What the Hells do you mean by that?” he asked through gritted teeth.

She shrugged. “I mean that Cazador isn’t technically our problem. Just yours,” she said as she stepped into his personal space, and he fought the urge to bare his fangs. “And whatever you’re doing with me— this whole sneaking kisses in the middle of the night — doesn’t need to happen for me to help you. You’ve said enough about Cazador that I want to see the bastard burn, regardless of whether or not we are friends. Understand?”

Pulse pounding in his ears, he tore away from her. “I never asked for your damn help!” He took several steps back as her eyes seemed to stare a hole straight through him.

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t want it,” Cas shot back. “Or maybe you just want my brother’s help. Like every other asshole, you were just waiting for me to offer and hoping that this thing between us—” she gestured vaguely in the air as if to indicate the amorphous concept composed of lust and utter lunacy “— would expedite the process. And I was willing to go along with it because I’m stupidly attracted to you.”

“Well, at least we can agree on the ‘stupid’ part,” he said. Not because he meant it, but because he knew it would hurt her.

If the jab struck true, Cas did not let it show on her face. With a heavy sigh, she adjusted her grip on the bow in her hands. “Go back to camp, Astarion,” she said, sounding more tired than angry. For whatever reason, her outwardly calm demeanor made him grind his molars as his blood boiled beneath his skin. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Stay safe.”

As Cas turned her back to him and started back down the road, he rolled his eyes. “Have fun playing hero, darling,” he called out to her, letting venom drip from his every word.

Cas didn’t even bother to look back at him as she held her middle finger in the air.

Seething, Astarion turned around and stalked back to camp.

---

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 3

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: Cas comes to Astarion's tent in the middle of the night. Although she claimed that her intentions were purely innocent, Astarion could read between the lines,

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter Tags: Kissing, nudity, heavy petting, they almost get caught, Lae'zel is the best wingwoman.

Not an hour had passed since Gale had lectured Cas about the ‘dangers of trusting a vampire’ when she showed up at Astarion’s tent with a bottle of wine in hand and a shy smile on her lips. Astarion welcomed her in without a second thought.

If he wanted to get her on his side, he needed to make it worth her while. And he only knew of one way to do that.

“Figured I owed you a bottle since you shared last night,” Cas said as she passed him the unopened wine.

The label on the bottle told him it was a Merlot from a vintner outside of Waterdeep. Something that Cazador would have served at parties, so it was undoubtedly better than the swill he and Cas had shared the previous night. Cas likely swiped it from the toll house where those fake paladins had been holed up, but Astarion didn’t really care about the origins as much as the gesture.

Only Cas would let a vampire drink her blood and think she needed to repay him for half a bottle of admittedly terrible wine with a bottle of the good stuff. Though the gift was decidedly unnecessary, he wasn’t about to turn it down.

“Coming to my tent with a bottle of wine in the middle of the night.” He gave her a feline-like grin as he shifted over to make room in his tent, leaving the invitation to join him unspoken. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

A delightful laugh passed her pretty lips. “Would you like me to?” she asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes, leaving it up to him to decide whether or not she was joking. Throwing the ball in his court, so to speak. But before he could decide how to volley it back to her, she settled in beside him on the bedroll. “But that’s not my intention, no.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, lowering his voice to have a sultry edge to it. “Because I really wouldn’t mind. You’re quite the catch, you know.”

“Stop it,” she said with a smile. “You’ll make me blush.”

“Oh, I hope I do,” he said, returning her smile even as his walls went up, separating any real feeling from his words. “I bet you’d look so lovely with your cheeks all flush. Even lovelier than the sound of my name from your lips.”

Color flooded her face and she gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Astarion,” she scolded with mock irritation. Then as if she had just realized what had happened, she dropped head into her hands and dissolved into bashful giggles. Instead of making any attempt to save face, she just asked him to open the bottle of wine.

For some reason, a hairline fracture cracked the walls he had just put up. Minuscule and insignificant, but definitely present. It happened sometimes, but it always resolved itself.

But she really was cute.

Knowing better than to push his luck at the moment, he uncorked the wine. Like the night before, they took turns drinking directly from the bottle since Astarion didn’t keep any goblets in his tent.

Unlike the night before, the hesitation and awkwardness between them was almost completely gone. Though there was not much room in his tent, there was enough that they could both lie down comfortably enough. Every movement came with the lightest brush of their limbs, but it seemed mostly unintentional on Cas’s part.

Something unspoken had changed between them. Astarion couldn’t put his finger on it, but he could tell Cas felt it too.

The air between them was calmer, more comfortable. Like they were old friends rather than new acquaintances. Perhaps it was just because his secret was out and she had accepted him despite it. Or perhaps it was that intimate moment they shared. Her on his lap and his mouth against her throat, cloaked in moonlight as they shared a new experience together.

Astarion’s chest tightened, and he got a sickening feeling that it was something more than her sharing her blood.

No matter. How he felt wasn’t important. What was important was endearing himself to her. He needed to ensure his continued protection, and dwelling on his feelings would do nothing on that front.

He shifted onto his side and Cas’s gaze followed the movement. Dark brown eyes dipped from his face to the sliver of skin exposed by the v of his shirt. Then she took a sip of wine and looked away.

“Is this going to become a regular thing between us?” Astarion asked, letting his eyes drift over her body and making no move to hide it.

Cas’s copper skin glowed in the dim lantern light as she shrugged. “It can if you want it to,” she replied. “Of course, if you want me to leave you alone — ”

“— if I wanted you to leave me alone I would have kicked you out already, darling.” Astarion gently prodded her leg with his foot for emphasis, but didn’t withdraw his touch. Just to see what would happen.

Taking a sip of wine, she nonchalantly pinned his foot beneath her shin. “Good. I’ve been enjoying our conversations.”

“As have I,” he said and carefully pried the bottle from her hand and set it down where it wouldn’t get between them, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to doing things other than just talking and drinking wine.”

“I’m not sure about that,” she said and pointed to the bruise on her neck. “I’m still sore from the last time we did ‘other things.’”

Astarion tsked. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone he spent an evening with woke up sore. Granted, those people had entirely different reasons.

Carefully, he brushed Cas’s hair behind her ear and frowned at the bite mark with faux concern. “You poor dear,” he cooed as he let his fingers trail down the unmarked side of her neck, her skin prickling in the wake of his touch. “Perhaps I can make it up to you. Make you feel better, so to speak.” His voice lowered seemingly of his own volition. “How does that sound, my dear?”

“You don’t need to make it up to me,” Cas replied, her voice no more than a whisper. Her eyes dropped to his lips, telling him everything that her words did not.

He could hear her pulse in his ears, pounding faster than before, excited. Wanting more than just a delicate touch, wanting what he was promising: pleasure. Her pupils were blown wide in the dim lantern light as her gaze flickered between his eyes and his lips.

Too easy.

“You say that, but….” Astarion held her chin and tilted her face closer to his. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, her breath hot against his skin. “May I?”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she reiterated even as she leaned into his touch.

“But what if I want to do this anyway?”

For a long second, she held his gaze as if she were trying to discern whether or not to believe him. Her breath shuddered when he leaned in close, the tip of his nose brushing against her skin, his lips already slightly parted in anticipation of her answer.

Her fingers slipped behind his head, tightening in his hair as she closed her eyes. “Gods, yes.”

In the next moment, his mouth caught hers. Just the gentle pressure of his lips against hers, slow and tender, as if he could soothe her racing pulse. His fingers securely cradled the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, coaxing her mouth open with practiced ease.

A shiver went through her as she parted her lips, her tongue a silky caress against his. The soft moan that escaped the back of her throat lit a flame deep in his core. His hands glided over her hips and he drew her beneath him. He settled weight on her, his thigh nudging hers apart as his kisses swiftly built in intensity. The blaze within him was too hot, too consuming, yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

This was different. It felt different. Astarion had kissed hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people. He had become desensitized to the sensation. It was all just muscle memory, his body performing the same dance it had done so many times. There was always a bleak emptiness inside him when he kissed someone. An emptiness that stemmed from knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that kissing him would be one of the last things they ever did.

Not this time.

Heat, a spark of something, filled that typically empty void within him. Gods, when was the last time kissing someone made him feel anything at all? Decades? Centuries?

Maybe it was just because he knew Cazador couldn’t ruin it. At least, not at that moment. Or maybe it was the tadpole. Who knew? So much had changed so quickly, it could have been anything.

Cas arched into him, her hips moving in a subtle but familiar rhythm as he pressed himself to her. Slowly, he rocked against her, letting every part of her feel every part of him. A gasp escaped her lips, so soft and sweet. As if she couldn’t get enough, she gathered him impossibly closer as she lavished his neck with fervent kisses.

“Do you think this is maybe a bad idea?” she said breathlessly, but made no move to stop herself as she pulled the collar of his shirt aside and kissed the newly revealed skin with ardor.

Gods, it actually felt… nice? He closed his eyes and leaned into the feeling for a moment, enjoying her attention. He looked for his usual feelings of disgust or self-loathing, but they were hiding. Somewhere. Waiting to pop up at any minute. He was sure of that.

Astarion slipped his hand beneath the hem of her shirt. “You’re giving me mixed signals here, darling,” he said as he traced circles around the jut of her hips with his thumb.

Deliberately, he pressed his hardened length against her core and she arched into him eagerly. “But no, my dear,” he said as his hand skimmed over her front, brushing against the stiff peaks of her breasts, and began unbuttoning her shirt. “I don’t think this is a bad idea.”

“I just don’t want you to think — ” Cas’s head snapped towards the entrance of the tent at the sound of footsteps.

The footsteps grew louder, approaching the tent, and the lust in Cas’s eyes faded as she mouthed a curse.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and putting some distance between them, Astarion caged Cas beneath him like a tiger hiding his prey from anyone who dared try to steal his claim.

Damn it. It had all happened so fast. He should have suggested somewhere more private. Where there wouldn’t be any risk of interruptions.

Surely no one would come looking in his tent in the middle of the night. What reason would they have? It was likely just someone getting up for a late night bathroom break. Nothing to worry about. Whoever it was would walk right past his tent, and he and Cas could continue on like nothing had happened.

Mindful of the footsteps, he undid the last button on Cas’s shirt and pushed the loose fabric aside. His palm cupped beneath her breast as his thumb and forefinger stroked and pinched the dark tip, drawing out the smallest whimper of pleasure.

Her fingers carded through his hair as she cradled his head. “They’ll hear us,” Cas whispered into the crook of his neck.

“So?” He matched her tone as he slid his palm across the flat expanse of her stomach, marveling at the contrast between the silky soft skin over combat hardened muscle. It occurred to him right then that there was a very real possibility Cas could kick his ass if she wanted to. But that realization didn’t scare him. In fact, it gave him all the more reason to have Cas on his side. “Let them,” he said and nipped along her jawline to her earlobe.

Boots scuffed against the dirt outside the tent and Cas turned toward the source of the noise. Despite her evident worry, she did not push Astarion away.

He kissed the slender column of her neck, silently urging her that everything was fine. No one had any reason to come looking in his tent. Everything would be just fine.

Those thoughts stopped the moment he heard voices.

“Gale.” Lae’zel’s voice came from the opposite direction of the approaching footsteps. “About time you woke up.”

“Ah, good evening,” Gale replied, sounding tired yet cheerful. “Or is it morning?”

There was no doubt in his mind that Gale was oblivious to what was going on beyond the thick fabric of Astarion’s tent. Astarion swallowed and held completely still, hovering over Cas as she scarcely dared to breathe. Her hands clutched the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline, her eyes locked on the entrance to his tent.

“I was just checking to see where everyone was before I started my watch,” Gale said. “Don’t want any surprises.”

If either of them moved, Gale would have his answer immediately. The tents were not sound proof by any means, and there was no doubt that Gale could tell the difference between someone rolling over in their sleep and two stupid elves caught in a tangle of limbs.

“Everyone is in their tents,” Lae’zel said with an air of authority that left no room for argument. “I would like to be in mine already. Given your tardiness, I assume you have little idea of how a night watch works. I would suggest you start with a patrol on the east side of camp. There are a couple of rabbits over there who aren’t as quiet as they ought to be and they may draw predators.”

As if to confirm Gale was completely unaware of the happenings in the tent, he apologized to Lae’zel for oversleeping and thanked her for the suggestion (whether or not either statement was sincere was up for debate). Lae’zel scoffed and told him to be on his way. As footsteps faded away into nothingness, Cas’s grip on his shirt loosened.

A beat of silence passed, yet neither of them dared to move until three taps rustled the fabric of the tent. Metal plates clicked against chain mail, and Lae’zel passed by the tent without a single word.

Why the Hells Lae’zel had covered for them, Astarion could not even begin to guess. But when Cas breathed a sigh of relief, he found himself glad for the help. Given her state of undress, Lae’zel not only spared Cas some awkwardness but a great deal of embarrassment as well.

Cas cupped the side of his face and looked him in the eyes for a moment, a soft smile on her lips before she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. “We should probably go to bed,” she said and sat up, making him back away to give her space.

“I thought that’s what we were doing,” Astarion said, trying to ignore the tingling sensation her kiss had left on his cheek. It was almost too sweet; the way she gazed into his eyes like he mattered followed by such a chaste bit of affection. It felt wrong.

Perhaps it really was for the best if they went to their separate bedrolls that night. He clearly wasn’t in the right state of mind to continue on as though nothing had happened. Not to mention, the opportunity Lae’zel had so generously (suspiciously) given them would be rendered pointless if Gale returned before Cas got back to her tent.

Smiling, she reached over and smoothed the fabric of his shirt and said a little wistfully, “Another time, Astarion.”

His fingers brushed over the soft skin of her cheek with a featherlight touch. “As you wish, darling,” he said. “Just try not to keep me waiting too long.”

Cas held his hand in his for just a moment and give his fingers an affectionate squeeze. “Goodnight, Astarion,” she said as she got to her feet. “Rest well.”

Not quite sure if he would rest at all, Astarion bid her goodnight.

What in the Hells had just happened?

—

Astarion wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he left his tent the next morning. A weird look from Gale. A sly comment from Lae’zel. Something from Cas.

But no.

Nothing.

Gale and Shadowheart greeted him from their spots around the campfire, mugs of coffee in hand as they resumed their conversation about something he did not care about in the slightest. Toward the back of the camp, Lae’zel watched with mild interest as Wyll and Cas trained with one another. Karlach shouted a couple of playful taunts at Wyll, any bad blood between them seemingly forgiven.

No one paid Astarion the slightest bit of attention. Not a knowing smile, or a suspicious glare.

No one knew.

He supposed he should have been grateful, but part of him wanted the others to know. It was all the better for his protection if they thought him and Cas were lovers. Then they couldn’t risk hurting him without dealing with Cas as well.

Poised with his rapier, his shirt off and a sheen of sweat coating his torso, Wyll gave Cas a nod. “Come on then,” he challenged with a cocky smile. “Knock me down and we can call it.”

Cas took a swing at him with a wooden training sword and Wyll sidestepped easily. “This was just supposed to be a warm up,” she panted and swatted a sweaty strand of hair from her face.

“And now it’s a lesson,” Wyll replied with a showman-like flourish of his rapier. “Don’t think I didn’t see what happened back at the Grove gate. You need a fall back plan if you lose that bow.”

Apparently, all of her skill with a bow left her little room for skills in other areas of combat. Come to think of it, Cas never used a weapon beside her bow unless she absolutely had to. The first time Astarion saw her use a dagger was when a goblin had tackled her to the ground and knocked the bow clear out of her hand. Thankfully, that dagger she had was sharper than a dragon claw and it took barely any effort for it to slip past the goblin’s sad excuse for armor. The dagger was her fall back plan, as Wyll put it. A dagger was much better suited for attacks from the shadows, and Cas needed some skill set in between long range and breathing down the enemy’s neck.

Astarion took a seat next to Lae’zel and acknowledged him with a nod. Nothing else. She seemed more interested in watching the training than she was in conversation.

He cleared his throat. “Last night — ”

“War camp etiquette,” Lae’zel said without taking her eyes off of Wyll and Cas. “I fully expect to be given the same consideration should the roles be reversed.”

No nonsense, no threats to keep things professional between one another. Good. Though he loved a good bit of drama, there was enough going on around them that he didn’t want to be at the center of it.

“Duly noted,” Astarion replied with a gracious nod.

For a brief moment, he considered asking her how she knew what was happening inside the tent, but ultimately decided that he didn’t want the answer. She knew, she covered for them, that was enough. The ‘how’ and ‘why’ didn’t matter. Astarion drew his foot up to rest on his knee and watched as Cas failed to strike Wyll yet again.

It took half a dozen more tries before Cas finally got Wyll to lose his footing. Though she didn’t knock him down, Wyll deemed enough progress had been made for one morning. They packed away the training equipment and Wyll excused himself to get breakfast.

Finally, Cas noticed him. She smiled despite her flushed face and sweat-dampened hair clinging to her forehead. “You.” Cas pointed at him, still sounding a little out of breath from her workout. “Need to talk to you.”

Without any prompting, Lae’zel told Karlach that was to spar with her and took her leave, once again leaving him and Cas alone.

At the very least, both Astarion and Cas owed Lae’zel a drink.

“I’m all pointy ears, darling,” he said and leaned back, palms resting on the sun warmed rock beneath him.

Cas plopped down next to him, the salty scent of sweat strong on her skin. “Are you good for a long trip today?” she asked and wiped her brow. “We’re going to try to find Ethel. See what she knows about the tadpole. We might have a night or two away from the main camp.”

Not what he expected her to ask him about. If not for Lae’zel’s comment, he might have thought last night never happened at all.

When he hesitated a moment too long, Cas continued, “If you’re not feeling up for it, I can ask Lae’zel or Karlach.”

“No, no.” Astarion ran his hand through his hair but couldn’t help the way confusion furrowed his brow. Was she really not going to bring it up? After he spent way too long replaying their time together over and over in his head like he hadn’t so much as kissed someone before her. “I’d be happy to accompany you,” he added, doing his best to sound nonplussed.

“Good,” she said with a sigh of relief. “I wasn’t sure how you were feeling after last night. I didn’t come to your tent with the intent to….” Her brow knitted together as if she were struggling to find her words.

“The intent to… get half naked and make out like a couple of horny teenagers?” he finished for her, a rakish grin pulling at his lips as relief washed over him.

He didn’t know why it mattered so much that she acknowledged the time they spent together. Hells, he wanted to forget most of the people he had been with over the years. But Cas…. Something about her felt different. He couldn’t place his finger on it.

Cas did not return his smile, concern etched into her face. “I don’t want you to think I was trying to use you.”

A bark of laughter erupted from his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he laughed because he actually found her words amusing or if it was simply shock. When was the last time someone had been concerned with how he was feeling? Whether or not he was comfortable?

Truth be told, he couldn’t remember. Perhaps no one ever had.

It made something stir within his chest that he wasn’t entirely prepared to deal with. Instinctively, he pushed the feeling back into the darkness where it belonged.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” he said, holding himself back from saying all the things he wanted to say. Cas had practically laid herself out for him like a feast. He had her exactly where he wanted her. Trusting him, concerned about him, easy to manipulate, to bend to his whim…

She bumped her knee against his, jerking him from his train of thought. “Just wanted to be sure.” Cas stood and stretched her arms above her head in a way that lifted her shirt, revealing a delicious strip of tan skin that practically begged for his lips. “I meant it when I said that I enjoy your company,” she said, completely oblivious to where his thoughts had wandered. “With and without things like last night.”

Astarion reached out for her before she could step away, his fingers gripping into the leathers covering her thighs. He spun her around to stand between his knees. Cupping her legs just below her the curve of her behind, he gazed up at her now blushing face. “Next time,” he said and gave her legs a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be sure there are no interruptions.”

“Next time, I wouldn’t be opposed to you biting anyone who does,” she joked, barely acknowledging how his hands crept up her backside.

That feeling tugged at his heart again, but he could not help the wicked smile that curled his lips. “Glad to see we’re on the same page, darling,” he said. “But now I almost hope the next person who interrupts us is Wyll.”

A playful hand pushed against his shoulder and she stepped out of his grasp. “We’re leaving in an hour,” she said, a girlish grin on her lips as she started back towards the others. Thankfully, the spot he had chosen to sit was just out of view of the main campsite, so none of them seemed to notice his hands on their leader.

He watched as she walked away, eyes lingering on the places he had the pleasure of touching last night. The iron cage around his heart caved ever so slightly when it tried to push past to follow her. He took in a breath of air his lungs did not really need, coaching the unwanted feeling back as he had done so many times before. With so many people, in so many decades. His heart could bang itself against the iron cage as much as it wanted, but those bars would hold fast.

They always did.

A cold realization settled in the back of his mind as he got to his feet. One that he hoped was merely the result of his newfound freedom from Cazador and nothing more. One that he would rather not think about because its implications made him feel almost sick to his stomach.

Astarion wanted her.

And not just as a tool.

---

Beginning

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 6

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: After an argument with Cas, Astarion decides that it's best to try to make things right. Preferably, before Wyll has the chance to sweep her off her feet and he loses his chance.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 7.8k

Chapter Tags: Smut, oral sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, penetrative sex, enthusiastic consent, mild begging, mild disassociation, references to past trauma, jealousy.

Note: Part of this chapter has already been posted as an excerpt.

Dawn crept over the horizon, accentuating two long shadows as Cas and Wyll returned to camp, looking equal parts exhausted and triumphant.

Astarion couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

The part of him that was irritated with the reckless idiots waged war against the part that was thankful to see them return in one piece. It meant that they didn’t have to stage a rescue mission for them. Or, more likely, find a way to deal with the tadpole without them. At the end of the day, Cas’s connections and Wyll’s reputation opened a lot of doors that might otherwise remain closed to them.

Astarion brought his foot up to rest on his knee and focused his attention on the book in his lap. Or rather, he tried to focus. Gale had been kind enough to lend him a book on Netherese magic that he just happened to have on hand for no suspicious reason at all. Not that he was complaining. The book was interesting, but his eyes kept darting back to where Cas and Wyll trudged up the path.

Blood stained the front of Cas’s leathers, and a gnarled staff had joined her bow in the weapon sling on her back. Judging by the smell and the way Cas carried herself, the blood on her armor did not belong to her. A sense of relief tickled his heart. It almost chased away his lingering irritation, but when Wyll tossed his arm around Cas’s shoulder like they were best fucking friends, Astarion ground his molars and went back to the book.

The way his own body responded only furthered his annoyance. Pushing the idiocy involving Ethel aside, the conversation with Cas prior to the unnecessary venture did not sit right with him. For multiple reasons. Not only had she turned him down in favor of playing hero with Wyll, she seemed to see straight through his plan to use her for his own benefit.

Cas wasn’t wrong, of course, but she also wasn’t supposed to figure that out.

Astarion had been careful to conceal his true intentions. It was second nature to him. Over the centuries he had lied to, seduced, and manipulated others to lure them back to Cazador so many times that he’d die of old age before he could recall each instance.

It wasn’t the first time someone had been suspicious of his intentions, but getting caught never really bothered him. It just meant he had to move on to the next unlucky idiot before Cazador got wind of his failure. But with Cas, a pinprick of guilt prodded the back of his mind with the insistence of an angry seamstress and he didn’t know why.

“You were amazing last night.” Wyll’s voice was soft, reverent even, over the sound of boots scraping against sunbaked earth. “It was a complete honor to fight a monster like Ethel at your side.”

Trying to be discreet, Astarion let his eyes drift back in their direction just in time to see Wyll pull Cas into a hug. One that lasted two seconds too long and did not seem entirely innocent. At least, not on Wyll’s part.

Cas gave Wyll a pat on the back before she put a single step of space between them. “Careful not to get blood on you,” she said with a light laugh, gesturing to the state of her shirt.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, my friend.” Wyll returned the grin and planted his hands on his hips as he looked her over head to toe, his eyes lingering on some areas of her figure longer than others. “There should be a spell to get that cleaned up. It can be a pain to get bloodstains out of leather like that,” he said and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Since you’re heading right back out, I might have a chest plate that will fit you. Or, at the very least, cover up most of the blood.”

“I think anything of yours would be too big for me,” she said. Then she seemed to realize the implications of her statement, and held out a single finger in warning. “Don’t even think about it.”

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Wyll bit back a laugh. “I was just going to say we can find a way to make it fit.”

Cas smacked the back of her hand against Wyll’s chest playfully. “I’m going to…” her threat vanished into a bubble of laughter. “You go get some rest. Clearly you need some sleep.”

Sleep wasn’t the only thing Wyll needed. He could also likely do with a pair of fangs in his throat, but Astarion likely wouldn’t get away with that. No matter how much he wanted to at that moment. It wasn’t like he had any sort of claim on Cas.

But that did not mean he couldn’t have a claim on Cas.

Wyll did not seem like the type of man to pursue a woman who was already spoken for. Except for Lae’zel, no one at camp knew about their midnight liaisons. No one saw the way Cas smiled at him under the moonlight, or heard the way she moaned when his mouth was on her neck, or how she laughed when he teased her. After their conversation last night, he wasn’t even sure if he would have the luxury of being close with her like that again.

An uninvited memory of the night outside the swamp invaded his mind. The way she had saved his life from the Gur without a moment’s hesitation, and after when she wrapped her arms around him as he kissed her against a tree. He should have taken her right then and there. Then maybe the thoughts that plagued his mind would cease.

But it just hadn’t been the right moment.

It didn’t feel right because he wasn’t supposed to feel anything at all. Pursuing Cas was about survival, not pleasure. And it certainly should not have caused the clusterfuck of emotions he had going on.

Astarion pushed the memory aside. Knowing the kind of emotions that cropped up whenever she was around, was it even worth it to continue pursuing a relationship beyond superficial friendship with Cas? If what she said was true, she would help him regardless of the thing going on between them. Was this thing worth the trouble if he would get access to her powerful connections without it?

Absently staring at the book in his lap, he listened as Wyll excused himself to his tent followed by the sound of light footsteps that approached from his left.

“Good morning, Astarion,” Cas greeted as she stopped just out of arm's reach. “I hope you rested well.”

“I did.” He continued to stare at his book, unwilling to look at those pretty brown eyes with what they tended to do to him. “Sounds like you and Wyll had a lovely time together,” he added before he thought to stop himself. “I take it you’ve successfully avenged your vampire friend. Do you think he would be happy with your kill?”

Leaves rustled in the wind. Cas said nothing, letting his passive aggressive words hang in the air like a cloud of smoke.

“I don’t think he’d care, honestly.” Her tone, friendly and warm just seconds ago, iced over in an instant. “But slicing the hag’s throat means she can’t go looking for Eroc any time soon, so I suppose there’s that.”

“How incredibly violent of you,” he said and did not bother to hide the disinterest in his voice.

Mentally, he slapped himself. Why was he being hostile to her when part of him just wanted to set things right? It was like a reflex, or some sort of self-defense mechanism he could not quite explain. Irritated with himself, he took a breath and tried a more neutral tone. “When are we heading out?” he asked, just to steer the conversation towards something more productive.

“About thirty minutes,” she answered without missing a beat. “Are you okay with watching the camp with Karlach for a bit while Wyll gets some sleep?”

His fingers paused just as he was about to flip to the next page in his book. So, she was leaving him behind. She hadn’t done that since the day after they first met. Granted, it seemed everyone besides Cas and Shadowheart had gotten at least one day of rest. He could not help but think that she wasn’t giving him a break as much as she was taking a break from him. A cold feeling seized his chest and he promptly ignored it in favor of putting on a face.

Plastering a smile on his lips, Astarion finally turned to her. “Darling, I’m hurt,” he said as he pressed his hand to his heart in mock offense. “But I suppose I can suffer a day at camp while Wyll gets his beauty sleep. It sounds positively dreadful.”

The blank expression on her face did not budge an inch. Not a hint of amusement or irritation. “We’ll be back before dark,” she said, her tone taking on a business-like quality that grated on his nerves.

When Cas started towards her tent, Astarion forced himself to keep his mouth shut and returned to his book.

—

Six blissful hours of peace and quiet passed before the Bastard of Frontiers emerged from his tent looking like he didn’t know what day it was. A fresh bruise bloomed on Wyll’s hip where his trousers hung indecently low, and Astarion found himself glad that Cas wasn’t around to see what the monster hunter had on display. Compared to Wyll, Astarion was a scrawny little shit and that knowledge bothered him in a way it hadn’t before.

Even with the scars and the fake eye, Wyll was an objectively attractive man with his sun-kissed brown skin and a bright smile that made it seem like he hadn’t had a bad day in his life. Once upon a time, Wyll was exactly the kind of person Astarion would dream of marrying. Back before his entire life was upended in an undead nightmare. As things were, Wyll appealed to Astarion the same way an orchestra might appeal to a deaf man. He could understand why someone would have an interest, but he simply had different tastes.

Nearly two hundred years had passed since Astarion last saw his reflection. Time had turned his own face into a vague memory. Given how people responded to his presence, with coy glances and blushing cheeks, he knew he couldn’t look terrible. Hells, that was an understatement. The main reason he was successful luring people back to Cazador was because most people found him attractive. Beautiful, even. But his looks were nothing like the human man strutting around camp with his shirt off and looking like he just came off the cover of an erotic novel.

Once again, Astarion tried to focus on reading, wishing Karlach hadn’t taken Scratch with her to go to the grove. They were a far better distraction than the book.

For a while, Wyll left him alone. He took some time to train and make sure all of his gear was in working order. Why he did that all without a shirt on, Astarion did not know. He supposed it was a hot day. Maybe Wyll just didn’t want to dirty any more clothing.

However, the silence between them was tragically short lived. Wyll approached late in the afternoon with a flask of whiskey in hand and a smile on his face. From what Astarion could tell, Wyll wasn’t drunk. Small mercies. The Blade of Frontiers was a chatterbox when he was too deep in his cups, and Astarion was in no mood to deal with that.

“I’ve got a personal question for you,” Wyll said as he settled beside Astarion on a split log they used as a bench. “Cas said something last night that made me wonder…. Is there something going on between the two of you?”

A vague question, and one that invited divulging far too much if he didn’t care to think about it. Inexperienced magistrates and politicians easily fell into such traps because their need to hear themselves talk left little time to consider the weight of their words.

“Clarify something,” Astarion said and picked up his bookmark, sensing that the conversation wouldn’t be completely boring after all.

Wyll lightly nudged him with his elbow. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I get the feeling the blood might run a little hot between you two.”

That was one way to put it. Yet, he could tell that Wyll was being intentionally vague. As much as Astarion liked to gossip, he liked it significantly less when the subject matter was personal.

“And what makes you say that?”

Wyll shrugged and took a sip from his flask. “Cas seemed upset last night,” he said as his smile faded. “I tried to talk to her about it, but she didn’t say much except that you were giving her a hard time.”

“Nothing more than a lover’s quarrel, my friend,” he said, just to prod him a bit. It was clear that Wyll was after something with his line of questioning, he just didn’t know what. At least, he didn’t know anything for sure.

Although he had a sinking feeling.

“Truly?” Skepticism coated the word so thickly it was almost insulting. “I wouldn’t have thought that someone like Cas would — ”

“— It was a joke,” he said before Wyll could shove his foot into his mouth. Astarion wasn’t sure what Wyll was going to say, but the end of that sentence could not have been anything good. He decided to be offended just on principle. He turned back to his book and said, “I caught her sneaking out and we had a little spat. You know how Shadowheart and I felt about dealing with the hag.”

Wyll took a drink. “So, there’s nothing going on with you and Cas?”

“Nothing at all,” Astarion confirmed drily, not sure why he was lying. “Everything is just tickety-boo.”

There was definitely more going on between him and Cas beyond their petty argument, but Wyll didn’t need to know about that. It wasn’t any of his business.

Leaning back on his hands, Wyll hummed as his eyes trained towards where the sun was setting beyond a copse of trees. “I admit I’m relieved to hear it. I like her, you know? I want to see her happy.”

Astarion blinked. There was something to Wyll’s tone of voice… the way he spoke about her….

Shit.

Wyll didn’t mean those words platonically, did he?

That wouldn’t do. Not at all.

Part of him wanted to backtrack and confess that he had lied before. There was something going on between him and Cas. What that something was, who the Hells knew? But it was there and that meant something.

What they had was special to him, if nothing else. It wasn’t something he wanted to lose. Not when he still needed her for more reasons than he cared to admit.

He couldn’t let Wyll get any ideas. Astarion needed to act fast. It wouldn’t take long for Cas to realize that Wyll could offer her a whole lot more than he ever could.

He couldn’t let that happen.

An idea popped into his head. It was a low and petty notion, but hopefully subtle enough that Wyll wouldn’t perceive it as such. So long as it made him second guess pursuing Cas, Astarion didn’t really care.

“Well, I’m certain your little outing last night would have made her perfectly happy,” he said all too casually. “It was probably just like spending time with her brother. What with both of you being monster hunters with theatrical titles.”

Wyll chuckled and brought the flask to his lips. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, the wheels turning in his head as he weighed the implications of Astarion’s statement.

On one hand, it was a compliment. On the other, no man wanted the woman he was interested in to be associating his likeness with that of her brother.

“You’re ridiculous,” Wyll finally replied. “What I’ve done is like a teaspoon of water in an ocean compared to the Huntsman. Comparing me to him is like….” Instead of finishing his thought, he took a swig from the flask and shook his head.

“You’ll get there some day, I’m sure,” Astarion added just for good measure. He turned his attention back to his book, pleased that his little comment seemed to wriggle its way under Wyll’s skin.

A few seconds of silence passed. Wyll sat beside him quietly as if he was trying to determine whether or not he should say something. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Astarion’s game, but it did take a certain type of person to play it. And Wyll wasn’t that type of person.

Wyll gave him a friendly pat on the back and thanked him for the talk before he excused himself, saying something about having to get dinner ready.

A little knot of insecurity twisted in his stomach as Wyll walked away.

Wyll was a good person. Probably the best of them, if the way he spared Karlach was any indication. Especially since he implied that he put his own life in danger by letting Karlach live. Everything about Wyll screamed “hero”. Someone a person could look up to. Someone a person could trust.

Astarion was none of those things.

If he was honest, he wasn’t sure if he could be even if he tried.

—

Though he would never admit it, Astarion needed that day of rest. Not just for his body, but to give himself time to sort through the thoughts swirling around in his head. Mainly, it gave him time to figure out what he wanted to do about Cas.

He needed to set things right with her. Both as an ally and as the closest thing he had to an actual friend. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had anything close to friendship with someone. It would have been foolish to give it up so easily.

It didn’t take much to see his relationship with Cas was different. She spent her time with him because she enjoyed his company, not because she had nowhere else to go. As much as his instincts told him to twist her kindness, generosity, and naïveté to his advantage, part of him didn’t want to. Deep down, he knew that he simply enjoyed her company as well.

The dark desires that came with immortality easily infiltrated his genuine feelings. It was difficult to pick between the thoughts, or to figure out which ones were tainted by his affliction. Did he really want something more than friendship with Cas? Was his desire for more fueled by a lust for power or something else entirely?

He didn’t get to dwell on his thoughts long before Cas and the others returned to camp. Lae’zel seemed beyond pissed off, paying no mind to anyone or anything as she immediately went to work dismantling a training dummy with an ax. If he had to make a wild guess, something went terribly wrong with their quest to find the Gith crèche. Despite his awkward conversation with Wyll, it seemed staying at camp was by far the more enjoyable option. He did not want to imagine what it was like to walk miles upon miles alongside an enraged Githyanki warrior.

Cas and the others, thankfully, didn’t seem to share the Gith’s frustrations and simply went about their business as usual.

When Cas acknowledged Astarion with a soft smile and a nod, his heartbeat quickened in his chest like an answer to his previous question. The dark desires courtesy of his vampiric nature were cold, calculating, and yawningly empty. Whatever was stirring in his chest was anything but. Warm and pleasant, like a thick blanket around his shoulders that guarded him from the cold.

Her smile melted away some of his anxieties. Despite his behavior from that morning, she didn’t seem to hold a grudge. She was giving him another chance. A chance that he did not want to waste.

Astarion went out to hunt while his companions busied themselves with their own dinner. By the time he returned to camp, Wyll was sharing a drink with Shadowheart, Karlach, and Gale around the campfire, laughing and telling stories while Lae’zel was still beating that innocent training dummy into oblivion. When he asked where Cas had wandered off to, Wyll cocked his thumb towards the river and said she went to wash up.

Perfect. Just the opportunity he needed to get a chance to chat with Cas alone, away from the potential interruptions from camp. Although interrupting her bathing wasn’t ideal, he didn’t want to sit around and wait for a more appropriate moment either.

Between the sound of friendly chatter and dull thuds of Lae’zel’s steel blade meeting packed straw stuffed in armor, none of his companions seemed to notice when Astarion snuck off.

Enough time had passed since Cas had left that he felt she’d be done with her bath and he was hoping to intercept her on the way back to camp. When he spotted her, it appeared as though she had just gotten out of the water. A beige towel wrapped around her torso, barely covering the curve of her ass as she carded her fingers through her damp hair. The faint scent of lavender scented oil and soap reached him just as Cas noticed his presence.

Her dark brows furrowed at him in question, but she continued working the lavender oil through her hair, focusing on the tips. “Please don’t tell me you were watching me bathe,” she said dryly.

“I considered it, but no.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets as his eyes were drawn to the way the towel clung to her subtle curves. “I just wanted to catch you alone for a moment. Figured we needed to talk about some things.”

Cas dabbed a few more drops of oil into her palm and began to work it through her hair. “I suppose we do,” she said and exhaled deeply as she averted her gaze. “I’m sorry for what I said last night. It wasn’t right for me to accuse you of using me for my brother when you had only just found out about him.” Her fingers worked through her hair, but in a way that was more nervous than productive. “I won’t bore you with excuses, but I am sorry. You didn’t deserve it. I hope you’re able to forgive me.”

Not what he was expecting, but he didn’t disapprove. The words stirred a funny, unfamiliar feeling inside him. When was the last time someone he knew apologized to him? For anything at all? While the apology was nice, and appreciated, it was something else she said that dug deep in a way he hadn’t expected.

You didn’t deserve it.

For centuries, there was always a reason why he deserved every moment of agony he endured. He failed to bring back prey for Cazador. Or he spoke too loudly. Or too softly. He wasn’t standing straight enough. Didn’t smile when he was supposed to. Stood six inches to the left of where Cazador expected him. According to Cazador, he had deserved every harsh word, every cut along his skin, every missed meal. For centuries, the only things in life he didn’t deserve were the good things.

Cas adjusted her towel, holding the thin material in place more with her arms crossed over her chest than with the corner tucked over the edge. She laughed sheepishly and brushed a damp lock of hair behind her ear. “I suck at apologies,” she said, her eyes almost pleading as they fixed on his face. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you–”

A smile crept across his lips as she bumbled over her words. Adorable. How could he have ever been upset with her? It was difficult to hold much of a grudge when she was wrapped in a towel like a gift and spoke such sweet words.

“I suppose I can forgive you, darling,” he said, as if forgiving her was some dreadful chore. A droplet of water ran down her neck to the hollow of her collarbone before it disappeared beneath her towel. Astarion licked his lips. “But if you insist on making it up to me, I might have some suggestions.”

The subtle sound of her heartbeat quickened in his ear as her mind went exactly where he wanted it to go but the noise was quickly drowned out with a laugh. “And what might those suggestions be?” she asked as she took a single step closer, keeping herself just out of his reach.

Astarion feigned interest in a non-existent speck of dirt beneath his fingernails, which only seemed to amuse Cas more. “Do I really have to spell it out for you, darling?”

His eyes wandered over curves the towel scarcely kept hidden, from the swell of her breasts to the roundness of her hips. As much as he wanted to close the distance between them and tug the towel loose, he resisted. He was a gentleman after all. Well, that was a lie. But he could very well pretend to be enough of a gentleman that he would at least ask before ravishing her on the spot. “I’m suggesting that we kiss and make up.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” A smirk on her lips said she was intentionally being difficult, like she was waiting for him to just ask her outright. “Or are you more interested in the ‘kissing’ part?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “You’re cheeky, aren’t you?” he said as his gaze landed on her full lips. “If you aren’t interested—”

“— I never said I wasn’t interested,” Cas said as she stepped closer until they stood toe to toe, her chest brushing against his. “But I want to make sure you’re certain about it. Now that you know who I am—”

He didn’t bother to wait for the end of her sentence. Astarion cupped her face between his hands and covered her lips with his own by way of an answer. He was certain. In this situation, her being the Huntsman’s little sister mattered as much as him being Cazador’s spawn. Which was to say, not at all. For a few moments, they could both forget who they were and the situation they were in.

A sound of surprise came from deep in her throat as his tongue brushed against hers. Sweet peppermint coated his tongue as he stroked hers, and it might as well be his new favorite flavor. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt as his hands slipped to her waist. He pulled her body flush against his so she could feel the effect she had on him. His cock, already half hard at the sight of her, swelled and thickened between them. “I want to take this towel off,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

When he bit her earlobe, she made a sound that fueled something primal deep within him. Something that only understood need, want, and possession. Something that took the fire in his core and doused it in whiskey, making the flames burn even brighter. His fingers hooked into the towel impatiently, wanting and waiting. He would still play the gentleman, though he wanted to be anything but being gentle.

Her hips pressed into the hardened length and he groaned at the moment of relief the pressure provided. Her movement was slow and deliberate. Taunting him, daring him to take what he wanted. Then her hand slipped between them as she palmed him through his trousers.

She unbuttoned the front of his pants and Astarion suddenly found it a little hard to breathe as her deft fingers ghosted over the inside of his briefs. It was the first time Cas had touched him like that: the first time she had gone for what she wanted rather than following his lead. A sense of familiar numbness mixed with excitement. It felt different than the countless others who had touched him. It wasn’t blind demand fueled by lust. She seemed to be focused on him as she wrapped her warm hand around his aching length.

She stroked him gently and a groan rumbled deep in his throat as he pressed himself into her palm. “You want this, don’t you?” His words were a sultry whisper against her ear. “You’ll have to ask nicely.”

Cas hummed in contemplation as she kissed down his neck. Carefully, she slipped his shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the grass behind him.

Then she lowered herself to her knees.

“Love,” he said, caution sneaking into his tone. “What are you doing?”

Of course, he knew exactly what she was doing. He just didn’t know why she was doing it. What in the Hells was she playing at? He was supposed to be the one in her position, the one offering pleasure, but not the other way around.

Lustful, doe-like eyes gazed up at him as she traced her finger from base to tip. “I’m asking nicely.” She licked her lower lip and her eyes went back to the bulge just inches from her face. “Unless you’d rather I do something else with my mouth. It’s up to you.”

Some mechanism in his brain sputtered. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had made such an offer. Years. Maybe decades. Hells, she even left the choice up to him. She actually bothered to ask what he wanted in the first place and….

He could say ‘no.’

The realization sent a shockwave through him. For the first time in centuries, he could refuse someone.

Somehow, he knew she wouldn’t push it if he told her that he wasn’t interested. It would have been a lie, but just the knowledge that he could refuse her made him feel more powerful than he had in ages.

His heart picked up speed and his throat felt a little tight. “You’re sure?” he said, and mentally slapped himself. Gods, he was supposed to be seducing her! Not… whatever he was doing at that moment.

What the Hells did this woman do to his brain? Sometimes, he swore she affected him more than the tadpole.

Part of him expected her to change her mind. After all, her own pleasure was the only thing she wanted, wasn’t it? That was all anyone ever wanted from him. If his needs ever got taken care of, well, it was usually just because he got lucky.

“Very,” she said and kissed him through his briefs. Then, with a playful tilt of her head, she added, “Please?”

Astarion ran his fingers through her still damp hair. “If you insist, darling.”

Easing down the waistband, a faint hint of redness colored her cheeks as she took in the sight of him. Fuck, he had been in Cas’s position hundreds of times that it felt almost wrong to have someone kneeling before him.

Cas looked up at him with eyes that were simultaneously so innocent and so mischievous. Slowly, she dragged her tongue along the underside of his shaft and his fingers tightened in her hair. Just that small touch made his whole body tense as heat rose to his cheeks.

“Let me know what you like,” she said before wrapping her lips around the head of his cock.

His jaw fell open as she took him into her mouth and every single thought he had vanished. Nothing registered except for the warm, slick, heaven surrounding him. For a moment, he just watched her. Her movements were slow and delicate, like she was savoring him. And he wasn’t sure if anyone had ever paid him attention the way she was. He couldn’t bring himself to look away even if he wanted to, mesmerized by her lips wrapped so beautifully around his cock.

“Fuck, Cas,” he hissed. His fist tightened in her hair as he eased his cock further into her mouth, guiding her into a deep, steady rhythm. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

Cas was a quick study, figuring out exactly what he liked with just the smallest direction. Shamelessly, his eyes locked onto the sight of her lush lips sliding up and down his cock, following her movements, unable to look away even if he wanted to. He groaned when she sucked him a little harder, and took him a little deeper until the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat.

Gods, he couldn’t remember the last time someone touching him felt… not terrible. Heat pooled in his gut as his hips bucked involuntarily. Fuck. If he didn’t stop her, it was going to be over before it ever really started.

“That’s enough, darling,” he said, his voice somewhere between a groan and a primal growl. With his fingers tangled in her hair, he eased her off of him before he came down her throat. With a wicked glint in her eye, her tongue lapped over the head of his cock once more and he bit back a moan.

Her hands settled on his hips as she gazed up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Waiting. Watching his reaction with parted lips.

She must have seen something in his face because then she breathlessly asked, “Do you want to stop?” The question almost made him want to laugh.

Astarion leaned down, putting his face close enough to hers that he could feel her breath across his lips. “That is the very last thing I want to do.”

His lips crashed against hers in a bruising kiss. It was like something ignited in him like a shot of whiskey tossed into an open flame, sudden and intense. Like the fire spread beyond his body, Cas inhaled deeply as her fingers sunk into his hair with unabashed passion. Astarion wasted no time pushing her down onto the grass.

The towel Cas had wrapped around herself had loosened completely and began serving a much nobler purpose of keeping them off the grass. Mostly. It was an admittedly small towel, but it was better than nothing at all.

Every instinct he had told him to plunge his cock inside her and fuck her until she couldn’t see straight. Once he removed the rest of his clothing, it took every bit of willpower he had not to do just that. Cradled between her thighs, his hard length prodded her entrance, teasing her as she arched to meet him, desperate and wanting. But he didn’t press into her just yet, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Normally, for him, sex was just about going through the motions. It was something that he had been forced to do for so long that he didn’t even have to really think about it. But Cas had completely thrown him off with a few words and a blow job. Gods, she had actually been willing to stop before she ever got her pleasure. She didn’t even seem to be upset by the prospect. All he had to do was say the word and… that was how it was supposed to be, wasn't it?

But after centuries of being denied even the most basic human decency, it felt like a godsdamned gift.

Astarion’s lips moved against hers, hot and eager, as he held his weight above her with his palms on either side of her head. He dragged his mouth down the column of her throat, over the lovely bruise on her neck, more interested in tasting the salt of her skin than the blood that pulsed beneath. His lips wandered to her collarbone, then her full, rounded breasts. Her dark nipples tightened to stiff peaks as his tongue flitted over the tips, one after the other.

“You’re gorgeous, darling,” he said, his voice thick and unrecognizable and far too full of desire. He drew her into his mouth, sucking the most sensitive part of her breast until she was squirming beneath him.

A small gasp passed her pretty lips when his fingertips brushed over the heat between her thighs. “Already so wet for me,” he purred as his fingers delved into her.

The response was immediate. Her hips rocked to meet the movement of his fingers as he kissed between her breasts, his lips trailing down to her firm stomach, lower and lower. His thumb strummed over her clit in practiced motions as he kissed her mound and her inner thighs. Everywhere but where she wanted him. Even in the moonlight, he could see the red flush to her cheeks and the sighs that escaped her lips were like music to his ears.

“Astarion,” she said, his name like the softest caress on her breath. Her fingers tunneled through his hair, blunt nails trailing over his scalp in a way that made his skin prickle with pleasure. Though he expected it, she did not pull or guide him to where she so obviously wanted him.

He glanced up at her and eyes met for a brief moment. A spark of electricity shot through him. Something more than lust, more than simple desire. It was too much. He closed his eyes, breaking the connection, and lowered his mouth between her legs.

Cas’s breath hitched when the steady rhythm of his thumb on her clit was replaced by his tongue. Like she was fighting the urge to hold him there forever, her fingers tensed in his hair without pulling it. As he dragged his tongue through her folds, his fangs ached with the sudden urge to bite her. To taste all of her; blood and sex. He let his fangs graze over her without breaking the skin, sending a satisfying shiver through her.

Cas arched when he began to suck on her clit. His fingers curled within her, stroking her sweet spot in a way that had her hips lifting off the ground. He pressed his forearm over her hips, pinning her in place as he licked, sucked, and tasted her.

Her legs pressed around his ears, her thighs trembling as her walls tightened around his fingers. “I’m going to come,” she panted as he lapped at her swollen clit like he was trying to brand her with his tongue.

It was only another second before her whole body began to shake. Then all of Cas’s muscles went taut as she let out a choked moan, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she came undone. Astarion glanced up and was greeted with the sight of her flushed face and her hand clamped over her mouth as she tried to muffle herself.

Gods, was she beautiful.

While Cas caught her breath, Astarion withdrew his fingers and pressed soft kisses to the inside of her thighs. He trailed kisses up the length of her body, his cock aching to be inside her.

His heavy length ground against her soft skin, desperate for any sort of relief and impatient for a response. The need he had to feel her around him, to fill her with all of him, was indescribable as it was instinctual. He spread her thighs with his knee and pressed himself against her, sighing as the slickness between her legs teased his cock, warm and welcoming.

“Tell me you want me, darling.” His lips brushed against her neck as he spoke.

“I want you.” Cas raised her hips in encouragement. “Please.”

Something primal rumbled in his throat as he notched his tip against her entrance. “I love hearing you say ‘please.’” He thrust into her with one deep, hard, steady plunge that buried him to the hilt.

Her mouth fell open as her pussy clenched around him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as if trying to pull him even closer, deeper. “Gods, yes,” she said as she pressed her face into his neck, nipping his pale flesh as she rolled her hips against his.

Astarion went still as his breath shuddered, cock throbbing inside her and his hips pressed against hers. Though he had done this exact thing thousands of times, she felt so incredible. So warm and snug around his length as she pressed delicate kisses over his neck to his jaw. Then, with her hand on his cheek, she captured his mouth with hers.

For a moment, something like shame and trepidation flickered within him, before he kissed her back. There would be time to dwell on that later. It was different with Cas. Cas wasn’t a victim, or a target, or just another meal for Cazador.

She was… so good to him. She defended him, protected him. Though she was obviously attracted to him physically, it was clear that there was something more. There was something in the way she smiled and laughed with him. Something in the way she wanted to spend time with him, hear his thoughts, and was willing to stand her ground when they disagreed.

For the first time in centuries, he might have an actual friend in Cas. A real connection. Usually he couldn’t wait for his sexual encounters to be over, but with Cas, he almost didn’t want it to end.

Worst of all, he was still manipulating her.

He was using her the same way others had used him.

She was far too valuable, and he had to keep that in mind. His feelings on the matter be damned. He could push them aside, just like every other time they got in the way of what needed to be done.

“Is everything okay?” Cas asked, her voice thick with lust as her brown eyes watched him with a touch of concern.

With a rakish smile, he rocked his hips. “All of your nipping makes me want to bite you back.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily and grazed his fangs along her neck.

Before she could think to question him, he withdrew almost completely and slammed back into her. A pleasured cry tore from her lips as her blunt fingernails bit into his shoulder. Astarion gathered her in his arms and his hips gently rocked into her, the practiced movement putting steady pressure on her clit. Her walls fluttered around his cock, and every time he slid in deep her breath sighed out as she held him tight.

He couldn’t remember the last time sex had made him feel so connected to another person. So close and so vulnerable. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked a lover in the eye as he was inside them. It was as liberating as it was terrifying.

Cas’s hands roved over the contours of his body, from his shoulders to his ribs to the curve of his ass. Fingertips traced over the marred skin on his back like she couldn’t even feel the scars. No part of him went untouched. No tormented past, no uncertain future, just her body against his like nothing else in the world mattered except their pleasure.

It wasn’t long before she was quaking, her eyes shut tight as she took every last inch of him. With a soft cry, she was coming again, biting into his shoulder to stifle herself. Fire spread across his skin as he picked up the pace. Sweat clung to their bodies as he found a steady rhythm. Just two people at the utter mercy of each other’s touches and her moans were like the sweetest harmony to his ears.

His eyes roved over her parted lips, her flushed cheeks, and the way her breasts bounced as he rammed into her over and over again. A sight just for him, and he wanted it branded in his memory. His movements became uncoordinated and reckless, immersed entirely in the feel of her. With each thrust, the fire pooling low in his abdomen grew stronger, wilder, until it burst into an inferno. He followed her over the edge, spending himself deep inside her as flames ignited him from within.

When Astarion slumped over her, Cas wrapped herself around him tight like she needed him close. Her heartbeat pounded in his ears as they both caught their breath. A comfortable, satiated, silence fell between them, the sounds of night and the rush of the nearby stream grounding them back to reality.

Astarion rolled them onto their sides. Cas curled into him, her arm draped across his middle as his fingers traced along her spine. His mind eerily blank, he smoothed her still damp hair with the palm of his hand as they listened to cricket song.

It was peaceful. Calm. He just wanted to hold her for a bit longer. To feel the heat of her skin against his as they laid together without doing anything more at all. To just be.

But it was far too soon to be getting sentimental.

At the end of the day, it was still about protection. And repayment for everything she had done for him. It would have been foolish to wish for anything more.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?”

“Do you really need to ask?” She raised a brow at him, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her attempt at sass. As if she was suddenly shy, Cas buried her face into his chest and said, “I think I left a love bite.”

An unexpected bark of laughter passed his lips. “It’s not like I haven’t done the same to you, darling.”

She traced a splotch of red skin on his shoulder with quiet fascination. “You’ll be able to cover it pretty easily,” she mused as she pressed a kiss to the mark.

“You didn’t cover yours.” Astarion’s fingertips brushed over the fading bruise surrounding the two puncture wounds on her neck that no one else could claim. “Though, I do think it’s only fair that I return the favor,” he said as his mouth found the junction between her neck and her collarbone and inhaled her scent: lavender mixed with the salty scent of sweat. A mischievous grin grew on his lips as he gently nibbled her soft skin. Not hard enough to leave another bruise, but just to make a point.

Cas pushed herself away from him with a laugh. “Don’t you dare,” she said and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory it brought to mind. The one of the night where she so generously allowed him to drink her blood and he tried to go in for seconds. She had laughed and pushed him away then, with the same words on her lips.

They fell into easy conversation as they cleaned up and dressed. When Cas offered to fix his mussed-up hair, she did so with an uncertain smile, her eyes darting to his lips every few seconds. Unsure if she was being too forward, or being too tender, for whatever their relationship was. He soothed her worries with a kiss.

It wasn’t often he had that simple luxury. That he got to spend some time with someone after he had slept with them. Usually they left because they had been satisfied or because Cazador had taken them. Either way, his job was done once the clothes came back on.

He didn’t know what his relationship with Cas was. Or how sex might change it. But he knew one thing for certain: he didn’t hate it.

If anything, he wanted more.

---

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 9

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Astarion faces the consequence of succumbing to his worst thoughts. Not only that, he realizes he may have done irreparable damage to his relationship with Cas.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 4.7k

Chapter Tags: Blood, injury, Astarion gets stabbed, heated argument, baiting, manipulation, sexual content, mentions of past trauma, healing magic, mention of death, cheating.

Content Warning: Astarion gets into a sexual situation that he realizes too late that he doesn't want to be in, which may be difficult for some to read. Nothing about that situation is described in a ton of detail, and this scene mostly deals with the aftermath.

Light from a single torch illuminated the small chamber the drow had led Astarion to. Wooden benches lined the center of the room and surrounded a broken statue of Selûne seemingly in prayer, all covered in a thick layer of dust.

The drow’s head lolled to the side as he lay slumped against a bench, his eyes permanently shut as dark blood pooled in the deep punctures on the side of his neck. Astarion watched it drip down the smooth gray skin of his chest, but felt no desire to have another taste. A bloody dagger rested in the drow’s open palm; a taunting reminder of how poorly thought out the entire plan was.

Astarion pressed the drow’s discarded shirt against the gash just above his hip. It definitely wasn’t the worst injury he had ever had, but it still stung like a bitch.

He couldn’t even be mad. It was his own foolishness that got him stabbed in the first place.

Next time, Astarion would make sure his prey was unarmed. Or restrained. Or otherwise sufficiently indisposed before he decided to bite them.

But it had all gone wrong so fast. He had been too stuck in his own head. It was like his body wasn’t even his for a few moments. His muscles moved of their own accord, touching the man just right as he whispered sweet nothings. It was all instinctive. The same song and dance he had been performing for Cazador for centuries.

Though in those instances, Cazador had always been the executioner. Astarion just led the victim to the chopping block, but he never actually swung the ax.

When Astarion bit someone in the heat of a battle, he was prepared for a struggle. It was only natural. But with how far his mind had drifted while he was with the drow… he just didn’t think it through. It was like his spirit had moved outside of his body and was watching him make a terrible mistake, powerless to stop it.

Over the course of two centuries, Astarion had lured thousands of beautiful people to their deaths. He did so with a numb detachment. Allowing himself to feel anything else, anything at all, was pointless.

The drow was no different in that regard.

At the same time, the drow was entirely different. Astarion didn’t feel a damn thing for the man, but he played the same seduction game that he always played. Like he still didn’t have a choice. Like Cazador was waiting for him if he failed.

Cas wouldn’t have punished him if he failed… but he had failed her all the same. For entirely different reasons.

Sweat trickled down his brow as nausea churned in his stomach. He had never been forced to seduce the drow, but he did it anyway. It felt like there were no other options. It was the only thing he knew how to do.

Astarion drew the once white shirt from the wound in his side and winced at where the fabric had become so saturated with blood that it had almost turned black. Between applying pressure to the injury and a simple healing potion Cas insisted he kept on his person, the bleeding had slowed, but not enough. Astarion closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool stone wall at his back.

It was just as much Cas’s fault as it was his.

Cas was the one who had asked him to find suitable prey before any fighting started. If she never had come to his tent that night, he wouldn’t be in his predicament.

And if she hadn’t been so damn friendly with Wyll….

Jealousy was a nasty creature. Spiteful and vindictive. After he had seen Wyll’s arm around Cas, he had wanted Cas to see him with the drow. He wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Granted, it probably would have been more effective if he targeted someone he hadn’t planned to kill. Oh well. That didn’t change the fact it had all been a huge mistake.

Astarion spared a glance at his cut. It could have been worse. The blade had pierced just above the outside of his right hip and went clean through. Despite his best efforts, the wound still hadn’t magically closed as he’d expected.

Healing potions worked fast. Some part of him had a sick fascination with watching them work. How torn skin would stitch itself back together, and missing fingernails would suddenly reappear. Most of the time when he used a healing potion, he was watching it undo whatever torture Cazador or Godey had inflicted upon him.

He typically felt marginally better after taking a potion, but something was wrong. Black spots still dotted his vision and a sheen of sweat coated his skin. When he lifted his hand to wipe his brow, his fingers trembled. It somehow felt worse than the time the tadpole had made him sick because he couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

Well. Himself, and the drow for stabbing him.

Dammit. Everything had gone wrong. He should have met up with the rest of the group at least half an hour ago, but instead, he was sitting on the floor in a cold chamber, just waiting for some goblin to unlock the door and finish him off.

Pain lanced through him when he tried to stand, but it was the dizziness and nausea that kept him planted on the ground. Utterly helpless. His dagger, already stained with the drow’s blood, provided scant reassurance. Even though he couldn’t move well with his injury, he could at the very least throw a dagger at anyone who dared walk through that door. The drow had promised that no one would come to this part of the temple, but Astarion wasn’t about to take the man at his word.

As if to remind him he wasn’t completely alone, the tadpole squirmed behind his eye. Astarion pressed the heel of his palm to his eye socket in an attempt to quell the creature. It stilled, but the memory of its movements lingered. But the tadpole gave him an idea…. It was likely that anyone he crossed paths with once he exited the chamber would ask questions about his injury, so maybe he could use the tadpole to—

Astarion swung his head toward the door at the sound of the gentle clicks of metal against metal. A key? Someone picking the lock? It didn’t matter. Wincing, Astarion shuffled to his feet with a dagger clutched in his hand.

Another click, and the door creaked open ever so slowly. Astarion poised the dagger, his heart in his throat. But the person he saw was far from an enemy. From either relief or blood loss, Astarion fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor.

It was Cas.

Thank the gods.

“You have remarkable timing.” Astarion adjusted the blood-soaked shirt against his wound, feeling a bit of his anxiety melt away in spite of the throbbing pain.

Cas’s eyes widened as they darted from his face to the bloodied shirt. “Shit,” she muttered and locked the door behind her.

She yanked off her leather gloves as she crossed the room. Her focus was entirely on him as she knelt down, close enough so he could feel her warmth, and pressed her bare palm to his forehead. Astarion couldn’t help but lean into her touch.

“What happened?” Worry wrinkled her brow, and it almost made him happy to see her concern.

Gods. How pathetic could he possibly be?

As if an answer to his question, dark spots clouded his vision as cold sweat gathered at the nape of his neck. He blinked the spots away and lifted the shirt from his skin. “The drow and I had a bit of a disagreement on dinner plans,” he said through a hiss of pain at the rush of cold air against his wound.

Cas gave the wound a cursory glance, tilting her head this way and that as she tried to get a good look at it in the dim torchlight. Carefully, she replaced the shirt over the bloody mess, her expression distant even as her eyes glittered with some emotion Astarion couldn’t quite place.

Her knuckles brushed his cheek, and for some inexplicable reason, he placed his shaking hand over hers. Like he was afraid she would pull away and leave him to his fate.

“You’re clammy,” she noted, more to herself than to him as she let him lean into her touch. “Were you able to take a healing potion?”

“I was,” he replied and released her hand. “A few minutes ago. Load of good it did me.”

“I gave you one of our stronger ones. It should have—” Cas glanced over her shoulder at the drow, as if she were expecting him to provide some sort of explanation. Her eyes roved over the man’s bare chest, the non-piercing bite marks on his neck, then down to his loosened trouser ties.

For a long moment, Astarion could only hear the quiet beat of her heart. How it quickened, just for a moment, before she released a breath.

As much as he wanted to say something, to defend himself from whatever accusations were running through her mind, he kept his mouth shut. Maybe, just maybe, she would give him the benefit of the doubt. If he spoke up at that moment, it would have drawn her suspicion and made him seem guilty.

There was no denying what he had done. He could only hope that she… wouldn’t notice?

Gods. What the hells had he been thinking?

Cas turned her attention to the dagger in the drow’s palm, the concern on her face replaced by a cool mask of granite. Deliberately avoiding Astarion’s eyes, she picked up the bloody dagger and examined it.

For a split second, he thought she might stab him. With the way his whole body sweated and ached, bile gathering in his throat and dark spots clouding his vision, he almost welcomed the idea.

An ice cold tendril slithered through his gut and snaked its way up to his heart. Astarion had wanted to make her jealous, wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine, but as soon as he saw her face….

Perhaps he could still figure out how to spin the situation in his favor. Or, at the very least, minimize the damage he had done. But he couldn’t even begin thinking of how he would accomplish that.

A wave of nausea washed over him, and he wasn’t sure if it was from his own loss of blood or the loss of warmth in Cas’s gaze.

Cas tapped her finger against a seemingly clean strip of metal where the blade met the hilt, then touched her finger to her thumb like she was testing for consistency. She set the dagger beside the drow’s corpse. “He put some sort of poison on his blade,” she announced matter-of-factly. There wasn’t even a hint of emotion within her voice. “Lucky for you, I always carry a vial of a general antidote.”

Astarion watched as she approached him once again and knelt at his side. “I wouldn’t call myself lucky,” Astarion muttered as Cas continued to avoid his gaze.

Cas only hummed in response and rummaged through her bag. She retrieved a glass tube about the length of his finger filled with a yellow-green liquid and held it out for him to take. “Try to down it in one go. Stuff tastes like bad whiskey mixed with rotten vegetables, but it’s effective.”

“How delightful.” Astarion took the vial and did as he was told. The bitter liquid burned the back of his throat and overpowered the lingering taste of blood. His lips curled and he screwed his eyes shut and he resisted the urge to scrape the taste off his tongue with his teeth. “Gods, this tastes like rotten sewer water.”

Cas pocketed the empty vial and shifted closer to him, her attention back on the bloodied shirt he held against his side. She examined the wound like she had seen injuries like it a million times before. There was no more sympathy or concern in her eyes. Just icy professionalism.

And Astarion hated it. He almost wished she would have yelled at him. At least then he would have something to work with. Or to argue against. Or just a chance to defend himself. With the way she was acting, it was like she had already drawn her own conclusions and nothing he said or did would change that.

When Cas leaned over him to get a better look at the far side of the cut, he caught a whiff of lavender from her hair. It was almost irritating how, despite everything, the scent was a comfort to him. Between what was running through his head and the pain in his body, he just wanted to reach out and hold her. To breathe her in. As if that would make all the pain and anxiety just disappear.

“It looks like a clean cut, so that’s good,” she said before his asinine train of thought could continue and he risked acting on it. “Doesn’t look like he hit anything vital.”

“Since when are you an expert on these things?” he asked just to make conversation. The sound of her voice was a comfort as well….

He was such a bloody fool.

Cas shrugged and placed her right hand flat over his wound, but did not touch it. “I worked with a doctor for a number of years. He taught me quite a bit,” she said. Something about the tone of her words made him think there was more to that statement than she was letting on.

Faint, glowing, green light emanated from her palm and pulsed like a heartbeat. Gentle warmth spread through him, starting where her hand hovered over the wound and trickled outward. As the magic worked its way through his body, his nausea subsided and his vision cleared. There was a numb, tugging sensation around the gash in his side as it stitched itself back together.

Astarion knew Cas had some access to minor healing magic. Most rangers did. But he had never felt it before. It differed from Shadowheart’s magic, slower and sleepier. Perhaps it was just the type of spell, or perhaps it was the fact Cas simply had the luxury of healing him outside of combat.

He closed his eyes and soaked in the relief the spell provided. “So, you were this doctor’s apprentice?” he ventured, somewhat uncomfortable with the silence.

“It started out that way,” Cas replied, her tone almost forcefully light and conversational, like she was trying to hold something back. “I wanted to learn how to treat someone with and without magic, and he happened to be looking for an assistant. We got along well. One thing led to another, and we ended up getting married a few years later.”

Astarion’s eyes shot open. “You were married?” He furrowed his brow as another thought struck him like a knife to the chest. “Are married?”

“Relax,” Cas said. “He was human, and he passed away over fifty years ago. I would never betray someone like that.”

Slowly, she moved her glowing hand away from his side and to the base of his throat. Warm magic tingled against his skin, healing some sort of injury he didn’t realize he had, before she moved to yet another spot on his neck. Her expression flickered, a tick of her jaw and a hardness to her gaze cracking her mask of concentration.

Something in the air shifted, turning heavy and thick under the scrutiny of her gaze. Suddenly, that same healing touch that was so soothing moments ago turned oppressive. Like a mild summer’s day turning humid just before a storm.

“What are you doing, love?” Astarion wrapped his fingers around her wrist, more to get her attention than to pull her away.

“Nothing,” Cas said in a voice that suggested the exact opposite. “I have my healing spell up, so I might as well take care of these. Good thing your prey didn’t bite nearly as hard as you did.” She shrugged and her eyes dipped downward for just a moment. “Unless he got somewhere I can’t see.”

A white hot anger shot through him, powerful and unexpected, heating his face and making his heart pound in his chest. His grip tightened around her slender wrist as he yanked her hand away. The magic glowing in Cas’s palm flickered out between them, leaving only the lonely torchlight to illuminate the hard lines on her usually delicate face.

“Watch your tone,” he said through his teeth. “You’re the one who asked me to hunt. I hunted. No need to get all precious about my methods.”

Cas pressed her lips into a thin line. Her eyes, usually so full of compassion and light, turned as lethal as a blade as she tugged her wrist free from his grasp. “You’re right,” she said, her words clipped.

She retrieved a plain white cloth from her bag and doused it with water from her waterskin. Without looking him in the eye, she offered him the damp rag to clean off the blood and asked, “Are you feeling better? Any pain, lightheadedness, or spots in your vision?”

Great. She was talking to him like he was a bloody patient and not… him. She had always treated him differently than anyone else ever had. With kindness, patience, curiosity, and warmth. Now that it was gone, replaced by cold indifference, the absence made his blood boil.

She was just going to go about her business like nothing ever happened between them? Just like that?

Of course she was. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, she was just like everybody else. She didn’t care about him, but she didn’t want to share him either.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m fine.” Astarion yanked the rag from Cas’s hand and roughly scrubbed at the blood that lingered where his wound once was. The skin beneath was unblemished like the injury never happened. Like nothing ever happened. Hells, she probably even healed the little love bite she had left on his shoulder, he thought bitterly. “Tell me you’re not honestly mad about this. I did exactly as you asked.”

“You did,” she agreed, infuriatingly. “I didn’t realize that you had to get his dick out in order to drink his blood, but what do I know?”

The drow had done that entirely on his own. Honestly, Astarion hadn’t even noticed until the man was already dead.

It hadn’t gone beyond kissing before Astarion realized he couldn’t do it. He didn’t have to do it. And he didn’t realize it until it was too late. Regret and revulsion had washed over him with every brush of the drow’s mouth over his skin, but Astarion numbly played his role like he always had. Cas didn’t know how bile had bubbled in his stomach as the drow had pulled at Astarion’s belt. Or how every second he hated himself more and more with each passing second.

She didn’t know the intense relief Astarion felt when he finally sunk his fangs into the man’s neck and made him stop.

Cas didn’t know that when his mind drifted away as it always did in those moments, thoughts of her filled his head.

Cas pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled slowly. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she muttered and pushed herself to her feet. “Let’s get back to the group before they start looking for us.”

If she wanted to move on like the whole shitty situation never happened, who was he to stop her? What did it matter to him if it didn’t matter to her?

But he wanted it to matter to her.

If Astarion had been in a better state of mind, he would have kept his mouth shut. He shouldn’t poke and pry when she was so clearly on edge. But sometimes, emotion overrode common sense.

He wanted to see that thinly veiled semblance of Cas’s control shatter like an expensive vase. Once broken, it would be impossible to repair. He wanted to seep into the cracks of her very being, just like she found her way into every fiber of his soul.

For reasons he didn’t want to dwell on, he needed to see behind the mask. He needed to know that she felt a fraction of the pain he did.

A sardonic chuckle passed his lips as a twinge of anxiety twisted into his gut. “You really are bothered by this, aren’t you?”

“Please don’t talk to me right now.” Without sparing him a glance, Cas gathered his discarded doublet and undershirt from where they laid on the floor and shoved the crumpled ball of clothing into his arms. “I doubt we’d have a productive conversation and we have more pressing things to focus on.”

Astarion barely noticed that his physical pain was completely gone as he pushed himself from the floor, clothes clutched to his chest though he made no move to redress himself. “The man’s dead,” he stated flatly. “Obviously he didn’t mean anything to me. I don’t even know his name.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Come now, darling,” he said as if he thought Cas was being completely ridiculous. “Don’t let this little dalliance come between the perfectly good thing we have going. It was nothing. There’s still plenty of me to go around.”

“Stop. Talking.”

“Are you worried after last night?” Another chuckle passed his lips. Not because he found her response funny. He was just being an asshole. “I didn't think you’d get attached so quickly, darling. It was just a bit of fun.”

Cas whirled around, her blunt teeth bared in a snarl. “Then what the fuck was the conversation we had this morning?” Her words were sharp, cutting through the silent chamber like a knife through silk. Hot puffs of her breath heated his skin.

For some sick reason, he wanted to lean down and capture her mouth with his. To taste her fury. To feel her passion. He wanted to soak in that eruption of emotion because it meant she felt something for him.

He would take her anger any day over indifference.

Cas jabbed a finger into his sternum, her eyes locked on his. “You said you wanted me to stay the night. You said you didn’t want to let me go. You said you wanted me. And you’re accusing me of being attached?”

Astarion pressed his lips into a thin line as he felt a muscle in his jaw tick.

She wasn’t wrong.

Getting attached meant opening his heart. It meant begging to be hurt. Part of him thought that bedding someone else would help him realize that Cas was nothing special. That what he felt when he was with Cas was just a byproduct of his newly acquired freedom. That he would feel that way about anyone he got physically intimate with now that Cazador no longer had a hold on him.

Oh, how wrong he was. His night with Cas made him want more, whereas the drow made him briefly consider a life of celibacy.

Cas took a step towards the door, giving him a bit of space. “I was fine with just hooking up,” she said, unable to look at him. “Hells, that’s what I expected. Maybe a friends-with-benefits situation since I know that’s all I’m good for.”

The last part was said with a bitter laugh, and Astarion swore he saw her chin tremble before her face turned to stone once more.

His brow drew together. What the hells did she mean by that? It didn’t make any sense. Briefly, his mind flashed back to how she had disappeared the morning after they had spent the night together. The look of surprise and hesitation on her face when he had told her he had expected her to stay.

“But then you got my hopes up,” she continued before he could even think to address her statement. “You just had to say those sweet things this morning. Things I know you meant because I’m not naïve enough to accept words like that without reading your thoughts. Then you turn around and do this—” she gestured roughly toward the drow “— and have the audacity to act like I did something wrong?”

“You asked me to hunt,” he said again because it was the only lifeline he had. A lifeline that was dangling on by the thinnest of threads. Needing a moment to collect his thoughts, as chaotic as they were, he quickly pulled on his clothing. “You saw me with the drow before you went skipping off with Wyll. What did you think would happen?”

“That you would seduce him to get him alone. Not that you’d actually—” Cas took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Straightening her spine, she took a single step back. “You know what? Nevermind. It’s not important. Let’s forget that last night ever happened.”

“I don’t want to forget it.” The words came out before he could stop himself, and the honesty made him wish he could take them back.

He never wanted to forget it. He didn’t want to forget the way she felt in his arms, the taste of her lips, the scent of lavender and leather on her skin. He didn’t want to forget how their bodies melded together like she was made for him, or how she looked at him like he was more than what Cazador made him. It was the best night he had in recent memory.

Like hell would he pretend it never happened.

“It was a mistake, Astarion,” Cas said with another bitter laugh that made his heart ache. “I should know better by now.”

Astarion closed the distance between them, stepping closer and closer until he had Cas’s back pressed against the door and she had nowhere else to go. “Cas, please.” He moved his hands to her hips and she immediately batted him away. “I’m sorry.”

Something in her gaze softened and she turned her head away from him, giving an unobstructed view of the bite mark she still wore on her neck. A mark she could have so easily healed just moments ago.

But she didn’t.

Those two little puncture wounds marked her as his, and she had to realize that on some level. That alone gave him something to hold on to as his relationship went careening out of his control.

“No, you’re not.” Her words came on a near silent breath. “You’re only sorry because things didn’t work out the way you wanted. If you hadn’t gotten hurt, and I hadn’t been worried enough to look for you…. You wouldn’t have regretted a damn thing because I never would have found out.”

Astarion felt a frown pull at his lips, unbidden, but he couldn’t refute her. She was right. And the fact that she read him so thoroughly caught him off guard. His fingers itched to reach out to her, to touch her. He balled his hands into tight fists at his sides and tried to ignore the pressure building behind his eyes.

No. He hadn’t cried in years, and he wasn’t about to start.

Laying her palm over his collarbone, she applied gentle pressure, just enough to ease him a step back. “Put yourself together and come out to the courtyard when you’re ready,” she said.

Without another word, without even sparing him a glance, Cas disappeared through the door behind her and shut it in his face. Not an angry slam. Just a quiet, deafening, tap of heavy wood against the doorframe.

Astarion pressed his forehead against the door. He took a deep breath.

Then another.

And another.

In and out until the pressure behind his eyes eased and the tension in his shoulders relaxed.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but no amount of breathing eased the ache in his chest.

---

Beginning

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 7

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Cas spends the night in Astarion's tent.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 5.5k

Chapter Tags: Kissing, flirting, awkward relationship discussions, they get caught.

As much as Astarion wanted to invite Cas back to his tent, he resisted. He didn’t want to come across as clingy. Or desperate. So when they bid one another goodnight, he went to his tent, and she went to hers.

If he was in the city, still under Cazador’s command, he would have invited her back to the palace. He would have given her false promises of more to come. He would have told her how he wanted to spend the night with her and then had lured her into that accursed guest bedroom, and then… he never would have seen her again.

Cazador always did like the pretty ones best.

Still, when they parted for the evening, Astarion felt a strange sense of loss. Like some part of his brain was convinced that Cazador had dragged Cas off to bleed her dry when in reality she was safe and sound in her tent.

Briefly, he wondered what would have happened if Cas had met that tragic end. Would the Huntsman of Neverwinter have found her? Would Cazador have somehow learned who Cas was related to? Astarion grimaced at the thought. Cazador probably would have had Godey strap Astarion to the rack for months if he ever found out.

Astarion rolled onto his back and draped his arm over his face, blocking out the dim light of his lantern. Lavender from her soap still scented his skin, calming and intoxicating all at once. He breathed in deep as if he could capture the fragrance in his lungs.

He could still taste her on his tongue, could feel how her body melded so perfectly with his. He remembered how she looked him in the eyes. How she asked him what he wanted. And how she checked in on him when his mind wandered off someplace else…. It felt like more than just sex.

No matter how many times his mind played the scene over and over in his head, it didn’t change a thing. It was just a transaction. Nothing more, nothing less. As much as the idea appealed to him, he didn’t dare hope for anything else.

It would only lead to disappointment.

Cas probably just saw him as a pretty face. Someone to have fun with and nothing more. Just like everyone else did. A tool for pleasure, to be used and discarded.

But he still wanted Cas. More than that, he wanted Cas to want him back.

The thought made his chest ache with a sharpness he did not expect. Like his heart was banging itself against that cage he had so carefully crafted around it, desperate for a connection that he callously denied himself. As long as Cazador was alive, his heart was not truly his anyways. Safely locked away where his master couldn’t get to it. Even if it meant no one else could either. Astarion just had to be careful to keep the key out of reach.

Instead of wasting his time trying to fall into a trance that would not come, Astarion decided to try reading. Reading typically calmed his mind, especially when the subject was fictitious rather than grounded in reality.

His current read was a mystery novel about a changeling detective who used his abilities in rather unethical ways to solve crimes, escape his enemies, or seduce whoever caught his eye. They were fun, humorous, and sometimes smutty novels. The stories had always provided a decent escape for him, and he was lucky to have found a copy in the druids’ grove.

Not even two chapters into his reading, he was interrupted by the sound of quiet footsteps. Cas. He recognized her careful gait. Astarion stared at the book in his hands without reading, his ears trained toward the footsteps, and his pulse quickened with anticipation.

Cas wasn’t on watch duty tonight so there was little chance that she would just happen to be passing by. Astarion tried to swallow his building excitement. Just the thought that Cas wanted to see him so soon after they parted almost made him giddy. Gods, he was pathetic. There was no need to act the fool just for a pretty face.

“Astarion?” Cas’s hushed voice called from the other side of his tent. “Are you awake?”

Composing himself, Astarion marked his place in the book and ran his fingers through his hair, doing his best to make himself presentable. A pointless gesture, and one he quickly gave up on given that he had no idea what he looked like anyway. Without further fussing, he rolled over on his bedroll and pushed the flap of his tent open.

“It’s awfully late, darling,” he said, masking his emotions from mere moments earlier with practiced ease. “Don’t tell me you missed me already?”

Cas rolled her eyes. “Oh, I missed you so much,” she said, placing her hand to her chest in a way that was playfully melodramatic. Then she smiled at him in a way that made him want to smile back.

Ridiculous. He was being absolutely ridiculous.

“I saw your lantern light, and I was hoping to see you before bed,” she said. “But if now isn’t a good time, we can talk tomorrow morning.”

“For you, darling, I have all night.” Astarion patted the space beside him on his bedroll. “Join me, why don’t you?”

Cas ducked into the tent and settled herself beside him, propped up on her elbows as she laid on her stomach. His gaze lingered on a strip of bared skin just above the waistband of her loose black pants, and part of him wished he could see a bit more. Her clothes looked comfortable, casual, and not at all like she was trying to grab his attention. But she did anyway.

Astarion expected her to be shy or a little awkward after their tryst by the river. Yet, she seemed the same as ever. Almost like nothing has happened at all.

It almost seemed like she hadn’t come looking for round two, which was a surprise. Why else would she come to his tent in the middle of the night?

Cas cocked her chin towards the book between them. “Is that the one with the dwarven crime syndicate?”

Astarion blinked, having momentarily forgotten about the book he had left in plain view. “You’re a fan of this series?”

She gave an affirmative hum. “The one where Detective Jak breaks into the half-orc warlord’s fortress was one of my favorites.”

“Why do you say that?” A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he recalled exactly which book she was referring to. Flirting despite himself, he asked, “Was it because of his ingenious escape from the dungeon? Or the kinky sex scene in the dungeon?”

Cas scoffed as if the answer should have been obvious. “The sex scene, of course,” she said. “Detective Kit and Zavedar had been circling around each other for like three books. It was about damn time.”

“Were they? I didn’t read them in order so I don’t know.”

Cazador didn’t have the books in his library, and the public library was only open during daylight hours. Although the books were popular, there were at least thirty books in the series so he just grabbed whatever ones he could find when he found them.

“I’ve got the whole series at home that I’d be happy to lend you,” she said and gave him a friendly nudge. “But I didn’t come here to talk to you about that.”

“Pity,” he said, bracing himself for the inevitable. Chances were she didn’t want to talk at all. Especially after they had so much fun doing other things with their mouths.

“I know,” she agreed. “But I need to talk to you about dealing with the goblins tomorrow.”

A groan of exaggerated reluctance left his throat as he flopped back on his bedroll. “What about them? I thought tomorrow was mostly—” he waved his hand in a circular motion as he tried to find the words he hadn’t been paying attention to earlier “ — scouting and getting a lay of their base.”

“It is.” Cas shifted closer until the length of her body pressed against his. Then, in a low voice, she added, “But I want to be sure everyone is at their best tomorrow, and I want to make sure you’ve had a proper meal. You know, before we possibly have to contend with a horde of goblins.”

Astarion raised a brow. Not the direction he thought the conversation was going to go, but he wasn’t about to object.

“What are you suggesting, darling?” His eyes went to his mark on her neck and his mouth began to water.

“I’m suggesting you be on the lookout for humanoid prey,” she said as her voice dropped to a whisper. “Or any intelligent creature. Preferably before any fighting starts.”

“And here I was hoping we’d dine together,” he said, though he was mostly joking. As much as he enjoyed the taste of her blood, he respected that she didn’t immediately throw herself at him. Still, part of him wanted another taste. “I don’t suppose you have anyone else in mind?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of options and opportunities when we get to the goblin camp. Based on what we overheard on the Risen Road, they’ll be drunk off their asses celebrating a raid. They’ll be plenty distracted.”

“Noted,” he replied easily, trying not to appear overly excited about the prospect of hunting like a vampire was meant to. What was almost more exciting was the fact Cas was willing to get her hands a little dirty if it gave them the advantage.

For being the Huntsman’s little sister, she wasn’t as morally ‘good’ as one would expect. And, somehow, that made her even more appealing to him.

“Again, this is just a suggestion,” she reiterated. Her foot brushed against his calf, but he couldn’t tell if it was on purpose. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Having a choice was still a novel concept to him. After all, it wasn’t long ago he was at the complete mercy of Cazador’s whims. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Her words echoed in his mind before fading away into nothingness, unwilling to cement the idea into something real.

He had a choice.

For now.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Astarion replied noncommittally. “I take it that this stays between us?”

Cas rolled her lips as if in thought. “That probably would be for the best. I can’t imagine the others would be too enthusiastic about the idea.”

“Then it’ll be our little secret, my dear,” he said as a smile curled on his lips. Good, he thought. She trusted him. At least enough to keep a little secret from their other companions. He just had to keep building it up enough that she would never think of turning on him.

“Just make sure you get something to eat tomorrow, regardless.” Cas stretched her arms in front of herself like a cat before pushing to her hands and knees. “I better let you get some rest before I try to talk your ear off all night about Detective Kit.”

Astarion felt his eyes widen as Cas made to stand up. Wait. She was just leaving? She came to his tent in the middle of the night, laid next to him, talked about books and next-day plans, and… she was just going to leave?

Something in his brain sputtered for the second time that night. The setting was perfect for a night of intimacy. Low lantern light, a private tent, soft blankets. Hells, Astarion wasn’t even wearing a shirt! The only other things he needed were wine and a box of chocolates and he’d be a romantic stereotype.

He’d be an idiot to waste such an opportunity, right? To further build her trust and endear himself to her. It was too good to pass up, and he had to keep himself in her good graces.

Then a thought struck him, and he felt like a bit of an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Of course. Cas was probably wanting him to make the first move. That made more sense than her just coming to his tent for a chat.

Before Cas could get to her feet, Astarion’s hand caught her wrist and he gazed up at her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She furrowed her brow, looking adorably, sincerely, confused. “My tent?”

“Why go to your tent when you can stay in mine?” he asked and brushed his thumb over the soft skin of her inner wrist. “I won’t bite. I promise.”

Cas bit back a smile. “You’re silly. And very sweet. But neither of us will get any rest if I stay.”

“I’ll behave myself,” he said in a way that made it clear he intended to do no such thing. He tugged on her wrist, encouraging her to settle down beside him again. “Come now, love. You’re already here.”

She folded her legs beneath her slowly, almost cautiously, as something in her eyes changed. Her pulse picked up in his ears. “You actually want me to stay?” she said, the edge of playfulness gone from her tone.

“Of course I do,” He let his fingers trace up her arm, making her skin prickle. “That is, if you want to. But I think we both know you do.”

Cas settled on her side, relenting. “You know, this means we’re going to have to talk about Detective Kit,” she said with a joking grin.

Astarion rolled Cas onto her back and pressed her down into the furs of his bedroll. “Do you really want to spend this time talking?” he asked and traced the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. “When there are so many other fun things we can do with our lips?”

Using his knee, he spread her thighs, cradling himself between her legs but careful not to put too much of his weight on her. Cas looped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. Not a seductive smile paired with a heated gaze, beckoning him to come closer. She just seemed happy to be there. But he knew she wanted more. He could hear it in her heartbeat and feel it in the rise and fall of her chest against his.

But then her gaze turned playful. “You know, this reminds me of that scene in the fourth book — ”

Astarion kissed the corner of her mouth. “Shh.”

“ — with the Amnian black market merchant and Detective — ”

He cupped the side of her face and captured her lips with his. A laugh bubbled in her throat as she smiled into the kiss. “You can’t keep interrupting me with kisses,” she said and gave him a look of mock disapproval.

“Can’t I?” His thumb brushed over her high cheekbone, tracing a line between two faint freckles. “I find it to be a very effective way to get you to stop talking.”

Cas hummed skeptically. “I think you need to gather some more evidence to back up that claim.”

Astarion gently nipped her lower lip. “Then I better get started.”

It didn’t take long for her giggles to subside into the quietest moans as she melted under his touch. They tried to stay quiet, of course. As they learned last time, sound traveled far too easily outside the tent.

Part of him wanted the others to hear them. To know that their leader had chosen to share his bed. While that would make it abundantly clear that he had Cas on his side, Astarion didn’t want the others to hate him for keeping them awake by being obnoxious.

Also he didn’t want to embarrass Cas.

Even as they lost themselves in one another for the second time that night, Astarion couldn’t help but think that Cas might have been perfectly happy talking about books instead.

And the more he told himself that Cas was only a means to an end, that he felt nothing towards her… the more it tasted like a lie.

—

Something changed over the course of that night. If their first time together was any sign of what it could be like between him and Cas, the second time confirmed it.

Astarion enjoyed himself.

There was no disgust, no moment where he was just trying to suffer through for the greater goal, no encroaching feeling of numbness where his mind went someplace else. He actually had fun.

Hells, at one point, he remembered laughing as he kissed her. A real laugh. He couldn’t even remember what she had said, but the response from him was real. There was more than just a spark of attraction between them.

It was more than just manipulation on his part….

Not only that, but Astarion felt like he was in control with Cas, but it wasn’t the sort of control that he was used to. Cas wanted to submit to him. She wanted him to take the reins in the bedroom. Wanted to follow his command. It almost seemed like she cared more about his pleasure than her own.

It wasn’t easy for them to keep quiet as he pushed into her with unhurried, steady strokes. Her every gasp, every moan, caught by searing kisses as he kept her teetering on the brink. It was the sweetest form of torture, and one he was all too happy to continue until his name was the only sound on her lips. He loved the control almost as much as he loved hearing her beg for him, her orgasm at the mercy of his whims. He covered her mouth with his lips when he finally pushed her over the edge, his body shuddering as he followed soon after.

They didn’t discuss Cas returning to her own tent. They didn’t need to. Astarion wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest, holding her and kissing the bite mark on her neck until her heartbeat evened out. She didn’t pull away, and he didn’t bother to let her go.

Funny. He wasn’t normally a cuddler.

Yet sometime during the night, she slipped away without him noticing, leaving him in an empty bedroll that smelled of them both.

A sinking feeling crept into his stomach. One that was all too familiar. He rubbed his eyes and tried to will the thought away even as it built in his gut.

He felt used.

It was stupid for him to feel that way. After all, he was using her for all sorts of reasons. Why shouldn’t she use him back?

Just like everyone else, she probably just saw him as a pretty face and a good lay. No matter how badly he wanted to believe otherwise.

Cas wasn’t special, and he’d be a fool to think so.

But that wasn’t the case, was it? It truly felt different, even if years of experience and conditioning warned him otherwise.

He exhaled slowly, calmingly, and ran a hand through his hair. The simple touch immediately brought him back to how Cas’s fingers tangled in his hair, her nails creating trails along his scalp that made his skin tingle.

Cas had to have left for a good reason. Perhaps someone needed her help, or she had to do something early like hunt or fish.

Still, she could have at least left a note.

He pulled on his clothes, which were still scattered around the tent where they had been discarded hours ago, and stepped out of his tent.

The sun was still low in the sky, partially hidden by the copse of trees surrounding their camp. Not long ago, the sights of oranges and yellows in the sky would have sent him running back to the crypt. If he had it his way, he would never run from the sunrise again. Never again be confined to the dark cold of night. And after today, he might be one step closer to that dream coming to fruition. One step closer to finally having an edge over his old master and freeing himself from the hell he had been living.

Just a couple dozen goblins between them and a druid who might hold the key to their predicament. The others might want to remove the tadpole entirely, and Astarion couldn’t blame them, but if there was the slightest chance that he could learn to control the beast in his skull without lethal repercussions, he was going to take it. And should the druid fail to provide the answers he needed, he had other options.

If he stayed in Cas’s good graces, there was a chance the Huntsman would look upon him favorably as well. An alliance with her brother was one he would be a fool not to pursue. The man took down the Collector, a vampire lord that was older and more powerful than Cazador. As much as Astarion wanted to be the one to ram a stake through Cazador’s ribs, going up against him without an ace up his sleeve was akin to a lamb walking itself to slaughter.

Pitted against the Huntsman, Cazador was nothing more than a worm.

If he wanted the Huntsman as a blade to wield against Cazador, then Cas was the map he needed to have any hope of finding him.

No matter what sort of emotions came up when he was around Cas, he had to remind himself that his own freedom was paramount. He wouldn’t let something as trivial as feelings for a backwoods ranger get in the way of that.

The tents around camp were still tied shut save for Cas’s and Wyll’s, telling him that at least those two were up and about. What if they were together? After his conversation with Wyll yesterday, he wouldn’t put it past Mr. Hero to make a move while Astarion wasn’t around to interrupt him.

Before a green haze of jealousy completely clouded his vision, he spotted Cas sitting on a sunlit stone on the edge of the riverbank. Alone. The thought of Cas spending the morning with Wyll made him grind his molars. He took a deep breath, willing the muscles in his jaw to relax.

What was wrong with him, getting all worked up over nothing? Who Cas hung out with wasn’t any of his business. Even if that person expressed interest in someone Astarion had laid his claim on. If that interest ever turned to action, then it would become his business.

When Cas turned her head and gave him a smile, his breath caught in his throat. The morning light brought out a subtle redness to her dark brown hair that he hadn’t noticed before, and her eyes glittered like dew drops on autumn leaves. She gave him a little wave, letting him decide if it was an invitation or a simple greeting.

He decided it was an invitation.

“Good morning, my sweet,” he said just for her ears alone, his voice low and thick. He took a seat beside her on the sun-warmed stone and resisted the temptation to wrap his arm around her waist.

As much as he wanted to stake his claim and have her close he didn’t know where they stood. Instead, he placed an arm behind her such that she could lean into him if she wanted to. And she did. With that small confirmation, he pulled her loose hair aside and pressed a kiss to the slope of her neck, smiling to himself as she did not so much as flinch.

He wanted to ask her why she didn’t stay, to get a glimpse into what was going on in her pretty little head. Discreetly, he tried to use the tadpole. When he encountered the slightest resistance, he abandoned the effort. His curiosity wasn’t worth jeopardizing her trust in him, to whatever degree that trust existed.

“You’re up early.” His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke. “I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”

Cas hummed as she shifted slightly into his touch. “I am, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to stay,” she said. “Didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Or…”

She shrugged and stared ahead at the water. “I’m happy to see you.”

Astarion frowned and leaned forward, hoping to get her to look him in the eyes. “You were going to say something else, dear.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said and bumped him good-naturedly. “It was nothing.”

“Cas.”

She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” she repeated. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Though her words didn’t satiate his curiosity, they still spoke volumes. He could only guess that at some point someone didn’t want her around the morning after. She was just trying to protect herself.

He could understand that probably more than anyone. But he wanted her to be open with him. To trust him completely. And it didn’t sit well that she obviously didn’t seem to trust him with the details.

Still, he knew better than to pry.

Instead, he dragged his lips just below her jawline, letting his fangs scratch her skin ever so slightly. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark. “Stay next time, hmm? I’d rather wake with you in my arms than all alone with only your scent on my pillow.”

“Next time?” she asked with an adorable tilt of her head. “Are you sure about that?”

He traced his fingers down her side, feeling her subtle curves even through her leather armor. He gave her hip a squeeze. “Come sit on my lap, darling. I feel like I’m talking to the side of your skull.”

With a light laugh, Cas eased her leg over his lap and sat, her knees pressed against his hips. Then she gave him the sweetest smile, one that made his stomach flutter like a school boy even as heat built someplace lower. Her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending little jolts of electricity across his skin.

“Better?” she asked, her eyes so full of affection it almost hurt.

The tug-of-war waging inside him since last night pulled at his chest. On one side of the rope was pure attraction and growing affection for her, but the need for power and control refused to let him give in. He needed her and he wanted her. A terrifying combination, truth be told.

Harboring feelings for Cas only painted a target on her back. If Cazador ever found out about her, he’d kill her on principle. More likely, Cazador would command Astarion to kill her himself. Probably in some horrifically slow and painful fashion just for the fun of it.

No Cas. No Huntsman of Neverwinter. Almost no chance of freedom. At least none that seemed workable given their current situation.

He should push her away. Tell her they would be better off as friends. Not just to protect his own heart, but to protect her as well. If anything happened to Cas, he didn’t want it to be on his head.

If he was a better person, he would end it.

Instead, he took hold of her thighs and drew her against him, locking her in place by encircling his arms around her. “I think we have something, darling,” he said. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you, of course, but now — ” his hands trailed down to the swell of her hips “ — I don’t think I want to let you go.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew that there was some truth to them. They were meant to be simple flattery, pretty words to sway her, but they felt more real than he anticipated. Usually, his flattery was all just a practiced script. A bunch of lies. He felt nothing when he spoke them out loud.

But speaking those words to Cas set his nerves ablaze, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

“I think we have something too,” she agreed, her voice genuine but also slightly guarded. “So what do you want to do about it?”

What did he want to do about it?

He pondered the question as his hands moved lower down her hips, over the curve of her ass, and then gently gripped her the backs of her thighs. The ability to make his own decisions was still a novel concept. But really only one choice felt right: the one that would best secure his protection.

Astarion looked up at her and his heartbeat quickened. “After last night, I’m hoping you’ll share my bed again,” he said with a rakish grin. “Why don’t we see where this goes?”

The trickling sound of water mixed with the morning calls of songbirds, but Cas didn’t respond right away. She was looking as if she were trying to see through him, all while she still played with his hair. Part of him wanted to close his eyes and lean into the sensation, but he also didn’t want to look away.

Just as a knot began to form in his stomach, Cas leaned down and touched her forehead to his and said, “I’d like that.”

Relief ran through him like a cool current, yet he was still far too aware of his own pulse. And hers. Both faster than normal. Both nervous, or maybe excited. He wasn’t sure.

“I thought you might,” he said and tilted his head so his lips brushed against hers. Something soft and undemanding, but lingered long enough to let her know he wanted more.

What a concept, hoping that someone would kiss him. Especially when there were so many times in his miserable existence he wished no one would ever touch him again. Not at all. Not like that.

But Cas was different.

Fuck.

Before his brain could spiral any further into all the implications of his realization, Cas’s mouth came to his in a silky caress. He could feel her smiling into the kiss, and a strange sense of calm washed over him. It was like with each gentle touch of her lips, a knot balled up deep in his chest began to loosen.

Astarion didn’t break the kiss as he laid back, his back against the flat expanse of stone and Cas seated on top of him. She cupped his face in her hands, holding him like someone precious.

It was too much for him. The sweetness of it all. The tenderness.

He was doomed.

Completely and utterly screwed.

He nipped her lower lip as he pressed his hips up against hers, seeking something more familiar. More physical with less feeling. His hand gave her thigh a squeeze and pulled her closer.

With a light laugh, Cas pulled away. “You’re a little — ”

“Nice!” Karlach exclaimed. Both his and Cas’s heads snapped in the direction of her voice. Karlach beamed at them as she folded her arms across her chest. “At least some of us are getting some action around here.”

Karlach wasn’t the worst person to catch them in such a position but, unfortunately, she wasn’t alone.

Gale shook his head at Karlach and gave a polite cough. “Pardon the interruption,” he said, looking appropriately apologetic as Cas scrambled off of Astarion’s lap. “We really didn’t mean to intrude.”

With a groan, Astarion sat back up and tried to ignore the way his body missed Cas’s warmth. “Well I should hope not.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cas said as she fixed her ponytail, looking decidedly uncomfortable despite her words. “Was there something you two wanted to talk about?”

Karlach gestured to Gale, inviting him to speak first.

Gale gave her an appreciative nod and turned his attention to Cas. “I wanted to know if that sending scroll worked out for you,” he said. “I need to prepare some more scrolls before we head out today so if that one didn’t go through, I will gladly make you another.”

“It went through,” Cas replied with a small smile. “Thank you. Apparently he had been trying to use sending spells ever since he found out I was on the nautiloid, but he kept getting some bizarre interference. He suspects the tadpole might have had something to do with it, but he’s been able to get through since I made first contact. So again, thank you.”

“No problem at all,” Gale replied, looking quite pleased with himself. “I’m glad you could get in touch with him. From the sound of it, he might be our next best bet for curing our condition if things don’t work out with Halsin.”

Looking between Cas and Gale, Astarion raised a brow. Though he felt like he already knew the answer, he asked, “Who was it you contacted, darling? Your brother?”

Cas shook her head and shifted her weight from one foot to the next. “I contacted Eroc.”

---

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 10

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Astarion has made a huge mistake, but how much does it really matter? Cas doesn't really mean anything to him, right? So what if she's upset? But when Astarion finds a surprise in his tent, he realizes how far he has fallen and how much he has to lose. And damn the gods, he doesn't want to lose her.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Tags: Astarion gets a portrait, awkward conversations, Astarion is going after what he wants, confessions.

Content Warning: Astarion thinks some not-so-nice thoughts about Gale. The thoughts he has are reflective of his character, not of me. I love Gale. Astarion just happens to be a bit pissed at him a bit in this chapter.

Astarion spent the rest of the night trapped in his own head. When he had reconvened with the others, it was like his disastrous rendezvous with the drow had never even happened. Gale and Wyll had appeared none the wiser, quietly preparing for the night ahead while Cas went through the plan one more time.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, it seemed like Cas had already pushed their argument from her mind. Yet, she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Any time he tried to make eye contact with her, she found something to distract herself in an apparent effort to avoid looking at him all together.

Then there was the proximity. He had grown used to all of her little touches; her fingers against his hand as she passed by, a friendly bump against his shoulder, or a playful whisper in his ear. That had all stopped.

Cas was cordial, polite, and outwardly friendly. But she had distanced himself from him in a way that only he would notice.

And it fucking hurt.

So he turned his focus on the task ahead of him. Raw frustration, anger, and pain writhed within him like live snakes waiting to strike. He itched to hurt something else because it would distract him from the sharp ache in his chest.

Unfortunately for him, Cas’s plan aimed to avoid fighting and bloodshed. Initially, Astarion thought it was a great plan. It was quick, efficient, and didn’t put them in any more danger than necessary. Now that he wanted to kill something, he hated the plan.

Yet he still went along with it because if he didn’t, he’d likely get himself killed. Or end up getting Cas physically hurt. Both of which he would rather avoid. He didn’t even think about the repercussions for Wyll or Gale because he simply couldn't care less.

Cas and Gale had mapped out the temple and located the sleeping quarters for each of the three leaders ahead of time. Gale had called the plan cowardly, and maybe he was right, but even the walking encyclopedia couldn’t argue that it wasn’t effective. Like an assassin, Cas slipped into their rooms under the cover of darkness and slit the throats of the goblin leaders before they could wake.

Only one of the leaders, the hulking hobgoblin called Ragzlin, managed to put up a real fight. Thanks to a silencing spell courtesy of Gale, Ragzlin couldn’t call for help. But that didn’t stop the brute from flinging Cas against a wall like she was nothing more than a child’s doll when he awoke with her blade to his throat.

In that moment, Astarion saw red. He wasn’t sure how he did it, but he killed the hobgoblin himself. By the time he could safely go check on Cas, Wyll was already helping her to her feet with a healing potion in hand.

Other than that hiccup, the rest of the mission went rather smoothly. They found Halsin locked in a dungeon and they had to take out a few goblins to get to him, but that wasn’t any trouble. In the end, they were able to slip out of the encampment before sunrise with the druid in tow and without risking their necks more than absolutely necessary.

During the walk to the closest teleportation rune, Astarion was itching to talk to Cas. He wanted to pull her aside and apologize again. But he didn’t get the chance to. Instead, he stared at the back of her head as she chatted away with Halsin, absolutely engrossed in the research the archdruid had done on the tadpole. Astarion couldn’t find a good way to interrupt them without making things weird, so he didn’t.

He just watched, wishing Cas was talking to him instead.

Astarion’s whole body ached by the time they made it back to camp. His head pounded, the bottoms of his feet were sore, and his eyes burned from exhaustion. Thankfully, Halsin had split off from the group to return to the grove and they didn’t have to deal with that mess right away.

He ducked into his tent and another pang of emotion lanced through his chest. The bedding was still rumpled from the night before. The memory of her laying beneath him rushed to the forefront of his mind. The way her legs wrapped around his hips as he sank into her welcoming heat, the feel of her mouth against his as they stifled their moans of pleasure, and the way her eyes locked with his in the darkness….

He mentally shook off the memory as he spotted something different among the mess in his tent. Something new.

On top of his pillow sat a piece of paper, loosely rolled up and wrapped in a cheery yellow ribbon. Beneath the neat bow that tied the whole parcel together was a small rectangular card. He didn’t even need to look at it to know who it was from.

Astarion let the flap to his tent close behind him and sat on the end of his bedroll, staring at the gift as he unlaced his boots. Though his mind burned with curiosity, his desire to get comfortable won out. He quickly removed his light armor and changed into more casual clothes. Yet, when he was finished, he hesitated. If the gift was from who he thought it was from, would she still want him to have it? Should he give it back?

No. Even though the present had to have been left before they went to the goblin camp, before everything with the drow, it was still for him. He carefully picked up the parcel and slid the card out from beneath the ribbon.

Crisp, neat, handwriting that was all too familiar scrawled across the parchment and his heartbeat quickened as he read.

Astarion,

Thank you for being my friend and making me laugh. I drew this from memory since I wanted to surprise you, so it’s not as good as looking in a mirror, but it’s pretty close.

Love, Cas

P.S. I hope this isn’t weird. P.P.S If this isn’t weird, maybe I can show you how I draw nudes. P.P.P.S Okay, that part was weird but I don’t want to rewrite this note again.

A combination of amusement and disbelief pulled a chuckle out of him and he shook his head. Somehow, the mental image of Cas agonizing over something simple as a note so much that she rewrote it brought a flutter to his stomach. If she was there with him, he definitely would have given her some inspiration for a nude drawing just to show his appreciation.

But she wasn’t there, nor did she want to be.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Astarion untied the ribbon and let the paper fall open. Despite having not seen his own face in over a hundred years, he recognized himself in drawing immediately.

It was a portrait, but not the kind that wealthy people had adorning their homes with bored faces and stiff postures. It was a vibrant work of art.

Cas had drawn him in sunlight.

It almost looked like he was in motion. The smile he wore showed the tips of his fangs and his blood red eyes demanded attention with a piecing, wicked, gaze. The bright colors and dramatic shading weren’t completely realistic but they were beautiful. And the piece came together into something he couldn’t put into words.

Pressure built behind his eyes as he traced over every detail; the bite mark on his neck, a little scar on the corner of his mouth, the fall of his white hair and the embroidery on his clothes all rendered in a way he didn’t know was possible with mere colored pencils.

Astarion stared at the drawing as if he was afraid it would vanish into thin air if he looked away.

It was him.

For the first time in hundreds of years, he saw his own face. And it was all thanks to a woman he had so carelessly hurt.

“Why did she do this?” he muttered and dragged his palm down his face. 

He glanced toward the entrance to his tent. Had Cas had already begun her meditation? Perhaps he should check and see. But the weight in his chest kept him pinned to the ground and it was probably for the best. Cas needed her space. He had to respect that.

With a heavy sigh, Astarion let his head fall onto his pillow. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the fabric. Inhaling deeply, he clutched the portrait against his chest and closed his eyes, knowing his meditation would not come easily with the mess of thoughts running through his mind.

—

Astarion’s trance lasted longer than it usually did. It was most likely due to physical exhaustion, but some part of it was because he dwelled on what he was going to say to Cas.

He had made a mistake with the drow. Hells, he knew he made a mistake long before he even killed the man but seeing Cas’s reaction only solidified that unfortunate realization.

Technically, he didn’t cheat.

Cheating implied that he and Cas had some sort of official relationship, didn’t it? It wasn’t like she didn’t go off flirting with Wyll, so why was it a big deal that he just happened to go a little further? He was allowed to explore before committing to something official, wasn't he?

So much of his existence had been tainted and controlled by Cazador, he wasn’t even sure what to do with the emotions he felt weren’t anger, spite, or fear. Something as warm and gentle as the feeling Cas stirred within him felt uncomfortable. It felt fake. And he had endured enough pain in his life to know that the more comfortable he was, the more it would hurt when it was all ripped away. He didn’t want to wait for that blissful little illusion of happiness to collapse around him, so he shattered it himself.

In a way, it felt like he had escaped one master only to immediately chain himself to another.

Even as he rolled the argument over in his mind, he couldn’t convince himself of it. What he did was unfair to Cas, no matter how he tried to make himself believe otherwise.

He was the one who asked for something more with her, and she agreed to see where things would go. It wasn’t an official commitment, but it was something. And that something was going straight into a ditch never to be unearthed again if he didn’t try to fix it.

Sunlight slipped through the loosely tied entrance of his tent, slashing a stripe across the portrait still clutched to his chest. He stared at it again, inspecting every inch of the page like he was seeing it for the very first time. It was so well done, so lovingly detailed and precious. His throat felt tight as realization set in.

Cas must have been working on the portrait for some time. Before they even spent the night together, maybe even before they went to see the hag and he was attacked by the Gur. She was so busy keeping everyone alive and seeking out a cure for the tadpole, that fact that she had found time to make him such a lovely gift only meant one thing.

Cas cared about him.

Cas cared about him, and Astarion was an idiot because he cared about her too.

Jealousy and his possessive nature had gotten the best of him, and he shouldn’t have let it. If he hadn’t, Cas would probably be snuggled against his chest right now, warm and preferably naked. He wanted her to be the first thing he saw when he roused from his trance, not an empty tent.

Apart from Cazador, Astarion was his own worst enemy.

After tucking the portrait away somewhere safe where it wouldn’t get damaged, Astarion dressed and stared at the entrance to his tent. Cas was almost certainly outside working on something around camp. As much as he needed to talk to her, he hesitated. Despite his hours of meditation, he still didn’t feel ready.

To procrastinate longer, Astarion brushed his teeth and went to the river to bathe; both of which took much longer than normal. At one point he wondered if he was just putting off the conversation, or if he was just trying to make himself look the best he possibly could in hopes the effort would somehow work in his favor. Maybe it was a combination of both. He ended up waiting until his hair dried before venturing back to camp, giving him a few more minutes to find his spine.

Cas sat next to Shadowheart in front of an unlit campfire. It was midafternoon, but the sun was strong, and the two women were keeping cool by sharing a bottle of chilled white wine as Cas recalled a story about her brother.

If the wine was cold, that meant that Gale was probably awake and loitering around somewhere since he was the one with frost spells. Gale was the last person Astarion wanted to see. Not just because the know-it-all was insufferable on a good day, but because said know-it-all had been right. Astarion hadn’t been thinking of anyone but himself and his own egocentric world and ended up hurting Cas, just like Gale said. Just imagining the wizard’s smug superiority made Astarion want to punch him in the face.

Not wanting to run into Gale, Astarion gave himself exactly two more seconds of nervously fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt before he interrupted the conversation.

“I hate to intrude, but may I borrow Cas for a few minutes?” he asked, forcing a lightness to his tone that he did not feel. Anxiety gnawed at his stomach like a swarm of starving rats and he hated every second of it.

Shadowheart leaned back on one hand and swirled her wine with the other. “Only a few minutes?” she teased, giving Cas a conspiratorial smirk. “I suppose I can spare her.”

The smile from Cas’s conversation with Shadowheart lingered on her lips but faded from her eyes when she looked at him. She finished her glass of wine and set the glass down at her feet. “Sure,” she agreed with phony alacrity. “You can come with me to pick some blackberries.”

Foraging for food sounded about as appealing as stepping in horse dung, but what choice did he have? He didn’t agonize over this conversation all day for nothing.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Shadowheart raised her glass to her lips, mischief in her eyes that said she fully expected them to be doing something else entirely.

Cas only laughed as she picked up a metal bucket from the camp’s pile of supplies. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Shadowheart waved them off. “If you don’t come back with blackberries, I’ll be sorely disappointed.”

Judging by Cas’s tight smile, it was clear to him that she was appeasing him rather than looking forward to their little field trip. She cocked her chin toward the copse of trees bordering their campsite and started walking. Astarion swallowed down his nerves and kept pace beside her, suddenly not knowing what to say despite having the day to think about it.

Something about being around Cas made his mind go blank. It was absolutely infuriating.

For a while, they just walked together without saying a word. Nothing but the sound of songbirds overhead and leaves and twigs crackling beneath their feet accompanied the thick air between them.

Words danced on the tip of his tongue, but whenever he found himself about to say something, he bit it back at the last moment. It quickly became clear that he was the one who would have to start the conversation. Cas seemed perfectly content to walk beside him in excruciatingly awkward silence.

He glanced over at Cas’s face to try to gauge how she was feeling. It was completely impassive. In fact, she almost looked bored. His eyes traced over the thick black lashes that framed her dark eyes to the delicate slope of her nose to the smooth skin of her slender neck….

Wait.

His bite mark was gone.

A lead weight settled in his stomach as he looked over her unmarked skin. On some primal level, he felt the need to fix it. To bite her again. To claim her as his. His fangs ached with the sudden urge, but he resisted. But still, after so many days of seeing those little puncture wounds and bruised skin… the sight of her unmarred flesh felt wrong.

As if she felt the intensity of his stare, Cas swallowed and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and said, “It’s a bit humid today."

Great. Her bite mark was gone and now she was talking about the bloody weather.

Astarion made a sound somewhere between an exasperated sigh and a groan. The awkwardness between them was like a thick fog that obscured his train of thinking. The apology he had been mulling over in his head lingered on his tongue, but instead of saying those words he said, “Thank you for the drawing.”

‘Thank you’ didn’t begin to cover the depths of gratitude he felt for the gift, but it was a start. It was better than saying nothing at all.

“Oh.” The corner of her mouth twitched as something like disappointment flashed across her face before she schooled her features into a pleasant mask, wooden and empty. Instead of looking at him, she passed the bucket she was carrying from one hand to the other by the handle. “No problem. I’m glad you liked it.”

Silence fell between them once again like an inescapable shroud. Somewhere behind them, a crow cawed, mocking him and the death of the best relationship he could remember.

Without saying anything, Cas stopped beside a blackberry bramble that bordered the trail and set the bucket down. The bush was taller than her, though some of the branches were heavy with ripe berries. She plucked a few, gathering as many as she could hold in her palm before dropping them into the bucket with a metallic thump.

For some reason, Astarion hadn’t thought she had been serious about the blackberries. They had more than enough food at camp, there was no reason for her to go out and gather more. But he knew she liked to be prepared and always needed something to tend to.

At her core, Cas was a nurturer. From day one she had been working tirelessly to make sure everyone had what they needed. Food, water, shelter, supplies….

Astarion thought back to that very first night after they escaped the mindflayers. Cas had lied to him. She had given him a bedroll, claiming it was a spare that she found and he didn’t realize it was her own until the next morning. She laughed it off, saying that he looked like he needed it more than she did.

When she had learned he was a vampire, she gave him the very blood in her veins. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Simply to be sure he was taken care of and she knew he would prefer it to the animal blood he had been choking down.

And when he went missing in the goblin camp, bleeding and poisoned in a cold and dusty chamber, she was the one who went looking for him. Even when she learned what he had done, she still took care of him when another might have left him to his fate.

Astarion picked at that pesky loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt. Taking a breath, he willed himself to look at Cas.

Dappled sunlight chased shadows across her face as the full tree branches above swayed in the gentle breeze. It was fitting. Almost poetic. If she was the sunlight, then he was the shadows. And he never craved the sun’s warmth more than he did at that moment.

“Cas,” he started, his voice not much louder than a whisper. “I’m sorry about what happened with the drow. Truly.”

Cas tossed a handful of berries into the bucket but didn’t look at him. “Why are you apologizing?”

Somehow the innocuous question felt like a slap to the face. Astarion’s brow drew together in bewilderment, his conciliatory air vanishing in an instant. “What do you mean ‘why am I apologizing’? You know why.”

“No, I don’t.” She said the words so nonchalantly while she worked, she might as well be talking about the weather again.

Astarion frowned, the tender feelings he had been ruminating over were warring with his incredulity. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He blinked at her. That wasn’t how she was supposed to respond. He didn’t expect her to forgive him immediately, but to question why he was apologizing in the first place? Did he have to spell it out for her, or was she just being petulant?

Cas continued not to look at him. She stood on her toes to reach a couple of large berries at the top of the bush, exposing a delicious sliver of skin when her shirt lifted with the movement. It was unfair how attracted to her he was.

A couple more berries landed in the bucket and Cas shifted to a new spot on the bush. Another minute passed in silence as Astarion unconsciously followed her movements, his mind a mess of incongruous thoughts.

Cas breathed out a sigh. “If you aren’t going to help pick berries, you should head back to camp.”

Astarion hesitated. If he turned around and headed back to camp, he might as well close the door on his relationship with Cas for good. No matter what, he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. So he found a cluster of blackberries and started picking.

“Why don’t you help me understand what happened,” Cas said after he had picked a couple handfuls of berries.

“You saw what happened,” he said stubbornly. It was one thing to give a vague apology, but another thing entirely to lay his sins out bare for her perusal. Saying anything more felt like handing Cas his heart and a knife and begging her not to stab it repeatedly. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, to go back in time and beg his past self not to let jealousy get the better of him. But the best he could do was try to repair the damage he had already done.

“I saw you got hurt.” She tossed another couple of berries into the bucket. “I saw the drow had some bite marks, only one of which was bloody, and some rumpled clothing. I saw that you were in a similar dishabille....”

Astarion focused on his hands as he worked, suddenly unable to look at her. “I let things go too far,” he said. “I should have stopped him.”

“But you didn’t want to.”

“Not at first, no,” he admitted, although that wasn't the whole truth. The whole truth was far too complicated for him to bring up with her at that moment, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to. “But after a certain point…”

After a certain point, the only person he could think about was Cas. But he didn’t dare say that, so he let the statement hang in the air for her to draw her own conclusions.

“Then why did you do it?”

Because he was jealous. But more than that, he was scared. Terrified of losing Cas. If Wyll didn’t sweep her away, then it was only a matter of time before Cazador got to her and did who knows what. He was going to lose her either way.

He didn’t get to keep things that made him happy, so why should Cas be any different? It was his pitiful attempt to soften the blow disguised by some twisted need for revenge. He didn’t want to lose her to Wyll, so he lost himself to another person just to prove he never needed her.

Oh how wrong he was.

Instead of telling her any of that, he said something incredibly stupid. “He was practically throwing himself at me. I would have been an idiot not to take the opportunity.”

From the corner of his eye, Cas squished a berry between her fingers. She flicked the ruined fruit into the dirt below and continued as if nothing happened. “You should go back to camp.”

“The opportunity to drink his blood,” he quickly amended, almost stumbling over his words in his effort to pull his foot from his mouth. But it was too late. Cas was already turning away from him.

Astarion abandoned his section of the bush and caught her by the crook of her arm. “Cas, wait.”

She roughly shrugged her arm from his grip. “If that’s all there is to it, then we’re done here.”

Cas picked up the bucket, now filled to the brim with plump blackberries, and started back down the path.

His fingernails dug into his palm from how hard he clenched his fists. Even though she didn’t say it explicitly, he knew this was his last chance. He needed to tell her the truth. It was the only card he had left to play.

But did he really want to do it? Was it worth it? Or rather, was she worth it?

Watching her retreating figure, he felt his opportunity slipping away with each step. It was now or never. He had to try something.

“This is your fault, you know,” he called after her.

Cas stopped. A few berries tumbled to the ground when she abruptly turned on her heel, stalking back towards him. She jabbed a finger at his chest, her voice surprisingly calm when she said, “You’re the one who wanted to explore a relationship with me and then you immediately went off with someone else. How is that my fault?”

“Because you make it impossible for me to think straight!” The words shot out of his mouth before his brain could even register what he had just said. Blood drained from his face as a wave of fear washed over him. Admitting that out loud felt like opening a vein, leaving him feeling raw and exposed.

Was there any chance he could use the tadpole to erase Cas’s memory? Because that would be great.

He ran his fingers through his hair, stopping at the tips to pull as if the bit of pain on his scalp would help him gather his wits. But the words were already out. There was no taking them back.

Well, he made it this far so he might as well keep going. At least then when she rejects him, it will be a nice reminder that being ‘honest’ and doing the ‘right thing’ never worked out. He was never good at those things anyway.

“I can’t remember the last time I wanted someone the way I want you and I…” He swallowed and smoothed his hair, needing something to do with his hands. “When I saw you on Wyll’s arm I did something stupid. I thought if I was with someone else, these blasted feelings would go away. But no. I couldn’t do it. I just kept thinking about you. You’re as entrenched in my head as the damned tadpole.”

His pulse pounded in his ears. It wasn’t the whole truth, and it certainly wasn’t romantic, but it was out there. Did his words come out the way he wanted them to? Not exactly. But he wasn’t about to just let Cas walk away without trying. If that meant unlocking the cage around his heart, then so be it.

The past day had proven that Cas had found her way into every fiber of his being. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop wanting her.

A moment passed. And then another. He wasn’t sure if it was seconds or it was minutes, but Cas didn’t say anything. When he finally braved a glance in her direction, he wasn’t sure what he expected. A cruel smirk? Laughter? Pity? Something to make him regret everything he just said. But it was none of those things.

Cas set the bucket down and folded her arms across his chest. The look she gave him was… thoughtful. Not good, but not bad either.

An unpleasant feeling slithered through him as his mind suddenly went to Cazador. Groveling, begging for forgiveness, waiting to hear whatever torture Cazador decided on as punishment. But he mentally shook off the feeling. This was Cas, not his former master. It wasn’t the same thing. But still, the memories lingered in the back of his mind like a phantom ready to cloak his mind in darkness.

“So what do you want to do?” Cas asked, her tone gentle and curious. Not patronizing, not pitying, not mocking. Just genuine curiosity.

He ran his hand through his hair again. “I want to forget that whole incident ever happened,” he said. “I want another chance.”

Cas’s eyes turned downcast and she pursed her lips. Then, with a sigh, she picked up the bucket and said, “I’ll think about it.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, but it was better than flat out rejection. He would have to take what he could get.

“Thank you,” he said, not knowing how else to respond. “How long do you think you’ll need?”

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’ll let you know when I figure it out. And we should get back before Shadowheart starts speculating.”

Feeling a little numb and very exposed, Astarion nodded.

He desperately wanted to come out of the conversation with a concrete answer, but all he got was a ‘maybe.’ All he could hope for is that that ‘maybe’ would eventually turn into a ‘yes.’

Maybe, one day, Cas won’t want to let him go either. Maybe she’ll want him just as much as he wanted her.

And maybe, Astarion would finally get to keep something that made him happy.

---

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 11

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: After waiting a day, Astarion finally gets a response from Cas.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Tags: Sexual content, kissing, safe word discussion, confessions, mild dirty talk.

A full day passed and Astarion still hadn’t gotten an answer from Cas. Their conversation had left him on edge. It was like he had an open wound in his chest, and Cas was the only person with the means to heal it. Yet she decided to make him wait, his heart beating out in the open. Exposed. Vulnerable.

He tried to distract himself with whatever he could think of: fletching arrows, reading that changeling detective novel, fixing a small tear in his armor. He even tried striking up a conversation with Gale of all people. Nothing seemed to make time go by faster or take his mind off of his little wood elf.

It was maddening.

So when he learned that the tieflings at the Grove wanted to throw a little celebration at the campsite, he initially welcomed the idea. It was something to occupy his time. It was also a chance to show Cas that he could behave himself in a setting where it would be completely acceptable to flirt and mingle. He was determined to be on his absolute best behavior.

But by the time the party rolled around, Astarion’s determination gave way to frustration. For more reasons than one.

First, the tieflings thought he was some sort of hero. For what? Stabbing a hobgoblin and a couple of his cronies in the dead of night? Some people would call that being a serial killer, but what did he know? The tieflings thought that he helped save them. If he did, it was completely unintentional. A mere side-effect of their mission to find a cure for the tadpole situation. Nothing more.

Second, Cas was busy socializing with everyone but him. She flitted from one conversation to the next like a hummingbird, staying just long enough to say a few words before moving on. And their companions took notice. Shadowheart even had the audacity to tease him about it. Then, as if to rub it in his face, she asked Cas to have a drink with her then the two women proceeded to chat for at least ten minutes.

Third, his wine tasted like vinegar. It was the least of his problems, but given everything else going on, it irritated him more than it should have. Still, he drank it anyway.

The party itself was fine. Not bad, but not terribly good. There was music, dancing, and plenty of drinks to go around. But there were also children present, which meant that the levels of debauchery Astarion was accustomed to at parties was practically eliminated.

Not a single person got so drunk that they took off their clothes. Or tried doing something dangerous and stupid. Or started a fist fight. Or an orgy. It was so… boring.

Astarion was never a wallflower at social events, but he couldn’t bring himself to mingle with this particular crowd. They all wanted to thank him, which would have been hilarious if it didn’t make him so uncomfortable. He wasn’t a hero, and the tieflings were idiots for thinking so. However, he had the good manners not to say anything to their faces. After all, they did bring free booze, even if it was shit.

Regardless, he had used the party as an excuse to dress up a bit. Not much, since he didn’t have his usual wardrobe on hand, but nice enough. He wore the black linen shirt that showed off a bit of his chest just because he knew Cas liked it and paired it with well-tailored trousers that tucked into his leather boots. A simple, monochromatic look that he knew looked quite striking with his complexion.

A few interested pairs of eyes had wandered his way and confirmed what he already knew. But he ignored them. It was only a few weeks ago that he would have taken those lingering glances as an invitation. After what happened with the drow, he didn’t show any interest in return. The truth was he dressed up for Cas, hoping to entice her into speaking with him, but it seemed his efforts were in vain.

Restless energy pulsed through him. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and drank deeply from his bottle of wine, but even the alcohol didn’t seem to relieve his growing tension. That tension only grew when he saw Cas laughing at something Halsin had said. And again she left to talk with Wyll in private for a moment. Astarion ground his teeth together so hard it was a miracle he didn’t snap a fang. He forced himself to look away for his own sanity, fuming.

Why the hells should he just wait around for Cas to come talk to him? Sure, he could have gone and talked to her himself, but he was stubborn. Stubborn and not willing to roll on his back and bare his belly for her again. No. If she wanted to talk to him, she would have to be the one to initiate conversation. He was tired of feeling like she held his heart in her hand, and he was far too proud to slink after her and beg for it back.

Unwilling to endure the party any longer, Astarion took his one last sip of his wine and dumped the rest into a bush. That could be his heroic deed: ridding the world of that swill they called wine. Now that was worthy of celebration.

He needed to do something other than waiting for Cas. Something to distract himself before his irritation festered and he did something stupid again.

Maybe he could hunt? It would get him away from the party and burn off some of the energy that was coiling inside him like a tight metal spring. Plus killing something usually made him feel better. It didn’t really matter that he hunted earlier in the day. Perhaps he could find something that would put up a bit of a fight. He could use the release.

As he turned to his tent so he could get changed into something more hunting appropriate, he stopped short. Only a few feet away, Cas watched him with those deep brown eyes. Curious and hesitant, but there was a familiar warmth behind them that made his undead heart quicken.

She hadn’t even dressed up for the party. Just a simple, white, sleeveless top paired the leather leggings and boots she typically wore with her armor. Her hair was down and a little messy from running around the party all night. Still, he drank in the sight of her as though she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

He hated how his body responded to her at that moment. The butterflies in his stomach had no business being there, but his mind couldn’t convince them to leave.

“Hey,” Cas said, her brow furrowed and a faint frown appeared on that mouth he so still so stupidly wanted to kiss. “Are you leaving?”

Yes, because you ignored me for the last hour and I’m tired of waiting around like a dog, he wanted to say. Even though she had finally come to talk to him, it was a minute too late. He was done being patient and done with not knowing where they stood.

Astarion huffed. “I’m bored, darling,” he said, his tone a mixture of exasperation and annoyance. A couple of tiefling children dancing with their parents caught his eye and Cas followed his gaze. “This really isn’t my sort of thing. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find something else to occupy my time. I need to hunt anyway.”

“Wait.” Cas’s fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist and his body electrified at that small touch.

Goosebumps crawled up his arm when he saw the look on her face. Her eyes were wide, pleading, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t quite place.

He glanced at where her fingers touched his skin but made no move to pull away. He watched her and said nothing. Waiting. Again.

Cas drew her lower lip between her teeth. “I—” A sharp breath cut between them as she straightened. “I wanted to talk to you. About you and me.”

“I’m listening,” he replied, keeping his voice flat to hide the hope that threatened to blossom in his chest. Just because she was ready to talk didn’t mean he was going to get the answer he wanted to hear.

In fact, he was almost certain that he wouldn’t like whatever she was about to say. His night was already going terribly, so what was one more disappointment?

Her fingers slipped from his wrist, and he immediately mourned the loss despite himself. The urge to reach out and touch her was strong, almost overpowering, but he resisted. She wasn’t his to touch anymore.

“Let’s…” She looked down at her boots. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private,” she said and cocked her chin toward the edge of the woods.

Astarion nodded and followed her lead, but his stomach twisted with apprehension. Truth be told, he had no idea which way the conversation was going to go, but he was already steeling himself for the worst. Just because she wanted to talk didn’t mean that she forgave him. It didn’t mean that she still wanted him the way she did before. There was a good chance that she would sever whatever romantic connection they had, and he couldn’t really blame her if she did. If the roles were reversed, he knew exactly what he would do.

But Cas had a much softer heart than he did.

They stopped at the border of the campsite, where the chatter from the party barely reached his ears and the only light came from the glow of the moon. It was quiet enough that he could hear crickets over the distant sounds of lutes, flutes, and drums.

Yet, Cas didn’t say anything for several seconds.

She picked at her short fingernails and rocked on her heels. “Thank you for giving me some time to think,” she started, her voice a little softer than normal. Almost like she didn’t trust it. “I needed a day to go over what you said. And to figure out how I felt.”

“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice, darling,” he said, folding his arms across his chest as though he could shield his heart.

A sheepish laugh passed her lips as she continued not to look at him. “Still….”

Leaves rustled in the wind, filling the lingering silence between them. Moments passed and Cas opened her mouth once or twice to say something before ultimately changing her mind. The longer the pause went on, the further his heart sank.

She was ending it. Whatever it was that was between them, their nascent relationship; she wanted it to be over. It was the only reasonable explanation for her reticence. He swallowed the lump in his throat and his fingers dug into his shirtsleeves.

It was over. He laid his heart out on the line for nothing.

“Out with it,” Astarion bit, his impatience boiling over into anger.

Tell him he wasn’t worth the trouble. That he was nothing more than a quick fuck to distract her from the mess they were in. That nothing he said or did mattered to her. He needed her to remind him that the world was a cruel place. That anything that made him happy was bound to go up in flames. No matter how he tried to stop the fire, it would always destroy him. Bit by bit.

Hope was a dangerous thing, and Cas had given him hope. Made him think that, even for a moment, she wanted him for him. She made him believe he was worth something to her.

He was such an idiot.

Dread dripped down his spine and he mentally tried to steel himself. Cas was just like anyone else he had seduced. Just a bit of fun. Nothing serious. Certainly no one worth fretting over.

Astarion repeated the words like a mantra in his mind, trying to convince himself of it. Cas meant nothing to him, so she couldn’t hurt him. It was just flirtation and fun. Like always.

Cas gazed up at him with those deep brown eyes and sucked in a lungful of air. “I still want you.”

The words came out like it was a secret she had been trying to keep inside. A mere breath. A whisper.

And he couldn’t believe it.

For a second, he wasn’t even sure he heard her correctly. She… she still wanted him? Or did she say she didn’t want him? The more he thought about it, the less sure he was of what she actually said. The pessimist, vitriolic, part of his brain told him that he definitely misheard her. The way she had been acting didn’t make sense otherwise. Why would she have stayed away from him if she still wanted him?

He blinked at her. “What?”

“I still want you.” She wrung her hands together and averted her gaze. “I was blindsided by what happened the other day. I thought you just didn’t care, but after our talk yesterday…. If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t have bothered.

“I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I like you. A lot. Despite what happened. You’re clever and funny and you’re one of my favorite people to talk to. Not to mention extremely handsome, but you already knew that. I’m rambling. Anyway, if you’re still interested I would really like to continue—”

The impulse was too strong to resist. It was like the tightly wound coil deep inside him had suddenly snapped, and he couldn’t wait a second longer. Astarion clutched the back of her head and his lips crashed against hers in a rough, soul-searing, all-encompassing kiss. He wanted her too much for anything else to matter. Too much to care about whatever else she was going to say. She had said all she needed to.

A faint whimper escaped the back of her throat as her body sank against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, anchoring herself to him. The delicate stroke of her tongue against his sent a shock of pleasure through him and a groan, almost like a growl, rumbled in his chest.

He cupped the curve of her ass and pulled her tightly against him, pressing his rapidly hardening length against her stomach. Her fingers slid into his hair as lips broke from hers, moving down to her corner of her jaw to her throat. The frantic throb of her pulse beneath his lips made his fangs ache. He wanted to bite her. To claim her again. To mark her so the whole world knew who she belonged to.

The need nearly overwhelmed him for a moment as his fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her head back until her throat was completely bared to him. Cas’s breath hitched when his teeth closed gently against the tender flesh of her neck. Just a nip. Not hard enough to pierce the skin, no matter how desperately he craved it. He wouldn’t bite her without permission.

Because he wanted her. Damn it to the Hells, he wanted her. Blood, body, and soul.

At that moment, everything he had been worried about had vanished. It was just him and her. Nothing else seemed to matter when she was in his arms, and he would take every second of peace he could get.

The tip of his tongue soothed over the faint mark he left on her throat, the salt of her skin as exquisite as fine wine. “Darling, I want to bite you,” he said into the cove of her neck as his hips rocked against hers once, trying to relieve the ache he felt for her. “I miss seeing my mark on your neck.”

“Maybe I’ll let you make another,” Cas replied a little breathlessly. “You said you needed to hunt tonight anyways. Why not hunt me?”

Astarion loosened his grip in her hair, smoothing his fingers over her scalp down to her nape. “Hunt you?” he asked as he pressed a lingering kiss against a pulse point just below her jaw.

“Yeah,” she said, almost a little shyly. Like she couldn’t quite believe what she was asking for. “Not for real, obviously. But like a game. I’ll pack up some things and wander off into the woods. All alone. Far away from camp. Then you’ll come find me.”

The thought of stalking her, catching her, and overpowering her appealed to him on the most primal level. Excitement swelled in his chest. In all his years, he had never been asked to hunt someone before. At least, not like this. Not by someone who knew what he was and what he was capable of.

Vampires were hunters by nature. They had to be. Most people would never subject themselves to a vampire's bite willingly, regardless of the risk of being turned. And most vampires would never let their victims live. Especially the ones they chased down or seduced with the sole purpose of feeding. It was simply a risk most vampires couldn’t afford to take. Loose ends and all of that. The fact that Cas was asking this of him….

His hand lowered on her backside, giving the firm flesh a little squeeze. “You trust me to not go too far?”

A small gasp passed her lips when his fingers curved around high on her inner thigh. “Of course I do,” she said. “You didn’t go too far before.”

Before Cas had held a knife to his throat as he bit her. Before was his very first time drinking the blood of a thinking creature. Before he hadn’t cared enough about her to truly worry about losing control. But none of that seemed worth mentioning at that moment.

For her to place her trust in him like this…. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to unpack the feelings that it stirred up deep in his core. It wasn’t the right time, and he was far from ready.

Instead, he kissed her before she could say anything else that made him feel things he wasn’t ready to feel. His tongue searched the inside her mouth with delicate strokes, the kind meant to keep her wanting more. When he drew a soft, pleading moan from the back of her throat he pulled away, smiling as her mouth tried to follow his.

Her pupils were blown wide as he stared into her eyes, searching. Trying to find even the slightest bit of hesitation. But he found nothing but desire and longing.

He held her chin and dragged his thumb over the center of her lower lip. “Will you run from me when I find you?”

Cas arched into him, putting delicious pressure on his cock and he stifled a groan. It was like every contour of her body perfectly reconciled with his. Like she was made to fit against him. “Only if you don’t stop me.”

Already, he was thinking of ways he could do that. How he could hold her body against his, how he could pin her down, maybe even tie her up. The yellow ribbon she had used to wrap up his portrait came to mind. How pretty that would look wrapped around her wrists. The possibilities were endless, and he wanted to explore each and every one. Maybe not that night, but eventually.

His lips brushed against her ear, sending goosebumps down her arms despite the warm night air. “And what happens when I catch you?” he whispered against her heated skin. “Are you going to fight me, darling?”

“Just a little.” Her breath caught when he kissed the side of her throat, working his way down the juncture of her neck and collarbone. “Not hard enough to hurt you. Besides, I don’t think I’ll want to fight you for very long anyway.”

“And why’s that?” Astarion touched his tongue to her pulse, smiling at the shiver it sent down her spine.

The soft gust of her breath feathered against his ear. “Because I think I’ll like getting caught by you.”

He wanted to say he had already caught her. After all, she was in his arms, willing and wanting. Despite everything. Despite his own foolishness and insecurities. Despite how he had tried so hard to resist her. Despite how he knew that what they had couldn’t last. The gods and the universe would never let him keep her.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“So I’ll catch you and subdue you,” he said as he continued trailing kissing along her neck. “What will I get for all my hard work?”

“What would you want?”

A shudder went through her when he licked a stripe from her collarbone to the corner of her jaw. “I’m picturing you on your hands and knees, darling,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear. “Begging for my cock. But the moment I give it to you is the moment I sink my fangs into your pretty little neck. Mixing pleasure with pain. How does that sound?”

Cas made a pleased humming sound as she pressed herself into him ever so slightly like she was trying to feel what he had promised. “I think we should ditch the party.”

Astarion lifted his head and stared into her eyes again. With a little burst of tenderness that seemed to come out of nowhere, he brushed a loose lock of her silky hair behind her ear. She already had a darkened spot on her neck from where he nipped her, but it would fade quickly.

And he wanted to make a few marks that would last for days.

Anticipation glimmered in her dark eyes, but it was the smile on her lips that nearly had him undone. It had only been a few seconds, but he already missed the sensual heat of her mouth against his.

His hand cupped the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. She leaned into his touch, affectionate. Trusting.

“Before we do this,” he said, “how do you want to let me know if I am too rough or if I go too far? Because I won’t be nearly as restrained as I was last time.”

“Maybe a safeword?”

“Probably a good idea with these sorts of games.” He held her chin between his thumb and index finger. “I’ll let you pick it since it’ll be the last decision you make with me this evening.”

Cas bit her lower lip, but a smile pulled at the corners anyways. It was... adorable. He wasn’t sure the last time he found someone cute in a non-condescending way. It was like she was so excited to be with him, she could hardly contain it.

The way she looked up at him through her lashes lit a spark low in his stomach. There was something more than lust and anticipation in her eyes, something he couldn’t quite place, but it made him want to smile back at her.

She placed her hands on his chest, the heat of her palms like a brand through his thin shirt. Gently, she pushed herself away. “Merlot,” she said as she took a few steps backward with a bright grin on her face.

“Merlot,” he repeated back to her.

Cas took another step backwards in the direction of the party. “Give me an hour to say goodnight to people and get ready.”

“I’m not waiting an hour, darling.”

“Forty-five minutes?”

“Ten.”

“Thirty.”

“Twenty,” he said. “Any longer and you’ll be getting a spanking when I catch you.”

Cas covered her mouth with one hand and gasped in mock offense. “Oh no. I wouldn’t want that.”

Well with that tone, he definitely had to spank her now.

“Nineteen,” he said.

She flashed him one more smile before she turned around and jogged back to camp. He watched her disappear into her tent before he started back himself. The moment she left camp, the hunt would be on.

And he could hardly wait.

---

Beginning

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 2

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: It was only after Cas allowed Astarion to drink her blood did he see the little wood elf in a new light. The more he learned about her, the more questions he had. And the more fascinated he became.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Tags: Heavy and obvious flirting, Astarion has a bit of an obsession with seeing his bite marks, eavesdropping

What transpired between Astarion and Cas in those early hours of the morning did not remain a secret long. The ground was still damp with morning dew when the others made thinly veiled threats regarding the implications of his nature. Like he was some monster incapable of keeping his condition in check. And like Cas was an utter fool for accepting him as he was.

On that point, Astarion was inclined to agree with them.

Yet the more their companions questioned Cas’s decision, the deeper she dug her heels into the dirt to defend it.

To defend him.

It was flattering in a weird way that he wasn’t familiar with. Though he had a feeling her stubbornness had less to do with him and more to do with her choices coming under question by the others. Again. Like every other decision she made since they started traveling together.

It took several assurances from Cas, but the rest of their little group reluctantly accepted the conclusion that was made. That she trusted him enough to let him stay.

That was worth something.

They went about the rest of the morning as usual. While Wyll brewed a pot of coffee, Gale tended to a pot of rabbit meat and root vegetables sizzling in reserved duck fat and fragrant herbs. Even though Astarion no longer needed to eat like the rest of them, the smells were comforting. Homey, even. A welcome change from the scent of wet stone, blood, and rot that permeated every corner of Cazador’s palace. It was strange how a certain smell could dredge up memories from the deepest recesses of the mind like a colander sifting muck and silt for a mere speck of gold.

It had been ages since Astarion experienced a whiff of coffee. It was a small thing, but one that his condition deprived him of nonetheless. For a creature who was no longer meant to greet the morning sun, it was easy to forget about some of the other simple pleasures that came with it. Back when he worked as magistrate, Astarion even had a favorite mug that he’d enjoy two or three cups from each morning. He wasn’t sure where it went, or when he had lost track of it for that matter. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what it looked like. White with some pattern maybe?

Just another of life’s niceties that was so easily forgotten.

“Coffee, Astarion?” Wyll said and offered a tin mug half filled with pitch black liquid, pulling him from his thoughts. “We don’t have any cream or sugar, but it’s not half bad if I say so myself.”

Astarion accepted the mug and thanked him. Though his sense of taste had changed drastically since his afflictions, the effects of foods and drinks stayed largely the same. Alcohol still managed to quiet his mind, so no doubt caffeine would help to wake it. Not that he needed any sort of pick-me-up that morning. Cas’s blood flowing through his veins was better than anything a cup of coffee could offer. Still, he did not want to turn down the novelty.

He swirled the steaming liquid before he sipped at the dark, bitter, brew. The flat taste on his tongue was a mere spark of what coffee should taste like. Blood was the only thing that tasted right, but his loss of taste was just another little gift from Cazador, he supposed. But he still continued to sip the coffee, in small mouthfuls, rolling the dulled flavor across his tongue absently as he watched some birds flit between the trees.

Then, he noticed Wyll was still staring at him.

“What?” Astarion leaned back slightly, as if to put space between him and the monster hunter.

Wyll simply shook his head and poured a cup of coffee for himself. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” he said. “Cas even brought it up with me and I told her she was being ridiculous. Hells, I still probably wouldn’t believe it if not for the bite mark on her neck.”

“Are you certain you're a monster hunter?”

Wyll brushed the jest aside with a chuckle and said, “Even the Blade could not have expected a vampire to be walking around in broad daylight.” With that, he went off to offer coffee to the others around camp.

The steam rising from the coffee dissipated in the crisp morning air as Astarion mulled over Wyll’s words. How long had Cas suspected him? Since they found the boar? Before that? Why did she suspect him at all when their resident monster hunter all but deemed it an impossibility? The questions lingered at the back of his mind as he finished his coffee.

Perhaps there was more to that ranger from Neverwinter than he initially thought. Whatever it was, Astarion resolved to find out.

—

The cool morning air gave way to intense late summer heat only after an hour on the road. The purpose of today’s expedition was just to get a lay of the land; find out where goblins are holed up, identify a path to the githyanki creche, and generally gather useful information about their surroundings. And keep an eye out for the devil Wyll was hunting.

So far, they had found a dog hanging around the corpse of his owner. Not the best way to start the day, but they just might have gotten a guard dog for the camp out of it. The dog, some sort of white shepherd called Scratch, trotted alongside Cas as if they had known each other for years.

Despite the two perfect little puncture marks bruising Cas’s neck, she seemed to be doing surprisingly well. Shadowheart had offered to heal the bite mark, but Cas insisted that she saved her spells for a ‘real problem’. So Astarion could only assume that she was feeling just fine. Of course, Astarion had asked Cas how she was feeling long before they set out for the day and she said she was fine. But saying something and acting accordingly were two different things entirely. It was a little reassuring that the two matched up when it came to Cas.

Perhaps she was as genuine as she appeared.

As for Astarion, he was feeling better than ‘fine’. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so well. So alive, for a lack of a better word. The sunlight dripped between bright green summer leaves like droplets of honey, the songbirds sounded like a symphony more than a cacophony, and the sweet scent of orange blossoms with a hint of gardenia carried on a warm breeze. It all seemed just a little brighter, and that permanent weight in his chest just a bit lighter.

Was it just a particularly nice day, a good mood, or were his senses truly heightened from being a well fed vampire for the first time since he was cursed with the affliction? If it was the latter, no wonder Cazador forbade his spawn from proper meals: they might just feel almost normal for once. One by one, the chains that bound him to his condition and to Cazador snapped like cotton threads.

For the first time in centuries, Astarion felt that the world was finally a place he could experience rather than simply witness.

A couple meters behind him, Wyll and Shadowheart conversed quietly about their ideas surrounding this ‘Absolute’ character the goblins seemed to worship and who (or what) might be behind it. Astarion tuned them out. No point in filling his head with speculations. Not when there was already so much going on in his mind.

Instead he set his sight on the wood elf in front of him who, for whatever reason, seemed to make his mind a quieter place. Maybe it was the ease in which she moved through a world that was so unfamiliar to him, or maybe it was because she never once seemed troubled by all that happened to them. Perhaps it was simply because she had nothing going on in her mind at all and her worm kindly shared whatever background tavern music was running between her ears with his.

Astarion focused his attention on Cas walking ahead of him, noticing how the strap that holster her dagger to her thigh was just a little too tight and the subtle sway of her hips. He recalled the feel of her curves against him last night as he drank from her. Even though she had been essentially straddling him, it felt different. Not as sexual as he would have expected, in retrospect. Perhaps it was just because he didn’t have to lure her back to Cazador. He brushed the thoughts aside as he fell in step beside Cas, feeling the sudden urge to talk to her.

Cas acknowledged him with a small smile and they exchanged pleasantries. Bruises blossomed from the two puncture wounds on her neck like macabre magnolias with dark red centers. His morbid curiosity mixed with a sense of pride. It was odd. Why did he like seeing his bite mark on her neck? It should have filled him with disgust, her parading around the fact that she had been bitten by a vampire, but it didn’t.

Cas was different.

“I’ve been thinking,” Astarion started, keeping his tone casual. “And I can’t help but wonder if you’ve had any prior experience with other vampires.”

She tilted her head at him, but didn’t seem at all surprised by his statement. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” Astarion shrugged, trying his best to look more indifferent than he felt.

It was the truth, but it only scratched the surface of every thought that writhed within that curiosity. Until a couple of hours ago, Astarion thought Cas was just an average elf and never put much thought beyond that.

That changed the moment he told her the truth about what he really was. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in her eyes. Then there was the vision the tadpole shared of the young man bleeding from bite wounds to his neck, someone she clearly cared for. Lastly, there was that odd comment about an ‘anticoagulant’ in his saliva, which was awkward at the moment but now it drew his suspicion. There was more to this backwoods elf than she was letting on. Not knowing exactly what that was, however, meant potentially walking right into a trap.

As if he didn’t have enough to worry about.

Cas brushed a lock of brown hair that escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “A very dear friend of mine is a vampire,” Cas explained simply, as if knowing a vampire (let alone calling one a friend) was as commonplace as knowing someone with a pet cat.

Vampires did not have friends. At least, not in the way most people had friends. They had tools, people they used and could benefit from, but not real friends. Friendship required some sort of give and take, and vampires were only good at one of those things.

“He sometimes needs an illustrator for his research, so I help out when I can,” Cas continued after a moment of silence. “Plus, he lets my brother and I stay at his place whenever we’re in town. Saves money on inns.”

Her words gave him pause. What sort of people would willingly share space with a vampire? And what sort of vampire would be open to mortal company without some sort of blood price?

Astarion’s fingers ghosted over the punctures in her neck, yet did not see a single wound except for his and that strange sense of pride welled in his chest again. He swallowed the feeling quickly: scars could easily vanish with the right magic. “I take it that you’ve had plenty of experience with this then.”

“That was a first, actually.” She gently brushed his hand away with a wince.

Right. Her neck was probably still pretty sore.

“The vampires I know wouldn’t bite me even if I offered,” she continued as if it were a perfectly normal subject to talk about. “But you needed blood so I offered. Plus, I was curious about what it felt like and if the texts I read matched up with reality.”

For some reason he did not quite understand, Astarion found himself smiling at her. Maybe it was the unspoken connection of being each other’s first. Or maybe it was just the little flush on her cheeks and crack in her voice as she admitted it.

Adorable, really.

“Was your curiosity satisfied?” he asked, his voice low enough for her ears alone.

Cas bit back a smile. “You could stand to satisfy me further,” she replied in a tone that was playful and flirtatious, but definitely not serious.

Interesting.

“Don’t tempt me, darling,” he whispered, matching her energy in a way that made her choke back a giggle. “I wouldn’t dare leave you wanting.”

With one hand, she gave his shoulder a good-natured shove as a brilliant grin spread across her face. “You’re ridiculous.”

A fluttering sensation bloomed within his chest, warm yet light, as Astarion took in her smile and how her cheeks darkened with laughter. It was strange. Uncomfortable, even. So he averted his focus to the road ahead and swallowed down the emotion.

There was no reason why Cas should make him feel like a damn teenager. She was just a pretty face. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been around beautiful people before. He had bedded more of them than he cared to remember, yet none of them made him feel… whatever the Hells that was.

Perhaps it was because Cas allowed him to drink her blood. Or because she was the first thinking creature to do so. Or, maybe, it was because she gave him the first sign that Cazador had lost control.

That was probably it.

Nothing more.

—

Scratch proved his worth almost immediately. On the outskirts of an abandoned village, Scratch stuck his little black nose up in the air, barked once, and practically herded them directly toward the devil Wyll had been hunting.

Who wasn’t a devil at all, but tiefling. A tiefling that could definitely snap Astarion in two if she felt so inclined, but just a sweet young woman who certainly didn’t run around killing innocents like Wyll had believed.

After it was determined absolutely no harm would come to Karlach, Cas hung back to speak to Wyll in private while they made their way back to camp. Astarion didn’t want to intrude, but he found himself slowing down a couple of times to catch snippets of their conversation. But only one part of it really stood out to him.

“It doesn’t matter who your source is,” Cas had said, sounding like a teacher giving a lecture. “Always do your due diligence. You’re responsible for who you hunt. No one else. Otherwise you’re no different than a mercenary.”

“I know,” Wyll had replied. “You don’t need to recite The Huntsman’s Handbook to me.”

A pregnant pause had permeated the air between. Two, three, seconds passed by. Then Cas changed the subject with all the grace of a newborn deer learning to stand, but Wyll seemed far too stressed to notice.

Interesting, to say the least. Perhaps Wyll’s response had embarrassed her. After all, who was she to be telling a famous monster hunter how to do his job?

When they got to camp, it didn’t take long for them to set up a tent for Karlach and make introductions. The moon was already high in the sky by the time they finished the supper Gale had prepared and took care of some various tasks to prepare for the next day. Yet, despite the excitement of a new traveling companion, Astarion found that his mind kept wandering back to Cas.

If not his mind, then his eyes.

It was something instinctual, like eyeing a plate full of baked goods on an empty stomach, but Astarion was far from starving. After dealing with a couple of fake paladins who were after Karlach, he had no need to feed that evening. Even if Cas tasted significantly better than any demon blood, it would be unwise to drink her blood two nights in a row. Gale gave him an unnecessarily long lecture about why that was the case, but Astarion barely paid attention. The bottom line was he could not drink from Cas any time soon. At least, not without her using some sort of magical healing that would be best saved for an emergency.

Given how Astarion had needed emergency healing a few times during their travels, he’d rather stay on the safe side. As disappointing as it was.

Since hunting took up most of his evenings, and he had no need for blood that night, he found himself with a bit more free time than he knew what to deal with. Gale and Lae’zel had volunteered to keep watch that night, so Astarion didn’t even have guard duty to occupy himself.

So to kill time, he took care of some basic maintenance on his equipment. His dagger was plenty sharp, but he still took some time to buff the blade and check that it was still firmly attached to the hilt. Then he started on his armor, checking a buckle here and fixing a broken strap there. All the while, he listened to the sounds around camp.

Tents weren’t great at blocking out noises, which was both a good thing and a bad thing.

On the upside, if there was any danger approaching they would have plenty of time to react to suspicious footsteps or the low growl of a predator. He could hear all the gossip and drama between his companions, which made for some decent entertainment.

On the downside, when he wanted a bit of peace and quiet, that could only be found in the depths of night when most were asleep.

And he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted at the moment. As much as he tried to brush it aside, his mind kept going back to his conversation with Cas and the funny feeling that came with it. It bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why.

Noise, both internal and external, tended to fade into the background so long as he kept himself busy. That was probably how he ended up fletching extra arrows. There was no need for them at the moment, but there would be. And it kept him distracted. While he was working on securing an arrowhead to a wooden shaft, Astarion heard his name on Gale’s lips.

“I know Astarion says all the right words, but I don’t think he means the right things,” he said, his voice hushed and secretive like a nobleman gossiping at a party. “We need to tread carefully with him.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Cas replied without matching Gale’s conspiratorial tone, brushing his concerns away like a gnat. “I wouldn’t have let Astarion bite me if I didn’t.”

Astarion shifted closer to the entrance of his tent, careful not to make a sound. From a narrow gap between the tent flaps he spotted Gale and Cas sitting around the dwindling campfire, Cas with her back to the flames and Gale seated on a halved log across from her.

“You let him?” Gale leaned forward in his seat, his voice lowering to a fraction above a whisper. “Here I was thinking he snuck up on you. Why in the Hells did you let him bite you if there’s a whole forest full of animals out there?”

Cas shrugged. “He asked.”

“So he charmed you?”

“No,” Cas said slowly, like she was using the word as a filler while she figured out what she was going to say next. “But making a vampire feed solely off of animals is like making a human live strictly on potatoes. You’ll live, but it’s not healthy.”

“Don’t tell me he told you that.” Gale drawled, failing spectacularly at hiding the judgment from his tone. Might as well outright call Cas an idiot; that was at least more direct. With a heavy sigh, Gale shook his head. “You need to be more careful with him in the future. He has a certain charm about him, I won’t deny that, but you can’t trust a vampire. Not completely, at least.”

“I trust Astarion.”

“We barely know him.”

Cas gestured to the entirety of the camp with sharp, sweeping, motion. “None of us really know each other,” she said, failing to hide a twinge of frustration. “We need some degree of trust to survive this situation. Just like I can trust you not to lose your mind and incinerate me, I can trust Astarion to keep his condition in check. He has so far.”

With another sigh that sounded more like a groan, Gale ran his hands through his hair. “It’s not the same thing, Cas,” he said. “He’s in control of his actions for now, but he might not always be down the road. We need to be prepared if that happens.”

“It won’t,” Cas said with naïve certainty, like a child claiming they could best a dragon with a paper sword.

He hated to admit it, but Gale had a point. Even if Astarion could break one of Cazador’s commandments, there was still a non-zero chance that Cazador could still control him. One way or another.

Gale dusted his hands off on his pant legs and stood. “Even so,” he said as he turned toward his tent, “please be careful.”

After Gale had vanished into his tent and a moment of silence passed, Cas tossed another log on the fire with more force than necessary. Muttering something under her breath, she stalked off towards the river and out of his line of sight.

Astarion’s fingers relaxed around the bundle of arrows still clutched in his hands. The arrows pooled haphazardly on the floor of his tent when he released his grip, forgotten as that weird feeling stirred in his gut once again.

Perhaps he was hungry after all.

As much as he wanted to deny it, something about Cas’s words slipped past that iron cage he kept around his heart. Not too far. Just enough to notice.

For a moment, he enjoyed the feeling for what it was. Warm. Pleasant even. And entirely too dangerous to let himself indulge in. It would only lead to more pain down the road.

But that trust Cas had in him…. He could use that. Trust was a powerful yet fragile thing. Something that could shatter in an instant if she had any inkling of him abusing it.

And he needed Cas to trust him. Needed her on his side. For his own protection, if nothing else.

No one else would have stuck up for him the way she had. It was genuine. Cas had no idea that he had heard any of that conversation. She had nothing to gain by standing up for him, especially when she didn’t think he was around to hear her.

However, Astarion realized with some bitterness, he didn’t know the first thing about trust. Sure, he knew how to exploit it for his advantage, to lure people to Cazador, but placing his own trust in another? That was a luxury that had been denied to him as long as he could remember.

Any time he placed his trust in another, it always came back to bite him.

Not only that, but centuries as Cazador’s puppet effectively denied him any sort of meaningful connections. They were always fleeting. Always for Cazador. As long as Cazador lived, Astarion couldn’t even trust himself. And as long as Cazador lived, as long as Astarion was beholden to his every whim, no one could trust him either.

Except for, apparently, Cas.

Perhaps she was more foolish than he originally thought. Vampires with the best intentions, even if they were free, still risked succumbing to their hunger or dark desires. Astarion had seen the light slowly fade away from each one of his siblings; love turned into a paralyzing prison, friendship twisted into rivalry, and trust became nothing more than a tool to be exploited.

When one’s life had to be shrouded in darkness and death in order to continue, it was easy to forget about the light.

As much as it scared him, and as new as it was, Astarion did not want to return to a world without the light.

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