Chapter Text
Dolyn sighs and snuggles into her bedroll on her side. The cool touch of her pillow feels so pleasant against her skin and her hair sits as a curtain across her cheek.
She's so comfortable and rested that the reverie takes her quickly. She'll only need four hours thankfully, especially when it has taken hours for her to calm herself enough to trance in the first place.
Something about waiting for a vampire to feed on you in the night tends to wreak havoc with your ability to focus.
That's what she couldn't help after all. Waiting.
For that moment of privacy Astarion spoke of.
Yet the combined anticipation of his closeness and the looming dread of being bitten again does nothing for patience and rest.
She's just about to relax into the comfort of her makeshift tent when she feels the shifting weight by her knees. The quietest of rustles of the fabric set her heart galloping, but she doesn't open her eyes.
“You're still awake,” Astarion's voice purrs with amusement. “And here I was thinking I allowed you enough time.”
Dolyn forces a breath to steady herself. “Hard to trance tonight.”
A huff right by her ear sends a shiver through her just as Astarion laughs. “Oh I wonder why that might be.”
She refuses to open her eyes and find herself entranced by his. The sound of his voice is already undoing her resolve, but she doesn't need to be this affected.
“You trance like you're sleeping,” he says softly. His hand ghosts over her hair where it covers her ear and her neck. “And you cover your ears.”
He makes no attempt to truly touch her.
“Old habits.”
“Do you mind if I…?”
She opens her eyes and sees him sitting poised beside her, leaned forward on his knees. The second her eyes meet his she shakes her head.
No. She doesn't mind if he touches her at all.
His hovering hand moves to gently tuck her hair behind her ear and over her shoulder. His fingers caress the curve of her neck, soft enough to make her shiver.
The smile on his face says that reaction was intended.
“Why would you ever want someone to think you're human?” he asks amused.
“It had its benefits.”
He hums in thought but doesn't push.
It has been some time since she needed to blend in, hide what she was to not raise questions. She's not sure she knows how to explain it.
Even to a vampire with Infernal carved into his back.
“I had expected a repeat of our previous positions,” Astarion muses as fingers twist in her hair.
She laughs, more breathless than she thought. “With you over me?”
“Yes.”
Her mouth suddenly feels dry and she finds her tongue wetting her lips, betraying what composure she had.
She had expected he would bite her mid-trance, take the nervous dread right out of it, and she would wake up a little dazed.
As much as she enjoys him being close, the idea of being bitten still scares her.
Astarion must see her hesitation when he says, “I can make do if you still wish to…”
“I think I would prefer uh--” Dolyn blinks and swallows, clinging to her pillow. She keeps to her side.
He smirks. “You're really going to have me do all the work?”
“You would have when I was trancing.”
He gives her a look and leans over her. “That's different.”
She scoffs. “How?”
“And here I was thinking you were generous.”
“Beggars can't be choosers.”
“Me? Beg? Never, but you might be able to persuade me if you ask nicely.”
“For you to bite me? I thought you were here for supper.”
“You had so kindly offered that lovely neck of yours and yet here we are tête-à-tête.”
“Could you just get it over with?” Dolyn asks curtly, one hand scrunching her pillow with the other checks her hair is fully out of the way.
She offers her neck with a tilt of her head.
When he doesn't immediately dive in she pauses and peers up to see his brow furrowed. There's a look on his face that softens his eyes. Doubt.
Then he leans in, opens his mouth, and--
She flinches.
Her shoulders hunch and her body tenses. She hates being bitten.
Always has.
Yet she's found reason to let him.
“Did you just flinch?” Astarion asks, offended.
“Reflex, sorry.”
His lips purse in thought. “I thought you wanted this.”
She sighs. “Yeah, sure, take what you need to feel sated.”
The sooner he does it, the easier it is. If he could just start the bite, she could hold onto him and fight the fear.
“Darling, are you nervous?” he asks curling a finger in her hair.
When she turns her head to look at him again, she's met with consideration and thoughtfulness that surprises her. It's clear her face betrays as his smile curls into the side of his lips once more.
“I-I…” she begins and immediately realises there is no lie she can tell him that she won't immediately give away. “Yes.”
He tilts his head and continues playing with her hair. “Can I help with that?”
“It's uh…”
She feels exposed just looking at him. The red of his eyes is always so pretty and always peering into her.
“What if I make myself comfortable?”
She shifts and turns more towards her pillow, lying on her stomach. Maybe this way she'll feel… safer.
A chuckle beside her gives her doubt and then she feels a hand land by her arm.
“You still want me on top?” he purrs into her ear as his other hand finds purchase by her pillow. His lips brush over her neck like a feather-light kiss. “And here I thought you were scared.”
She doesn't admit it aloud, but the silence that follows his words is answer enough.
“You know,” he begins again with a kiss to that same delicate spot. “I think you like to feel your heart racing.”
“Is that so?” she says trying to not feel so exposed beneath him.
She fails.
“Mmmm, but only when I'm the one making it beat faster.”
“Don't flatter yourself.”
“Oh, don't worry, you'll do enough of that for me.”
“Do you want to bite me or not?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes…”
“But you're… not excited enough, hmm?” He asks as he lowers himself down, his body making contact with hers from shoulder blade to hip. “What if I relieved some tension?”
“What do you mean--”
She loses her train of thought as his hand caresses down her side, delicate and deliberate as most actions with his fingers were. They dip beneath her hip and slide under her belly to play with the hem of her small clothes.
“I get to feed and you get to feel.”
He sucks at that same spot on her neck and grazes her skin with his teeth, testing her response. He nips and pulls but doesn't puncture.
“Ready?” he asks against her skin, hand moving under the hem as he shifts his weight.
She nods her head. If his intention is to distract her then she is well and truly--
His fangs sink into her neck with that familiar icy sting. As she opens her mouth, the sudden touch of his fingers slipping down to beneath her legs turns her gasp into a moan.
He responds with one of his own, the kind a man might make when savouring a taste upon his tongue. Though with the way he presses against her body she can't help how her mind wanders to their previous tryst in the woods.
As his tongue laps and his lips press more firmly against her neck, his fingers circle over her. He starts slow at first, gentle movements, designed to put her at ease, perhaps even sate her.
She muffles every sound wishing to escape her with the pillow pressed to her face, only loosening her grip to gasp for air.
The distraction Astarion is providing certainly works.
She can feel her heart racing at the blood leaving her and its redirection to the pulse now loudly beating between her legs.
It's a wonder she hasn't simply passed out by the overwhelm alone.
Astarion lifts his head briefly to utter, “Enjoying yourself, darling? It feels like you are.” Then his fingers dip lower and swipe through the wet, teasing around her entrance. “Oh my, what a mess you are already.”
She bucks into his hand with a whimper. Gods, she's more worked up than she thought. He literally has her in the palm of his hand.
“Please,” she begs and whimpers further when he draws his fingers back to swirl around her clit but doesn't quite touch her when she needs it.
“My, my darling, who would have thought I could reduce you to such base instincts, hmm?”
He's going to undo her.
And she wants him to.
“Astarion?” she asks, quiet and breathless.
“Yes, my dear?”
“Bite me again. Take what you need.”
It's a demand more than a request, desperate to quench this growing need inside her.
He doesn't hesitate this time. Fangs stinking right into the same spot. The pain is a perfect counter to her pleasure as his fingers renew their focus.
He presses fully into her this time. Every touch pins her to this spot, this moment. His fangs, his body, his fingers. He savours her blood with more enthusiasm while his hand picks up speed.
Her body gives into her urges and she bucks wildly against him. Her teeth bite into the pillow to stifle her cries.
As her peak approaches and the light-headedness starts to take hold, she swears she can feel his length hardening against her.
Body close to shaking, Astarion pulls away to lap at the wound. She can feel his smile as she continues helplessly chasing her release.
His lips so close to her ear has her on edge as she bites into her pillow.
“Take what you need,” he says back to her with a growl.
So she does.
With a muffled groan, a whine, and an embarrassing shudder through her body, she chases her peak and topples over, coming hard against his hand.
She releases the pillow from her mouth and turns to lie limp, exhausted and spent against her bedroll. She can only imagine what he might have done if she had a full tent. Let alone what she might have done.
Astarion places pressure against the fresh wound, lying down beside her.
“I wonder if they heard you this time,” he mutters with a sense of pride.
Dolyn wants to smack him, but instead, she reaches up to trace over her new bite marks. She had prepared herself for that. A bite, a light-headed morning.
She had not prepared for him to give her any kind of favour.
It’s a pattern developing that she’s not sure is right. She never asked for this, as much as she enjoys it.
Maybe she’s just reading too much into the way he’s looking at her now.
“You didn't have to do that,” she says the moment she catches her breath. Dolyn moves back to offer him part of her pillow should he want it.
He doesn’t move. “It worked, didn't it?”
“That's not the point.”
“Hard to be afraid of me when you're turned on.”
Dolyn nervously licks her lips and goes to shake her head. “I'm not afraid of you.”
“You offer your neck to bite and then you flinch, doubt, and delay. You think I don't know fear?” His brow raises as he questions her. Though the sombre look on his face says he doesn’t quite believe what he is saying either.
Dolyn knows she’s already justified this to herself, that he’s hungry and she can offer him something he’s never had, an easy, sustaining meal. It’s simple. Revived and fearful memories are nothing compared to that.
“Astarion, while yes, okay, you killed me but you didn't mean to?” She wants to touch him, be closer than they just were, but she can't bridge the space between them with that look on his face. “Didn't you only have rats before?”
“That is true. I had never drunk the blood of a thinking creature before.” He swallows thickly and adds, “I thought all these jitters and flinching was from my overindulgence, from me.”
“No?” she shakes her head and shuffles closer. “I… I mean you make me nervous…”
His eyes turn their eagle-eyed focus back to her and that familiar charming teasing comes back into his tone. “Oh?”
“Shhh you.” She rolls her eyes and lets out a laugh. “I… you weren't my first…”
“Well evidently, you moaned like a common tavern bard.”
Dolyn covers her face with her hand for a moment, annoyance and embarrassment flushing across her cheeks. “No, not that, I mean… biting.”
A look of concern comes over Astarion’s face. “You’ve been bitten by a vampire before?”
“No, not that either. A human.”
Astarion visibly relaxes but leans in out of curiosity.
“No fangs but a lot of teeth. And it was messy. Violent.” Dolyn shudders just saying it.
“I didn't see a mark.” He sounds almost apologetic.
“It's been a while. It healed and I hid it.” She nods like she’s pushing through the thought, grateful she’s lying down as she shares more. “But he was… I didn't do anything to earn that… but I was there and that's all that mattered. So what I'm saying is biting is… it freaks me out a little. The fact you're not trying to take a chunk out of me helps.”
“I see. I guess that is a very human thing to do.”
“Besides, being afraid of that is nothing compared to… you.” She gestures at him. “And you need to feed.”
That soft look in his eye returns again. “Why would you do that for me?”
“I told you. I don’t want you starving, and that I needed to work out how we’d feed you.”
Astarion stares past her then. He appears haunted, like a thought just entered his mind that wasn’t welcomed. “You never told me why you let me kill the monster hunter.”
Dolyn opens her mouth and closes it again. She’d all but pushed the memory out of her mind. She’d held the hunter while Astarion delivered the last blow.
“If I saw what I saw,” he begins and makes eye contact before he continues, “You held him, with your gaze, so I could kill him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Surely she should feel more shame than this but she doesn’t. She knew what she was doing. She made a choice.
Survival makes a lot of choices.
“You’re one of us. You needed to be protected.”
“Why?”
“You’re worth protecting, Astarion. I couldn’t have some brute come in and just steal you away.”
They sit in the shared quiet of the night, searching each other’s faces to the sound of the river. Dolyn’s eyes flit down to his lips, remembering how bloody they were the last time he kissed her.
How is she ever going to not react to him every time that he feeds from her?
Especially when he’s adding pleasure to the mix.
“To be clear, I… um… if you're trying to train me to get wet anytime you bite me, what you did before, that's a surefire method.”
Astarion bursts into soft laughter and the tension in the air blissfully breaks. “I will keep that in mind.”
She points at his chest, falling short of actually touching him. “Of course you will. Don't you dare abuse that, or you will regret it.”
“Oh will I? Whatever would you do to me, Dolyn?”
“I’ll work something out.”
“Well, thank you for supper,” Astarion says with a grin. “May you have a restful reverie.”
With that, he takes his leave.
Dolyn sinks back into her pillow, wraps herself up in her bedroll, and feels more exposed than she’s felt in some time.
This can’t end well.