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A bard was a solid choice for a traveling companion, Astarion reasoned, if one’s goal was to start living again. He and Tav had spent only a short amount of time in Baldur’s Gate before hitting the road again. They were eager to find out what fortunes and wonders lay ahead of them as they chased a solution to the sunshine problem.
Their time together since the Nautiloid crash had been enriching in more ways than just coin. Tav’s ability to entertain patrons and convince Innkeepers to allow the couple to stay for free was instrumental in keeping them in finer beds. Astarion also never missed an opportunity to joke about Tav’s sword swallowing ability after the crowd finished cheering. In part because the bard never took it as an actual advance.
Maybe that was what made it easy to be in their company. The understanding that one could play a role without it touching something deep or hidden in them. Sometimes, beautiful people just wanted to lay down innuendo without it being leveraged as a secret sign of trauma against them. Tav would just chuckle, as they did today, and escort Astarion to their accommodations.
The door opened without protest. With a quick flick of the wrist, Tav was shucking off layers and handing them to the mage hand they had dubbed Thing. The little clawed creature didn’t seem to loyally return after dropping Tav’s weapons in the corner, instead cheekily hovering by Astarion and gesturing to help him with his coat. Astarion didn’t really buy that Thing was its own being, like the bard liked to claim. But the little helpful gestures it did touched him enough to have even the snippy vampire giving a polite nod of thanks as Thing ferried his coat away for him.
“What do you think of the room?” Tav asked as they pulled off their boots, eyeing them carefully for wear.
Astarion looked around and shrugged. It was acceptable. Probably the best Inn this middling city had. “It has a private bath.” he eventually surmised. “And art that doesn’t immediately make me want to claw my eyes out.”
Tav made a soft sound of acknowledgment. “I might drop off my shoes to the cobbler tomorrow, then. I do not like how this heel is feeling.”
“We should offload some of the plunder,” Astarion added. “It’s been a while and I don’t want to risk anything.”
The new bag of holding was a Godsend really, but Astarion wasn’t eager to overload it and send its contents into the Astral plane. Considering how sticky both of their hands were, it was a real possibility.
“What do we even have in there now?” Tav asked. “Maybe just start with jewelry? I saw some sign in Elvish saying there was a jeweler’s when we came in today. They would give you a good price.”
Astarion snorted. Tav was shameless about flirting their way to profit. They treated it like combat: sometimes, the pale elf would be irresistible and wildly effective. Other times, Tav would draw the spotlight to themselves and handle it solo.
He retrieved the leather bag from the closet, and undid the closure with ease. He tipped over the enchanted leather, bidding it to dump all the jewelry it contained onto the bed. A hodge-podge of trinkets and amulets rained down. Rings so heavy they pressed into the sheets, a fine wrought golden belt of coins, and some uncut gems topped their little hoard of treasure. Astarion had already begun looking through the pieces when, after a small pause, the bag deposited a dog collar with a detailed metal tag onto the bed.
Tav chuckled, “I suppose the bag thinks we could get coin for the tag.”
They picked it up and turned it over in their hand. It was fine dark dyed leather, with matching lambskin on the interior. Something a noble would commission for a beloved pet. Perhaps a dalmatian, considering the use of contrast white stitching and its generous size. It had been a bizarre find, part of a cache they hurriedly pushed into the bag a few weeks ago. They had completely forgotten about it an hour later, when Astarion’s knife found the back of an Oathbreaker and failed to kill her instantly.
Astarion glanced over. “It won’t sell for much,” he said in a fairly measured tone. “Not compared to the rest.”
The lack of lilt made Tav perk up and flick their brown eyes over to Astarion. A few months ago, perhaps, he would have busied himself. Made a show of checking over other items to hide from the thoughts that had bubbled up into his head. But things were different now. The two of them had history. Trust was building.Those thoughts didn’t have to live in the shadows anymore.
It was clear he was thinking of other uses for it.
“I suppose it would look rather dashing on me,” Tav offered.
They brushed aside a few dreads from their neck, enjoying the way Astarion looked over the exposed area with a specific type of hunger. But when Tav brought up the collar to loosely display it, the vampire paused.
“Of course, my dear,” he finally agreed. “But I thought perhaps- I could try it this time?”
Tav lit up at the way a soft blush tinged Astarion’s ears. Neither of them had many direct restrictions on playtime. Both of them were fairly consummate omnivores when it came to that sort of desire. Between them, though, Astarion tended to default to being active and in control. But recently, his need to be in control had given way to a need to enjoy life.
Tav nodded, letting a warm smile bloom on their face. “What are you thinking?” they asked, holding onto the collar for the moment.
“We don’t have any other obligations for the night,” Astarion pointed out. “It could be…fun to have all my needs taken care of for me.”
They had done that a few times, but in reverse. Astarion really could be quite sweet and giving when no one was watching. He was also shameless at times. He enjoyed forcing his love to eat from the ground, then pull the make-shift leash forward to allow them to use their mouth a bit higher up.
“I would enjoy that,” Tav said. “Anything specific?”
Astarion was already tossing the other items back into the bag. He was eager, thinking of the last time he had allowed himself to submit to Tav’s creativity and generosity in bed.
“Feed me, clean me, and bed me,” he listed out. “Tell me when I’ve been good but also don’t be afraid to pull me around by the ring on the collar if I’m not.”
“Anything else if you are naughty?” Tav pressed.
“No kicks,” Astarion added quickly. “I don’t mind a light spanking, but I don’t want to be back handed tonight.”
Tav reached out and offered a hand for Astarion to nuzzle into. They noticed that the elf let his ear brush their hand, and they took up the implicit offer to gently stroke the base- delighting in the little shiver it caused.
“You want to be my beloved pet tonight.” Tav summarized. “You want to submit and to be cared for and to feel how you are the center of my world.”
They could feel Astarion beginning to melt into them, trusting the weight of his head into their hand. Tav kept stroking that delicate piece of flesh and delighting in how it made him hood his eyes in pleasure.
“Unfair,” Astarion whined with no true complaint in his heart. “I think you’ve already started.”
Tav chuckled, as if they were afraid too loud of a sound would spook their lover’s relaxation. “Don’t tell anyone- but I am quite fond of you. It is embarrassing really. It used to be a part time hobby, but I do believe I’ve gone at least to full time now.”
Maybe traveling with Tav was easy, because they brought laughter to Astarion’s world. From gallows humor to little moments like this- where the two of them brushed fingers together and laughed quietly about how absurdly cheesy it all was.
It was a sound that had begun to settle in Astarion’s bones.
“Well, let me strip first, before you start,” Astarion eventually said. “Keep yours on for now.”
Tav rolled their eyes as Astarion began husking off layers. “Bossy little thing,” they laughed, shaking their head theatrically enough their earring tinkled in agreement.
“Oh, but think about how wonderful I’ll be, properly trained,” Astarion said as he struggled to unlace his pants. A clear bulge was making the task more difficult.
“Might have to commission a matching leash then,” Tav mused. “I bet you would look so lovely crawling up to me.”
“Ugh, stop winding me up. At least until I’m out of these damned pants,” Astarion complained like he hadn’t told the tailor to make them this tight. “Damn things look good, but I regret them every time I have to take them off.”
Tav chuckled, but obeyed the request- delighting in watching his lover squirm out of very tight trousers on the ground, his thick thighs working against him half the time. There wasn’t an inch of Astarion they didn’t adore, but in that moment it was hard not to think about how deliciously long his legs were- how many wonderful options they offered for Tav to touch and nibble on.
Eventually, smallclothes went flying. All that was left was one very excited vampire kneeling in front of Tav. The delicious blush on his chest wasn’t even remotely the only visual example of his excitement. But it was glorious to think how that tinge on his pale chest was only possible because Astarion was fed well enough. For Tav to realize that they were responsible for both the physical ability to do so and the emotions that inspired it.
“What’s your word, love?” they asked.
For a while the vampire had sassed them each time they had asked. But now it was just part of the game. It inspired anticipation. Like an orchestra tuning up to let the audience know the show was about to start.
“Goose,” Astarion replied, preening under the nod Tav gave them.
“Alright then, my pet,” Tav said, holding out the collar. “Just lean forward, let me collar you, and we will begin.”
The lining felt pleasantly soft on Astarion’s skin. He helped Tav place it on him by eagerly offering his neck. The bard’s nimble fingers latched it, then slipped between Astarion’s throat and the collar to check for fit.
The second that finger left, moving upwards with its friends to run through his curls with all the affection he knew Tav had for him, Astarion realized how cold the room was.
“Look at you, my good boy,” Tav murmured. They focused on gently using their long nails to scratch at Astarion’s scalp in a way that usually sent tingles down his spine.
His body did move- shaking on little of its own accord. The weight of the collar was pressing down on him, trapping him in his own skin and away from the moment. Something in his brain whispered not to blink, not to look away- something was coming. Something bad. He was trapped, but at least he could have the privilege of watching it hurt him. But only if he didn’t close his eyes.
“Astarion?”
The sound was a little muffled, a little nasally. He needed to respond, right? Those were his the rules. He had to obey in all things; he was his? Theirs? To have your name called was a direct command to look. He needed to look at him them.
But Astarion couldn’t force his neck to turn, to face the situation. To realize the gravity of it all. The knowledge that pain would come, that it would be his fault because he still couldn’t look, turned the fine shivers into full tremors.
“Alright. OK. This is OK,” came the voice. “I’m going to use ‘goose’. I’ll keep you safe Astarion. I promise.”
Dissociation was a thing Astarion still struggled with. This was the opposite of that, somehow. He wasn’t far away, present but not here- safe in a manner of speaking by retreating into his own mind. No, he was nailed to the spot, trapped under the surface of his skin- forced to feel, to accept, but not to act.
He was entombed in his own body. His only company was the fear of being left to suffer.
“This needs to come off,” he heard, the voice sounding like it was coming through gauze. “I am going to use my hands to take this off you, Astarion. You might feel it press on the back of your neck for a second.”
The weight lifted away, the sound of the tag sickly singing as it was tossed to some other corner of the room. He was supposed to breathe, right?
“Do you want me to touch you, Astarion?”
The thought of being trapped, being forced to be complicit in his own abuse, sent a spark of anger up into his mouth. But it was fanned by a vague feeling that he could speak his mind without fear of being slapped down.
“No,” Astarion hissed. “Get away from me!”
He needed space. He needed to feel he was at least as big as the body that trapped him.
“Of course. Of course love, I will not touch you until you tell me to,” came the calm response. “You are shivering. Do you want a blanket?”
Was he? Astarion looked down. His eyes struggled to focus on a hand. His hand, he remembered as he flexed it. Yes, it was shaking. His gaze wandered up the arm his hand was attached to.The forearm was goose-fleshed.
“Yes,” he decided. “I want to be warm.”
The smell of familiar magic- rose oil and iron- filled the room. There were some assorted sounds- footsteps, pillows hitting the ground- and then a familiar shadowy hand presented a quilt it could barely hold in its claws.
“Thing can help you put it on, if you want Astarion,” offered the bard.
Astarion nodded. Thing T. Thing was a familiar, safe sight now. It was always gentle, as it was now, laying the blanket onto his shoulders but bearing the weight so Astarion could sort it out the way he wanted it- creating a barrier between him and the world.
“Thank you, Thing,” he replied automatically.
The room came back to him after a few minutes. It wasn’t exactly fair to say it left, but it took time for his brain to be able to accept and process the world around him instead of hyper-fixating on keeping himself alive. He had to consciously realize that there was ground for him to be sitting on. That the ground probably came with a ceiling as there was no free-moving air.
Eventually, he realized there was also the gentle sound of a violin, singing a song.
It was one with no words Just swimming melodies, occasionally crowned by a happy chord. It helped Astarion remember. He’d heard an elven mother humming it to her child a few moons ago, as the babe cried from the pain of teeth coming in. He automatically focused on it. Tav asked him if he knew it, and Astarion had responded honestly- all of that was lost to him now. But he liked how comforting it sounded.
Weeks later, when Astarion was having trouble resting during the peak of the day while the rest of their temporary party laughed in the sun, Tav sat next to him and, without a word, began playing it.
Maybe that was why traveling with Tav was so easy. They were confident of their own beautiful voice- able to hold a room and charm even frigid, scared hearts that had long since stopped beating to movement. But they were also comfortable around others' painful silence, welcoming it like an old lover- with an open heart and a compliment that was somehow always genuine.
It had worn on Astarion for a long time, waiting for the bard to blink and finally admit they were in over their head- that the would-be savior’s reach had finally exceeded their grasp. But eventually, Tav showed him their own scars. He had lifted his hand to a small one on their right eyebrow and cheek. The first one. One that even Astarion’s clever eyes could barely see.
Eventually Astarion learned they kept their eyes kind and open, not because they didn’t know what danger was, but in spite of it.
Maybe that’s why it was so easy traveling with Tav. Because, somewhere along the way, Astarion had figured out their hero persona had cracks. Cracks they had delicately, skillfully tried to cover. Cracks he could help smooth out sometimes, when someone misgendered them or an enemy carried a whip. Cracks that, deep down, under the near unshakeable confidence performers have, Tav feared made them unlovable. But Astarion could say those cracks were nothing compared to their jovial spirit or clever eyes.
Astarion yearned for those warm, brown eyes. The kind that reminded him of dark soil deep in the forest, filled with all the richness and potential of creation. Speckled with a million curiosities that shallow people might miss by focusing on the strong cheekbones or soft lips nearby. He found them waiting for him, like always, hopeful they could be of any service.
“I want you to touch me, Tav,” Astarion realized out loud.
The bard laid their violin down and tapped the bed, offering the space. “It might do you some good to move your limbs,” they suggested. “But I am always happy to come to you.”
Astarion looked at the ground. Yes, he could move. The walls weren’t quite so close to prevent that. The floorboards creaked in protest as he dragged himself and his blanket over them.
He sank into the bed, deciding to lean on Tav’s shoulder. Maybe it helped a bit to realize this pinned down one of their arms- keeping them close, but less able to respond. It was grounding to remember that so many things were on Astarion’s terms now. Yes, because he was free.
But also because Tav was gentle and would never deny him a single comfort.
Little thoughts began to swim in his head- phrases he could pluck from the ether and begin a conversation with. I didn’t know, please believe me. I am sorry, please don’t punish me. Please don’t leave me. Please promise you’ll trust me again when I say I want this. Please tell me I am not broken.
Please, please, please- a choir of hungry ghosts that had long grown tired of asking to have not been hurt, and instead found smaller and smaller requests to be disappointed on. Until Tav came in with their bleeding heart, and fed them so graciously Astarion could begin to remember they were just specters he carried- and not him.
Astarion didn’t have to bargain with them. He suspected they would always be there. But now he could let them rest and find other things to play with that would nourish his soul.
“I really wanted it,” Astarion finally said, after his hand traced patterns on Tav’s thigh for a few minutes.
“I know,” Tav agreed. “You’ve gotten very good at asking for things and letting yourself have them.”
The bard paused and offered their palm. “May I kiss you?”
They smiled when Astarion granted them the privilege of a hand, bowing their head to press a slow kiss on the back of his hand.
“Thank you for being honest with me,” they said, not having moved an inch. Their breath was warm as they spoke, fluttering on Astarion’s hand.
There was something about the way they said it, that Astarion instantly knew they meant after he had been collared. He frowned, not sure how to take it.
Astarion didn’t want to think the truest core of him was scared. That if someone unearthed him, or that if he let someone dig deep, there would be only fear and broken things to find.
“I don’t know if I want you to think of me like that,” he began. “Like some cold and timid person, half ready to cry when he’s finally, truly naked.”
Tav sat back up, offering for Astarion to reclaim his resting spot on their shoulder or duck under and be held close. The elf chose the latter, enjoying the space between ribs and arms made strong by swordplay and silly acrobatics.
“I do not think of you like that.” Tav promised.
Astarion accepted the answer- a simple negative that painted him as so many other wonderful things that even Tav’s silver tongue couldn’t explain. The bard was so trusting towards him, at times it was infectious.
A thought tickled Astarion’s brain.
“Thank you for using the safeword,” he mumbled. “It’s good to know that it’s not that I wasn’t being pleasing enough for you. But that…maybe me being truly hurt wasn’t something you wanted.”
Tav showed their other hand coming slowly to join the other one- pausing, giving Astarion a chance to defend his space- to deny being boxed in, even by affection, if it was unwanted.
“I hear vampires are long-lived,” Tav eventually said. “I would suspect that given our adventurousness, it will not be the last time one of us has to use it. Even if you never wanted to do anything like that again, I want you to know that you can always tell me to stop.”
Astarion hummed, accepting the point. He chewed on it though, especially the last sentence.
“I don’t think you exactly need a safeword for life,” he retorted.
Tav laughed, clear and bright. “Your passions are too great, Astarion, to be content with what is laid at your feet. That is one of the things I love about you. You go for life’s throat, even if you might stumble in the process.”
There was mirth in their eyes as they thought about some future Astarion couldn’t really see. “I just want you to chase it as hard as you can. You know I’ll be here to try and catch you when you ask for it.”
They stayed like that for a while- Astarion enjoying the way Tav just breathed, their ribs slightly pressing into him with each breath. His eyes wandered, surveying the room. The way Thing rested in the corner, eager to be called upon. The happy trail of his own clothes strewn on the floor. The way the collar rested on the nightstand- far enough away to be safe, but precious enough to deserve a proper spot.
He would have to think later if this was a failure or not. Something deep in his gut churned, insisting it was. Astarion wasn’t sure if he wanted to listen to it. But the way Tav held him in the moment, devoted and without reservation- he knew this was safe.
Astarion leaned to catch his beloved's mouth, to taste their enthusiasm, their softness as Tav allowed him to devour them- trusting him to take the lead and find joy for them both in the fragile, uneasy moment.
Maybe that was why traveling with Tav was simple. Because they knew their love was a verb, and not something that was found in a single heart. It was not something that could be tainted by a single word, or broken by even a terrifyingly, truly unintentional slight.
It was something they did together- even if they sometimes accidentally stumbled in the process.
One of them got to be the first person that hour to say I love you. And the other one got to smile and chose to say it back.
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