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Ban closes the door to their room, readjusting her sleeping tunic. She silently makes her way to the communal area, finding a plush chair by the fireplace to sit in.
What a day.
The Wyrm had not been the salvation they were hoping for. Frankly, she didn’t know what to expect, but an undead dragon with a bone to pick with the Emperor was definitely not on the list.
Astarion, of course, had taken everything in stride.
Ban closes her eyes, recalling what happened earlier in the night.
“-exciting, don’t you think, pet?”
His voice, low and sultry as he stands behind her, undoing her armor. The usual nightly routine: undressing her, bathing her, and then fucking her, his hands fisting in her hair and his cock slamming inside her, again and again and again.
“Ban.”
She hears the last of her armor dropping unceremoniously onto the floor. He’s irritated. She moves to face him, and he cups her cheek.
Astarion stares into her eyes, boring into them, willing himself to see something there that isn’t just emptiness for once.
“Did you hear anything I’ve said for the past five minutes?”
She considers the question. “Sure. Ansur, the Emperor.”
She’s fibbing, and he notices. His eyes narrow.
“I said fighting a dragon, undead as it was, is exciting.” He moves forward, his bare torso coming within inches of her own. “But it won’t be exciting as this is, will it?”
He moves his hand to grasp her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting her face to the side to inspect her neck - where he had bit her the day he changed her, took her for his own for eternity.
And yet he had been losing her, slowly but irrevocably, like sand sifting through his fingers…
He refuses to let that happen.
“Of course,” Ban says, smiling falsely up at him. His eyes are fierce, glowing with simmering rage and something… else, that she cannot figure out. “What would you like to do for tonight?”
She still enjoys it. Sex, carnal pleasure - the only part of him that was still him, the only part that responded as he did then.
Even if it wasn’t exactly the same. Her Astarion hadn’t been quite ready for this. Back then they had touched each other in all the ways that mattered, save one, and the future had looked bright.
At least she could look at him, let the fire in her loins take over, and pretend.
Ban snaps back to the present, distracted by the sensation of someone watching her.
Wyll offers her a wry grin. “Sleepless night?”
“Sort of.” Ban shifts forward as he sits in the chair opposite her. “I assume you’re thinking about the Wyrm.”
The grin falters at those words. Wyll’s gaze moves off to the distance for a second. “I don’t know what my father thought would happen, but I do wish that Ansur could have helped.”
Ban reaches out, grasping Wyll’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. “Nothing’s changed. It’s always been down to us, no? To our little group.”
He nods. “Not a reassuring thought, leaving the fate of so many to us.”
“And why not?” She tries to cheer him up. “We have the Blade of Frontiers! The archmage of Waterdeep. The fury of Avernus. We have the V-”
Her voice catches, and Wyll looks at her. “The Vampire Ascendant,” he finishes for her.
They’re in the tub, her hands scrubbing Astarion’s scalp. He purrs, leaning into her touch. As she finishes, he turns to face her.
“Very good, pet.” He runs a hand through his wet locks, pushing them away from his eyes. His face works at some unbidden expression before he reins it in, and it settles into his usual confident smirk.
“Now be a good girl and sit up there,” he says, nodding at the lip of the tub.
Ban does so, automatically spreading her thighs apart. Their nightly dance begins.
The Ascendant’s eyes are half-lidded and hungry, and he moves his head between her legs, tongue finding her cunt.
“Yes,” Ban nods. “Him too.”
It is Wyll’s turn to squeeze her hand. “I don’t want to pry, Ban, but… I worry. We all do.”
She stiffens. She considers telling them that she’s trapped, pinned between her love for Astarion and her hatred for what he’s become.
Choose for me. Make that choice for me. Save me.
But she doesn’t.
Not when she still loves him.
“We’re fine,” she says with a laugh that’s so obviously hollow that Wyll raises an eyebrow.
“He’s happy, I’m happy, and -” seeing the look on Wyll’s face makes her scramble for something, anything, “- you do hear us at night, don’t you?”
Wyll flushes. “Unfortunately.”
Astarion pummels into her, hips snapping with almost savage ferocity as he buries himself to the hilt with every thrust. He has her bent over the bed, his hands holding onto her hips for dear life, nails digging into her flesh. He fucks her without restraint, the bed creaking with every move. He wants it that way, wants to mark what’s his, wants everyone to know it.
Her cunt feels incredible, warm and tight and squeezing all around his cock - making him weep for her, just throbbing and aching for that sweet bliss of relief.
Fucking her like this, with her back to him and her face hidden away, is a blessing. He can avoid seeing those eyes - eyes that haunt him, who look at him as if he's already gone.
“You want this, don’t you? You want me, all of me, deep inside you.” he snaps his hips once, hard and punishing. She whimpers in response, the need evident in her voice and in the way her cunt clenches all around him.
He almost comes right there, but manages to hold off. Not quite yet.
“Say it, Ban.”
He is met with silence and thrusts in again, cock hitting her spot. He takes in a shaky breath, realizing just how close he is to the edge. He reaches forward with a hand and tugs on her hair.
“Say it.”
Say it. I need it. I need it to come. I need it to live.
Ban is fully aware of what he wants. Without fail he asks for it every night. She feels the tension on her scalp and her head follows suit, tilting backwards.
“I love you, Astarion.”
A low, rough exhale escapes him as she says it, the words shooting straight to his cock. He begins rolling his hips, gentler this time, skating ever closer to his climax.
“Again.”
“I love you. I love you so much. I won’t ever leave.”
Gods, yes. He can believe it, if only for this moment. His hips increase its pace, and he looks down to watch his own cock pulling out of her, its length glistening with their combined wetness, before he pushes it back in. He makes sure to angle himself, to make every stroke hit her spot; he is rewarded by the feeling of her cunt clenching all around him with every pass.
He’s not going to last. But he wants to hear it one more time. Please, he thinks.
Instead he growls, the hand fisted in her hair tightening, a command she understands only too well. She gives in.
“Astarion, I love you,” she breathes as her own climax threatens to overwhelm her.
For now, this is enough.
“Then come for me, my love.” Purred, his velvety voice dropping an octave.
He can feel her reach her climax, her walls clenching tightly around his cock, a feeling so intensely pleasurable he bares his fangs reflexively in response as he keeps thrusting. One hand moves to grab her ass. He moans, his hips losing its rhythm as he finally comes as well. His eyes fly shut, his entire existence narrowing down to only one thing: the feeling of his cock pulsing inside her, spurting his seed within her, giving her everything.
Ban gives him what he asks, says the words he so longs to hear. She feels the pleasure, feels the girth of his cock stretching her with every thrust, feels his head leaking slickness within her. She can sense him getting close in the way his hips change their pace, in his rough, ragged breathing, and in the way his cock swells ever larger inside her as it drags along her walls.
“Then come for me, my love.”
Those words uttered from that voice in that insistent tone never fail. She comes, legs twitching as her cunt squeezes his cock inside her, moaning his name. She feels ropes of come hit her walls, feels the sudden rush of warmth inside with every spurt, and for a moment things feel at least good, if not right.
Wyll offers her another smile, and then leaves her to her thoughts.
Alone, she thinks, yet again.
She stays in the common area longer, until she feels cold hands grasp her shoulders.
“Time for bed,” Astarion murmurs, his grip on her shoulders soft.
She stands, stretching her tired muscles before facing her lover.
Was he still that? After all this? Her eyes meet his face, and the fireplace bathes them both in firelight.
He offers her a hand, and she lets herself be pulled against his chest. Cupping her cheek, he leans in to kiss her; warm, fervent lips meet hers.
Astarion smiles. Whether it is genuine or not, Ban cannot tell.
In the light of the flickering flames, he looks like he used to.
In the light of their campfire, smiling. Happy. Hers.
If only. She would give everything to have him again.
For now, she can only dance with his ghost.