Chapter Text
The first time Mizora came for Wyll, Astarion spent most of the interaction attempting to find her pet names for him amusing. Really, she’d managed to call a man ‘pupster’. It was difficult to do as soon as he looked at Wyll’s face, and it looked all too familiar.
The second time Mizora came for Wyll, she was just a projection, but Astarion wanted to knife her and watch her die slowly at Wyll’s feet. Her blood would taste like ashes, but at least Wyll’s would be all his. He held his tongue until he noticed the look in her eyes – all worn-out desperation – and pounced. She’d come with Wyll on her leash for the rest of his life. She’d leave with as little as she could get of him.
When she was gone again, Wyll said nothing and walked to his tent. Astarion followed. He’d been sleeping in Wyll’s tent quite a bit recently, and he felt just a bit odd about leaving him alone. When they entered the tent, Wyll turned to Astarion, absolutely nothing in his eyes.
“Why would you do something like that?” Wyll said, voice quietly angry, as if he was about to snap.
“Why would I save you from the wrath of hell eternal? Well, that’s a good question, Wyll. Let’s try and consider it for a moment!” He actually had no interest in considering it deeply. Frankly, he should have ignored the problem and avoided the wrath of Mizora. It just seemed… stupid to let Wyll sacrifice himself, when Astarion had found such a good protector. Yes, that. All in the good name of self preservation.
“Why would you let her see you?” Wyll said, voice shaking. “She can make me kill the undead, any time she wants. You could qualify. Do you not consider that?”
“Of course I’ve considered that,” Astarion snapped. He’d considered it as little as he could get away with. “And he could call you to attack dear Karlach tomorrow. We’re all in danger at your hands as long as you’re on her leash. Why not get you off yours?”
“She doesn’t need to notice you and Karlach,” Wyll said pleadingly. “If she just ignores the two of you until we’ve gotten rid of the tadpoles, you’ll be safe. There’s no reason for her to hurt you if you don’t give her a reason.”
It was not ideal for Wyll to be angry with him over this, possibly one of the only altruistic things he’d ever done without complaining. “Now, darling. Haven’t I done several truly awful things? Why would this be your subject of resentment?”
Wyll turned away. When he turned back, he was composed. “Astarion, my heart, you don’t need to protect me.” That was a new pet name. “There’s no need to be my protector when I’m perfectly safe on my own. Especially as you hate it when I try to protect you.”
Astarion did hate that; he hated that half the time, he almost wanted to believe Wyll, his stupid, self-sacrificial, horribly kind voice. He wanted to tear him to pieces and then run away in the dead of night, and also move inside him and drink his blood like fine wine every night for the rest of his life.
“Darling, you needn’t make such a big deal out of it. She hasn’t. And who wouldn’t want you?”
“You really are trying to write sonnets on my beauty.”
“You enjoy my wanting you. In fact, I think you enjoy that I think about you all the time.”
Wyll laughed. “Alright, that’s plenty.”
“Are you sure? Are you quite sure that’s enough? I can do much more, love.” Astarion dropped his voice to a purr and padded to Wyll. “It’s been several nights, you know. I do appreciate taking it slow but I find myself quite missing you.” Maybe he could still fix this, take care of Wyll for a change. It wouldn’t even be unpleasant, truly. He still wouldn’t be quite there, but he wanted it anyway.
Wyll sighed. “Of course, love. Can we talk about this in the morning?”
Astarion tried to tamp down the rush of fear running through his body. “Are you still angry with me? I’m sorry, darling. Next time I’ll prostrate myself. Would you like me to get on my knees?”
“Astarion, I don’t think I want it if you’re going to be playing this game.”
Astarion froze. “What game?”
Wyll winced. “It’s not– let’s just not talk about this tonight.”
Not tonight meant sometime. Not tonight meant Wyll would be gone soon, and there was only waiting for the other shoe to drop. Astarion’s voice shook. “What game, Wyll?”
Wyll’s eye and sending stone met his. “It’s like– you’re playing at wanting me. You can’t say an honest thing. You hardly even react to what I say. You never dislike what I do. It’s like you think I want some doll, and not you,” he said, voice shaking in confusion. “I know you’ve probably had lovers before, like that, Astarion. But I don’t quite think you know what you want out of me.”
He’d figured out far, far too much of it. Somehow, Astarion was splayed open before him, and Wyll was holding a knife to his unbeating heart. No, not a knife. A stake.
Astarion wrenched his body back and turned eyes to his lap, blood – Wyll’s – flushing into his cheeks. “Then why stay at all. Why spend any time with me, if I’m such a wretch, if having any intimacy with me is so unpleasant?”
Wyll leaned towards him all too gently. “Astarion, it’s wonderful, but it doesn’t feel like you. It doesn’t feel like you wanting me.”
“Darling, I want you,” Astarion said, and it sounded shockingly honest. “Quite badly, much of the time.”
“But not… Astarion. You don’t need to do all of it like this. You can’t possibly be so absorbed in your self-loathing that you think I wouldn’t prefer you over whatever game you want to play. It isn’t even a game catered to me, just one you’re used to playing, isn’t it?”
Astarion chose not to answer. “Well, it doesn’t matter, darling. You’re different than all that. You’re not the game.”
“I know,” Wyll said matter-of-factly. “And so you don’t need to treat me like one.”
Astarion turned to face the gap of the tent, staring blankly into a clouded world outside. The words were dim in his mind, over the sense that he was ruining this, failing to provide exactly what was wanted. Astarion closed his eyes when he felt Wyll’s hand reach for his.
Wyll could never be won over with sex. It was the best and worst part of sleeping with him.
“It’s alright, Astarion. We can talk about it in the morning, if you wish, or just wait. I do like taking it slow.”
Astarion nodded slowly, his head feeling unattached. There needed to be some way of fixing this, of getting Wyll back on his side, but he couldn’t think of anything. If being a whore didn’t work, he had nothing more to offer. “Yes, of course.”
There was a pause, and then Wyll shuffling uncomfortably behind him. “I’m… sorry if I’ve said anything hurtful, for what it’s worth.”
Astarion laughed, long and abrupt and near-hysterical. He turned back to Wyll, who was staring at him with a horribly concerned expression. “No, it’s quite alright.” It was terrifying, and exposing, and he wanted to hide in Wyll’s neck instead of ever speaking about it again. Or maybe he wanted to tell Wyll every horrible thing he’d ever done just to see if he’d stake him midway through, or keep looking at him with that terrifyingly kind expression.
“You can drink, if you’d like,” Wyll said.
He shook his head, suddenly hating the idea. “No, no, I’m alright, for now.” Wyll looked at him, a question in his eyes, and Astarion blinked in response. Two weeks ago, he never could have said something like that. There wasn’t a good answer as to why that would have changed, except that to drain Wyll tonight felt wrong somehow.
“I know you’re not having an easy time of it, hunting.”
Perhaps the only person in the world who actually deserved to be saved, and here he was trying to save everyone else. “Don’t be stupid, darling. That’s hardly your problem. I’ve certainly starved worse.”
“You shouldn’t have to starve,” Wyll said urgently. “I’m right here and perfectly willing.”
“And you shouldn’t have to bleed for someone else, but here you are, trying anyway, aren’t you?” Astarion near-snapped. “I will be fine, for a night.” He leaned slightly into Wyll’s arms. “Sure I can’t convince you to let me give you a treat of your own?”
Wyll smiled, but let go of Astarion’s back. “I’m a bit tired myself, I think. Let’s just… sleep. Or trance, in your case.”
Astarion stared for a second. “That’s all you want. Just sleep? I thought you weren’t quite a blushing virgin, and now here you are.”
“That’s not odd,” Wyll said, “after a long day.” He stood and began dressing for bed.
The two of them prepared to rest in comparative silence. Astarion kept opening his mouth as if he had something to say. Wyll stayed silent, staring at middle distances, but his eyes looked more alive than they had early in the night. When they went to bed, Astarion paused by the left side of the bedroll.
“Do you want me to stay, then?”
“If you’d like to, yes.”
Astarion tucked himself into Wyll’s side, facing away from him, and tried to push down the roaring in his ears telling him he needed to leave right now, before he couldn’t bring himself to. “Yes, of course.”
__
Weeks later, as Wyll rested from saving his father, Astarion lay shivering awake in their bed at the Elfsong Tavern, fighting the urge to crawl out and run. His spawn siblings were just barely done trying to take him, and no amount of I’ll-Protect-You-My-Heart from Wyll – currently curled at his back – was making any difference. Tomorrow would be Cazador, and he would either face him, or die trying.
“I know you’re still up,” Wyll said sleepily behind him.
Astarion shook his head, but pressed back into Wyll anyway.
Wyll paused, then gently draped one of his arms around Astarion, reaching to hold his hand.
“How are you feeling?”
“Oh, just fine,” Astarion said, hissing through his teeth. “I’m absolutely not terrified.”
“Remember what I vowed to you,” Wyll said, pressing a hand to his side. “We will kill him. Together.”
Astarion rolled over. Wyll’s eyes were concerned, even dark-circled and drooping with sleep. “I know. You’re just not going to be able to get anything besides restlessness from me for a while, darling.”
“That’s alright,” Wyll said, running a hand down his arm. “That’s alright.”
Astarion closed his eyes, trying to believe him. Failing.
He pressed his face into Wyll’s neck hesitantly, and Wyll paused, letting out just a slight sigh. Astarion’s body heated. Wyll resumed his free hand stroking Astarion’s hair, and pulled him closer, pressing lips to his forehead. Astarion shuddered and kissed his neck deeply, nipping at the skin where he’d last bitten. Not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to remind Wyll of it.
Wyll breathed in deeply and sat up, pulling him to lean against the headboard. “We don’t need to do anything.”
Astarion paused. No, he hadn’t wanted to in weeks, not since the Shadowfell. And Wyll was being truthful. They could simply lie there together, and Wyll wouldn’t try to touch him and would still wake up the next morning and smile at him, and maybe, stupidly, even love him. How shortsighted.
Astarion climbed into his lap to press his lips against Wyll’s.
Wyll sighed into the kiss. “It’s just you don’t have to-”
“I know, darling, just let me–just this.” Astarion ran his right hand down Wyll’s front, tracing first the brutal claw marks he’d politely never asked after and then the indents in his flesh she’d left behind. Devilish. Gorgeous. His. He pressed his left hand gently over Wyll’s stone eye, rubbing absentmindedly at his brow. Keeping the miserable bitch out.
Wyll smiled at him. “I’m real, you know. You don’t have to double-check.”
“I don’t think you are,” Astarion said quietly.
“I am,” Wyll said.
He kissed Wyll harder, pressing him up against the bed and lowering himself over one of his thighs to feel the contact.
“You feel wonderful,” he said, running the hand down Wyll’s back and pressing his body closer, to the scar that bisected Wyll’s chest.
“Stay with me, love, stay right here.” Wyll ran a hand over his cheek and he exhaled slowly, nodding against him and leaning in for a kiss.
“I’m here.” Astarion pressed his hips down. “All yours,” he added, not sure if it was right.
“You don’t need to be all mine, but you are mine to protect.”
“You can have me if you wish,” he purred.
Wyll’s hand guided Astarion’s face to his, stroking gently at his cheek. “Please, love, not that. Only what you mean. You don’t have to say anything, just tell me if you like what I say.”
His head swam. “Yes. Yes, darling.”
“Good. Good, love, that’s perfect.”
He let out a choked-off gasp and nuzzled into Wyll’s neck, smelling at his blood, riding faster. Astarion was stripped, raw. He wanted him closer, wrapped around him so tightly he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to bite down and never let go. It was utterly terrifying.
Hesitantly, Wyll pressed his leg up to Astarion’s center. He pulled back and nodded a frantic yes. He was desperately, horrifically present. Wyll grinned and put his arms around him, grinding with him. They kissed languidly, Astarion feeling his hips dragged along by Wyll.
He wasn’t doing enough to make this good. He broke off and reached a hand down to Wyll’s pants.
“Is that what you want?”
“Hm?”
“Is this what you want?”
“Oh,” Astarion said, fumbling at Wyll’s belt, “Yes, I want you.”
“But do you want to touch me? Or is this alright, here?” Wyll was giving him an inquisitive look.
Astarion laughed uncomfortably. “Is this truly all you want? Just my grinding against you?” He dropped his voice. “You do have a whore in your bed, after all. I know you remember what I can do to you.”
Wyll pressed his hands gently to Astarion’s hips. The touch wasn’t entirely sexual, but it sent a shiver through him. “I don’t want a talent. I want you.”
Astarion rolled his hips down seductively. “And how do you want me if you don’t want anything from me?”
Wyll surged forward to kiss him, keeping Astarion pinned against his lap. Astarion whimpered into the kiss, Wyll’s hands on his ass burning. He pulled back and said in Astarion’s ear, “I want to listen to the sounds you make when you completely lose control.”
Astarion clapped a hand over his mouth to cover the broken noise. Wyll eased his hand away from his mouth. “Just like that. Let me hear you.”
His eyes met Wyll’s single one, blown wide with desperation. Not the desperation he was used to, for Astarion to serve, but to make him feel good.
Astarion closed his eyes and whimpered at the next stroke, letting Wyll’s arms close tightly around him.
“That’s perfect, my love.” Astarion gasped at the low burn of Wyll’s voice in his ear. “You can let go.”
He was going to come like this, from hardly being touched, just from the feeling of riding Wyll’s lap. He moaned.
“Here, love.” Wyll’s hand moved from his back to press into his hair, pulling him into his neck. “Bite me while I make you come.”
Astarion whined and bit down, feeling the blood drip across his tongue as Wyll’s thigh pressed him up and down. He shuddered and let go, gasping against Wyll’s neck as he did.
When he came to, he was still in Wyll’s arms, Wyll’s hand stroking his hair gently. Astarion nuzzled deeper into Wyll’s bloodied neck, not wanting to break the reverie, then reluctantly pulled back to face Wyll’s kind eye. He opened his mouth, as if to say something that Astarion was fairly sure he wasn’t ready to hear. Not yet.
“Can I do anything for you?” Astarion said, trying to modulate his voice.
Wyll smiled. “That was all I’ve ever wanted.” He stroked a hand through Astarion’s hair. “Some other night, maybe.”
Some other night, Wyll could get off. As if having Astarion alive tomorrow was guaranteed. As if whether he got anything out of Astarion was barely a priority. As if he wanted Astarion to stay by his side, after all of this was done.
“I do believe that was the worst sex I’ve ever had,” Astarion said. He tried to laugh through it, but the sound that came out of his mouth sounded oddly breathy.
Wyll tensed, then seemed to relax. “And yet you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.”
Astarion paused. He nodded, mutely, into Wyll’s neck.
Wyll leaned in and kissed him gently, pressing one hand to his cheek. “I’ll cease saying kind things to you now.”
“Oh, please do,” Astarion said. “My gag reflex can’t quite handle it, darling.” It can handle other things, he thought but didn’t say.
“Can you rest with me now?”
Astarion nodded. Wyll pulled them down together on the mattress, Astarion curled tightly in his arms.
“Won’t you at least touch yourself for me?” Astarion said vaguely.
Wyll smiled and kissed him. “Is that really what you need from me?”
“We’re still trying to work on your selfishness, aren’t we?”
Wyll’s hand clasped his cheek. “I can tomorrow,” he said, “after we kill him.”
Astarion sighed and pressed his face into Wyll’s neck, leaning up to lie on his chest. “Wyll?” He said.
“Yes, Star?”
There was so much he could have said. I want to stay in bed with you for days. I want you to never touch me. I dreamed of someone like you. I feel sick for even wanting you. I’ve never wanted to tell anyone I love them before.
“Thank you.”
He entered trance wrapped in his arms.