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“I don't mind you taking more than blood from me while I'm asleep, you know.”
V says it so casually one day, as they're sharpening and maintaining their weapons in camp, that Astarion fears he's misheard him. Then again, it isn't unusual for out of pocket, deliciously depraved words to fall from those lips of his. Astarion merely wonders if it's another Urge or not.
“Oh?” Astarion turns his head to meet his gaze, a brow raised. “And how am I supposed to take that?”
“Take it however you want.” V's stopped sharpening his daggers, staring at Astarion with an intensity that leaves nothing ambiguous as to what he's implying. “Take from me whatever you want.” The smart-ass pauses, his eyes flashing with mischief as his voice hits a mockery of Astarion's usual inflection, “And I do mean sex, to be clear.”
Astarion rolls his eyes, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. That is a lot to offer to someone- especially him. “How… generous. Is there a reason you're offering me free reign?” He smirks, feigning offense. “I'm not putting you to sleep when we steal away at night, am I?”
“It's not that.” V stands up to go return his equipment to the makeshift armory. He glances back over his shoulder, expression somewhat troubled. “I like waking up satisfied, when I like waking up at all.”
And that's something Astarion can understand, he supposes.
…
Astarion doesn't take him up on the offer, at least not immediately, but it lingers in the back of his mind. Of all the things he'd experienced before, he never expected something like that to be given to him so freely.
Maybe it's a perverted little fantasy of V's but most people wanted to be conscious for a little romp- at least, in his experience. V was weird and actually enjoyed the bloodless, near death feeling of having a vampire feed on him, so perhaps in that regard, he simply liked being used. It seemed to settle the Urges down, tire them out somehow, so should Astarion really question it? Maybe it's less perverted fantasy and more cry for help.
He'd never judge, of course, it's just not his first instinct to have his way with someone while they were sleeping. (Steal blood from, maybe, but that was different.) He's a bastard, but he's not the kind of monster to inflict that type of violation on anyone else.
Even so, it wouldn't be a violation in this case, and the idea digs itself under his skin.
It's days later when thirst brings him back to V's tent. He's perfectly fine with subsisting off of animals or the occasional brigand, and he doesn't want to take too much from V, but there's a part of him that's greedy. Boar blood wouldn't suffice tonight.
Same as usual, he slips into V's tent as silent as a whisper. Same as usual, he finds V in a fit of restless sleep, his expression pinched with tension. He's no stranger to listening to V's delirious mutterings and quiet whimpers of whatever haunting presence was tormenting him at night - for that matter, so was the rest of their camp. Gale has questioned more than a few times if V had been up and about, which was a polite way of prodding if they had anything to be worried about. Utterly ridiculous to Astarion; of course they had reason to be concerned about the murderous lunatic struggling with violent compulsions. He's still amazed everyone else had been so slow to catch on that V was definitely not normal.
He sinks down beside him, noting the sheen of sweat coating his skin, the way he's tangled in a sheet, the little spasms running through him. Indeed, the night had not been particularly kind to V.
V's always a bit of a slippery one. More than once when Astarion has come for his nightly fill, he's thrashed around in his sleep and headbutted Astarion's chin. So, with that in mind, Astarion is careful as he leans down to the pale column of V's neck. It's when he's mouthing at V's warlock contracts and feeling for the usual spot he drinks from that their earlier conversation flits back into his mind.
He pauses, pulling back to gaze down at him, taking in the way his dark hair spills around him, the tension of his jaw, the slight movement of his lips as he mouths nonsense in his sleep. Beautiful and mad and tormented, but perhaps Astarion can alleviate some of that torment.
It feels decidedly uncouth, but V's given him explicit permission. More of a request, really. Astarion peels the sheet from his body, his brows shooting up when he finds him completely in the nude- not even wearing his usual undercloths. Sure, it's a hot night, but Astarion wonders how long V's been expecting him.
“Well, how rude of me to keep you waiting,” Astarion murmurs to himself.
It feels a little ridiculous in hindsight. He already has V's trust, adoration and loyalty. There's nothing really to gain by now. They've slept together more than a few times. He can just take his drink, get V off in his sleep and then leave and V would be none the wiser (aside from being even more exhausted in the morning, which is apparently what he wanted.) He has nothing to prove here, and yet, curiosity has him willing to indulge.
Astarion's lips meander as they find their way back to their usual spot. He kisses up V's jaw, suckles gently at his collarbones, the tip of his tongue lapping sweat from his skin. His hand runs into V's hair, nails gently scraping his scalp when the nightmares have him whimpering. It seems to calm him a bit, and Astarion is careful not to wake him, allowing him to slip into a deeper sleep.
He moves lower, his lower lip brushing over a nipple. His tongue laves at it, coaxing it to pebble, his fingers delicately pinching the other. He's familiar with the sensitive spots of V's body by now, and it's no surprise when a quiet moan catches in his throat. Astarion traces his tongue along the jagged scars lining V's chest before moving back up.
The heat rolling of V's body, the blood pulsing under his tongue, the overwhelming scent of him… Astarion can't tease himself like this for too long. He finds his favourite spot again and wastes no time sinking his teeth in, well practiced by now.
The blood that pours hot into his mouth never fails to make him groan. Pure life from a thinking creature, absolutely nothing compared. Even as much as he's worked to control his hunger, it was always enough to cause him to blank out for mere moments.
He manages to pull back before he's finished, lapping up from the two pinpricks at V's neck. Perhaps he doesn't want this to be over so soon. Breathing a little raggedly, his curiosity gets the better of him and his hand finds its way down between V's legs.
His fingers drag through V's folds and come back wet - very wet - so it would be a fair assumption that he's enjoying himself. Astarion spreads his slickness up to his engorged clit and massages it in tight little circles, causing V's breathing to quicken. It's all too easy slipping a finger inside of him, slowly pumping in and out and watching his face intently.
There's an obscene wet sound as he fucks into those walls, pressing another finger in alongside the first, yet V still doesn't wake. A flush has spread down his body, an alluring dusting of colour from his cheeks to his shoulders to his chest that makes him want to eat him right up. Astarion's a little enthralled, something about the circumstances making it so… naughty.
“You're kind of a freak. Has anyone ever told you that?” Astarion breaths raggedly, his lips smeared with V's blood, erection pressing against V's leg.
He doesn't quite know what's getting him so hot and bothered. Is it the helplessness of the body beneath him? Is it the fact V trusts him enough to allow him to do this at all?
Or perhaps it's the fact he doesn't need to perform. So many nights primed with honeyed words, careful manipulation of his victims. None of it was ever about his own pleasure- or even theirs in the grand scheme of things, though they probably got more out of it than he ever did. It was a means to an end, lambs to the slaughter. But he already has V's trust, and the only pleasure he needs to focus on right now is his own.
Whatever it is, Astarion finds himself willing to take more than he thought. He pulls his fingers out of V, reaching down to free his cock from its confines. He strokes himself with the same hand that had been fingering V, his juices letting his grip slide easily.
A long neglected, vindictive part of him says he deserves this- deserves the space to feel comfortable with the damn thing he's been doing to survival for centuries. It's never felt right even knowing Cazador had no power over him now. Having to constantly read his marks, reacting to what they wanted, letting them touch him. He's exhausted with it all. He doesn't want to think about it. He wants to take.
Astarion presses V’s thighs apart, settling between them. His cock rubs between V's folds, back and forth in slow drags, spreading his wetness around. The intense heat of V's body kisses his tip, beckoning him to guide himself to V's waiting hole. He aligns himself, pressing into him slowly, carefully, his breath catching as V gradually yields to him, that beautiful warmth opening up.
Astarion is still very mindful of what he's doing, sinking down to the hilt and remaining still as to not wake him. V is so pliant and relaxed in his slumber, however, shockingly difficult to rouse even in his fitful rest.
And so Astarion moves, slow at first of course, but picking up speed- gradually allowing selfishness to consume him. V feels incredible around his cock, and the scent of his blood draws him back to his neck.
“Oh.” Yes, it has to be the blood, he tells himself as he truly stops holding back, something feral awakening inside him. One hand maintains a firm hold on V's sharp hip, the other hand braced over him as he leans back down to drink from him once more. A snarl builds in his throat as he swallows V down, thrusting into him with reckless abandon, the slap of skin on skin filling the tent. Astarion could tear into his soft flesh, suck him completely dry and be sated for a long, long time, but he pulls back instead, licking up a few stray droplets. V looks far too good alive.
A quiet murmur, and then Astarion is staring into pale green eyes, dim and unfocused with exhaustion but slowly sharpening with recognition. Astarion slows to a pause, wondering if he should stop, but then he feels thighs clench around him. The clumsy hand that finds its way to his backside and digs its nails into his skin is decidedly impatient, and Astarion obliges his sleepy companion with a smile.
He speeds his pace up again, holding V's gaze, enjoying the way the other man can barely keep his eyes open. He hadn't realized how cute V could sound in the throes of both sleep and pleasure - quiet gasps and throaty whines slipping out of him as he teeters on the very edges of consciousness.
As passive and soft as V may have seemed, the way he clenches around him is anything but. His walls squeeze Astarion's cock as his whining reaches a fever pitch, thoroughly milking him. Astarion fucks him through his orgasm, easily giving into the sensation and spilling deep inside, mind pleasantly emptying out.
Astarion comes back to himself panting and dazed. He pulls out of V with a satisfied sigh, his gaze a touch territorial as he takes in his work. Perhaps they'd both been a bit pent up. V lays there, eyelashes fluttering, breathing evening out, just as sated by the looks of it. The way strands of his hair cling to his face, how his full lips are parted, how the folds of his cunt are slightly ajar and a trickle of Astarion's cum spills down his crack, the scent of his blood still heavy in the air - it has Astarion purring low in his throat.
He tucks his cock away and adjusts his clothing, running a hand through his hair, a little in a daze after all that. A bit of a deviation from his usual routine for sure.
“Are you alright?” Astarion says, post-coitus clarity hitting. He's not even sure how conscious V is, but he still finds himself wanting to check in with him for sentimental reasons. “There's no way you were asleep through all of that.”
V answers him with a groan, pointedly rolling over and reaching for his sheet, tangling himself within it once more. Before long, a snore drifts up from him and he's lost to the world again. Astarion snickers at him, taking the hint.
He doesn't need to linger but he finds himself staying for a few moments longer anyway. Smiling to himself, he pats V on the shoulder before slipping back out of the tent.
“Sweet dreams, darling.”