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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Chapter 16: What's left of kisses? Wounds, however, leave scars.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Astarion and Ban attend the debutante's ball.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by Naaty

For a smutty render go to the AO3 link :P

She sat at the table, watching the debutante pass by. Corrinne glided by in a massive pink tulle gown - a showstopper, for sure, Ban thought - a gaggle of her friends trailing behind her.

The party hadn’t been too bad, all told, the food decent and the wine palatable. Astarion had disappeared sometime during the proceedings, arm in arm with Meiros. She’d been introduced to the master of the mirror-makers’ guild, had shaken his hand and smiled politely, but the man had seemed keen on holding negotiations with her husband alone. Astarion had shot her an apologetic look and left, but hadn’t protested at all, which was odd.

It was not an uncommon occurrence - some of the people they dealt with did not mind having her present, but inevitably some did. The first time someone had asked for Astarion to keep his spouse waiting outside he had seethed, about to launch into a tirade, when she had grabbed his wrist and told him to just go along with it - it would be quick, and it would be easier than offending someone they needed to cozy up to.

He had given her a long-winded talk that evening. She sipped her glass, smiling ruefully at the memory.

“What is the point,” he thundered, “of all this effort to mark you as my equal, if at the first sign of resistance you give in?”

She watched him tug off his shirt, tossing it away with a little more venom than he normally would. “I just think that some of the time we have to let them have their way. Easier than arguing and potentially losing out on-”

“I don’t care!” Astarion marched to her, placing his palms on the tub and leaning over where she was soaking. “We are to be wed soon. I would not have those morons think you’re…” he gestured with a hand, “you’re still some…”

“Consort? I mean, we still do use that term, at times.” Not in private, not in most circumstances, but in certain circles, yes.

He exhaled. “Consort, fine, when we must. Some plaything of mine, absolutely not.” Crimson burned into her, his anger evident, with lingering traces of guilt as well. She covered the hand grasping the tub with her own.

“Consorts can wait outside for their lords, Astarion, every once in a while. It’s fine.”

He deflated, eyes softening. “I’d still want to at least insist on your presence being invaluable to me.”

“If those people want me out of the room, saying so would merely make you seem weak.”

Astarion tugged off his trousers and underwear, grumbling to himself. He stepped into the tub and sat down, still glaring at her. “I’ve half a mind to invite whoever asks that of me to a party, lock all the doors, and…”

He let the thought sit, a small smirk dancing across his lips. She laughed. “Do that, and we’ll have all the nobles of Baldur’s Gate on our tails. Don’t.”

“The request you plan to make, if you do make it, can easily be done,” Meiros said, tapping his hands on the mahogany desk he was seated at. Astarion was pacing back and forth, rubbing his chin. “If I understand correctly - this is for your wife, is it not?”

“Which is why I asked you to request to meet me alone,” Astarion answered.

Meiros nodded. “Roderich hasn’t been the most active member the past few years, something his fellow guildmates and I are frankly pleased about. When I found out you were marrying a Glasscraft, I had assumed I would never see you outside my door, so imagine my surprise when you showed up.”

“And I suppose no one has seen any Glasscraft other than Roderich himself?”

“You’d be correct. There was only ever him. Oh, he used to say he had a loving wife at home, and two wonderful children to take over his business, but,” Meiros shrugged, “as I said. He stopped showing up to guild events. He’s still well-known, of course, with his gaggle of old, loyal customers, but we all assumed he was working on some new secret method or some such. When I heard about Barcus’ advancements in the mines, I thought Roderich might have already gotten his hands on that material.”

Astarion stopped pacing to lean on a chair, hands wrapped around its back. “Last time I purchased a mirror from him he was still harping on mercury being the best.”

“Then he is woefully behind.” Meiros stood up. “Well. If you do wish to push this through, I would be more than delighted to fulfill your request. I’m sure most of the members would have no complaints, either. A pleasure doing business with you, Lord Ancunín.”

The men shook hands.

Ban saw the side door open and Meiros walked in, followed by Astarion. The talks seemed to have gone well; they were chatting animatedly. She watched as he waved his daughter over to be introduced. Corrinne flounced to her father’s side, or at least attempted to - the rather large skirt bumped people’s legs as she passed - and finally arrived in front of the two men.

The girl’s eyes widened as she took in Astarion, and Ban smirked inwardly. He kissed Corrinne’s hand and her face flushed beet red. Ban leaned back, enjoying the show, sipping her wine absently; with Astarion’s mind unlinked from hers, it merely tasted dull.

It was fine. She knew her husband was accustomed to shallow admirers, and Ban was used to people who’d look at him, look at her, and deem her unworthy of him - just like Corrinne was doing now. Ban caught that furtive glare aimed her way, the quick up-and-down movement that told her the girl was sizing her up and found her lacking, and the satisfied grin on her face as she turned back to Astarion. Nothing new, nothing surprising, and nothing he couldn’t handle.

She found herself scanning the rest of the room, more than a little bored. She noted Meiros talking to another guest, gesturing towards Astarion. Likely he was discussing whatever their meeting had been about. The other guest looked intrigued, and Ban pondered again what her husband could be up to with the guild. She continued her visual roam around the party, finding nothing else of note taking place.

As her eyes made their way back to them, her husband’s eyes locked onto hers, and she raised her glass in greeting, amused. She was about to lean back and continue watching when she realized that Astarion hadn’t moved - was frozen, in fact. The pinched eyes, that slight part of his lips, and the furrow of his brow told her all she needed to know. In the same instant she recognized it, she felt his mind prod hers.

There were no words, just a flash of memory - from mere seconds ago, gauging by the expression on his face.

Corrinne laughed, bending over to do so, making sure Astarion received an eyeful of her rather ample bosom. She grabbed his shoulder. “Oh, sorry, Lord Astarion. I didn’t mean to. It’s just these shoes…” She made a show of falling off-balance, likely a little more drunk than she ought to be, and he automatically caught her elbow to steady her. The size of her skirt meant that to do so Astarion had to lean in somewhat, and she took the opportunity to step closer to his body, the skirt bunching up between them.

Meiros had already walked away, talking to a passing guest. Corrinne shot Astarion a coy look; Astarion - and through him, Ban - felt her thigh press between his legs, hidden by the voluminous dress. Corrine ran her hand from his shoulder to his neck - Ban felt him shiver - and then dragged her nails down his chest to his hip. The thigh pressed against him harder. “We could sneak away for a few minutes, handsome,” she purred. “I don’t think your wife would mind.”

The effect was instantaneous. His thoughts flicked through old, haunting memories, his grip on her tightening incrementally. There was a boiling rage, a near-overwhelming urge to snap Corrinne’s neck - held back solely by the fact that he needed to be in Meiros’ good graces and the presence of the countless guests at the party.

“I am not interested,” he ground out, a sneer pasted on his face, “regardless of whether or not she would mind.”

Ban felt his impotent rage shifting into panic, held at bay and hidden behind the veneer of his cold dismissal. His breathing hitched, pulse picking up, posture stiffening; something that Corrinne seemed to have interpreted as interest, despite his words. She kept talking.

Ban’s eyes snapped back to him. He was still staring at her, expression blank, holding Corrinne’s elbow while she chattered away. Ban’s hand instinctively closed around the hilt of the sword she wasn’t carrying, bile rising in her throat. She felt warm all over, enraged, but in a way she’d never felt before. The feeling was completely foreign and it took her utterly by surprise, but it also felt like it was something that had always been a part of her, lying dormant until this moment.

She stood up.

As she began cutting her way through the crowd, Meiros wandered even further away, heading for the guest’s table. Thanking the gods for that small blessing, Ban reached Astarion’s side. She cleared her throat, leveling a searing glare at the vapid young woman and then at her hand, still caressing Astarion’s hip. “Kindly take your hand off my husband, if you want to keep it attached to your body.”

Corrine looked down at her, nose wrinkling. “You must be Missus Ancunín,” she said, offering a dainty hand, the same one she’d been touching him with. She had not backed away from Astarion, her body still pressed against his.

Ban did not take the proffered hand. “Indeed I am, and that’s my husband you are clinging to. How… unbecoming. You must be drunk, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” Ban replied coolly, “because I assume, were you in control of your faculties, you wouldn’t dream of offending your father’s guests in this manner. I’m quite sure your father would take a very dim view of you accosting his business partner with that thigh, Corrinne.”

She blanched, blinking furiously. “I- um…”

“Put your leg down, and take a step back. Unless you want me to either tell your father you’ve just groped a married man, who has important business dealings with him, or you want to wake up bloodied and broken on this ballroom floor. Either way,” she smiled pleasantly, “I’ll be the one going home with him. He is not yours, Corinne, and never will be.”

Through it all she could feel Astarion slowly calming. He slipped his hand away from Corrinne, trembling ever so slightly. As Ban finished speaking and Corinne stepped back, he finally moved, taking a step towards her.

Ban took his hand. He seemed to look at the ring on her finger for a long moment, then turned to the debutante. “Corrinne. Have a wonderful evening.” The words were completely devoid of emotion, and Ban felt a chill run up her spine.

She linked her arm through his and led the way, him trailing silently. Ban searched for somewhere private to take him. She spied a door, slightly ajar, and made a beeline for it, slipping in and shutting it behind them the moment they were inside.

It was a small study, and she immediately located an armchair. Her eyes returned to her husband’s face. He looked lost and a little scared; his eyes were blank, as if he wasn’t even in there.

“Are you okay?”

He blinked, then his expression snapped into one of chilly indifference. She noted it, the way his jaw clenched and was forcibly relaxed. “Fine,” he said, the falseness clear as day. He tugged at his sleeve. “That was nothing new. I’ve had my fair share of advances, and that was one of the most amateur attempts I’ve ever seen - to be expected of course, given her youth. One would ideally press their thigh in a grinding motion, not ram it straight up,” he scoffed.

She guided him towards the armchair. “Sit, Astarion.” He did so, but his mouth kept moving, a desperate attempt at feigning nonchalance.

“Of course I could have simply told her not to, or pushed her off, or threatened her - a million options, really - however, offending her father would not have been ideal for our plans. I-”

She knelt in front of him and grasped both of his hands. “Look at me. Take a deep breath, and just look at me.”

He trailed off, chest rising and falling far too rapidly for her liking. “I said I’m fine.”

“You are fine. You’re safe.” She kept her hands on his, avoiding touching him anywhere else, unsure what he could tolerate at the moment.

“Safe,” he repeated. “A fine sentiment, but we never really are, are we?” His shoulders finally sagged, the proud arch of his brow falling as his eyes fell shut. “It’s been more than a year since I’ve been… his, but it still haunts me as if it were merely yesterday.”

The trappings of power, of riches and decadent luxury - none of it mattered when he was faced with the memories of endless hands on him, of thighs pressed between his legs, of needing to slip deep into his mind to escape. It had been one thing to let the twins touch him and sit in his lap to maintain his facade in front of the other vampire lord - it was quite another to be randomly accosted and treated like property when he least expected it.

Ban looked at him, pained. “You were a slave for centuries, my love. It will take more than a year to recover from that. Things will get easier, but sometimes something will remind you of… before, and then it will come back. But I’ll always be here, to help you, to protect you when you need it.”

He smiled, leaning forwards to touch his forehead to hers; she sighed in relief.

“You’d think I’d remember that, but it always catches me off-guard.”

“It does so for me as well.” He sighed as she spoke and his breath fanned over her face. It was slowing, thankfully. “Can I…” she trailed off, and he opened his eyes. He gave a small huff of assent and her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You never have to ask, but I find myself grateful that you do.”

He was nestled between her breasts, eyes wide open. The slow ruffling of Ban’s hand through his hair was comforting, although the strands tickled his eyes. He shifted, placing his chin flat on her sternum. Ban returned his gaze.

“Decided you want to read more?” she asked.

“Wasn’t much help.” He rolled over, but grabbed the book anyway. It had been laying facedown on the page he’d given up at. “But I suppose I could give it another shot.” He propped the book on his chest as he leaned against the headboard.

She glanced at him. “I trust your conversation with Meiros went well, at least?”

He grunted, flipping to another page. She waited for a response - none came.

“And?”

He flipped another page, far too fast to actually be reading it. “And things are proceeding as planned. Like I’ve said, Ban. Let me handle it.” There it was again, that edge in his voice.

He hadn’t spoken much after the party. They had gone home, and bathed, but he’d been mostly silent throughout. She’d given him his space, scrubbed him down and allowed him to wash her as they usually did, but then they’d gone to bed and he’d immediately buried himself in his book with nary a word in her direction.

She bit back the urge to simply ignore his distress and leave him be. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Crimson eyes flicked over her for a second - she noted the way his gaze raked over her features, another tell - and he exhaled. “The novel is trite, dry, and the heroine dully heroic.”

Ban covered her face with her hands, choking back a frustrated groan. Do better. “That’s not what I asked, and we both know it. This… isn’t about Corrinne, is it? Or if it is, there’s more.”

Astarion snapped the book shut. It was uncommon for her to see his ire nowadays, much less to be the object of it, but there it was. He exhaled through his nose. “You loathed it when I prodded you. Must you do the same?”

The response died in her mouth. She wasn’t sure how to address it - in the past, stoking the fires of his anger had been a thoughtless thing, fighting back with barbed words second nature - but not anymore. Not that she didn’t feel the petty desire to do so rising in her throat, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

She thought for a moment, choosing her next words with care. “Just as I’ve learned to try to open up to you, I hope you will do the same for me.” Taking the book from his hands, she set it down and leaned over. “May I?”

At his nod, she laid over his chest, her head settling against his heart. “You don’t need to. I just want you to feel better,” she murmured.

He was quiet, reaching over to pick the book back up again. The minutes passed, one to ten to thirty, the only sound the occasional turning of pages and the scratch of his fingers against paper, his breathing, and the painfully fast heartbeat thrumming beneath her ear.

She waited.

“No use feigning sleep,” Astarion finally drawled. “You’re mad, aren’t you?”

“Frustrated. Concerned. Not mad.” She felt him shift, his muscled chest rippling under her as he placed an arm under his head, the book still in the other.

“Now you know how it feels,” he said under his breath. As he did so his pulse hammered harder, and Ban decided enough was enough. She placed a hand on his chest, beside her face, watching the ring glint in the moonlight.

“Does that give you some sort of satisfaction? Because I’d understand if it did. But I’d prefer we talk about it.”

That took him by surprise. His eyes locked onto her, wide. She met them without hesitation, watching his expression soften as he finally gave in.

“One - I have no idea who I married a tenday ago, because I’m not exactly sure it’s the Ban I knew.” He laughed humorlessly. “Two - it might be silly,” he looked away, “but I’d thought this would all be… if not over, at least… lessened.”

He set the book down by his side and wrapped an arm around her. “I’m no idiot. I am aware it doesn’t ever truly fade away, but today it caught me unawares.”

“I can’t blame you for that. You haven’t had any encounters like that in a while, nor should you have to expect them in the first place.” The hand on his chest closed into a fist. “If it were not for her father I’d have beaten her where she stood.”

He shrugged. “That’s… not my concern at the moment.” Ban sighed - she had been right. There was more.

“Then what is it?”

She watched his lips part, fangs peeking as he licked his lips nervously. “I worry that in a century, or in five centuries, this will still happen. That it will keep happening again and again, in moments when I least expect it. I will freeze as I did today. It will feel like nothing has changed, no matter how much time has passed. I may never fully…heal.” He took a deep breath, her head rising and falling with it, his heart racing as he finally spoke the fears he’d been haunted by the past few hours. “You’d be spending eternity bound to a pathetic, broken, man.”

Ban shook her head; she couldn’t help taking offense. “I fell in love with you the way you are. Why worry about that? Do you think I’m still that selfish, that I still require you to be a certain way to love you? Because - well, I understand and I’m still working on it, but truly?”

“No. I merely pity you for having to deal with it. I thought the wedding would…” a growl ripped through him, “...would at least fix something.”

“A wedding doesn’t guarantee everything will be sunshine afterwa-”

“Well it should!”

She flinched. He tightened his grip on her. “I worry about how this will affect us, in the long term.” He raised her hand to the light, admiring the ring on her finger. “Affect our marriage. I could not forgive myself if I lost this simply because I couldn’t let go of the ghosts of the past. I worry that I will whittle your patience down into nothing; that with each incident I further drain the wellspring of your heart dry.”

“Astarion.” He let her hand go, eyes snapping back to her face. “Listen. When I made my vows, they were made for both the good and the bad. I love you. All of you. That includes this, and whatever other worries you have. I love you-” she poked his chest, “and everything that comes with you, ghosts included. Maybe it will take a century, or five, or maybe it will never fully heal. But either way, I will be here, and I will help you, and protect you, and love you through it all. No matter how many Corinnes come our way.” She poked the tip of his nose. He wrinkled it in response, apparently still unwilling to let his pique go.

“There will be many, Ban. There will always be more. Men and women, everywhere we go. Unwelcome as it is,” and there it was again, the way his eyes scanned her face, “they will keep coming. They will keep seeing you as a trivial obstacle in their path, and they will be wrong, but they will think it and try all the same.”

“And that bothers you, because…”

“Does it not bother you?”

It was her turn to look away. She was silent for a beat. “It does. A lot.”

“Oh, it does?” His mouth showed the beginnings of a small snarl. “You seem wholly unfazed by it. Ban, always the picture of indifference, even as some woman-”

“I wanted to rip her head off! Is that what you want to hear?”

He froze, then the edges of his lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Precisely that, yes. You never understood, thinking it was the mere desire to own you that ruled me.”

Ban shifted, resting her chin on his sternum. He took a deep breath. “I made mistakes. I sought to keep you in a way that was twisted. But some of it…” he seemed to have finally cooled off, softly stroking her cheek, “...some of it I still feel was valid.”

“Halsin.”

Astarion nodded. “There is… was, a lot of indignation due to the fact that you brought me to his camp, without feeling it necessary to tell me why, or anything else at all, for that matter. That you didn’t respect me, or us, enough to communicate.” He bit his lip, and she shook her head.

“I won’t be mad, or punish you. Please. Keep going.”

“I thought you wished to rekindle whatever you two had, whether it be for a tryst or for something more serious. At the time I said you were not mine to hoard in such a manner, but…”

She felt him tense underneath her, and nuzzled his chest encouragingly. He ran his hands through the back of her hair in silent gratitude.

“You understand that some of what I felt was warranted, do you not?” He searched her face, and she reached up to cup his cheek. “Please.” He shut his eyes. “Tell me you do.”

“I do. The idea that you could be taken from me, even unwillingly… It made me so angry. Just seeing her touch you… I think it finally sank in.” She cleared her throat. “I understand that taking you to Halsin like that was uncalled for, and you deserved better. I handled it especially badly, given the fact that he and I…”

He flapped a hand. “That we have talked about. It was the visit that I’ve never dared bring up.”

“You worried that I’d leave you over it.”

“That, and that you wouldn’t understand.” He opened his eyes again, met hers with a sad smile. He ruffled her hair. “You’ve spent so long bristling under men who sought to own you that you never learned that belonging to someone can also be a beautiful thing. I have been yours throughout our time together, and it has given me nothing but safety, care, and love.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “You… that was legitimately the last thing I expected to hear from you.”

“I spent two centuries learning what it meant to be someone’s property,” he reminded. “Cazador owned me. I belong to you. There’s a vast difference. And you? You are mine.” The last word was growled, and Ban felt heat pool between her legs. He lifted her hand, the one with his ring on it. “Belonging to you is no curse, binding myself to you no hardship. That is what I wish for you to comprehend - that my jealousy is not monstrous, as misguided as my first times feeling it were.”

“You want what we have to be respected. By me, by everyone.”

“And for you to see that I don’t wish to own you, but I do want you to belong to me and only me.”

Ban considered this, considered the venomous fury that had risen in her at the sight of Corrinne pressed against her husband. That rage, the split-second urge to sink fangs into her neck and drink her dry, or break every one of her bones… It had been powerful. It had come after the initial concern for Astarion, of course, but it had been there, surprising her with its intensity.

To belong. Still a bit frightening to her, but she could not deny his words - could not deny the way she’d felt tonight, nor deny the ring on her finger.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she said, the words slipping out with ease, to her relief. “I couldn’t understand it, or even imagine how it would feel, until today.”

Astarion’s tension ebbed, the lines on his face easing as he exhaled. His hand drifted away from her to pick up the book. “Thank you. I think I shall rest easier knowing that.”

“You’ll still be reading, though?” She nodded at the book.

“I’m afraid sleep will come with far less ease than it usually does tonight. Not your fault,” he added quickly.

“Then I’ll keep you company.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then began to read the book, flicking back a few pages to where he’d actually last understood what his eyes were running over. As he did Ban settled against his sternum, the now-slow beating of his heart lulling her into sleep, much as she fought it.

As she lost the fight and her eyelids drooped shut Astarion watched, amused. He didn’t move her, eyes moving back to his book. It helped that she understood, but he couldn’t help the small pang of worry that niggled at his mind still.

The rite had not fixed him, nor had his marriage. Would time really do so? A foolish thought, he knew, expecting all of his wounds to be healed by a simple ceremony, but part of him had… hoped. It had been largely absent in his mind until today’s painful reminder, and he wished he could have ripped that girl apart for her insolence. Instead he had frozen, mind searching for his wife’s, seeking solace.

He flipped to the next page. None of the words made sense.

And if time failed to heal those wounds, would it one day push them apart? He could almost taste it for a brief moment, the vision filling his mind-

Ban, in her armor and with her weapon slung over her shoulder. Servants hurrying out, bags and bags of her clothes and belongings carried to their carriage. He could see himself on his throne, the house already cold and tomblike, as if it was already mourning her departure. He would have his hands gripping the armrests, digging in until they cracked, resisting the urge to drag her back in, because he refused to do that ever again, even if losing her again would kill him. But every fiber of him would want to.

He would let the flowers wilt, let the palace fall into ruin. He would rot, because there would be nothing else for him, and nothing would matter but her memory. He would wander these empty halls and wait, deluding himself that she’d be back, because she’d come back once, hadn’t she? Perhaps he would seek an end to his misery. Create spawn, unleash whatever chaos he could, hoping someone would lop his miserable head off his shoulders. Perhaps she would. Or perhaps he would find her, beg for her return. She would do so again wouldn’t she, she wouldn’t leave, please, never again-

“Astarion.”

He flinched, looking down at her. She rubbed his chest.

“You were breathing hard. I could hear your heart pounding.” She crawled upwards so that they were eye to eye.

“Oh.” He waved the book at her. “Exciting part came up. It wasn’t all drivel after all.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he exhaled. There would be no way to fool her. “Too many thoughts,” he finally said. “Too many fears, ones that I’m afraid even the sweetest words cannot assuage. There’s no scrying the future, after all.”

“No.” She shook her head. “We can only really see today. And today, you are mine, and you are loved.” She pressed her lips against his, a chaste, gentle kiss that he couldn’t help but deepen. His hand fisted in her hair, gripping hard. The other wrapped around her waist, pressing her against him, his hips grinding against hers, the intent clear.

“Promise me,” he hissed, “that I will always be yours.”

She nodded, but that wasn’t enough. He pulled at her hair, tugging her head back. “Say it.”

“You’re mine,” she growled, slowly moving lower as the hand on her hair guided her downwards. There was a catch in her voice as she said it.

“Don’t hold back,” Astarion snarled, pulling the sheets off them. He could see the simmering anger behind her gaze, held at bay for most of the night, for his sake. “I don't need you to be proper. Show me who I bel- fuck.”

She had grasped his cock, given it a long, slow stroke. His expression softened as she licked along the shaft to the tip. She licked off a bead of precum, savoring the salty, tangy taste that was purely him. Her eyes searched his. “I wasn't sure if I should touch you. If tonight that would be welcome or not. But I'm glad you wanted to. I… I need it too.”

At that she swallowed him down, suckling his head, her tongue swirling in a teasing circle. Bucking helplessly against her, Astarion groaned, hand tightening in her hair. Her fingers stroked the rest of him, her other hand fondled his balls. It felt good - wonderful, even - and much needed, but-

He nudged her then got on his knees, cock proudly jutting out, glistening with her saliva, begging to be sucked. Ban thankfully understood, getting on all fours. He looked at her for a long moment, taking everything in - the swell of her ass, her muscled back and shoulders, her eyes filled with desire for him.

“My sweet Ban. Always eager to please,” he purred.

Her mouth took him in, deeper this time, the sudden return of warmth and suction causing his hips to jerk. He fucked her mouth, leaning back to support himself, hips rolling slowly, soft moans the only sound from his lips. He relished the feel of her swallowing around him, tongue laving its attention on every part of his cock. She was his, and he was hers. He tilted his head back, lost in the ocean of his desire.

Only she would be allowed to touch him like this, to see him like this, to love him like this. She wanted him - but not just that. Loved him. The real him. Not just his face, or his body, or his honeyed words. The true core of him. The good, and the bad, and the pieces he would show no one but her.

He threaded his fingers into her hair once more, enjoying the feeling of holding her while she claimed him. She brought one of her hands up to grip his hip and pull him further down her throat, her nails digging into the side of his ass hard enough to bruise. He let out a loud groan, her forcefulness driving him to the brink.

Hers. He was hers no matter what anyone else said or did, and the way she was swallowing him down right now - not even breathing, just burying him deep into her throat with an aggression he rarely saw from her - told him she also wanted to be reassured of that same fact.

“Show me,” he gasped, lost to the building pressure in his balls, thighs burning, “show me exactly who I belong to, who I give myself to, the only one who will ever make me co-”

She gave him one long, hard suck, tongue flicking against his underside, up to the slit of his cock, her loud moan vibrating against his cockhead, and he came apart, erupting into her mouth with one last hard thrust and a wild, needy groan. She swallowed, humming appreciatively as she did, intensifying his pleasure as her throat pulsed around him. She continued swirling her tongue around his length until he finally pulled out, gasping. Ban sat up, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, her eyes dark with possessiveness and satisfaction.

“Mine. I promise you that.”

He felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine. He was so relieved she finally understood.

The night passed in relative peace after that, with Ban asleep on his chest as he read. His mind was at ease, and the words on the pages finally made sense.

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brabblesblog · 7 days

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Chapter 15: Our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

The fast is broken.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @lirotation

(For more smutty art, click on the AO3 link. Thanks!)

She was seated on the chaise, her back against Astarion’s chest, his legs on either side of her. She felt his fingers tug on the knot the lacing of her dress had become and heard his soft curse as he failed yet again.

They had settled against each other, gossiping about how Gale definitely looked a little healthier and how Minsc had eaten most of the macarons, when he had begun fiddling with the laces.

“Do you really wish to keep this, darling?” He was definitely irked; the knot had been eluding him for what felt like hours, and his patience was almost gone.

“I mean… probably? But I also won’t be wearing it ever again,” she admitted.

He leaned forward, his hair tickling the middle of her back. There was a loud ripping noise, and then a rush of cold air over her now-bare back. She turned to see him smirking, parts of the dress still between his teeth.

“I can’t believe you did that!”

He held up his hands in false apology, then spat out the fabric. “No use spending any longer than necessary on that nonsense. I’ve waited far too long.”

“Wait.” She held up a hand, stopping him mid-tackle. He eyed her curiously, eyes already half-lidded.

He put on a pout and sat back up, sighing loudly. “You’ve been pleading for my touch for a month, and now that we’re here…” he shook his head. “You do so confound me at times.”

“That’s not the point.” She looked to the bed, and gestured toward it. “I would like to finish what we were doing before you needed to stop.”

He blinked, considering her offer, then nodded. “If that’s what you want, then I shall oblige.”

She slipped off the remnants of the dress, a little pained at its loss. It had been pretty. Stepping out of it, she also tugged her underwear down and toed them off. Astarion coyly sat on the bed, then deliberately slid over to the middle of it, still fully clothed, resting his head on a pillow.

She let out a deep, exasperated breath; his amusement merely grew. “Scoot a little forward.” She slipped in behind him, her legs on either side of him. Immediately he leaned back against her chest, a soft, appreciative hum rewarding her as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“This brings back memories,” he murmured, and she frowned.

“I’m sorry? Which…” she trailed off as he shared it through their bond.

He stumbled out of the tent, making a beeline for her, curled up by the campfire. His cock was painfully tight against his trousers, the friction as he walked not helping one bit.

He grasped her shoulder. “Ban.” The need was obvious in his tone. “I need- I need your help.”

She’d been half asleep. She turned to face him, surprised. “Astarion? Are you done?” Her eyes found the bulge in his trousers; that answered the question for her.

It had become a common nighttime event for them, Astarion and her curled up together. At times he’d bring her bliss, fingers and mouth more than enough to reduce her to a puddle of desire. He was still unable to be touched, but he felt desire; whenever he brought her release he’d always end up with a painful erection that needed to be relieved. Thus an arrangement had been made: she’d leave the tent and allow him his privacy, and he’d find her once he was done.

Apparently he hadn’t been successful tonight.

“Yes, well.” He gestured at where she was looking, a little too desperate to be embarrassed. “I tried to do it. Every single trick in the damned book, and…” he sighed, exasperated. “I need you to help me.”

She sat up, immediately awake. “This… this isn’t a joke, is it?”

He looked at her askance, and yet not surprised. Finally a chance for her to touch him, and yet she wouldn’t pounce at the opportunity. Another reason why he’d found giving his heart to her all too easy.

Astarion shook his head. “No. I think it’s time we try. I want… I need you to make me come.”

They entered the tent; Astarion closed the flap with one hand, the other reached for her. She turned and he pressed his lips to hers, frantic and tense, hips grinding against her helplessly. He was stressed, warring between the urge to beg for her touch and the urge to hide away in the recesses of his mind.

But he could not. Would not. Not with her. He pulled back with a pained groan.

“I’m not sure how we’re supposed to do this.” Whispered, as if this was a secret he wanted no one else to know.

He watched her think, fingers rubbing her chin. And then she spoke.

“Sit, and let me sit behind you, so you won’t need to see me or even think of me.”

“I’d want to-” he protested. She held up a hand and shook her head.

“Sit. And let me help.”

He acquiesced, swallowing nervously as she sat behind him. He reached back, grasping her hand.

He did the same in the present, tugging her hand to palm his cock. His mind, her mind, linked. Then and now, at times feeling like lifetimes apart, but in truth the same as it ever was.

He tugged his trousers down, feeling the air hit his cockhead. He placed her hand over it. “Slowly.”

She mirrored the movement, slipping her hand under his waistband, wrapping her fingers around his length. Her eyes were shut and she leaned forwards, whispering in his ear. “Thank you for reminding me. You were beautiful that night. Brave. I never told you, because I wasn’t sure how… you’d… feel…”

The last words were punctuated with long, slow strokes. He bucked upwards, mouth parted in a gasp of pleasure.

He wrapped his hand around hers, guiding her. Loose at the shaft, tighter at the head. She was a natural, as it turned out - the drag of her hand, so different and yet surprisingly welcome, combined with the fact that he couldn’t see her, and the knowledge that she was doing this for him… his tension ebbed, much to his surprise. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent, different from anything else he’d ever experienced.

She sucked on his ear and his back arched involuntarily. He groaned out, “That was the first time… in so godsdamned long.”

“I know. You were perfect. Open, trusting. You allowed me to see you. All of you.” Her hand sped up slightly, and he swore. He sat up, roughly stripping off his trousers, kicking them away. Settling on his knees, his fingers flying down the buttons of his doublet and flinging it away. He felt her kneel behind him, snaking her hand around to play with a nipple.

“Touch me.” He wanted it like this, wanted to thrust up into her hand and mindlessly rut, reveling in her words and that memory. She moved closer, flush against his back, and returned her hand to where he needed it most.

She touched him, thumb swiping over his tip, his head glistening in the thin shaft of moonlight-

He looked down, watching himself fuck her hand, hips moving languidly. She kissed his cheek and neck between words. “My sweet, loving husband. My lover, for all eternity. My best, truest friend,” her voice was a sensual whisper that set him alight. “My thiramin,” she added with a nip to his ear, and he moaned, hips jerking as that word pushed him closer to the edge. His cock throbbed, the pent up tension wanting, no - needing - to be released soon.

For once, it felt right. There was no need to perform. His grip tightened on her hand, their pace increasing. Loose at the shaft, tighter at the head. Just like that. No one else had ever cared, or even tried. No one did, not until her, each of her strokes just as he’d asked…

Still the same, still the same exact strokes, but now executed to a perfection she had honed over time. Her other hand caressed his balls, rolling them in her palm, gently squeezing between her fingers. All for him. For love. The loosening and tightening, the swipe at the tip, that slight caress at the bottom of his cockhead. Fuck.

“Of course,” she purred into his ear, licking around its edges, “who else would it be for, for what else? Only you. There was only ever you from the moment I saw you. There was only ever one person who I could love, who could be the one for me. Only one worth everything. You.”

He let out a needy whine. He moved her free hand to his chest, placed his over it, while his other hand fisted the sheets. His ass clenched as he drove into the circle of her hand, nothing held back and everything to give.

“Don’t stop,” he gasped. “Don’t ever stop.”

She kissed down the side of his neck, causing a shiver to run down his spine. “I’ll never stop. I’ll never run out of words to tell you how beautiful you are. How sublime it is to wake up to you every single day, to reach out and know you’ll be there. To know my life has purpose, has meaning. To give you joy, to give you the peace you deserve. To love you the way you should always have been, Astarion.”

He felt her gaze on him, watching him. A far cry from what she had done in the past, when she had kept her eyes away, respecting his privacy. He jerked his neck to meet her eyes, and the heat in them, combined with one final, hard stroke that was just perfectly timed with a squeeze at the tip - perfect, just perfect - made him come.

His reply disappeared in a string of incoherent moans as she pulled away slightly to take in the sight. “Perfect as ever. Equally as wonderful as that night you first taught me how to touch you, let me see you paint us with your pleasure. I’ll always be honored to be the one giving it to you.”

Eyes squeezed shut, body arching, his cock releasing what felt like copious amounts of come - no surprise given how long they had abstained - he was lost to her. He felt her stroking him through it, milking every drop from him, and he shuddered, knowing there would be more. Forever.

She grabbed an old shirt and wiped him clean as he melted against her. As soon as he was able, he caught her lips in a kiss, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of her mouth. It was sloppy, lacking technique, but he didn’t care. He would never have to care again.

He collapsed against her, panting. She reclined them both back onto the pillows, holding him tightly.

“That… was a surprisingly good idea,” she said. Her surprise made sense - the last time they’d touched minds in bed it had been too much, but it seemed like doing so under less intense circumstances was better.

“Of course,” he managed to say. “What am I, if not the source of the best ideas, hm? Especially in this field.” The effect he’d wanted his words to have was lost by the fact that he was still catching his breath.

They laid together in silence for a while, her slipping out to lay on her side, head on his shoulder. His leg was comfortably wedged between her thighs, and they held each other close.

Ban reached over to the nightstand, picking up a towel. Astarion cracked open an eye, the corner of his lip curling as he watched.

“Attentive as ever,” he murmured. He made a move to grab it, intending to clean himself up, but she snatched it away. He watched, transfixed, as she licked the tip of his cock, giving it a very gentle suck, cleaning off his seed. But as soon as he closed his eyes, expecting more, her tongue was replaced by the towel. He let out a small sigh of feigned exasperation.

As soon as she was finished he flipped them over, his eyes alight with mirth and desire alike. “Now… I do believe it’s my turn to have my wicked way with you.”

Astarion caught her lips in a passionate kiss. His hands slid up to cradle her head, holding her close as his tongue explored the depths of her mouth. Slowly, he trailed kisses down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before moving lower. His fingers traced patterns on her body, exploring every inch of her with a reverence that belied his eagerness.

He ran his fingers along the curve of her collarbone before trailing them downwards again, skimming across the swell of her breast. He took one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling gently while he teased her other nipple with his fingertip. He then kissed his way back up her chest.

As she arched her neck in anticipation, he leaned in close, allowing his breath to tickle her, but stopped when his lips were inches away. She huffed in frustration and he chuckled, reaching over the nightstand. He’d had Shadowheart’s gift sent to the bedroom the moment she’d told him about it. It was kept in a long, narrow box, and he held it out to Ban.

“Shadowheart’s present,” she said, swallowing. “I don’t know if I should be afraid or excited.”

“You do know that the moment you wish to stop, all you need to do is say the word, right?” He opened the box, as she nodded. “In any case, I doubt you’ll want to.”

Ban gulped. A riding crop. Sleek, soft black leather wrapped around the main rod - a tantalizing sight. She watched Astarion lift it out of the box, his long fingers wrapped around the handle. He gave it a small test, snapping it against his other palm. He hummed approvingly.

“Not bad. I’d have chosen better, but this will suffice.”

His eyes flicked over to her, and she watched as they shifted from that cocksure gaze to one of concern. “Do you trust me?”

There was no hesitation. “I do.”

Satisfied, he glanced at the headboard. “Turn around. On your hands and knees, please, darling.”

She turned, facing the headboard. Her palms were flat on the bed, her ass raised up for his perusal. His finger traced a path from the back of her leg to her ass cheek.

“I’m surprised,” she teased. “I expected something far rougher than-” Her words cut off in a low groan as he grabbed her ass, nails digging in. At the same time he ran his tongue along her entrance roughly, a long lick to her clit and then a quick thrust inside her. She bucked, wanting him to keep going, but he’d already pulled away.

“Needy,” he chided, the amusement plain in his tone. Before she could respond, his palm slapped her cheek, not too hard, but enough to sting. The impact and surprise made her bow forwards, a low hiss escaping her.

He rubbed the spot where he’d hit her; she was sure the skin was red. “Was that alright, love?” She turned her head to see him staring at her, biting his lip.

“More than alright.” She shifted her hips, trying to get his hand on her core - a little too slow, as he had anticipated the move and had already taken his hand off.

He tutted softly and then flicked his wrist. She felt the impact a split second later, a sharp sting on her haunch that barely registered as pain. The realization hit her at the same time as his thumb pressing against her clit, rubbing it in insistent circles - he was being very careful.

His thumb dragged back, then plunged inside her, eliciting a gasp. He pulled his thumb out and sucked on it, her taste always delicious and almost as good as her blood. He kept his eyes on her as he did this, allowing her to see his body's response, his cock beginning to harden again.

“Delicious, as always,” he said, licking his thumb clean. “I missed tasting you. Your slick on my tongue, the taste and smell of you all over my face… Gods. Not many things could compare.”

“And what would?” Ban watched as he lifted the crop, staring at her backside, trying to find a suitable target.

He smiled. “Your blood.” The crop made impact on her thigh, stronger this time, and slightly painful. She hissed, hips bucking, wishing his hand or mouth or cock - anything really as long as it was him - was there.

“Fuck, Astarion!” She glared at him. “As fun as this is for you - I need more.”

He rolled his eyes. “And now insolent to boot?” He struck her again, on the other leg this time - and this wasn’t a practice hit. Ban yelped, feeling heat bloom where it had made contact. ”You were saying?”

She glanced at his face. There was excitement, arousal, even perhaps a hint of bloodlust as her blood reddened the impact points. But through it all she saw him, watching her, minding her responses, ensuring she felt fine.

Emboldened by this, she stared him down. “So are you going to spend all night whipping me or actually fucking me? Because- ah!”

This time she saw Astarion put his whole arm into the motion, the crop smacking loudly against her flesh. Pain bloomed, throbbing and insistent, and as she groaned and buried her face in a pillow he dove between her legs, devouring her core.

She rocked backwards, seeking more of his mouth, and he obliged, tongue laving everywhere and anywhere he could reach. The crop was discarded, forgotten for the moment as he sank his fangs into her ass, biting with the fervor of a man starved.

“We have time,” he growled in between bites, marking her flesh in numerous spots. His tongue, hot and wet, licked the rivulets of blood as they meandered down her skin. Fingers sank into her, and she realized he wasn’t holding back, their thrusting insistent, curling at the end and hitting her spot with every pass. Her back arched and she bit back a low whine. Astarion’s pace was merciless, the drag of his fingers against her walls combined with his other hand on her clit and his fangs sinking into the meat of her ass were a maddening combination.

He shifted, shuffling closer to her, stroking himself. Ban couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight - finally - after so damned long. He lined up, rubbing himself along her entrance and then against her clit, the delicious flick of his cockhead was too little for how heated she was.

“Stop dithering,” she grumbled, “and decide if you want to put it in or not.”

He paused, and tilted his head. “I would have done so, if you had asked nicely. As it stands…” he drew back, and she let out a frustrated whine. She bowed her head, knowing what would happen before feeling it - the soft whistle of the crop as it flew in the air - then the hot, painful and yet pleasurable sting of it against her ass. “Again, my dear. You were saying?” Perfect, calm innocence, as if he was merely sitting drinking tea and not whipping his wife.

She hissed, then turned to glare at Astarion, who was tapping the crop on his palm. “Please, my love. Fuck me.”

He made a show out of mulling it over, seemingly careless. The insistent throb of his cock told a different story, however. He fisted himself, stroking once, twice - Ban relished the look of wanton lust on his face as he stared between her legs - and then let go. “I think I could stand to wait a little longer.” As she opened her mouth to protest, he smirked. “You’ve yet to learn patience, my love. Not to worry… I have forever to teach you.”

He flipped her over, and she swallowed as he flicked the crop against her clit. The spark of pleasure that rippled through her was surprising. His eyes darkened as he registered her response, his gaze becoming predatory. He held the crop aloft, settling on his thighs. Waiting.

“Astarion, I swear…”

“Hm?” Another hit on her inner thigh, so close but not there. She whined, all pride gone. “You’ll have to ask. Properly.”

“Please. Again.”

To her delight he obliged, the crop smacking her lightly, exactly where she wanted it. The next moment, he slipped two fingers inside her, the other hand dropping the whip to grip her waist, holding her firmly in place. As she began to fuck herself on his fingers he slowly added a third. The stretch was intense and pleasurable; she rocked harder. His hand pushed against her, stilling her movements.

“Let me. You’ll have all the fun you long for after I’ve had mine.”

She was about to ask him what exactly he had in mind, when he slapped her clit again, softly this time. She moaned loudly and the fingers inside her pumped harder, making her head spin. She looked down to see him smiling, the role dropped.

“You’re taking my fingers so well,” he crooned. His eyes flicked over to the abandoned crop. “That, too. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Would I have married you if I didn’t?”

He crawled up, pressing his lips against hers. He ground his hips against her thigh, a low moan caught in his throat, and he pulled back slightly to pant against her ear. “It was wonderful, my love. I really do appreciate that you allowed me this.”

Their lips met again, slow and unhurried. His hand slipped down, stroking himself slowly as he groaned into her mouth. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking him in place.

“I missed you,” she whispered, and he nodded, kissing his way down her neck to her breasts.

He circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue, then wrapped his lips around it, sucking hard. His hand gripped her ass, right where she’d been struck; the warmth of his palm over the stinging welt felt wonderful. His cock pressed against her belly insistently; she could feel it, heavy and hot against her skin.

“I’m honestly tempted to take you right here and now, but…” He forced himself away from her, breathing heavily.

“What did you have in mind for tonight, exactly?”

He hesitated. “I mean, it is a special occasion, but Shadowheart’s idea was too tempting to not try.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You also wanted to know if I’d trust you with it.”

“That, too,” he conceded.

“Well now that we’ve tried it, what else did you have in store for us?”

Astarion thought about it for a heartbeat, then sent the idea to her in a series of images. She shivered, then nodded. “Perfect. Yes.”

Before she could say anything further he was off, heading for the trunk in the far corner of the room. He returned with his hands full.

“We bathed, but I figure using a scroll as well would be wise.” He handed her a bottle of oil then set the prestidigitation scroll and the other item on the bed nearby, then met her gaze.

She beckoned him close, and they laid facing each other, tangled in each other’s arms. He watched as she thoroughly oiled her fingers, anticipation coiling in his belly. When she was ready, he crooked his leg up and out, allowing her space. Ban’s fingers traced a path down his torso, leaving a slight sheen of oil in their wake. She continued her exploration, fingers trailing down his side to his hip, and then down the length of his cock, slipping between their bodies with a deliberate, gentle slowness.

He closed his eyes as she found her target and began tracing circles with one finger, shuddering at the first touch.

“You won’t need to do as much,” he murmured. With how aroused he was, he had no doubt it wouldn’t take long.

“I know. Not our first time, love.”

He laughed, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead as she slipped her finger in, the suction tugging her deeper. He jerked, hips thrusting into her. “More,” he croaked, eyes tightly shut.

She sank her finger deeper, slowly; perhaps too slowly - he reached down, grabbing her hand and pushing her in further. A low moan escaped him as she finally found his spot. He pressed himself closer, his whole body flush against hers, chest heaving.

She began to thrust in and out, caressing his spot each time. His hips rolled with every pass of her fingers, rubbing his cock against her, the precum smearing against her arm and stomach. She wouldn’t mind if they just did this - if she gave him ecstasy and they rolled over to sleep after - the sight of him taking his pleasure was more than enough. He was more than enough.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice, breaking the silence. “No - don’t.” He opened his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. “I want to be buried deep inside you when I come this time.” His hand rested on her neck, thumb tracing her jawline, his expression dark and hungry, pupils blown wide. “I want to give you everything… I want to mark you. I want you dripping with my seed, I want to see it, want to smell it on you.” His tone grew low, insistent. “Mine. Forever. No one else can have you, and no one else can have what I’ll give to you.”

She shivered in anticipation. “Yes. Mark me both ways, then - inside and out. Everywhere. I want to be covered in you, filled with you, in every way possible. I am yours. Always. From the day we met, until forever,” she vowed, adding a second finger inside him. His eyes fell shut again, lips parting ever so slightly with a deep groan as he adjusted to the stretch. He nodded, accepting her suggestion.

“Indeed you are.” He growled, softly, emphasized by a hitch of his hips, cock grinding against her. “Mine to take and to love. To cherish. My very own.”

With her second finger fully inside, she began to move, slowly stretching him further.

He moaned, reaching down to touch himself. She ran her tongue over his neck, feeling the muscles of his abdomen ripple as he sank onto her fingers with a hurried eagerness.

He was silent for a while, the only sounds he made were soft whimpers and unintelligible words mixed with gasps. There was a hard nip to her throat as he approached his peak again, his hand frantically stroking his cock. He grabbed her waist, pressing her flush against him as he rubbed himself on her belly.

She felt his length, throbbing and so very hard, pressed flat against her stomach as he fisted the root. Ban held him close. “Go on,” she purred. “Make me yours, Astarion.”

His only reply was a low whine, his eyes meeting hers as he rutted against her, his thrusting losing its rhythm and becoming frantic. Ban stroked his spot, and her other hand caressed his ear, providing the last push he needed. Astarion jerked, hissing, and Ban felt him spill his seed onto her stomach, hot and slick. He pressed his head against hers, breathing hard as his hips stilled. She snuck a quick peck against his lips, and waited.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “I think… I’m ready,” he murmured, and she removed her fingers. He watched hungrily, eyes roaming over her glistening stomach, as she replaced her fingers with a glass plug. It slid in slowly and Astarion grunted in pleasure as it settled inside him. Their eyes met, his jaw clenching and releasing with a low groan. She used the scroll while he acclimated himself to the fullness, watching his face as he bit his lip and ground against her.

He pushed her shoulder, guiding her onto her back, then straddled her, his hands running down her arms. With one quick motion he grabbed both wrists, pinning them above her head. Shifting to a one-handed grip, Astarion sat up, taking a long moment to look down at her, her body streaked with the evidence of their union.

“Before we do this, there is something I feel you should know. No matter what you think, or what anyone tells you - you are beautiful.”

The tone was insistent, a little stern, but completely sincere, and it almost made her believe him. She could only shake her head as he trailed a finger through the spend on her stomach, slowly painting his way down to her mound, his eyes locked on hers. He grasped himself, rubbing against her clit to bring himself to full hardness. The soft, velvety feel of his cock and the slippery feeling of his spend smearing all over her made her squirm. “Astarion - please.”

He slid lower, his head at her entrance, his cock throbbing with anticipation. But he held back, eyes still locked on her face. “Say yes,” he commanded. “Say you believe me.”

She was incredulous. “Really - that… that’s what you want me to do, before I can finally have you?”

He nodded, slowly grinding the head of his cock against her entrance, but never sinking in. “It shouldn’t be so hard, should it? Now say it, or we’ll both be unsatisfied for the rest of the night.”

“Astarion. You don’t mean that…” she trailed off as she saw just how serious he was. He sat back, stroking himself with deliberate slowness, drawing her attention.

”You can have me deep inside you, filling you up with every thrust, spilling inside you…” he rocked his hips, fucking his fist, allowing her to see his length sliding in his grasp. He let out a breathy moan. “All you have to do is say you believe me. That you are beautiful.”

She shook her head again. “I can say it with ease - I believe you. But speaking those words doesn’t make it any truer.”

He settled on his haunches, thinking. “I could show you how I see you. How the sight of you eclipses even the miracle of daylight. How touching you feels better than that first kiss of sunlit warmth after centuries in the dark. How tasting you is better than anything I’ve ever tasted in my long life.” As he said this he inched closer.

”You could, yes,” Ban interjected, “but I suppose there is something else you could do.”

He leaned over her again, cock in hand, lining up. “Indeed there is. I could make you feel how much I love you instead.”

With those words he buried himself in her in one hard thrust that left them both breathless. His ass clenched, the piece inside him providing a wonderful fullness that complemented the warmth now enveloping his cock.

There was little need to wait. He pressed her down against the bed, then placed his palms flat on either side of her, bracing himself. He rolled his hips in a slow grind that he knew would rub against her clit; her answering moan was exactly what he had anticipated. The feeling of her slickened abdomen sliding against his skin, knowing he’d put it there and that he would fill her with more soon, gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. His.

“I love you,” he breathed, against her ear. “I have loved you for far longer than you’ve known, perhaps longer than even I’ve known.” He pressed his forehead against hers, hips moving faster, feeling the drag of her walls with every pass, the feeling of fullness peaking with each forward thrust. He pulled out most of the way, watching her track his every move, then sank back in with a ferocity that demonstrated just how much he wanted her to feel his words and the depth of his devotion.

“And I you,” she whispered back, her words rough with pleasure as his cock sank back in, precisely angled to slam against her spot. “And I feel like I should be the one-”

”Hush. I promised you my words; allow me to speak them.”

She fell silent, and he pecked her lips. “That’s my girl.” He pushed her leg up, spreading her further apart and sinking himself deeper. A quick, ‘Be a dear and hold that for me, will you?’ and he resumed his pace. He began to push harder, hips shifting from a slow grind to an increasingly vigorous speed. He angled himself carefully, knowing he’d succeeded when he was rewarded with a wonderfully tight clench all around him and the sound of her whimper.

“There are endless ways to tell you exactly how I adore you. From your body - every curve, every line of it, driving me insane with want this past month…” He kissed her jaw, her neck, her collarbone as he spoke, hips maintaining their punishing pace. Her quiet moans were a delight to his ears, and he intended to have more. He felt her readjust her grip on her legs, and gave her nipple one last bite before he sat up, grabbing each ankle.

“I wanted to be lost in you, lost to the heights of pleasure you always take me to…” he slammed his hips forward, his ass clenching around the plug so pleasantly as he buried himself in her again and again. “To feel you clench all around me as I bury myself in you again and again, until I have nothing left to give. But I relearned something this past month, something I’ve always known but something you likely need to be reminded of.” Another hard thrust, and she whimpered, all restraint gone. She reached between her legs, rubbing herself. He fixed his gaze on her face, drawing pleasure from her pleasure. “I don’t need… sex, to drown in you. When I say you’re beautiful, my love, I mean your body and your face, but I also mean your heart - the one that shelters mine.” They locked gazes, his insistent, hers a little unsure.

Astarion touched her mind, a request to be bound together as both reached their peak. He sat up. He knew it would be intense, his mind bracing for it as she finally allowed him in - and they became one.

They felt his hands wrapped around her ankles, her hand on her clit tracing pleasurable circles. He could feel the mounting pressure in her just as she could feel the pressure of the plug, the aching pleasure in his belly, his balls tightening, the urge to release building. The drag of her walls against the sensitive head of his cock, her slick, tight heat, clenching all around him. He let go of her ankles and she immediately held her legs apart for him, knowing what he wanted before he could even consciously pass the thought along; it made him chuckle. He laid over her so that they were eye to eye, seeing nothing but each other, feeling nothing but each other, thinking of nothing but each other-

He kissed her hard, holding himself up, hips now frantic and his rhythm slowly failing as his pleasure built. She wound her legs and arms around him, tugging him close, enveloping him in her. His tongue pushed in, savoring her, tasting himself through her mind, both irrevocably linked body and mind and soul.

She was close; the gentle bucking of her hips and the frequent clenching all around him both wonderfully pleasant and also exhilarating. Her panting increased, the soft and hot breaths tickled against his ear. His sweat mixed with hers, the heat of his body bleeding into her. Every stroke he made was met by an upwards thrust from her. He felt his own climax rushing in, the flames in him reached fever pitch as his balls tightened and that pleasant fullness shifted into intense, delicious urgency - he knew he was at the precipice.

”Mark me, Astarion. Make me whole,” she whispered, and he did, crashing his lips against her as he finally let go, his cock releasing hot streams of seed deep within her. He felt her climax as well, his pleasure pushing her off the edge, hers mixing with his in every clench around him and in every wave of euphoria bleeding through their bond. For a moment there were no lines between them, blurred out by pleasure and the sheer intensity of their love. There was only them.

Neither moved once their orgasms had subsided, remaining wrapped up in each other. Astarion had collapsed on top of her, his head buried in the crook of her neck. He nipped her there, once. The feel of her stroking his back with her fingertips sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

”Considering how much of a mess we’ve made of the bed today,” he mused, “would you consider tonight an exception to your bathe-before-bed rule, love?” His tone was singsong, lightly mocking.

A frankly asinine rule, and one she didn’t follow herself, the hypocrite. But he allowed her her idiosyncrasies, as she allowed him his - matching outfits, often heavily embroidered, his preference for red sheets and drapes, or that atrociously large statue of him in the garden that had replaced Cazador’s. He’d insisted on it.

“Well. Stoney and Boney did do a good job,” Ban responded. He started, belatedly realizing the link was still open.

“It isn’t hard to do when they simply have to recreate perfection.”

She ruffled his hair. “And you think I’m a hypocrite?”

”Ban.” He exhaled. “The number of times I’ve seen you sit on the bed, unclothed, yes, but not having bathed yet… I’ve held my peace.” He was holding back laughter, trembling a little as he stifled it.

”You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “But I’ll allow it for tonight. Tomorrow the bathing rule is back in place.”

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the esteemed Ban Glasscraft, she who makes the most nonsensical of rules and decides not to follow them herself,” he drawled, fingers dancing across her collarbone. As he finished the sentence something dawned on him. She wasn’t-

“Ban Ancunín, now,” came the reply, slightly amused. “It took me a moment myself.”

“I daresay this name suits you better.”

”And removes all traces of that wretch from my life, too.”

Astarion pressed a kiss on her sternum. “Not tonight, darling. They’re to hold no place in your mind - forever, if I had any say, but we have to at least deal with the mystery of your dear brother first.”

Ban looked down at him. He was still buried against her neck, not looking at her, but his thoughts prodded hers for a response. She could feel his mind loosening its hold - he was falling asleep - but was waiting for her answer.

”No, not tonight,” she repeated.

He hummed approvingly. “Then rest, my love.”

The rest of his message was sent in fleeting thoughts as he slipped into slumber.

Rest. We are home.

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