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For a dungeon, this was far from the dank and musty one she recalled that day… 
 
Back when he became a monster. 
 
His Ascension. 
 
No, she couldn’t even recognize this place. Warm and soft and bright with torches and a burning brazier. Empty but clean. Of course the thought had crossed her mind during these hours, maybe days of languishing in her binds, that the fire could be used for more torturous activities than heat and light and comfort. 
 
But… regardless, this was a far cry from the mouldering walls of Cazador’s decrepit pit of death. Of sacrifice and death. 
 
Shadowheart had been trying to forget the faces of those spawn, all seven-thousand of them that had died to make her former… friend… into the monster he was now. 
 
It changed him. 
 
Or was it the fact that his true love had abandoned him… abandoned them all really… once the final battle was over. Shadowheart would never forgive Astarion for becoming what he did… that he chose power and ascension over just being him… over keeping that love of his. 
 
Maybe he wouldn’t have become so vile. So evil.  
 
She shook her head, arms beyond numb from the way he had her chained.  But that was all she felt. Numb. Such unique chains… somehow the metal seemed softened, enchanted perhaps… but even as her body grew tired, arms reduced to pin pricks above her head, she never once felt the bite of metal into her flesh.

Not that you would mind the edge of pain, Princess…

She could almost hear his voice. Taunting and goading them all. Not towards her in the way it always had been aimed at the one he had loved. He saved all his most lustful comments, his fangs and his body for her. 
 
Not that she had deserved it in the end. 
 
Shadowheart shook her head, clearing the fog that had kept her under. Time passed strangely. There were no guards, no prisoners. No sounds other than the crackle of fire. Not even the chattering of a rat or the stench of neglect. She sighed to herself twisting as she scanned the barred room. Her cell. “For a dungeon, it’s actually rather cozy,” she muttered, meant for no one’s ears but hers. 
 
“One may even mention just how… luxurious… it appears, isn’t that right, little princess?” 
 
That velvet voice. That dripping, seduction, only amplified now with his power—a power that was only magnified in the bowels of his palace. 
 
He crept from the darkest corner, the densest patch of shadows almost materializing into his body. 
 
Just as lean and wiry. Exuding that same flow of limitless power. His face’s lines caught the flickering light, all sharp bone and quirking brows, all glowing crimson eyes and flashing fangs. “I wasn’t expecting your company,” he hissed, eyes narrowing as he closed in on where she dangled. “Imagine my surprise when my thralls and servants found you on my ramparts, crawling around like a vagrant. Come to kill me or convert me, Shadowheart?”
 
She held her tongue, glaring daggers at him instead. 
 
“I didn’t silence you…” he purred, striding closer slowly, hands clasped behind his back. So unassuming, except for the brilliant red glow of his eyes in the shadows. “I just… relieved you of your magic and charms. Until you find a way to earn them back... or perish in the process.” 
 
“You fucker,” she finally broke, spitting in his direction. “I should have killed you, should have thrown that dagger through Cazador’s dead heart instead of letting you carve that infernal to take his place as Vampire Ascendant.” She strained at her bonds, forcing herself a step in his direction, where he leered at her just out of reach. “How does it feel to be alone, hmm? To have all your friends disown you for the monster you became. Even

her…”

There, that’s the monster—the way his eyes flared, his fangs snapping as his hand flew to clench around her throat. “You don’t… get to mention… her… or I’ll…”
 
“You’ll what?” She swallowed beneath his chokehold, her breath ragged and thin. “Cause me pain? Kill me?” She grinned, craning against the pressure of his hand to shove her face closer into his. “You should know, as well as any of us, I do not mind the pain… I crave it. And if you want to add my soul to your vast inventory, then who am I to stop you, might Vampling? Not even the woman you did love would stop you, and you all but killed her…” 
 
Fingers clawed her chin, jerking her head to the side. His teeth were like ice, chilling and tearing into her skin, but not to kill. 
 
To feed. To drink her blood. 
 
She shuddered. His hands gripped so hard, she had no place to escape. So she laughed. “So this is what all the fuss has been about,” she cackled, not even recognizing her own voice. “I always wondered what it was that Tav craved to let you into her bedroll every night…” 
 
He lifted his mouth, biting down again even harder against the top of her shift. Just where breasts began to peek out. 
 
That made her squeal. “That’s a good little princess,” he purred into her flesh. “I’ll take your cries of agony over your ceaseless, pointless words any day. You don’t get to speak about… her.” 
 
“Why not? she hissed back. “Afraid you’ll have to own up to the way you always kept the corner of your eye on me? Have to admit how you always made sure I heard your nightly activities… made sure I caught you staring at my breasts when I would have to bend over the campfire….” 
 
“Too late for any of that,” he growled into her skin. “Tempting as you may have been, you’ve shown your true colors, princess, sneaking into my palace, intentions unknown, and now…” he lifted his head, his chin covered in her bright red blood, his tongue equally coated as he licked it clean, “…now I get to have you anyway, my enemy, chained so prettily for me to keep here…” His hand swept down her body, touching the skin of her thigh, teasing up the bottom edge of her shift, “…for me to do with as I see fit.” 
 
“And what are you going to do to me, Astarion?” she sneered in reply, totally unphased by the bites in her flesh or the blood that trickled from her wounds. “You going to turn me into a mindless spawn like you wanted to turn

her

?” She rattled her chains, breasts heaving as she worked herself into a frenzy. Her white shift stained red with her blood, the thin material clinging to her skin as she grew sticky with it and with her sweat. 
 
“Not unless you ask very… very… nicely,” he purred, closing in on her, pressing his body to crush her against the wall, one hand yanking her chains hard enough to make her cry. “Not unless you

beg

for it, to be mine, little princess of Shar, to serve me as all creatures crave,” his eyes flashed down at how their bodies melded, how her supple curves caved against his hard planes, “in one way or another.” 
 
“You want me?” she spat, “you want what you could have had a lifetime ago, it seems.  And what if I don’t? What if I came here to end your miserable existence, to make you pay for the seven-thousand and some souls that made you a monster?”
 
“Let’s be clear, I

don’t

want you.” That stung, her face flinching as his voice rang, cold and exacting. “I don’t…

want…

you.  You’re cold and cruel and self-righteous. You care only for pleasing your goddess,” he gave a little disgusted shake of his head. “Why would I want you if you have no interest in pleasing me?” 
 
She held her breath. 
 
“Seems… pointless,” he released her, withdrawing a step. Out of reach again. Close enough for her to smell that scent of him, more powerful and heady than he ever smelled at camp. Undiluted perfume of citrus and brandy and rosemary. He turned on his heel, heading for the gate to her cell. 
 
“You’re going to leave me like this?” Shadowheart screeched. 
 
“Darling, I can leave you however I want,” he gloated, flicking his gaze over his shoulder. “And today, I want to leave you to know the meaning of hunger, a lesson I learned over the course of centuries.” 
 
“Yes that’s right, continue the cycle,” she jeered, cocking her chin in defiance as he turned to face her completely. “Become the next exalted vampiric master in all the ways that made you what you are.” 
 
Crimson eyes steeled over, he raised his fingers to snap loudly. Her chains released, a small table of warm food and clean water appeared before her. Out of thin air. 
 
“You are going to learn hunger, little princess, and I am going to find out why you were creeping around my walls…” he turned to continue, not even needing to unlock the door to the cell to walk straight through it. “There are so many more forms of hunger, Shadowheart. And you’re going to learn them all before we are through…” 
 
And then he vanished into mist.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Time passed slowly, but Shadowheart began to learn his ways. The moment she said anything, it was provided for.  She had but to ask, and it was hers. Food appeared and disappeared.  A place to sleep— a pile of blankets and pillows not unlike the ones from camp… so long ago… or not truly all that long ago. Even a stack of books when she began to grow bored of the clean stone walls. 
 
It had been perhaps two days, maybe more, given the frequency of her hunger and sleep. But she knew he would not leave her alone for long. 
 
Not once a pitcher of warm water and a bar of fragrant soap appeared. The implication was clear. And she shuddered to think of his reasons for wishing her to bathe. 
 
A groan echoed in her cell, begrudging and annoyed, but she did it anyway against her better judgment. Unable to stand the feeling of dirt-covered skin any longer. Of course, she scanned the shadows again before stripping off her soiled shift. As if she would find him peering at her. 
 
Not that he

wanted

her. That was clear. His words had been needling her, prodding her incessantly. Even if he kept her in relative comfort. So she tugged off the filthy fabric and began pouring and scrubbing, that scent of soft florals warming her. Dulling the rest of the water over her hair, she turned, a towel suddenly waiting for her on a chair, which she eagerly used to wrap around her naked form. 
 
“No clothes?” she chuffed, annoyed as she reached for where she had tossed her old shift aside. 
 
But it was gone. 
 
“You have got to be joking,” she hissed to the shadows. Her hands wrapped that towel around her even tighter, her body shivering despite the heat in her cell. 
 
“I am not one for making jokes during our sessions, princess…”
 
“Ah,” Shadowheart chimed with harsh confidence, “I knew you wouldn’t be prowling too far behind.” 
 
She turned and froze. The man behind her, standing just inside the door, was like a vision from before. Same faded linen, ruffled shirt. Same tightly trimmed breeches that clung to his thighs. As if he hadn’t killed his way into unlimited power, as if he couldn’t melt into the darkness as mist, or ascended to the position of most powerful vampire lord in all the realms. The only difference was the soft kid gloves, black as night, cloaking his dexterous hands. 
 
“Glad to see you’ve indulged in my trivial hospitalities,” he purred, crimson eyes darting over the remains of her washing. Another snap of his fingers, and it all vanished into the mists he conjured. “I’m afraid, however, additional treats and favors will need to be earned, princess. You’ll have to work for your keep, darling.” 
 
“And just how do you envision I do that, Astarion?” she jutted her chin and crossed her arms over her breasts, barely covered by his thin towel, the perfect picture of defiance. 
 
Or at least a delicious attempt, he thought. 
 
“Master,” he corrected instantly. “You will call me Master. Not Astarion, not friend… not vampire or rogue or darling or dear…” A single one of his dark silver brows arched. “Master.” 
 
“I’m not going to do that, Astarion.” She snipped in reply, shaking her head so haughtily.
 
Oh, she was going to be fun to break. He grinned, a tilt to his head. 
 
“Rule number one: I am your master, and you will obey me in all things. You will always reply to me,

Yes, Master

or

No, Master

…” 
 
“I’m not doing that….”
 
He twisted his hands, fingers twirling in the air. A rush of warm wind swirled around her, commanding her body as if she were a puppet. A marionette. A plaything for the Ascendant. Chains fell back from the dungeon’s ceiling, wrapping around her wrists “Rule number two: as your Master, it is my responsibility to see you provided for, your needs met, your safety ensured. As my Vassal, you will come to know pleasure and pain far greater than you have ever known… so long as you tell me the truth. You will make yourself available for my every desire and satisfaction, once you have learned your place…” He flashed his fangs, folding his arms and mimicking her stance flawlessly. “…Eventually.” 
 
“That Ascendant power has clearly addled your smooth brain, poor thing,” she tugged against her chains again. “Especially if you think I’m going to give you anything. Most especially the truth.” 
 
“You will, in time…” he purred, beckoning her body forward from the wall two steps closer to where he stood. “You forget, I know you… I haven’t always been a monster in your eyes, darling.” 
 
She began fuming, chest heaving, towel slipping from how she had tucked it tightly. 
 
“We have… history, Shadowheart. So much passion and tension shared, matters of life and death that have bound us forever.” He drew a step closer, two fingers tucking into the top of that wrap, a single pull and it fluttered to her feet. His eyes scanned down her fair skin, watching as her full breasts swayed when she tugged against her restraints, the way those rosy nipples of hers harden into little peaks. “You know I am speaking truth, so now it’s your turn,” he hissed, “why are you here, princess?” 
 
Silence. Just more ragged breaths that made her bosom heave. 
 
“Perhaps you need some… convincing, some enticement or a reminder of how much we have shared….” That grin that twisted his face as he spoke made her stomach knot funny, as did the way his eyes kept flickering their crimson gaze over her every exposed inch. “Perhaps the words, ‘

Stand and face the wall and we can begin,

’ will pique your memories….” 
 
She didn’t need a tadpole to have the memories flash in her brain… the Goblin Camp… her friend, his lover, and her cries of delighted pain… the way the priest of Loviatar made such pretty music come from her lips.  
 
She recalled wishing to be in either place, her body humming to hold the mace or to receive it… to bleed and shiver with pain or to make

…her…

do the same. Memories alone made her skin turn to pinpricks and shivers race in pleasure. “You're going to make me cry out to Loviatar like she did… your lover…” 
 
His face tightened, the sharp edges of his cheeks and his jaw somehow growing more angled and shadowed. “Oh no, princess, you’ll be crying out to

me…

dear one.” 
 
Magic swept her around, the ice cold touch moving her body, making her turn, splaying her hands against the wall, bending her body forward to stick the swell of her ass out. But then it eased. A test. To see if she would fight against it or play… if she were up for his test. But she was stronger, she would beat him at his own games. She craned her neck to watch his shadow move across the ground, the sting of magic brushed her skin, the same that came the every apparition of objects. Summoning whatever… materials…that he required to execute his plan. “Looking for the right mace, Astarion? Bet you tried to pinch that one from the Goblin Camp, probably licked it clean of your lover's blood before…” 
 
A resounding crack to her right side silenced her. Her tongue never fell so silent so fast. 
 
“Do you want to keep busying that mouth of yours with insolence… or are you going to start telling me

why

you let yourself get caught… or would you rather just start mewling and screaming?” She heard him give a little groan, his arousal so clear in the way it caressed his throat. “Because I’m fine with either of the last two… maybe that final option would be my preference, darling.” 
 
She hissed as another crack of that whip sounded on the other side of her head, so close, she could feel the air rush down her neck. 
 
“Unless you want to do this all another way…” he purred.  Suddenly, his body drew close. Too close. “Unless you start begging me to let you come somewhere…” 
 
He paused.
 
“Where?” She pressed back with her words, even if she couldn’t resist with her body. “Where would you have me come?” 
 
A single gloved finger trailed down her spine, agonizingly slow as the supple leather danced a straight line lower. “Oh….” He hummed right beside her, behind her. “On my fingers, on my tongue…. On my cock, once you’ve earned it…” 
 
A shiver raced with fury down her back, following his singular touch until it pooled in her belly. “Godsdamn it,” she snapped as she hung her head, hearing his low throated laugh as he felt her delicious reaction.
 
“You can forget all your gods now, even Shar. They won’t help you in here,” he growled, lifting his touch from her skin. 
 
Already part of her missed it, his touch, and it burned her cheeks with shame. 
 
“I prayed to every one, for two hundred years. Not one saved me. So I know, Princess, your prayers fall on deaf ears here, at least.” She could hear the leather handle of the whip creak in his grip. His breath was loud, rasping in his throat as he shifted over the stone floor. 
 
“Nervous, vampire?” she tested, starting to look over her shoulder. 
 
A crack split the air, the whip kissing her skin, striking the swell of her ass check. 
 
“You will address me properly, I am your master now.” He hissed, letting the whip dance back quickly before he let another snap ring hollow in the air above her back. 
 
Shadowheart groaned and flinched. A groan not wholly in fear, that rumble of need lacing her voice. 
 
 “Now, tell your master, what were you seeking coming here?” He let the whip drag over the stones, just the slightest abrasive sound out of her sight. “Coming to drive a stake through my Ascendant ribs? Come to drop a bit of Drow poison in my Ithbank, hoping it weakens me first?” 
 
“What about why you keep me instead of killing me?” Shadowheart spat in return. “You wish your loneliness was so easily ended, don’t you, Astarion?” she hissed, finally casting the corner of her eye to glance behind her. She watched her words hit home, making his head jolt as if struck. His lips curled in a feral sneer, fangs glinting in the fiery light. “Just so lonely since she left you, unbearable isn’t it?” 
 
“Shut up!” he roared, letting the whip crack back and forth to split her other ass cheek again. “You insolent, incorrigible slut. Just saying things to rouse my temper so you get the pain you crave…” 
 
Shadowheart just laughed, pain stinging over her backside from the few lashes she had endured. “Perhaps you haven’t forgotten about me, then.  Perhaps your eyes weren’t for your beloved you kept on a tight leash for all those weeks until she tired of you…” 
 
“How fortunate for us, then,” he snarled through his teeth, agitation rippling through his frame, clawing behind his controlled stance. “If she hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have the delight of marking your soft and supple curves. She never was quite so soft or quite so yielding. But your flesh, little Sharran, it pillows beneath each lash…”
 
The whip whistled to land on the back of her thighs. 
 
“…it blushes like the petals of a bud with each lick…” 
 
Another lash, smack over the center of her ass, making her legs clench and fly apart to chase away the pain. 
 
“… it buckles and gives so deliciously to every drive I make into you.”
 
One more lick, the leathered tip of his whip drove as he said into her flesh, breaking into the little opening she had accidentally left between her thighs. Striking into the cleft of her legs, stinging the entrance of her channel with perfect aim. 
 
Her voice screamed, her throat scratching as she cried the instant his whip kissed between her folds. A gush of arousal dripped from the intrusion, trickling down her legs even as she braced her head against the wall. “Trying to draw blood so you can sate your hunger?” Shadowheart snapped back, unable to hide how her voice shook in pain, how her body trembled in pleasure. 
 
She heard the drag of the little leather strap on the ground, the falling of his feet intentionally loud enough for her ears. His gloved hand fisted around her braid, tugging her head up and turning to meet his eyes. His eyes burned like coals, dying embers of scarlet for eyes. Fangs bared as he scowled, keeping a distance, only touching her to lift her head.  Enraged, controlled, simmering arousal mixed with hatred. His voice seared like magma, the faintest bubbles of rage in its velvety tone. “Oh, little cleric, there is so much more to hunger for than blood. For me… and for you.  You’re going to be begging me for release by the end, craving a little death… and I don’t mean your freedom or your demise.” 
 
His hand relinquished her braid, letting her head hang between her outstretched arms. 
 
“You are a monster, Astarion,” she hissed, flinching even as his words coiled hot and oily like a snake in her belly. 
 
“A vampire? Why yes, I suppose most would agree with that assessment of my monstrous  qualities, thank you for the wisdom, Princess ....” He drew back a single step, so close now, she could hear how his dexterous fingers squeaked their gloves on the handle of his weapon, how his breath caught as he drew his arm back for another lash. The little grunt he made as his arm swept forward echoed in her ear.  She groaned as she felt the tail split her skin, the warmth of her blood trickling from the line he had made on the inside of her thigh. 
 
“I’m looking for honesty, not wisdom,” he growled as he skated his arm back for another blow. “And now that scent of your blood has filled this monster’s nose, do you wish to offer your master what seeks? Or will you deny me and be left wanting, little Sharran?” 
 
“I’d say ‘Go to the hells,’ but I’m pretty sure you’re already there, Astarion…” she forced her voice to laugh, forced her head to meet his gaze sidelong. 
 
“Fine,” he snarled. “If all you see is the monster you think I’ve become, I can be that… and worse…” He lashed her with all his force, an equal stripe now up her other thigh. A matching slash, pouring out just as much of her blood now.  
 
“Ah!” She cried, so loud her voice shook her own ears as it bounced off the wall before her face, her knees buckling at the racing slice of pain. She panted, she writhed.  She wanted… more. “Is that all you’ve got, or has the luxury of your Ascendant life made you soft, Astarion?” 
 
“It has given me the taste for the finest things in life,” he hissed, the handle of his whip clattering to the ground. Her hips ached from bending over, her wrists stung from where they bent back by magic. The lashes across her ass and legs burned with all the fury he unleashed.  But it all muddled into a giant swell in her belly as she felt the soft leather of his gloves caress up the backs of her thighs. 
 
Stealthy as ever, he had snuck behind her, kneeling on the cold stones beneath her. His touch was gentle, the softness of the leather warmed by his skin beneath. She had forgotten that his heart beat again, his flesh almost passing for living. A groan leaked from her throat as he passed his touch through the trail of her slick and blood. Seeing nothing, she could only shake in place as his fingers withdrew, the sound of them being sucked, popped from between his fervent lips spiking another shiver down her neck. 
 
Her stomach swirled, hips cocking further out against her will. Like a doe presenting in heat, she hated it. And loved it. 
 
A small chuckle made her buck, the only warning she got before his tongue lapped through that running mix of blood and arousal. 
 
Just the once, he licked her. Licked her just enough to make her moan, like some.. wild animal. 
 
“Guess we aren’t so different from the monsters we always were, darling. You still crave the pain, a way to lose yourself, to find your meaning. And I…” he raised to his feet and stood back, a flick of his wrist releasing her from the magic that tethered her to the wall, “…I still crave the power, the hunger to feed and take, the taste of living blood and the riveting company that it often affords.”  He stood, legs splayed, arms crossed. A trickle of her blood at the corner of his mouth, a smear of it on the cream linen of his shirt, a stain of stark violence against its clean background. His face smiled softly, head tilted in that way of his that sent his silver curls to shift to one side. 
 
Rakish. And handsome. 
 
“Get yourself decent,” he added, much colder and commanding. “Next time, you’ll get more if you give me that which I seek…” 
 
“Which is?” Shadowheart panted, rubbing her wrists from the tingle of magic, unaware of how her heavy breathing made her full breasts sway, her soft little belly flexing as it rose and fell… 
 
“Honesty, as I have said. I want to know your purpose, and once I know that…” he cocked his head to the other side, his fingers flicking in the air as a gesture of lazy interest, “then this may be all the more rewarding for you… for us.” 
 
Without allowing her another word, he turned in his heel and vanished into mist.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Slowly. Time passed so slowly. For all his threats of earning her keep, luxuries seemed to just appear before she even needed them. A feather bed… a screen to bathe behind… and clothes. Clothes so soft, silks and velvets and woven material she had never before seen or touched.  All of it skin tight or flowing and glowing in rich jewel tones.  All of it sensuous.  Save for the fact he never gave her any small clothes, no underwear or lacing to bind her breasts. But, as she laid in her bed, wrapped in a gown so soft she felt naked, about to open a new book that apparated on her end table… she didn’t know if she could call herself a prisoner.  She wouldn’t call this torture.  Except for the lingering ghost of that feeling of warm and wet licking up the back of her thigh. She shivered as her hand stayed on the crimson cover of that book. Whatever this was, it wasn’t maltreatment. It wasn’t the soulless torment of a deranged villain.  A monster, yes. Still that. With his glittering fangs and taste for blood and tongue to feed… She shivered again, ignoring the slick that gathered unwantedly at the memory of that warm wet trail up her leg. Shadowheart had no idea how long it had been since then. Truly the cruelest part of all this was the deprivation of sun and time. No windows meant no marking the days before she would see him again.  And if she didn’t just start to hate the fact that each tingle of magic as something appeared made her excited.  Hoping it was him again.  She sighed, lounging on her stomach to spare the still lingering bruises on her ass and backs of her legs. Opening the cover, she read the title… A Pleasurable Deal… and a neat script flourished beneath it: A little something to pass the time… Quite informative, I hope it arouses your curiosity, Princess.   Sensual regards, Your Master, Astarion  Shadowheart slammed the cover, face screwed tightly in disgust.  Her head was swimming. Probably tired, body aching and hot and sore and uncomfortable. Yes, probably tired.  Curiosity niggled at her mind, however, as she scanned the worn pages of that book. Maybe, just a peek to distract before sleep overcame her. Somewhere towards the front, she slid a finger in and squinted in a bit of fear.  “Oh, fucks sake…” she whispered to herself. “It’s illustrated…” One eye squinted as she… examined… the picture— a very voluptuous woman grinding on… a saddle, a man fully erect with a riding crop in hand making her… Her cheeks grew hotter than sacred flame as she slammed the book shut and tossed it across the cell. A groan, she tried to tuck herself in, sleep tugging her under.  Even if that image was burned in her mind almost as deep as the burning in her belly…  Sleep was restless… a miasma of memory and desire and want. The visions of her cell melted to the Goblin Camp… to being flogged by Astarion, his sweet silken voice purring his praises of how well she takes the pain for him. His good girl… the sting of the beating instantly sending a gush of arousal down her bare thighs. The ghost of his warm, wet tongue lapping up every drip that seeped down over and over and over again.  Her vision went dark, more of a midnight blue, beams of moonlight pierced its shadows beneath the coverage of the glade. Somewhere near the Emerald Grove, the sounds of the Tieflings’ celebration in the distance, her mind thrummed with the recognition. Voices wafted from the treeline as she crept in the grey shade. Unseen. Unobserved. Even as she could see them…  His pale sculpted body, formed just right to make her salivate. Every ridge and rise of his stomach and chest covered in moonlight, his skin like pearl as he crossed towards her. Always… her.  “…I’ve been waiting…” he purred in the moonlight, looking as delicious as ever.  She had been waiting too, and she would have to keep waiting, perhaps forever. For even as she watched them strip and kiss and couple, all to her disapproval, she knew sooner or later one of them would prove false.  It was the way of the world. Wasn’t it?  But watching them… it was beautiful, stealing her breath. The way his elven body bent and danced and undulated. The way he controlled every clench of his ass and every push of his knees to spread her wider. His voice was sex itself, little purrs of pleasure and little growls of ecstacy as he fed from her neck.  Slut, she grumbled disapprovingly. Giving him everything all at once… pfft.  For a moment, she was sure her lungs would burst and her heart had stopped. Swallowing a noise in her throat as she forced herself to leave as silently as she had approached.  They wouldn’t notice anyway.  But as she watched… as the memory overwhelmed her, she felt every motion she observed, every brush of his hands, every piercing pain of his fangs in her skin, every pounding fuck between her legs.  Her dream swirled… the memories of that night from the past faded to darkness and canvas and the faint smell of camp. Colored fabric stretched around as she stood inside. A body at her feet. Pale. Unmoving. Bloodless. Dead. His love. At last she was done, her heart twisted. Only a matter of time.  That's what you get for being his, she chided and sneered in her dreams.  His… the one who stood panting naked over her, licking his bloodied fingers of one hand, the other pumping slowly over his rock-hard cock. “I knew you would come…” he purred into her swirling senses. “Seems I’ve been satisfied in one way… but left aching in others.” “I…” she heard her voice from a distance, as if she floated, observing this vision unfold. Punishment for her arousal and jealousy… all those things she should let go of. All those things that came rushing back to choke her when it came to the vampire.  “You came here to help, didn’t you?” his voice challenged her, confident. Stirring. His bare feet stepped over her corpse, and he closed in on her.  Cutting her off from that slit of night behind the entrance.  Leaving her nowhere to go.  Nothing else to do but glance between how he sucked his fingers clean, how he pleasured himself as she watched. “It won’t take long to… heal me, little cleric. You’ll only need a taste… and think, you won’t even need to use your precious spells,” that fucking, rakish, left brow of his quirked, crimson eyes narrowing, “you wouldn’t even need to use your hands, if you wish….”  Even Shadowheart’s dream-body shivered under that crimson gaze… unmoving.  “Come now,” he purred, bringing his cold, damp hand, wet with spittle, to brush across her gaping lips.”You can’t keep your eyes of me. You groan the loudest when you have to heal her night after night once I’m through with taking my fill.  You won’t have to worry about that any longer…. Even now, your breath catches as the sheer size of me.”  His thumb slipped into her mouth, the slight tang of blood from his mouth touching her own tongue.  It should have been repulsive. Should have disgusted her. But she only closed her mouth and sucked on that digit, letting his thumbnail score against the roof of her mouth.  His mouth brushed her ear, voice a rolling hum that ran down her spine. “I’ve been told I’m quite the sight from one’s knees… I’m sure you would enjoy the view…”  Gods, if she didn’t drop so hard her kneecaps cracked.  Eyes fluttered shut, tongue lolling hungrily, she attended to him. Why not… it was only her dream after all… and godsdammit if she hadn’t been left burning for days now. Salty, sticky, bitter—the soft head of his cock swept into her mouth. Those early drips of seed made her mouth water. She kept her eyes closed, better that way, even as she could feel his groans of pleasure from above her, feel the ripples of his thighs as he thrust slowly into her wet warmth. His fingers pressed into the crown of her head, keeping her from pulling too far back, his other grip still held firmly at the base of his cock.  As if he meant to control every little swirl of submission he drew from her mouth.  And submit she did, her stomach knotted tight, relishing the way he would use her… to find his relief and his pleasure and healing all at once. To give what she could.  Let him take as he saw fit. Her own touch pressed on the joint of his hips, fingertips tracing that alluring v of belly. She stopped breathing to feel his skin so warm… to suddenly realize there was a pulse down his shaft as he fucked between her lips.  “What a good little princess….” He purred, fingers digging hard into her scalp as he picked up his pace. Thrust after thrust slid on her tongue and gagged down the back of her throat. “Not so lonely and burning anymore, are you? Not so jealous now that you have my full attention…”  Her hand braced on his stomach, her own strength nothing compared to his. Not any longer.  She opened her eyes, unable to tilt her head. Unable to look up into his face high above her.  Not until he let her slide to the very tip of his cock. Not completely off, but eased enough for her to cast a glance up the planes of his pale body, to meet his glowing red gaze.  Magic stung her skin, metallic tingles filling her nose, carried on her every breath filled with the sweet musk of his arousal.  But she still felt the tug of her dreams. This couldn’t be real…. Just her mind.  So she doubled down, nearly swallowing his cock whole, lips almost pressing against his pelvis. Her throat closed, his breath catching in delight and surprise. A little tickling chuckle in the back of her throat, where that twitching head clogged her mouth.  She spread her lips. Just a little, just a slight bite as she dragged her teeth all… the way… down.  His pained hiss was music to her ears, the punishing pull of his fingers against her scalp made her nearly come herself.  He grunted.  Pure, uncontrolled tremors spilled down his shaft as it thickened, as it twitched. Hips hitched, thrusts randomly deep and shallow as he panted out of breath. A guttural noise, and she tasted him shooting over her tongue. Swallowing, she kept her lips locked around that thick shaft. Even as his hand tried to pry her off. Even as her tongue lapped the last dregs of his cum until it dribbled from the corner of her mouth.  With a deep gasp, her eyes opened, her mouth was thick and sticky with sleep. Jolting awake, the world turned on its axis. Her skin was hot, her folds slick from her dream. She started to lift her head from the comforting warmth of her bed…. Only to see the sideways sight of his body standing at her bedside. He wasn’t even looking at her face, his eyes trained on her body sprawled beneath her sheets. His nostrils flared with every breath, gloved hands gripping into his elbows, arms folded over his chest.  Astarion turned his head, her face the last thing he settled on as he scanned her. “Pleasant dreams, little cleric?”  Gods, she could smell him still in her nose. Her tongue was thick in her mouth as if she could still swallow down the remnants of his bitter cum.  “Pleasant given the circumstances…” she groaned, sitting up and sliding away from where he crept at her bedside. “Being your prisoner after all… your own nastily little slave…”  He shrugged so coolly, even as his brows furrowed as she called herself his slave. “Well… if that’s how you see this arrangement, I’m not sure I can convince you otherwise, at least,” he grinned and leaned forward, “not yet.”  Something heavy settled right on her lap, his gloved hand setting that red bound book back on her body. “I hope you kept up with your studies… they were most enlightening, I trust.”  “I found it rather two-dimensional and uninspired, to be frank, Astarion…”  “Master,” he corrected with a snarl. “And I’m sorry if it was uninspired, perhaps your dreams filled with memories and hopes were better… I trust they didn’t… suck as much.”  Shadowheart shook her head. Of course, that sting of magic in her head. “You detected my thoughts in my sleep…”  “How else might I learn what you think of me, since you’re still just so cold, withholding… when I know you can care so deeply and hard.” He tilted his head, flashing those hungry eyes on her, “And when I say you care deeply and hard… I don’t mean care as much as I mean… suck…” Her cheeks burned hot. Flaming as her face twisted in a look of disgust and defiance and wrath. “Never you mind what you saw, what you probably manipulated me to see.”  He shrugged again, “What kind of rogue would I be if I didn’t take advantage of an opportunity, Princess.”  He rolled his shoulders, hands tugging that supple raven leather gloves that encased his hands. “Now, we will have to test your studies.”  With a wave of his hands that made the ruffles of his eccentric shirt flutter, and the book flew open to that page… that illustrated page… with the saddle and the crop and the look of ecstasy plastered on the woman’s face when that riding crop met her ass.  “I hope our little adventure in your dreams has left you eager for something more… real… Maybe you'll even tell me exactly why you’re here.” He tugged her blankets from off her bed as she scrambled to pull her knees to her chest. “Or maybe, just maybe, you’ll tell your master just how much you want me…”  “Never,” she hissed.  “Have it your way… I find the hard way to be more satisfying at any rate,” he purred.  Snapping his fingers, magic flooded the cell, surging over her skin. When the pain settled, Shadowheart froze, even as she was pulled to her feet by that wave of arcane power.  That strange saddle sat empty, awaiting its rider.  Just like the book. And before she could let the anticipation swallow her whole as she looked at it, she heard the testing snap of leather on leather.  The crack of the riding crop in his hand as it made contact with the palm of his other.  He kept his eyes on how his hands bent and assessed the little weapon in his grip. His voice was far too smooth, too silken for the way his hands clutched hard and threatening. “Brace yourself, darling, we are just getting started…”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Spread your legs and climb on…” 
 
The order purred from beside her, Astarion leaning forward, arm gesturing towards the strange saddle before them. 
 
Shadowheart’s skin burned, hotter than a ray of fire, she felt his gaze taking over her skin. Her cheeks were beet red from her dream, she knew it. And he had seen it all, more than she ever would have said. 
 
Little use hiding it now. Perhaps the truth wouldn’t be so horrible… 
 
But then, as she passed him just within reach, he landed a blow on her already abused backside. Even through the soft material of her shift, that riding crop stung.  A yelp slipped from her mouth as she flinched more in surprise than pain. 
 
Pain she knew, an old friend. Not like the monster before her who tilted his head back, as if savoring the sound of her cry more than the sweetest music. 
 
“I know you can move faster, princess,” he chuckled, rapping that flap at the end of the crop against his leathers. The steady tap tap of his own beating his leg sent matching pulses to her already thick and swollen folds. “Hurry it up, girl,” he growled, booted feet landing with steady and loud foot falls, giving her chase. Shadowheart hurried just a bit faster, throwing him a withering scowl, even as she braced her hands on the strange apparatus. 
 
Almost a normal saddle, covered in black velvet, smoother than silk and supple. All save for a patch towards the stock at the front. That part, that was covered with little bristles of leather and horsehair. Already her wet and aching folds throbbed, and the sight of that instantly made her clit itch to be touched. 
 
She could feel the sweat gathering on her forehead, watching him lick his lips from the other side of the saddle, crop still tapping his thigh as he waited. A deep breath, and she hoisted herself astride. He tried to keep her face steady as the materials rubbed her cunt in all the right places, tried to keep the grunt of effort and satisfaction quiet as she settled the expanse of leather and velvet between her thighs. 
 
That crop bit in his fangs, Astarion descended on her, careful only to grip her nightshirt, ripping the soft, buttery material in his skilled hands with ease. “Too bad you weren’t thoughtful enough to remove it for yourself, it was a rather flattering cut on your figure, Shadowheart,” he purred, so silken in her ear. Not unlike her dreams. Her waking nightmares. 
 
He yanked it from her body, taking that hem of it in his hands and fangs and ripping a sizable strip. A thick band of softest fabric, he snapped it between his hands, testing it. Careful not to move, not to grind and make that burning between her thighs worse, she reached her wrists out, smiling, confident she was ahead of him in his games. 
 
“Aww,” he mocked with false gratitude. “So thoughtful,” he grabbed her hands in one of his, only to bring that crop down on her outstretched palms with a snap. “But you’ll learn not to attempt to anticipate my desires. You think you know me, Princess, but you’ll find you’ll enjoy that I’m full of surprises.” 
 
His voice was harsh, silken smooth but cutting, not unlike a sharpened blade. “Hold very still,” he ordered, waiting. 
 
Shadowheart paused, looking into his face as the tip of that crop tapped against his side again. His dexterous hands raised and lowered that leather wand on her thigh faster than she could think. “Well?” he hissed. “When I give you a command, what do you say in reply, darling?” 
 
“Ow!”’ she whined, baring her teeth in ire. 
 
“No, we say…” he promoted, hand raised again with that leather ready to flick again. 
 
“Yes,” she grumbled.

Smack

! It landed on her thigh, another red spot on top of the first. “Care to try again?” he smirked, a fang biting his lips slowly as he smirked. 
 
“Yes…” she sneered, angry, and yet totally hot from the inside out, “…master.” 
 
“My, my,” his brows raised in tickled compunction. “It can obey… she can learn something after all.  Obedience will look good on you, Princess.” He closed the distance on her, his scent enveloping her first, deadening all her other senses to anything apart from his presence. 
 
His proximity. He flicked her one last desirous smirk before the fabric covered her eyes, before it was cinched tightly around her head. 
 
“Fuck you, Astarion,” she hissed, his fingers not leaving her skin. 
 
Two long, smooth digits stuffed her mouth to silence her. “Careful, or I’ll tear another one for a gag… A shame that would be, given your dreams, you’d rather have something else keeping that dirty mouth of yours busy than cloth.” He jerked her by her mouth closer. She could tell from the intensity of his scent. “Isn’t that right?”
 
She mumbled around his fingers. 
 
“Oh, nevermind, my little Shade, your body’s already given you away many times over,” his lips brushed her short pointed ear; and she knew he was right. Her body shivered and quaked to be touched, to feel his warm breath sweep down her neck. “You want me to kiss you,” he paused, barely touching those lips to her skin again, “don’t you?”
 
Fingers pulled out abruptly from her mouth to let her reply. “No,” she bit, even as her body arched closer. Tempted and pulled by his allure. 
 
“Liar,” he hissed, bringing that tip of his crop on top of her thigh. A perfect shot to hit the same spot as before. Another one on the heels of the first. “And what do we say when you speak to me?” His nose brushed down her neck, breathing over the line of her artery. 
 
“No, master. I don’t want your kiss,” she groaned, hand rubbing over the spot that stung from his crop. She was glad to be blinded to how pink it had turned. 
 
“Don’t fret,” he purred, swishing that leather wand in the air fast enough to make her flinch and his and dread its next place of landing. “I’ll find a way to busy your mouth soon, I’m sure…” 
 
Something cool and smooth pressed on her shoulder, that end of his crop she guessed, given the scent of leather near her face. Shadowheart didn’t mind the blindfold; the darkness was her oldest friend. It only served to heighten her other abilities, the other senses that swirled through her body. And right now, all the rest of her attention narrowed down to the ghosting dance of that leather lower and crooked over her back. 
 
His breathing whistled through his teeth, as if he smiled too wide at the sight of her before him to shut those irritating lips. Her back arched under that leather touch as it swept from her hips to her thigh, the one that still remained a blank canvas for his pleasure. Gasping, she couldn’t hold still any longer as that flap of his crop stuck into her folds, playing in the slick and teasing her clit on its wide flap. Hips bucked unbidden, and she braced herself for a smack. 
 
But no punishment came, only more strokes of that leather right where she burned for it.

For him.

Thoughts twisted at the passing words in her mind, trying to rebel, but failing. Failing so hard to hate the idea of wanting him anymore. She arched as that crop withdrew, dragging her slick up her thigh to sweep over the rounded softness of her ass. 
 
“Why don’t you picture a pleasant scene while you ride, darling?” he crooned right beside her ear. “A merry little jaunt through the same wilds we once trekked. Just you… and me…” 
 
The leather landed with a mild smack on her right ass cheek. 
 
“Now ride,” he ordered. 
 
First she hissed, then bucked on the stimulating fabric of the saddle, and finally she sighed her response for him. “Yes, master.” 
 
“Good girl,” he whispered. Teasing that crop back toward the crest of her thighs, he stuck it just right that her clit caught on the windings of the tip with every buck. “What do you see?” he purred. 
 
“Emerald trees, moonlight…” she panted as he raised it harder beneath her. The extra friction of the velvet made her positively soak the saddle between her legs. 
 
“And?” he added, pulling that crop out. Another quick strike on her ass to make her beat faster before he returned it so perfectly in the same spot. 
 
Another moan of bliss as heat flooded her legs, her core ignited with more desire than she ever recalled. “You…” she let the single word slip from her lips. Shame colored her cheeks even redder, she was sure. And the way he chuckled, low and deliciously dark, only made her buck harder and faster, little jerks of her hips to catch more of his wand. 
 
“I do so like the sound of that,” he purred, and she could hear him hissing in delight, the snap and rustle of his clothing reached her ear, she guessed. 
 
All that fabric noise was soon followed by the subtle, almost imperceptible beat of flesh in his hand. As he pleasured himself. “What of me do you see?” he growled, throat tight and teeth gritted, she was sure. Just from his ravenous tone. From the dry beat of his fist on his cock.   
 
Two could play this game, as fun as it was. She would drag him down with her too.  If he insisted on taking pleasure from her, she could draw it from him with equal fervor. Her lips smiled as she turned in the direction of his voice. Her hands slunk from where they braced on the saddle before her. One clutched at her breast kneading it and rolling it, the other she braced behind her. 
 
Her hips splayed apart, widening more. Giving him a better view she hoped. 
 
“I see you on the mossy forest floor,” she groaned. “It’s you I am riding, not some steed, some senseless, biting beast.” 
 
“

Hgnf

,” he growled, voice drawn closer, that feral sound almost maybe inches from her face. “It’s my hand gripping your breast, isn’t it?” 
 
“Yes, master,” she purred back, demonstrating a good hard squeeze on its softness, hard enough to make her own flesh pillow between her fingers. 
 
“It’s my cock buried in your sweet, wet cunt, isn’t it? My hips you clutch between your heated thighs…” 
 
“Yes, master…” 
 
That crop left her flesh so quickly. At first she groaned at its absence. Until two long, silken digits thrust hard inside her, forcing her to lean so much further back in her seat as she kept her constant and erratic rhythm. As she rode something inside her at last, that internal friction was so satisfying at long, long last. 
 
Her teeth bit her tongue, keeping the way his name was about to slip from her mouth as she coiled harder than before, as her muscles clenched and burned. 
 
Bursting, she could hear the shoot of her slick coating her mount, slipping under the pressure of her thighs. He groaned just after her. As her body shook in her climax, she felt sticky, warm liquid coating her breasts. That hand pulled from her clit, ripping her blindfold from her head. Blinking, she quickly scanned the sight before her. The sight of

her

. The darkened leather of the saddle stained with her cum, the red welts on her thigh, matching the ones on her ass surely. 
 
The pearlescent slick of his cum dripping down her chest, running in sticky rivulets slowly to her breasts. 
 
And then, only then, she looked in his face. 
 
So sharp and hungry, he leered happily at her, body caving just a bit inward. As if he fought to not collapse into her shoulders, her painted chest. His lip twisted in that devilish half-smile as she looked at his cock finally. Hard and blushed at the tip and still dripping his cum as he finally tried to catch his breath. His hand gave it a few slow strokes, each one drawing just a bit more of his spend to drop to the floor. Fingers gripped the back of her neck, that weight bringing her mouth closer as he hissed, “Now, clean it, and be a good girl.” 
 
Better than her dream, she sucked in his length, the bitter tang, the salt of his sweat, it instantly made her wetter once more. And from the way his hips gave little rolls to try and deepen her suck, she knew that this new hold he had on her was growing into something strangely… mutual. 
 
Her tongue lapped and licked until she could feel only velvet skin in her mouth. Until she sucked off his tip with one hard pop. 
 
Astarion’s crimson eyes burned, blazing with the aftermath of his pleasure, softened at the corners with something unspoken, she could sense. 
 
“What is it?” she dared to whisper. 
 
He took a long inhale. “You’re the only one that came back for me at all, you know. After all that time.” 
 
She froze. Waiting for more. His jaw tweaked, as if he fought to swallow more of his words, his traitorous thoughts back into the hollow dark inside him. 
 
Quieter than her ears could barely make out, he managed one last sentence to slip in that moment. “Even if it was to kill me in my sleep, little Shade, you’re the only one.” His eyes instantly hardened again, that sneer and air of the Ascendant returning full force over his demeanor. His shoulders squared, hand releasing from the back of her neck as his eyes narrowed with wicked intent. “The only one not to fear the monster in his lair,” he chuckled. 
 
“Astarion,” she breathed, yet unwilling to lose sight of that softness she had once glimpsed in that same face, long ago. But she was only rewarded for her gentle caress of his name on her tongue with his seed-slicked fingers clawed around her throat. 
 
“Master,” he hissed. A snarl on his lips, and he drew her mouth to his. His kiss was forceful and hungry. Crushing and biting her lip until she tasted her own blood. Until his fingers released her windpipe as she gasped from the ferocity of it. “Clean yourself, and you can venture into the gardens at first light, if you wish. After all, you did please me so.”
 
His back turned towards her, Shadowheart caught merely a glimpse of his scarlet stare for a second before he vanished into mist once more.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sunlight. Warm, pure, unadulterated sunlight. It finally made Shadowheart smile, feeling at peace, and she could forget the walls of the palace where she was… Well, she hesitated to say trapped now. 
 
She had so much freedom now, her room remained in the cellar, as he called it. Not dungeon. And she could explore the grounds freely, the walled garden brimming with flowers and fountains and little tucked-away benches was by far her favorite. Even if she could hear the din of life from the Upper City just on the other side. It was her sanctuary, bathing in the spring sun. Whatever limit he had on her magic extended out here too, since of course she tested it out immediately. 
 
Strangely, it didn’t bother her. Not when he had made such a beautiful place… not when there was so much sun and fragrance and tranquility. And besides, she hadn’t seen him in days. Almost a tenday by now. 
 
She hated that annoying tug in her gut now, his words haunting her still from when last she saw him.

The only one…

he had called her. 
 
“Ugh,” she grunted at herself, at the way it made her feel… special. That self-loathing tried to gnaw at that ember that just wouldn’t snuff out. That feeling she found in that moment of being… wanted… appreciated… desired…
 
“No!” She yelled at herself, covering her small, pointed ears as if she could shut out her inner thoughts. “Fuck you, Astarion,” she hissed to herself. 
 
An inane giggle sounded from behind her… from the direction of the palace. “Fuck me? Oh, so now, she’s asking for it to happen, is that it?” That velvety voice was thick with alcohol, his usually exact and dulcet tones sticking on his slurring tongue. 
 
She spun her head around, her tight braid whipping her own body as she faced him. Sure enough, goblet in hand, Astarion slunk near-silently from some double doors in the side of the palace. “How long have you been watching me from your lair?” 
 
“You’re one to accuse me of lurking… given you had to go traipsing around my walls and battlements…” his fingers of his free hand grabbed for her braid and twisted it around his palm, “not the only one curious about the Ascendant, but certainly the only one foolish enough to end up here…” His voice dropped low and he leaned over her seated form, his breath rich with fragrant wine. 
 
“You… reek…” she hissed, pinching her nose and sliding away from his looming presence. 
 
“Like wealth… power…” he rolled his shoulders to flex his muscles and spilled his pricey wine in the process. 
 
“You smell like the Elfsong used to after closing…” she wrinkled her nose in disgust, sliding away from the splatters of red wine. 
 
That made him draw up short, his eyes struggling to focus at the mention of… those times.  His gaze grew distant, that constant tweak at the corner of his eyes softened. 
 
Shadowheart paused, holding her breath for a moment before she whispered, “Do you remember how those nights were the best… music whining from the tavern below, Halsin whittling animals…” 
 
She watched his jaw clench and release about five times. “Karlach… making up dances for us to all try…” His eyes shut tight, as if he forbade them to show his turmoil, his weakness, or maybe even tears. “Those days seemed so much…” 
 
“Simpler?” Shadowheart offered, not even noticing that her body leaned closer towards him. Her eyes scanned that refined black silk shirt, the way it clung to his muscles and frame, the way it tucked into the band of his stitched scarlet trousers. 
 
“Defenseless,” he suddenly turned his head sharply to meet her soft green eyes. His gaze was that same bloodied shade of crimson, that same piercing intensity. “We did so many foolish things just to bury our fear,” his voice dropped to a snarl, haughty tension in his neck returning stronger than ever. “And now, I never have to be afraid again.” He gave a confident toss of his head, sipping from his chalice as his fingers went white around the stem. 
 
“You seem so sure of that,” Shadowheart couldn't help but tease, that same prickly tone from their days on the road. “I think it’s better to be afraid in good company like we used to than to bury it down deep alone, never…” 
 
His lips silenced her. The clatter of his cup broke the stillness of the garden as he kissed her, hard and fast and possessive. She squirmed at first, noises of surprise muffled under those thick and wine-tasting lips. It felt so good… he was probably too drunk to remember anyway, the thought passed her mind as she decided to kiss him back. 
 
His hands grasped at the back of her head, pulling her inescapably from his working mouth. She tasted blood, though hers or his, she couldn’t tell with all the sucking and nipping they both did. His hands, almost claw-like and strong, pulled her flush against him, the thin silk of his shirt betraying the heat of his own skin, a heat she knew was matched by her own as it blistered through her own light chemise. He swayed roughly, his balance compromised, and all it took was a little shove from her hands on his chest to land them both in the grass at their feet. 
 
He broke from her kiss looking up with hazy, lust-clouded eyes, his hand wrapping around her long braid as he smirked. With yank, he pulled her closer, her body seeking the warmth and pressure of his between her thighs. That one breath was all they took. 
 
Mouths locked again, all fangs and pants and sighs. He tore into her shirt, ripping it open enough for her breasts to catch the sun. A snarl on her lips, her fingers deftly freed his cock from its confines.  No thoughts, it was just heat and need in her veins and shared on his breath as she hiked up her skirts and sank onto his cock. Fangs bit her lip, keeping her bent over him even as she rode him. Her pants of pleasure defend her own ears, the loud wet sounds of their bodies joined making her spine tingle with lust as she finally let him claim her this way. 
 
There was no logic, no coherent sensation in her mind. Only heat and desire as the floodgates of their lust and need shattered at last. Tendays of pent up desire finally pulsed and released, coursing through both their bodies. 
 
The world spun around him, Astarion grunted at the force of her bucks, his body unfamiliar with unbridled lust of late.  It had been… Well memories escaped him. Thoughts escaped him now that he was buried deep in that warm, wet pressure. Her breath was hot in his mouth, her blood on her tongue delicious… the grass on his back, the weight of her body. His tired eyes stayed shut, lost in the waves of sensation. 
 
For that moment, they were back in the Emerald Grove, their own little piece of nowhere. Two hands gripped at his shoulders… rolling playfully… the skin of her fresh neck pressed against his eager lips and fangs. 
 
Blood poured into his mouth as he clamped down on her neck, starved as he was for her essence, for attention… for touch. He groaned as he took all of her in, through his mouth and his cock. Her mouth hung slack in constant sighs of pleasure, her hips rolling to match his punishing pace. Nails, legs, hair, hands… she was everywhere and all his. Waves built between them, the perfect synchronization of their hips and pants as they fucked in the dirt. 
 
Thighs clenched around his hips, shirt torn asunder, Shadowheart hung on for dear life. Bright sun warmed her flesh, but he was scalding, burning her up with that long-craved friction of his body on her, inside her. Shattering, bursting, she came, unashamedly twitching and writhing and moaning in her too-long-denied ecstacy. It was tantalizing and dangerous… not unlike when she watched these same lustful choices play out so long ago. 
 
But gods, it felt better than it looked. 
 
Especially the part where his hips snapped harder than ever, his lips barely freed from drinking her down as he growled right in her ear. Three more erratic thrusts, and she knew he filled her, his body collapsing and shuddering and grunting. A few pants of air still thickly laced with their desire passed between their lips, a slight smile on his face as he shifted slightly. 
 
“I’ve missed…” he started to whisper before his eyes snapped open. That softness evaporated, cracking over with resolve and anguish and rage in an instant. He scrambled off her, his voice instantly cold and cruel again. “Get inside, Princess,” he growled as he turned his back, stuffing his cock and shirt back inside the band of his trousers. “That was more than enough of a session for you today.” He rounded, merciless in his gaze as she scrambled to close her blouse. “I’ll ignore the fact your twisted words tried to manipulate me into…”
 
“What?” She spat, scrambling from the dirt. “Me? Manipulate you?” She scoffed with all the ire in her soul. “That’s rich, not to mention a lie.” Hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she longed to cast any of her spells, just to get at him. “You know what’s really sad, Astarion, really pathetic?” She seethed as he glared at her from the doorway to his study. “All this time, you aim to torture me, give me pain and make me submit, and yet, by doing so, aren’t you just pushing yourself deeper into your own torment?” 
 
He said nothing, muscles in his jaw clenched painfully tight. “You’ll pay for such insolence when next I find you.” 
 
“You can try, but you know I’m right, Vampire. You torture yourself far worse than anything you could do to me.”  
 
Her accusation hung like frost in the air, a coil of tension that snapped tight between them. And in that moment, she could have sworn that glimmer of longing shined in his crimson eyes. 
 
And before he could say another word, he rounded on his heel and retreated back inside again.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sleep struggled to claim her, or rather, Shadowheart struggled to find it for herself. His taste lingered on her tongue, her thighs still shaking from their rough fuck. And everytime she closed her eyes, his own gaze waited in her mind to stare back at her, hauntingly crimson and annoyingly sad.  Eventually, in the warm gloom of her cell, she fell asleep.  When her eyes finally opened, she was bathed in the moonlight, its flickering silver light a comfort to her after going so long in the darkness. Not an unfamiliar journey for her, Daughter of Darkness in the dark no more. Her eyes scanned her surroundings—a new room, paned windows spreading across almost every inch of wall, save one. Her body was cradled in a downy bed and silken sheets. Her skin smelled of citrus and herbs, the scent that was sharp and clean and… entirely him.  Shadowheart rolled her eyes; she was getting used to these waking surprises. What sexy, fresh hell greeted her when she opened her eyes.  Bathed and relocated, pampered and granted access to the world outside these walls. She pulled the covers off of her, her nightgown long and elegant and… surprisingly modest.  She wondered, trying out just a simple cantrip, a little light to summon. Nothing. Whatever was suppressing her magic in the dungeons was here too in… whatever this place was. A table sat near the window, spread with an arrangement of devious fruits and meats, succulent and ripe and exotic. She rolled her eyes, another example of how he had been since indulging in these returned appetites of man. A selection of books sat next to the carafe of wine for her… various topics and none of them sexual. Could he be losing interest now that he got what he wanted…. The thought crossed her mind as she grabbed whatever fruit was closest and ripe. Biting into its yielding, juicy flesh, she went to look out the window. A stunning view of the Upper City—massive estates and sprawling gardens and clean and well-lit streets.  Some monster…. Hiding me away in the shadow of his tower… Hands wander over her body, the curves of her hips where his hands had gripped, the softness between her thighs where they had… Fuck.  Well, fucked… actually. A simple cleaning spell must have taken care of those remnants, she felt nothing as she shifted her weight and gazed out the window. Her thought were muddled, almost as if the memory of that encounter in the garden was hidden, mostly out of reach. Damn him, she knew the feeling of having memories taken far, far too well.  He should know better, honestly.  Wounded, caught off guard with his literal pants down, the Ascendant was on the defense for once. Time to press every advantage, Shadowheart smiled and took another bite of fruit.  Timely, the single door to her room opened, without the click of a key or lock, she noticed. Something to investigate later, she smiled to herself. Astarion entered, and Shadowheart gave him no greeting, keeping her back to him, keeping her eyes on the window, watching his movements vaguely through the reflection on the glass.  “Hello, beautiful,” he crooned to her, just as she had overheard a million and one times. Only this time, it was in the crook of her ear, his warm breath ghosting down her skin, the precursors to a tender kiss just over her pulse point. Already shirtless by the feeling of his body’s heat and from the pale smear of his reflection in the window. Black leather bound hands traced up her sides, meandering their warm, lazy, possessive touch to her belly and hips. “Earning my favor suits you, little princess.”  Those devilish gloves slipped under the hem of her nightgown, lurking their way through the thigh slit. The warm leather is so much smoother than his dexterous fingers… even after this time, those fingers still carry calluses from dagger hilt and bowstring. And now, those digits swept the softest leather his ascendant wealth could buy into her folds. Heat bled into her back, his hand pulling back on her body until her ass pressed deliciously against him. Everything about him was hard. Toned muscles, rigid frame, throbbing erection.  “I know you felt it too, darling,” his voice was gravel in her ear. “What happened in the garden, when you finally submitted to me…”  “I think you’re remembering that wrong,” Shadowheart laughed. Instantly that hand gripped tightly, fingers pinching hard on her inner thigh, nails digging in through supple leather. “You’re the one who caved and whimpered like a hurt puppy.”  Now, there were only gnashing fangs, not whimpering smiles, the monster returning full force as he gripped her hips and spun her around. “And here I thought we had finally learned our lesson,” that tone shifted instantly back into ice and velvet. He tutted his tongue in disparaging disapproval. Warm leather caressed down her arms, but his touch was persistent, demanding. Light brushing fingers suddenly moved on her body everywhere at once. Mage Hands ran up her legs and down her hips, two pale fingers of light and magic even swept up her belly to cup her breasts. More must have tugged the laces to he gown apart, the fabric falling in her puddle at her feet, pulled off her pale skin.  And yet those two warm, unyielding, unmagical hands pulled her flush against his frame. Warmth seeped from his skin, and she shivered. “You might not be in the dungeons anymore, darling, but you are just as much at my mercy here in my domain.”  Goosebumps raised over every inch of her skin, the brushing and pinching and yanking of those Mage Hands kept her distracted and positioned. In fact, she didn’t even notice the coils of silken rope that cinched around her arms and waist until they grew tight. Tighter and tighter, the bindings gripped her flesh, lifting her off the floor.  And all the while Shadowheart grinned. “You’re going to extraordinary lengths to convince me you’re still the one in control here, Astarion,” she gave a low little giggle.  “This little thing?” He leered at her, his hands glowing as those many Mage Hands supported her until she dangled just right from rings in the ceiling. “The night is young, princess, and you’ll soon forget all about your transgression in the garden today. You are long overdue for some punishment.” His voice washed over her, a comforting caressing velvety tones as he approached her. Supple leather gripped her chin.  “Transgression? Is that what you’re calling it to comfort yourself?” she taunted, even as her legs cinched up behind her until she hung parallel to the floor. “Tell me, was it the wine or the nostalgia that made it so easy for me to ride you into oblivion? It’s a shame we are short on both.”  The glare he shot her should have made her wither before him. His thick lips twitched, as if chewing on just what to say. But before he could open them, he crossed to her suspended form, shoving two fingers in her smirking mouth. “You’re so much more pleasant when you’re whimpering…”  “You’re one -oo -alk,” she drooled around those leather digits.  He snarled, that charming smirk baring his fangs. The moonlight crested over his features, making them sharper to the eye. A bit terrifying, a bit monstrous as the stars glittered off the enamel of those pointed teeth. His fingers pulled from her mouth, leaving that taste of leather on her tongue “Seems like I need to put something bigger in your mouth to shut you up completely, insolent little minx.” His laughter matched hers, “I could get used to seeing you all tied up, hanging for my use in the moonlight. You can worship your dark lord by starlight instead of your precious Moonmaiden.”  “Dark lord? Another title to stroke your ego?”  His hands slid his trousers down just enough for his cock to spring free. Black leather digits wrapped around that hard, pale shaft as he gave himself a few lazy strokes. “Nothing more desirous than a creature of the night, and I am the most powerful one, don’t you remember… their Lord and Master,” his crimson eyes narrowed as he spun her around to face him. One glowing Mage Hand lowered her to hip height. The flushed pink head of his cock leaked as he pressed it to her lips. “Now, show your Lord and Master how obedient you are and I’ll let you come this time.”  Shadowheart bit her lips as she laughed through them. Leather scent filled her nose as he clawed her chin and yanked her up to his face, making those silken ropes creak against each other. “Obey or be punished,” he hissed his warning.  “You know, Astarion, for the one in this room that isn’t tied up, you sure are bound to your past,” she replied, less mocking in her tone. “Have you considered shedding that persona of the Ascendant for once to try and find some true meaning in your new life? Try to find someone that might keep you from being so lonely?”  “I have… everything… I’ve ever wanted,” he spat. “Even you.  You’re mine.” “Ummm,” she quirked her face, amused and skeptical, and taunting.  Fangs snapped above her as his temper rose. “You think yourself free of me?”  “Oh, Astarion, I’ve always been free of you, I wasn’t your first choice, remember? I’m free of my past; I owned my darkness to be in the light, no matter how isolating it is. It’s you who is caught in his own web, trapped chasing the need for control even though he has all this power…”  A flicker passed behind those narrowed, angry eyes. “Perhaps I’ll just make you hang in my web…”  “Or perhaps you just need to admit you need me, Astarion. You like having me here.”  “I’ll like having you anywhere, darling, once I’ve bent you to my will…” his hands released her, letting her body dangle and spin on creaking ropes. “I am the Ascendant. How ever could I want for anything?” He smirked wickedly, lowering her to hip height again. “I even have my own little Moonmaiden to lighten my dark deeds…” he growled, pinching her cheeks open and teasing his cock between their puckered fullness. “You want this, don’t you…”  It wasn’t a question. They had already established that in the garden. Shadowheart nodded anyway. “But I’m doing this for me, not because you want it,  vampire,” she snipped, sticking her tongue out with a smirk.  “Give in, princess,” his hiss rumbling into a groan as he thrust inside her mouth, “you’re mine.” His cock slid out just to the edge of her lips before he thrust it back inside until she gagged.  Shadowheart laughed. Full-throated and insolent. Her melodious, if snarky voice tickling his length with vibrations. His fingers clawed into the ropes, keeping her steady enough to thrust in and out. Her lips pursed so prettily around him, her tongue laving up and down the underside of his cock. She devoured him, insolently smiling around his thick, pale shaft. Her mouth was so warm, so wet, and her flesh was so supple even through the thin layer of his gloves. Their black leather served as a stark darkness to her bright and glistening skin as it caught the moonlight. His dark touch ran possessively  over her and never claimed her, never corrupting her.  And yet, she was his, right here, right now. “Fuck,” he growled, already too far gone to be in control. The crimson ropes pinched her supple flesh just perfectly, making the mere sight of her trussed up for him cause a visceral reaction.  Then she hummed, she sighed. Her own arousal dripped between her suspended thighs to the floor, and Astarion’s nose scented it. His tongue almost tasted it in the air. She wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted to be used just to feel something.  Same as you. But he cursed himself for the thought, taking the sin of his weak admission out on her lips and throat as he snapped his hips a bit harder. By then, it’s too late; the pressure burst from his belly, and he filled her mouth, cum dribbling down her chin.  His mouth parted in a panting smirk, spinning her until those curves of her ass came into reach. “You are insatiable and insolent,” he growled.  “Why are you surprised, I always have been. You’re just starting to notice,” Shadowheart taunted, head turned as much as her bindings would allow.  He shook his head, that smirk of wicked amusement crept over his sensuous lips. Lips he licked as his hunger viscerally grew sharper. Those tantalizingly soft gloved fingers trailed down her sides, rising and falling over the divets where rope bit into her flesh. A tantalizing ravishing, his touch was just hard enough for her to feel as her body grew more and more numb.  Sensation dulled in her limbs, and yet one place burned even hotter than ever. His fingers brushed their wandering way over the curve of her ass to tease into that dripping heat. Three fingers right off the bat thrust inside her, stretching her deliciously and instantly. Her moan ricocheted off the walls of her room, her silver haired head craning back as her spine bent in on itself.  She trembled for him, throbbed and quivered inwardly for him. So fuck, why wouldn’t she just say as much…. “Maybe we return back to the beginning of our journey together, little Shade, why did you come here in the first place?”” His touch drifted from that enveloping heat and damp, catching the slick of her juices and smearing it as his hand returned to the crest of her ass cheek.  Glowing silver strands tugged loose were stuck to the sweat on her pale skin, and that scar across the bridge of her nose only served to draw his gaze into that single green eye as she looked back at him. “Maybe I just wanted to see your renovations?” she taunted, voice dripping with condescension.  “Imputent liar,” he hissed as he grinned.  One gloved hand gripping into the ropes that held her up, the other hand raised, bringing that soft, well-worked leather on his ass with a smack.  A sinful smirk twists his lip. “Try again,” he orders.  Another smack resonated up his arm, another spank just for good measure, just to make her pretty little grunt sound from behind her grit and grinning teeth.  She sighed, sultry and long. “Maybe I just wanted to stop by for a drink. Ever consider that, Astarion?”  Another slap on her ass, harder this time, hard enough to leave an angry pink hand print in her pale flesh. He grabbed the remains of her silver-haired ponytail and tugged her head up, lips pressed against the pointed shell of her ear. “I know better than to think you’ll bend a knee and offer your neck to me just like that,” he rasped, voice like gravel in his throat. “You take your punishment like the former Daughter of Darkness that you are, but perhaps…” He trailed off, a knock at an interior door beyond her own snapped his attention. “Fucking hells,” he cursed. Spinning her to face him, he gripped her chin and brought her face a breath away from his own. “I’d say wait here, but you have little choice, my princess.”  With that, he let her go suddenly, her body swinging on the creaking ropes.       It was a small matter of time before magic tingled in the air again. With a hiss, the ropes lowered, the hovering Mage Hands tugging the binding apart hurriedly.  And then one floated through the crack in her bedroom door. Shaking her limbs to regain feeling, Shadowheart pushed through the pain. That was nothing new. She stumbled her way through the wooden door into another bedroom suite.  His.  That glowing, ethereal hand pointed at his desk, bobbing up and down as if to make certain it drew her attention.  “What are you hiding, Astarion?” she whispered to herself, approaching the desk to see it a mess of quills and ink spots and missives everywhere. She shook her head, remembering how he was always a whirl of chaos with a seductive smile.  On top of it all was a letter, short and to the point.  A message of intimidation, a threat from the covens of North, of Waterdeep and beyond. Words that insulted Astarion for his groundless rise to power, threats to invade and lay waste to the Crimson Palace first and then Baldur’s Gate once they were through with him.  “What have you gotten yourself into… alone, no less…” she mused aloud. Her hands wandered over the rest of his things, finding a series of similar messages from the same covens, messages of increased accusations and increased threats against him… and the city.  Suddenly a commotion sounded in the distance, coming up from the floors, echoing towards her in his chambers from the halls.  Footsteps crescendoed until the door opposite her blasted open. Astarion panted, spattered in blood with a dagger in his hand.  It made Shadowheart hold her breath. Just like old times.  He shut the door, his hand flaring brightly as he cast arcane lock. His silken shirt was torn, claws sliced through it in patches, tears colored with blood from wounds that had already healed.  Shadowheart raised a brow; despite her pulse spiking with adrenaline. “What? No overly dramatic ‘I need healing… now!’ I’m shocked, Astarion.” He scowled but he didn’t scold her, as he hurried to the trunk at the foot of his bed. Flinging it open, he threw plates of metal and weapons on the floor. She recognized it all in a heartbeat. His armor. And Tav’s. “You read the notes,” he huffed, sniping the words across the distance between them. “They’ve come for me, for the City if I don’t hold them off.”  A pause as more metal cluttered the floor.  “The door to the balcony, to the Lower City Wall, the same we came through back… in the day… it’s open and the way is clear. You can leave through there,” he muttered the words, half aware of what he was saying.  Shadowheart picked up a leather jerkin, starting to shrug it on. Tav’s scent all but gone from the material, she noticed. The sound of chainmail slithering on her body as she closed the armor around her drew his attention faster than lighting.  “What are you doing?” he roared. “I said leave!”  But Shadowheart just snugged up the clasps and smiled at him, that defiant glint in her green eyes. “Moonmaiden help me, are you so proud you won’t even ask for help? It’s all rather familiar, isn’t it?”    He just grabbed his armor, that shining silver Elven set she remembered him wearing day in and day out against the Absolute. Puffing out his chest, baring his teeth he hurriedly buckled the metal plates and chainmail around him. “Your funeral,” he hissed, “if you decide to stay, I won’t be responsible for your death. I only wanted to give you the little kind over and over again.”  Shadowheart grabbed at his collar, pulling that arrogant, leering face into her for a kiss. “Godsdammit, Astarion,” she growled as he started to kiss her back. “Just say thank you and give me my magic back.” His lips worked for a moment, his tongue sweeping deeply into her mouth with hums of hunger. “Oh yes, if you make the mistake of fighting at my side, you’ll want your magic.”  His hand raised from his side, snapping his fingers, radiant magic sizzling in the air with heat. “There, no more Sussar magic atuned just for you.”  Shadowheart lifted her palm, a simple cantrip to call up Light. Blue flame tickled over her skin, a smile on her face as her magic flowed through her once more. She looked into his face, the sharp edges of his cheek and jaw highlighted and stealing her breath as he smirked at her.  Quickly, she dismissed the flame and just held him tight against her.  His hands clawed at her elbows, pressing his face into hers, forehead to forehead, until their breaths were one. Their armor buckled and clacked as he kissed her, a caress of passion that brimmed with all the hunger of a vampire and all the yearning of a man who stared death in the face.  Again. “If I don’t survive this, you need to warn the others, you will need to save the city… again.  And this time; it will be because of me and my folly alone.”  Growling, Shadowheart bit his lower lip hard, the burst of coppery blood on her tongue exciting her. “You aren’t alone. I told you why I came, why I spied on you.  I just wanted to know one other soul was as lonely as I was. And to see if maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be that way…” she looked at him breaking from their kiss, more sincere than she had ever looked, silver hair catching the moonlight. “Do you ever wonder what our life might have been like if you had bitten me instead of… Tav?” she made herself say her name, watching the slightest wince tweak the wrinkles at his eyes at the mere mention.  “Perhaps I’ve wondered,” he replied, shockingly thoughtful. That crimson gaze wandered over her face, soft and curious and… appreciative. His tone got quiet, his face twisting with cheeky humor despite the threats below them in his own palace.  “Things might have been so… different. Would you have let me ascend?” he smirked.  Shadowheart smiled, lowering her stare to where their bodies pressed together. “Would you have let me kill the Nightsong?” came her reply, equally wistful and quiet.  “And make us lose the ally that was Dame fucking Aylin? Never,” he replied with such arrogance and confidence, it made her burst out in inappropriate giggles. “You’re sure about this… about us… you’re certain you want to fight?”  “At your side, like old times?” she smiled widely, lifting that scarred face into a look of pure mirth. “You need some radiant magic against a horde of vampire spawn. Now come on, Ascendant, and let’s go save the city… again.”  Rakish, confident… happy. Astarion grabbed a second dagger from the trunk and moved with her towards the door.  To fight again.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Only silence filled the halls of the Crimson Palace now… that and the last remaining sizzles of radiant magic on undead flesh. So many charred corpses, but none of it slowed the two of them down as they raced back upstairs. The Selûnite and the Ascendant, the monster and his saving light.  The last few plates of armor clattered at their feet as the door burst open to his bedchamber. Shadowheart panted one last spell to heal their minor wounds. “Te…curo…” she rasped between fanged kisses, the words barely audible as he devoured her lips and tangled his tongue with hers.  “Shade,” he murmured into her lips, “my darling.” Arms pulled her impossibly close, molding her curves into the hard planes of his body.  “We did it, we saved the city,” her voice was airy, breathless and light as she pulled him towards the cool silk sheets of his bed. “And you were… magnificent,” her praise was instantly devoured on his hungry tongue as it delved deep.  Astarion followed her down to the bed, pausing only to pull his sullied silk shirt over his head. He was a cage of strength, a crush of sinews and muscle as he covered her body. “More than that, you did so much more than that,” he growled into her mouth, resuming their kiss with even more zeal. “You saved me, saved my sorry soul when I could have died alone…” he paused to smirk down at her flushed face, “again.”  “As if I’d let anyone harm you,” her own voice a low growl. “That’s my task to undertake.” Magic dancing on her fingers, she tore into his leathers, unlacing and yanking them low enough to free his cock. That alabaster, rock-hard length was flushed from all the blood he had consumed, throbbing from the thrill of battle. Lust… bloodlust… it was all hers to treat as well, Shadowheart delighted. And now he was hers to heal, to tend, to fuck—she grinned as she pulled the last vestiges of clothing off her curves.  Crimson eyes roved her form, and Astarion chuckled, letting her press him into the downy bed, those supple thighs straddling his waist. “Who would have thought that the little Cleric of Selûne could handle my darkness,” he mused, nails digging into the crest of her hips to guide every slick drag of her cunt over him. Base to head.  “Are you so quick to forget I was raised in darkness?” she braced her hands on the bed, her silver braid falling over her shoulder. “I embrace the darkness…” she grinded on his length, deliberately catching every inch beneath her. “I savor its taste… I own it,” she raspeed, her own voice thick with lust. “For no darkness frightens me, not anymore. And now, I own your darkness as mine.”  Fingers clawed into her flesh as she finally sank on his cock, seating him so deeply, it stole his undead breath. A forced, wet exhale, and his hips snapped up to every grind that swallowed him whole. Warm and wet and welcoming, she accepted him. No need for threats or rewards or punishments, if he closed his eyes… he could be laying on a bed of moss in the Emerald Grove, or back in the downy sleigh beds of the Elf Song, with little more than hope, zeal and a tadpole to share between them.  “Darling,” he growled, all his might summoning to pull himself upright in the bed, to have her bounce on his lap. Wet and wild and lewd and lovely. Her cheeks were bright and flushed. “The healing to my burden, the light to my dark, the shadow to my brilliance…” he punctuated his praise with thrusts that pulled deliciously inside her, filling her until there was no line between where one ended and the other began. “With me, you will flourish, and I will have everything I never knew I needed,” he groaned as her mouth trapped his in her blunted teeth. “With you, I am complete.”  Her green eyes glinted with mysterious light, a strange combination of pride and hopefulness, of nostalgia for what once was and an eagerness for what would come. “Moodmaiden, I swear, I’ll be here with you, Astarion…” “Lord Astarion,” he corrected, thrusting up to spear into her, a ruthless quirk to his full lips. “Or My Lord, Vampire Ascendant if you prefer.”  A breathless laugh as she bounced on him bubbled from her smile. “I’m not doing that, Astarion,” she chided back, squeezing his cock punishingly hard in her walls with every buck. “Be glad I don’t call you leech, or bastard.”  The vampire beneath her just gripped her by the throat to pull those insolent lips against his. Devouring, consuming, his warm breath flooded her senses, a tidal wave that possessed her, claiming her inside and out. “How about I call you mine?” He growled. His fingers flexed in playful time with each buck and thrust of their hips.  “Mine…” she gasped out the word, her sex slamming down on him faster, that coil of her pleasure snapping taut. “Maybe I want something more…”  “With me?” He chuffed, his voice thick with lust as he arched beneath her undulating curves. “You demand more of the Ascendant? Dangerous business that…”  “Cut the nonsense,” she laughed, swallowing a moan as he bottomed out inside her. “You’re hardly dangerous, more of a danger to yourself as you have always been.”  “Are you certain your goddess will allow you to pursue something more?” “Selûne bids me enter into the darkest shadows, even if they belong to a monster like you.” Her voice lilt playfully, her body stilling on him, forcing him to stay right at that edge of orgasm. A growl in his throat, and he tried to grab for her waist, eager to take control, even from the pillows of his bed. But two cool Mage Hands of her own conjuring just caught his wrists and pinned him down.  “Aww, what a good boy,” Shadowheart commented, somewhere between praise and taunt.  The sweetest of gasps slipped from her teasing mouth as he raised his hips fully off the bed, pushing her up with all his Ascendant strength. His chuckle, rolling and deep, mingled with her whimpers as his cock head pushed against her cervix. “Not always good…” he preened. “Sometimes I’m great.”  “All that Ascendant power and your jokes are still just… pathetic.” Shadowheart rolled her eyes, panting a laugh all the same. “Don’t make me cast Silence, now that I have my magic.” Astarion answered with his own volley in return, he thrust mercilessly up into her, back arching high enough to drag his length inside her again.  This time, she rode him back, thighs shaking as her body grew tired. Tired from resisting his charms, worn from the battle that had raged below in his palace halls, and spent from an earnest chase to find actual release with him for once. She let those Mage Hands disappear, the warm pads of his fingers and palms caressing up her thighs to guide her undulations. He controlled her with reverence, gripped her with adoration. The pulsing of his heart echoed in her chest, his eyes devoured every detail of her blissed out face, her wanton blush.  Those walls of hers fluttered, clenching to grip him as she shuddered. So alive, so filled with light, so fucking wet for him…  “Hells,” he groaned, that wall of his own pleasure bursting as he hurtled towards his orgasm. Warm breaths whined from his throat, needy and desperate and loud until she closed her lips over his in a kiss.  “If I call you… my lord… will you come?” Shadowheart rasped in her flushed rapture, her breasts bouncing as she leaned back, a new angle to let him watch his cock disappearing into her, beneath that patch of softest curls on her mound.  He growled, low little rumples that broke into high-pitched whimpers of desperation. “Come on… little lord… come…” she purred, a hand pressed on his clenching abdominals.  Those hips snapped up harder, slower, and urgently as he burst inside her. Coming hard, he spilled over and over again, hands pushing her down with all his strength. His tongue pressed at the corner of his mouth, his face scrunched in a look of ecstacy, eyes shut and squinting, nostrils flared to take deep breaths that scented the mix of their cum as he caught his breath. “Well… darling,” he crooned, voice cracking as he tried to regain some semblance of control. “Consider yourself well and truly taken… my con—” Her warm, still trembling hand closed over his mouth. “No… none of that same consort shite you gave Tav.” She scowled, softly but noticeably. And for the first time, she said that name without causing a wretched feeling in Astarion’s gut. “Companion,” Shadowheart corrected. “I will be as I always have been to you, Astarion. Lord or not, I will be your companion.”  He gave that impudent grin. “Well, as long as you will also share my bed, I have no objections to calling you whatever you so desire,” he taunted in that purring and playful tone as she slid off his cock to lay in the crook of his arm. “You will stay here with me?” His question hung heavy in the air, his lithe fingers twirling through the errant strands of her bangs. “You will remain at my side… and in my bed, won’t you?” Subtle, just the faintest of flickers, Shadowheart recognized vulnerability in his tone, in his face. The veneer of the Ascendant cracked, that loneliness glaring at her through the hole her light had punctured.  A deep breath, one to inhale his scent, his musk, and that faint whiff of undead, and she cupped his cheek in her palm. “Yes, I will…” She watched as his face eased into that subtle arrogant mask. “…But I will also leave it at times.”  His bushy silver brows shot beneath his curls. “What? Why?” Two singles words a piece, each rife with pain, with longing.  A slight tilt to her head and she explained. “My duties towards the Moonmaiden bid me leave. Your black soul isn’t the only one in the world, you know.” Her lips smirked as he rolled his eyes. And before they could open in protest or to whinge, she shoved a finger over them. A finger he instantly suckled to scrape against his fangs and curl around with his tongue. “Besides, leaving your bed will only make it more delightful when I return.” Her finger pulled free with a pop, his own hand guiding it. “When you return… I quite like the sound of that.” He flashed her that fanged grin, rolling to crush her beneath him this time, his cock already hardened once more from the slightest taste of her fingers and the faintest glimmer of affection in those green eyes. “Say you’re mine, my darling…” he purred, or at least he tried to, his voice rough with longing and need to feel alive and not… alone.  Those arms wrapped around his neck, an embrace that healed and comforted, as well as aroused. “I’m all yours…” she smiled so fucking sweetly, “until morning at least.”

🎨 by weaveandwood