Chapter Text
Astarion and Wyll hadn’t talked about the brucan bulb since it happened.
Well, they had, in a sense. Shadowheart and Gale certainly had some questions when they returned with an antidote and a wealth of information from the Society of Brilliance scholars on exactly what it was that Wyll had gotten infected with. And then when they’d all returned to camp, Lae’zel and Karlach had asked even more questions, alarmed by how exhausted and weak Astarion and Wyll were.
For the most part, the group had tried not to pry too much about the dirty details. Even if the end result had turned out to not be so bad, they still understood that being forced into a sexual encounter could be an awkward experience, at best. But it was hard not to be the topic of gossip at the camp when it became clear how much their relationship had changed that day. Astarion was the first one to announce happily to the others that they were quite serious about each other and were courting, actually, and once that happened Wyll had taken it as permission to be openly affectionate. He siddled up to Astarion around the campfire at night, waxed poetic about his beauty, and he indulged in kissing Astarion’s hand at every opportunity. Astarion acted adorably flustered about it, probably because he seemed just as new to having an actual relationship as Wyll was, but he still seemed to enjoy the attention and encouraged Wyll’s affection further.
The problem was, when it came to private conversation, Astarion was much less encouraging. When Wyll approached his tent at night Astarion would make an excuse that he needed to go hunting and scrambled away. Any time Wyll tried to talk to him in hushed tones, Astarion raised his voice to make another bawdy joke. They hadn’t had a chance to define exactly what this courtship of theirs was, much less how they felt about their ’encounter’ in the tower or what their expectations were for sex in the relationship after.
In some ways, it wasn’t a bad thing. Wyll perhaps needed some time to figure out exactly what he wanted before they actually had that conversation.
A part of him still wanted to keep things slow and careful, waiting to have sex with Astarion again until they settled into a clearer understanding of their individual wants and needs in a partnership. Another part of him surfaced in his tent at night. Every night. He’d try to sleep, he would, but every time he was alone and closed his eyes he’d remember Astarion’s mouth around his cock, Astarion sinking down onto him, Astarion arching his back and shaking in his arms as he orgasmed. His voice moaning and wailing and begging, telling Wyll ’I want to keep you in my bed forever, my own little toy to corrupt.’
Gods, yes, Wyll’s inner voice would respond. I’m yours, use me, ruin me.
Sometimes his brain would invent new scenarios. His favorite was being on his back, hands bound above his head, as Astarion thrust into him without mercy, his eyes greedy, his grin exposing his fangs, his touch driving all thought from Wyll’s mind until he was nothing but a mindless well of pleasure…
Inevitably he’d take himself in his hand, biting down onto his fist to keep his desperate moans at bay. He usually liked to take his time the rare moments he allowed himself to jerk off, but just a taste of Astarion had driven him mad, turning him into a desperate, rutting beast that craved nothing but relief.
Mizora would occasionally make it known through his sending stone eye that she was aware of what was going on and found the whole thing very funny, which made the unbridled lust he felt even more embarrassing. But even knowing she could be watching, Wyll couldn’t resist. Astarion – or maybe the brucan bulb – had awakened something within him, and he was powerless to the need crawling through his veins, desperate to chase it until his release hit him, only for the guilt to well up after.
Maybe Astarion was right to avoid him. Maybe he knew that Wyll’s freshly deflowered body needed some time to get lust out of his system before he could rationally have a discussion about what happened. Perhaps this was typical, and Astarion had seen it before?
Just how many virgins had Astarion slept with, anyway? He’d alluded to it being something he enjoyed…
Wyll felt jealousy bubble up in his gut at the thought.
No. No, he was not going to allow himself to give in to any possessive thoughts over his new relationship. Astarion’s sexual history, as prolific as it seemingly was, didn’t matter. As long as he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else now, Wyll didn’t truly care. He didn’t expect everyone to have the same desire for a deep relationship before having sex. He never expected that any romantic partner he had would be a virgin like him, much less a centuries-old elven vampire.
Although…
‘You make me feel so good like nobody else can, others don’t even bother but you do, don’t you?’
Those moments where Astarion implied his past partners had left him unsatisfied haunted Wyll’s mind. Surely Wyll wasn’t the first person to truly care about Astarion! That didn’t make any sense, not with someone as charmingly passionate and stubborn as him.
He wondered if Astarion actually believed that was the sort of person Wyll was, once his mind cleared. Maybe he had doubts now? He should talk with Astarion, clear the air, make it as obvious as possible that Wyll was truly, genuinely serious about his affection for him and that he truly did care about making him happy.
Not that it was easy when Astarion was avoiding private conversation. All he could do was show him affection in front of the others whenever he could, even when Lae’zel grumbled about distractions getting the better of them and the others gossiped with varying levels of amusement over their relationship.
And so, for days after the tower, Wyll was left spinning his wheels in the mud of his own mind.
********
It was the night before they were going to enter the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Halsin had warned them of how harrowing the journey would be, so they knew they needed plenty of rest before they’d be ready, and made their camp early in the evening next to the lift that would take them up and out of the Underdark.
Wyll was deep in his thoughts as he walked to his tent at the end of the night, trying to convince himself that he needed to keep his hand off himself and just sleep. It wouldn’t do to enter such a dangerous area half-awake.
So, for a brief moment after he ducked into his tent, he thought that Astarion sitting there was a figment of his imagination spurred on by the desires he was trying to suppress. At least, until Astarion raised his hand and wriggled his fingers in an unusually coy greeting, his brow lowered in unease.
Wyll jumped back and nearly crashed into a tent pole. “Hells, Astarion!”
“Shh! No reason to tell the entire camp I’m here!” Astarion responded in a low voice.
Wyll crouched down, placing a hand on his chest and willing his pounding heart to calm. “Why are you here in the first place?”
“Oh? Is it wrong to spend time in the tent of my beau? The entire camp already knows I’ve stolen your innocence…”
“Please don’t say it like that,” Wyll groaned.
“Is there a way you would prefer? Rode your dragon? Plundered your treasure? Oh! I know.” Astarion grinned wickedly. “I provoked the Blade and suffered its sting.”
Oh. Wyll had never considered how that phrase could be used before. He sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. “Well. Now I won’t be able to use that catchphrase anymore.”
“Good, it’s ridiculous.”
Wyll gave him a glare without any real anger behind it and Astarion laughed in response, and for a moment any awkwardness between them seemed to slip away. Wyll took a deep breath and allowed himself to smile, settling to sit across from Astarion. “Am I being too naive in hoping you’re in the mood to talk to me?”
“Darling, I’m always in the mood to talk to you!” Astarion responded smoothly, smiling and lowering his eyelids. “And I’m always in the mood to enjoy your company in other ways, for that matter.”
Well, so much for this conversation being easy. Wyll shook his head. “Astarion, please don’t lie. It’s obvious that you’ve been avoiding me.”
Astarion frowned. “Don't be ridiculous, I’ve been spending so much time with you!”
“As long as the others are around, yes…”
Astarion’s frown deepened, his charming confidence sliding off his shoulders like an ill-fitting cloak. “I haven’t been avoiding you, honestly! I was worried that if I came on too strongly you might have second thoughts, or that maybe once the spores worked out of your system you’d change your mind. I mean, I can’t imagine why you would, I’m gorgeous, but shy virgins like you are so easy to scare off–”
“Not-so-virginal anymore,” Wyll cut in, attempting to smirk in a way that was amused but warm. “If you have any worries, you can talk to me about them. I’d rather know about a potential problem than be left in the dark.”
Astarion clicked his tongue. “You don’t have to feed me any lines, Wyll. I’m an old hand at all the best ones. ‘You can share with me all your worries’ and ‘you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen!’ or ‘the gods yourself created you just to tempt me.’”
“Surely those don’t actually work,” he responded with a laugh.
“You’d be surprised. I know quite a few lines that would work on you too, if I had the inclination.”
“Oh?”
“Of course! The obvious one is a classic.” Astarion smirked, then lowered his eyes. When he looked back up his red eyes were wide and pleading, and his voice was quiet, as if telling a secret. “I love you.”
Wyll’s heartbeat sped up again and he could feel blood rushing to his face. “Already?”
Astarion tittered. Wyll suspected the high giggle he often made was a bit of an affectation, but he still found it endearing. “Oh darling, calm down, I told you it was a line before I even said it. It’s certainly too early to toss out a love confession.” He followed that statement up with a wistful sigh. “Unfortunately.”
Well…it wasn’t as if Wyll wasn’t aware that Astarion could be cagey. It was one of the excuses he’d given himself when he’d decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to admit his attraction to the other man–until Astarion had talked about Wyll sleeping with him as some sort of horrible trial to get through and the brucan’s spores had loosened his lips and the truth came tumbling out.
Still, the way Astarion had been switching from hot to cold was unbalancing, to put it mildly. Wyll took a deep breath, trying not to feel too hurt. “Can’t we speak honestly? I know it must feel awkward, after everything, but it’s important to me.”
Astarion’s mask slipped again. He clicked his tongue, looking confused and off balance for a moment. “All right,” he eventually responded. “I’ll make an attempt.”
“Thank you,” Wyll said, relieved.
Astarion waved a hand dismissively. “No need to thank me, I said I wanted to court you and I was the one that showed up here. I owe you at least a little conversation.”
“It’s not about what’s owed. I just want to understand what you want out of a relationship and how I can treat you well.”
Astarion lowered his eyebrows. “So you say.”
“I mean it, Star. I’m not interested in a romance that’s frivolous and without meaning. I love grand gestures and poetry but that’s worthless to me without true care and emotion behind it. I want you to enjoy your time with me and I want to bring you joy.”
Astarion scoffed, as if the very idea was a farce. “I’m not that difficult to please, you know. You don’t have to tie yourself into knots trying to make me happy.”
“Then what’s a simple way I could do that?”
“I…well.” Astarion hesitated. It reminded Wyll of how Astarion had dodged questions about what sort of thing he’d find pleasure in while they were sleeping together. “The way you kiss my hand is ridiculously twee, but…I don’t dislike it.”
Wyll attempted not to laugh, but a chuckle leaked out. “Maybe you like it when I’m twee?”
Astarion rolled his eyes, but he had a smile on his face that seemed almost fond. “I put up with it. You wouldn’t feel like yourself if you stopped behaving like a two-bit actor in a badly written play.”
“Honestly, I wanted to try acting when I was younger, but my father thought it was undignified.”
“That’s not even a little surprising.”
Wyll thought, briefly, about how his father was likely somewhere in the cursed forest they were about to enter, and then packed the thought away. It wouldn’t help to worry and he wanted to keep his focus on his…lover? Partner?
Astarion cleared his throat. “Well, I answered a question from you. May I get a turn?”
“Oh! Of course. What would you like to know?”
Astarion smiled, although the oddly shy posture he’d had when Wyll first entered the tent had returned. “What would you say if I admitted I’d like to have some fun with you?”
“As in spending more time together?”
“Wyll, is it even possible to spend more time together? I meant sex, darling.”
“Oh.”
Wyll thought again about his wrists bound, Astarion pinning him to the ground and Wyll going down willingly for him, everything laid bare – as much as he could with his pact, anyway–
He thought about Mizora laughing at him in his head, obviously leering at him.
He thought of Astarion calling him an actor in a play, and wondered how much Astarion thought he was merely performing when he tried to be sweet and romantic.
Wyll swallowed. “I, um, erm.”
He floundered. Normally he could summon words easily, but now that the conversation he’d been writing and rewriting in his head for days was playing out in real life, it was clear how he’d never really settled on an answer. “Is this a hypothetical question, or an offer?”
Astarion was still smiling, but it was strained. “An offer. Unless you’d rather it be hypothetical?”
“I – do you mean…now?”
“Yes?” Astarion blinked rapidly and his gaze slid around the tent, until he smoothed his hands down his shirt and breathed in. “Or later! Although I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep your hands off of me for so long, so I rather assumed…”
“When would I have had the chance? This is the first time we’ve been alone since the tower.” Wyll’s voice came out sharper than he intended and Astarion flinched. Wyll squeezed his thigh and tried to steady himself as his mind was racing through all the pros and cons of accepting Astarion’s offer. “I’m sorry, this is…sudden.”
“Is it, really? Courting doesn’t mean no sex ever, does it?”
“No necessarily, no, I just don’t know if…”
“You’re not having second thoughts about the whole courtship, are you?”
“No!” Shit, now he was doubting Wyll’s affection for him again. “I want to court you! And I do want to have sex with you, too, I’ve thought about it every night since–” Wyll felt himself flush up to his horns at the sudden admission, but he barrelled on before he lost his nerve. “But I haven't been able to decide when, or how. I had a perfect story in my mind of how I wanted a romance to go, and…” He shrugged helplessly, gesturing between the two of them. “Well, life has a way of making you go off script.”
“Oh hells, please, not theater metaphors.”
“You did it first.”
Astarion scoffed. “Why are you clinging so tightly onto that ‘script’, anyway? I can understand it’s your ideal scenario, but we’ve already had sex.”
“Yes, but, I mean…we didn’t have a choice, did we?”
Astarion shrugged and gave Wyll a look like he’d just squirted lemon juice into his face. “Was it bad?”
“No! But…does it count?”
“Count for what?”
“For…I mean…Did it mean anything to you?”
Astarion leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “How do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I know it doesn’t have to mean anything for others but I want it to mean something. I’m not interested in casual hedonism, I want a relationship.”
“There’s nothing wrong with casual hedonism,” Astarion said with a snort.
“I didn’t say there was. But it’s not what I want.”
Astarion paused, and for a moment Wyll was worried he’d managed to offend him, until he took a deep breath and spoke again. “Did it mean something to you?”
“Well.” Wyll looked down with an uncertain smile. “Yes, I think? Although I don’t know how to define what it meant to me.”
“I have a guess, darling.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” Astarion looked nonchalant, but his eyes were studying Wyll intently to watch his reaction. “It made you feel like you weren’t alone.”
Anxiety made Wyll’s heart leap into his throat. He hadn’t been able to define it himself, but what Astarion said felt right – and that was terrifying. There’d only been one person that had been able to see through him so completely before, and it was Mizora, and…well, Mizora was the last person Wyll would ever want to be so vulnerable to. He didn’t associate much good with being known.
His worry must’ve been obvious on his face, because Astarion frowned and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look so surprised, you practically said as much through the tadpole.”
Wyll swallowed. “I suppose I did, didn’t I?”
Astarion paused, then slowly reached out a hand. “You asked me to stay with you, and…I know I can be flippant, but I intend to, for as long as you’ll have me.”
Wyll began to reach out a hand, but noticed it was shaking. He drew it quickly away, squeezing his fist to try to keep it still. “Are you sure?”
“I said I wanted to try courting you, Wyll. I don’t know exactly how you’d define it, but I imagined that staying by your side, at least for the time being, was a part of that.” Astarion was looking straight at him, an unusually serious expression on his face. “And I rather hoped you felt the same.”
“I do.” Wyll took a deep breath, and managed to slow his trembling enough that he had the bravery to take Astarion’s hand. “I do feel the same. When I’m with you, it’s as though you chase away the shadows around me.”
Astarion smirked. “Like a star?”
“Exactly like a star,” Wyll agreed with a smile.
Astarion smiled back, then brought Wyll’s hand up to his lips, kissing each one of his knuckles. That did nothing to stop Wyll’s trembling. He had to remind himself to breathe.
“To be honest, my question was a little selfish.”
“You, selfish?” Wyll said playfully, his voice trembling with nerves and desire. “Never.”
“Tch.” Astarion shook his head but continued. “Do you remember when you got me off while just touching my chest?”
Wyll nodded, licking his lips.
“Honestly, I’ve been trying to figure out if that’s something that’s typical for me, so…I’ve done it on my own. And it feels good, but not enough to orgasm, sooooo, I came here to talk to you because I was curious if you would try for me?” Astarion coyly lowered his eyes. “If it would make you uncomfortable I won’t press the matter, of course.”
“Oh! I-I see.” Wyll took in a deep, shuddering breath, looking down at Astarion’s hand that was still holding his. “So you’re here to ask for my help?”
“We can do whatever you’d like after.”
“No, no, you don’t have to do anything for me. I like to help.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Wyll laughed, remembering all the times Astarion complained when he was trying to convince the others to lend a helping hand to someone. “I might just be using it as an excuse, but it does feel better than having sex with you just for my pleasure.”
“You’re the most ridiculously sentimental person on this entire plane.”
“Surely not!”
Astarion smirked and tugged at the laces of Wyll’s top and he followed willingly, drawing closer until Astarion pressed their lips together and hung his arms around Wyll’s shoulders. Wyll dug his hands into Astarion’s hair, the desire within him running like fire through his veins. It was none of the pain of the brucan bulb but all of the need, in a way he didn’t know he was capable of until Astarion had first been in his arms.
He was panting by the time Astarion let him breathe. “I want you,” he confessed. “I’ve felt so ashamed but it’s been eating me alive for days. Some nights it’s all I can think about.”
“Who can blame you?” Astarion slid a hand up Wyll’s neck to thread his braids through his clever fingers. “You’re only a man, after all.”
“Is this usually what it’s like? I thought it was just the spores, but…”
Astarion grinned in a way that hid his fangs. “I have that effect on people.” He pressed closer to Wyll. “So, is this a yes? You’ll help me?”
“Yes.” Wyll dove forward to kiss Astarion again, pressing closer to Astarion’s body, whimpering into his mouth.