Chapter Text
Astarion had relaxed and watched as the rest of the group had arrived, laden with camp equipment. Shadowheart laid and lit a fire as Gale and Wyll prepared for their meal. Lae'zel and Karlach moved to the side and began an energetic training session. Gods, how do they do that all day and then come to camp and do it some more?
He noticed that Sorcha was stood near the gate, fiddling with the trap mechanism and making sure it was disarmed for now. He decided to go and help, it might give him the chance for some idle chat, see if he could work out what happened in her head back at the Inn.
As he neared the gate, he heard a soft hoot. Somehow, some way, the owlbear cub from the forest had followed them down here. Sorcha froze, then very slowly reached into her pack for some food.
"Hey there, little one! Are you hungry? Are you lost?" she crooned, tossing the chunk of meat towards the cub.
The cub gulped it down immediately. He'd obviously been struggling to hunt alone and was looking rather threadbare. The cub's eyes were a glowing gold.
Astarion couldn't help himself, he spoke up. "He's got your eyes, are you two related?"
The owlbear jumped, then bolted back into the caverns, giving a hoot of distress. Sorcha looked sadly at the remaining meat in her hand. "You scared him. I guess you smell like a predator?"
"Well, I am, my sweet. But the owlbear isn't my prey." He let his glance linger across the length of her body and watched a flush spread across her neck.
As Astarion walked back to set up his tent he was intent on wondering how to deal with Sorcha. He needed her strong, not falling apart whenever she saw a fire. He'd taken a gamble earlier, siding with her back at the inn. This was way out of his comfort zone, keeping someone sweet night after night. It took work, it took long-term planning, to craft the illusion of caring. He'd need something more than witty lines and knowing looks to keep her by his side. Otherwise she'd see the hollow underneath his charming veneer, see him for the sham of a creature he really was, the disappointment, the failure.
He listlessly picked up a hand mirror he'd found in one of the crates and stared moodily at it. That's me, in the mirror. A big void, a shadow of what was, only existing as a reflection of other people's desires.
He saw Sorcha, reflected, walking up behind him.
"Looking at something?" he asked, arching a brow. "I'm looking too, but not seeing much. Another 'gift' from my affliction."
She looked at him intently. "What?" he asked.
"Do you miss it?"
"Preening in the looking glass, petty vanity? Of course I miss it," he said bitterly.
"You may not be able to see your face, but I like what I see," she said with a gentle smile. "Thank you for your help back at the inn. There's some things in my past that I really don't want to remember."
"Poor darling, but at least you had fun with the Zhent, yes?"
"Yes," she said with half a grin. "That was terrible of me, but I've always been uneasy dealing with them. I'm not sure what chaos overtook me but I just couldn't pass up the chance to do to them what they so frequently do to others!"
Hmm, I could be mistaken but it seems that she's always happier when she's just been on a murderous rampage. He thought back to the Loviatarran priest and wondered if she was sworn to some dark chaotic god. But then there's that ridiculously helpful side.
He bit his lip, allowing a fang to graze it, and watched as her eyes followed the movement. "To be honest, I'm amazed you managed to keep your mind clear enough to fight. I've been thinking about our last night together ceaselessly. I'll be in quite a spot of mortal peril if you let me keep distracting myself by dreaming instead of doing. We can't have that, can we? It would be very dangerous."
Astarion patted the ground next to him, and she sat down.
"You know," he continued, "I feel a connection between us. Two souls on the same path, so I understand a little of what you seem to be going through. There's a sadness within you today, isn't there, more than usual? So be a good girl and tell me all about it?" He reached out to stroke a lock of raven hair back into place.
Sorcha looked over, obviously trying to work out if she could trust him, twisting the cheap silver ring on her little finger. A nervous habit. Come on, just a little more trust, my pretty, give me something to work with.
"I just feel so… useless, I guess," she whispered softly. "Like, I'm supposed to be the leader, I'm the one everyone asks about things, the one who steers us towards hopefully removing these damned parasites, but today, back at the inn…"
Her breath hitched and she let out a small sob before continuing. "Back at the inn, rather than forging a path, I was like a runaway pack mule, crushing innocents with my indecision and fear. I can cope with some fire, just about, if I must. And I can cope with dealings with the Fists. But both together, that was unexpected way out here and it overwhelmed me, knocked down some protections, left me in that pathetic state."
"I'm not a leader," she continued, "And I'm so damn tired of having to make every decision, choose every path, always be the one in control. I'm just tired. Tired and scared that I'm nowhere near up to the task." She sniffed again, wiping away a tear, not looking at him.
Astarion prided himself of being an accurate judge of people's desires. He'd seen it all before, the strong leader who wanted nothing more than to be at the mercy of another, hiding their darker needs out of misplaced duty or piety. She wants to be under my control, forced to submit to her own desires. He could always tell.
"You just need to relax, darling," he said. "I've found a little place further in the caverns. Let me take control, just for the night, remove some of that dreadful tension?"
Sorcha paused, considering his words. He stayed silent, certain that she would accept, that the thought of pleasure would outweigh any other concerns. He'd heard the increase in her heartbeat, after all. She closed her eyes for a moment before agreeing. "Yes, that does sound good."
After dinner he declared "Just going for a bite to eat!" and with a friendly wave to the others, they left the main cavern behind. He drew her into the gated room that he had scouted earlier, two caverns away from the main camp, nicely out of earshot.
Astarion reaches a hand to her face and lightly strokes her ear. "So, my dear, ready to give up a little control and just relax? No need to worry about all those big decisions for a while." He smiles, exuding confidence.
"I get the impression that you've done something like this before, is that right?" She looks uncertain for a brief moment, then nods assent. He points to a folded rug in front of an empty weapons rack.
"On your knees, darling."
She kneels, looking expectantly at him. Immediate obedience? A heady rush of power washes over him. He takes a deep breath and allows himself to fall into a fantasy of being in control.
"Now, pet, let me tell you how this is going to go. Tonight you are mine, to do with as I wish. You will do exactly as you are told, without comment or question, unless I ask for it."
She inhales deeply, but stays silent.
"The exception to this rule is one word only. If you want me to stop, say 'Velvet'." He laughs. " I've picked that because it reminds me of you - looks all rough on the surface, but when you get near it's soft as anything."
She purses her lips but says nothing. He tilts her head up towards him.
"Now then, what word makes me stop?"
"Velvet," she whispers.
"Good girl," he purrs into her ear, hearing her heart start pounding. He places light kisses from her ear, down across her jaw, then grazes her cheek with a final kiss before stepping back from her, out of reach.
"So, take off your shirt, lift it slowly over your head." As she reaches up, the shirt covering her face, constricting her arms, he says "Stop right there!" and she pauses, waiting.
He undoes her breastband and places a cold hand across one breast, enjoying the shiver that passes across her skin, then rolling a nipple between his fingers, feeling it harden immediately. He leans over to the other breast and draws a wet tongue across it before ghosting a cold breath over the moisture, watching the skin pucker. He can smell the heady mix of her spice and her blood as he licks a broad stripe up her throat.
Stepping back, he says "Continue," and watches as she removes her shirt entirely, kneeling before him only in her leggings.
He licks his lips, slowly, lasciviously, drawing his tongue across one fang so that a single drop of blood quivers on his lip for a moment before being lapped up.
"Hmm, what to do with you now?" he ponders. "Such pretty tits should get some attention really, so start running your hands over them, play with them for me, lick them, keep those nipples good and hard."
He watches as she caresses herself, pinching her nipples, bending her head to lick them, doing as she's told. He smells her increasing arousal even through her clothing, and he starts drifting off for a moment, away into the dark, before focusing again. No, I'm the one in control here.
"That's enough." She pauses.
"Stand for me and take off those leggings, let me look at you." She slides them down then moves to remove her smallclothes too.
"Ah, ah, bad little minx! I didn't tell you to do that." He strides over and taps her nose with one finger. "Disobedience has consequences, you know?"
Astarion reaches into his pack and brings out some thin rope that he's been carrying around. "Kneel, my sweet." He swiftly ties her wrists to the weapon rack so that she's affixed in front of him, arms above her head and knees spread.
"That's better. Now, tell me how wet you are, pet. Have you made a mess all over your underthings, just from being tied up? Talk."
She's blushing, surprisingly bashful for someone who's previously wanked herself to a climax in a goblin camp. He can see the heat flushing across her chest in waves.
"Yes," she whispers.
"Yes what? You'll need to do better than that."
"Yes, I've made a mess. I'm dripping wet, it's soaking through and dripping down my thighs," she says, voice quivering.
He reaches swiftly forward and rips off the thin material. "Disgusting," he growls. "Look at the state of this, all from your needy little cunt." A slow smile spreads across his face and he drags the sodden clothing over her breasts and up across her mouth.
"But I do rather like that you've got this wet for me already, I might have to get a taste of you myself." His head darts to her breast and he sinks his fangs in on either side of her nipple, piercing the skin, drinking only a little for now, then laving the wound so it heals. She shudders in pleasure and he can taste the sweetness of her juices, mingled with the salty tang of her blood.
This time he remembers to remove his breeches before he plans to drink fully.
He kneels between her spread legs, pressing only the base of his cock against her. She's so, so warm, so wet, squirming up against him like an eel. Stroking the side of her jaw, he suddenly grips tight. "Did I say you could rub yourself up against me?"
She whimpers, shaking her head.
"No, exactly. You were warned, pet. I'm not sure you even deserve to be allowed to come now."
His cold hands ghost over her skin, caressing, coaxing and then suddenly pinching as soon as she relaxes into it. She gives him a shocked look but says nothing. He reaches down, coating his fingers before quickly sliding them deeply inside her. She groans with pleasure, but three deep thrusts and he withdraws, bringing his fingers to her mouth instead. "Lick," he demands. She complies, rocking herself in place without touching his body.
"That's better, things will go so well for you if only you're obedient," he purrs, causing another shiver to ripple through her.
He slides both hands behind her, tracing circles at the base of her spine, sliding along her cheeks, separating them, running a cold finger to tickle across her arse as her back arches and she whimpers.
He stands once more, his cock at her eye level, slowly running his hand over the shaft.
"Hmmm," he says, smirking. "I think we have a problem here." Her eyes widen, as if wondering what she has done wrong. "You see, I really think I should slide my cock down your throat, but then how are you going to tell me to stop? Can't say 'velvet' with your mouth full, after all."
"Unless…" He reaches up to the nearest shelf and takes down a book. "Gods, 'Volo's Guide to the North'." He sighs. "Well, it'll have to do." He places the book in her upheld hands. "If you need to stop, drop the book, understand?"
Sorcha grips the book tightly in both hands and nods determinedly.
He traces the outline of her lips with the tip of his cock, letting her taste the precum that seeps from it, before holding her head firmly and rutting into her mouth, getting deeper on each stroke. Her eyes widen once more as she concentrates on breathing through her nose, letting her saliva pour out of her mouth, coating him and dripping down onto her neck and across her chest. She clenches the book hard as he watches her almost gagging, taking what he gives her.
He's nearly about to come, as much from the pleasure of her obedience as from the sensation itself, but he pulls back, kneeling between her legs once more, taking the book from her hands.
"It's good to see you managed some obedience in the end, my sweet, so I'll let you have a little reward, as long as you say 'Please' for me."
He waits, not giving details, until she says "Please?"
"That's my good girl. I'm going to feed now, and your reward is to make yourself come by grinding that hot, swollen clit of yours against my cock."
She tilts her hips forward, rubbing against the firmness of his cock. It's awkward but she's determined to chase what sensation she's allowed while she can. As she begins frantically rubbing against him, he tilts her neck and bites, drinking deep, enjoying the taste of her desire, waiting for the starburst of her orgasm to reach his tongue and push him over the edge.
In the morning they decided to explore the caverns before heading back up to the Risen Road. There were crates of weapons, jewellery, supplies, an entire hoard of goods, so Astarion filled his pack with the light but valuable items as the group walked downwards.
Looking down, he noticed faint footprints which looked to be leading into a wall. Further investigation showed an illusory wall, protecting a giant winch and an elevator platform. It was the work of moments to pick the lock on the winch.
"Shall we?" he asked.
"Couldn't hurt to look, surely?" murmured Gale.
The platform was just big enough for five of them, so Sorcha, Astarion, Gale, Wyll and Karlach ventured down, promising to either return soon, or to send the platform back up for everyone else if the situation called for it.
It was a slow descent, the walls of the dry cavern gradually giving way to damp, fetid stone, running with moisture. It gave Astarion time to think back on the previous evening, which went rather well, all told. She certainly seems much more relaxed this morning.
He smiled to himself. Being in control felt so much better than being a plaything for others, and she was an entertaining person to keep around. Maybe if I can encourage her to unleash that fire she's got locked up inside then we might stand a chance against Cazador.
The platform reached the bottom with a resounding thud which echoed back hollowly at them from nearby walls. Huge mushrooms glowed softly, covering almost all surfaces, and bright little spores dotted the air. Despite their plans, they had reached the Underdark.
They were surrounded by a jumble of boxes and crates, haphazardly stacked in all corners of a raised ledge, many marked with the winged serpent crest of the Zhentarim. Sorcha picked up a box lid and used her dagger to scratch a message, telling the rest of the party to come down, and sent that back up to the Zhent hideout.
The Underdark was strange. Not the dusty black of hidden corners, forgotten cellars or the shadowed halls of Cazador's palace. No, it was a deep, thick, relentless black, only relieved by the glow of fungus along walls and pathways.
Astarion worried that his darkvision felt almost useless, he could only see a little into that black. Anything could be lurking there, ready to exploit any weakness, any distraction. He hated it. With three humans in the group, barely able to see in normal darkness, they were very vulnerable.
The Zhent storage room was on a raised ledge, looking out over paths winding between looming mushrooms. Astarion peered into the murk and saw something moving, something huge. He scooted back to the others to find the elevator had returned.
Shadowheart was talking about how much she liked the dark here, almost with a religious fervour, he thought. Something very wrong with that one.
They crept back towards the ledge as the distant shape took form, the massive bull physique of a minotaur lumbering towards them, club raised. It let out an immense bellow and charged, followed by another. Quite frankly he was just tempted to leap back on the elevator and leave this vile place entirely alone.
With the advantage of the high ground they did well peppering the minotaurs with arrows and ranged spells, until one minotaur decided to leap onto the platform with them, knocking Gale, Shadowheart and Sorcha flying onto the path and triggering a series of blast mines.
He had to concentrate, kill these beasts. No distractions like worrying that his meal ticket is burning up. Dammit.
Lae'zel screamed "Ht'aka!" and leapt for the nearest minotaur, sword drawn, hanging onto a horn and piercing it through the skull. Astarion's arrow followed, direct to the eye socket, and the creature dropped, Lae'zel leaping agilely out of the way as it fell.
He took the minotaur's death as an opportunity to fling a water flask over Sorcha, splashing across to Gale too, leaving them spluttering but most importantly, not on fire. Thankfully Karlach and Wyll had dealt with the other beast, leaving the path up ahead clear, and giving time to recover from burns and wounds.
Leaving the others to establish a campsite, Astarion set off with Sorcha, Gale, Karlach and Shadowheart, following the path upwards. In the distance a shadowy building resolved itself into what looked like a temple of Selûne, with a gated entrance flanked by glowing statues.
What in the hells is a Selunite temple doing down here? It's not as if there's a moon!
Something moved ahead of them. Astarion dropped down into cover and strained to see, as the others crouched down behind him. As the movement neared the temple it was illuminated by brilliant beams of light from the statues. The flash brought the outline of a minotaur into view, before the brilliance overloaded his eyes. He shuffled backwards, waiting for his eyes to clear.
The minotaur lay, unmoving, at the temple gate. Whatever those lights were, he didn't want to go near and end up the same way. Better to sneak around the side and look for an entrance that way.