Chapter Text
„That is too much power for one man.”
What a delectably hypocritical thing to say from the man, aiming to get the power of the Gods.
Of course, he did not stop Astarion. He deferred to Tav, as they all did and Tav let him do whatever he said he wanted. As he always did.
Astarion ascended, felt all these souls vanish from existence, feeding his own life, power, being.
Tav was smiling, happy with a new, powerful ally.
Behind him, Gale had the look of a kicked puppy. Astarion licked his own blood from his fingers and winked at him. The wizard turned away. Spoil sport.
*~*~*
They defeated the nether brain. Tav turned all tentagly and now probably slouched somewhere deep, deep down in the sewers.
And Gale wandered off, trying to find the crown. Become a God. Probably just so he could impress Mystra.
Astarion thought about becoming a godslayer, but then let it go. For the moment. It would take time to become as powerful as he was capable of being. He would see then.
*~*~*
He still wondered what Gale might taste like. A fine aged brandy indeed. There had been others he had tasted. Men who looked like him. Wizards, powerful and cocky.
He had an idea.
But still. There were always variations.
*~*~*
He wandered the world. It was a lonely, empty kind of existence. He missed the trust of his companions. He missed honest laughter.
Most of all, he missed sharing a corner of the camp with Gale, both of them reading and trying not to be too obvious while sneaking glances at each other.
How juvenile it all had been. The wizard had desired him. It had been clear then, it was clearer now. If Astarion had been strong enough back then, not just the cowering shadow of a boy who had been beaten too often, he would have just taken the wizard.
He wandered to Waterdeep, more than once. And every time he was told, that Gale of Waterdeep wasn’t in fucking Waterdeep.
Astarion had all the time in the world of course. He did not know if the same was true for Gale. Having the wizard die, far from him, of old age was just… It made his skin crawl with revoltion. It made him consider burning down the heavens to get back what was his.
When he found Gale, the man had a bit more grey in his hair, but not much.
It was in an inn by the road, close to a forest and a swamp. It felt like all the other inns and still Asterion knew that something was different the moment he got closer. He could feel his heart take a tiny, cautious beat.
He entered the inn, looked around – oak and oillamps and some kind of porrdige over the fire. People sat together, talked, played some simple games. And there, right by the fire, was a small table with a lance board. Gale sat there together with a woman. The woman was half elven, with blonde hair and big doe eyes. She studied the board earnestly. On the floor beside her was a bag with books. Maybe she was some research assistant. Maybe she was a student.
She would be dead soon.
Astarion strolled over, his hands on his back. “Sweet thing, you seem to be sitting on my spot.”
She looked up, blinked. She started to say something, but she looked into his eyes and then she turned pliant and nodded and walked away.
He sat down. Gale started to rearrange the board. When their gazes found each other, the wizard smiled. It was a soft, amused thing. He had crowsfeet around his eyes. “That wasn’t very kind, old friend.”
“I am eternally young, my dear. Brashness and rudeness belong to my many, MANY privileges.”
“And you have never been one to turn down one of those.”
“Indeed.”
It felt like coming home. Like this was their camp. Warm. Astarion did not care much for it. It made him unsure of himself. He pushed forward his tower, in an attempt to start the game, to get lost in it instead of in Gale’s eyes. “Was that young thing just now one of your privileges?”
Gale snorted. “Hardly. She is a disciple. And I would greatly appreciate it, if you didn’t seduce her. She has work to do. And seeing you, I would hope to spend some quality time together. Talk about the old times. I have missed our conversations.”
“Well. You could have visited. Or send some kind of message.”
“I was kinda busy and I assumed you were as well. Being an evil being with countries to conquer and innocents to defile and all that. Walking on rooftops, commanding wolves and turning into mist. Being a vampire lord sounds like it would be an all consuming occupation.”
“You still don’t approve. Darling. I am hurt!”
“Can you still be hurt?”
“I can most surely be tempted to punish you for being so rude.”
Gale blushed.
Ah. Some things never changed. Gale was kind hearted and proud and so bashful in the right moments. He was still denying himself what he actually wanted. Needed. Craved.
Gale looked down at the lance board, as if Astarion wouldn’t be able to read him like sordid smut like this. “Do you sometimes wonder what it would have been like, if our fearless leader did not…just let us do whatever we fancied in the moment? If he hadn’t trusted us and our judgment so horribly much?”
“I assume, you would not have gotten back in Mystra’s good graces, as I assume you did. Brought her that crown or puffed yourself up with all that new power and preened like a peacock.”
“I never did get into her good graces. Never tried to, really.” Gale shrugged, moved a pawn, then bit down on his thumb, as if he was already regretting that decision. Clever boy. Not that Astarion planned on winning the lance game. Not in a fair way, at least. “She came to me, when I didn’t come to her. Wanted the crown. The power. I denied it.”
“Oh darling. You sweet, innocent thing. You defied Mystra? Why?”
“Is that an honest question? That woman groomed me and then bade me to blow myself up in an act of devotion to her. She never cared for me in any way.”
“She ruled over you.” Astarion moved his rook. “Exactly what you want. What you need, if we’re being uncandidly honest.” He cocked his head to one side, taking him in, this man that always seemed like such a boy to him. Young and innocent in all the ways that made one delectable. Horribly noble. Self assured in a way that made it fun to bring him down to his knees. Gale looked away, as if he was studying the lance board. He seemed tired and sad. He had always been sad. So sad he had become angry with it. Now it oozed out of his pores. A God among men. A lonely, unwanted boy. How kind of Mystra to giftwrap him just so.
“You will be happy to know that I never made a spawn.”
“Well, that IS surprising. Did you find your conscience? Or did you grow enough to realize that you would not be able to look at yourself in the mirror – powers or not – if you became like Cazador for real?”
“My sweet, little wizard. I always thought you were less intelligent than you made it out to be.” Astarion stood suddenly behind Gale, one hand around his throat, his lips against his ear. The wizard was as good as a God now, but control over the weave had not given him what ascencion had given Astarion: The world was slow, like molasses. He was the only predator. The only one free to move. To see. If he wished it, the wizard would have been dead before he so much as thought of a spell.
Gale noticed it too, realized it, maybe for the first time. Astarion could smell his blood quicken with realization. What he tasted in the air was fear, yes. But also lust. Just as expected. Astarion bit into the wizards ear and grabbed his arms from behind. “Let me be candid. I will not take this from you. If you ever say something like this again, I will carve out one of your eyes. If you do not use them to actually see, you clearly have no need of them.”
He wouldn’t throw them away though. He was quite fond of them. Maybe he would put them in a jar for his bedside table.
Gale started to stand up but let himself be pushed back down again quite easily. “No, no, no, no, nooooo, sweet thing. You stay right. Where. You. Are.”
No fire to his face, no shocking grasp on his hand. Gale instead seemed to deflate just the tiniest bit. Of course. He liked having Astarion’s hand on him, commanding him. He had always been so much better at receiving orders than giving them.
“So. No spawn then.” Gale’s voice was husky. He coughed and tried valiantly to ignore Astarion’s finger that was no caressing the veins on his neck. “I am quite shocked by that development! I would have assumed you would find yourself a menagerie of lovers, a different experience for every day. Living it up like the hedonists of old!”
“Like a God, walking among mortals?”
Gale turned still again.
Astarion licked over his pulse, just to feel it jump. “I have sampled, what the world has to offer. And still I was imagining what you would taste like. I used to fantasize about that, back in camp. When Tav let me drink from him, I stared over at your cot. But you know that. You watched me back.”
“You know what I taste like. Bile was the word you used, if my memory serves. And my memory is one of my finer qualities, as it should be for a prodigy and -”
“That was the orb inside of you. Now though. Now you control that magic. Your blood should be your own again, shouldn’t it? Tasting of brandy and parchment and repression.”
“As interesting as your musings on the sanguine palate are, I have to wonder where this conversational detour will lead us.”
“I have not created a spawn, because I always felt that the first one should be special. My consort. And I never met anyone I would want to keep for eternity.”
“And you want me to believe, that you want me. For eternity. As a consort.” Gale snorted. He dropped the act of self assured and arrogant rather quickly. “I feel like your skills at deception and seduction have waned since last we met. A sweet lie, of course, but so unbelievable that I doubt you meant to put any effort into it.”
It was quite difficult to accept certain things. Astarion valued nothing more than freedom. Admitting, that he had never been free of the wizard, even if it was just in his dreams and musings… It was a bitter pill to swallow. But one that had a rather enticing solution. Aquire the wizard. Bind him. OWN him. He had dreams of keeping him in a tower, as was appropriate for a wizard. Keep him there for centuries, until he forgot how anyone but Astarion looked like.
That would have been a waste, of course. Who would have the most powerful wizard alive at their service and not use them to rule the world?
“My darling wizard… Mystra did pull a number on you, didn’t she? Still feeling inadequate? As if you will never be good enough, even if you ascend to godhood? Being cast aside for one little faux-pax? For having dared to dream of a live of...well. You never wanted to be equal. Just unreplacable. The most effective and beloved servant.” Astarion pushed a hand into his wizards hair and pulled him back on it, made him offer his neck. He stared into his eyes, one hand around his throat. He whispered, offering him a secret. Well. Not really much of a secret. “You are still haunting me. When I pleasure myself it is to the thought of your eyes, brimming with tears, begging for attention.”
Gale swallowed. “Astarion. I don’t fall into the category of what you find attractive. We both know that. You dream of virgins. You remembered Sebastian who you taught to kiss. Who was shy. You like inexperience. You like being something new and overwhelming. You don’t want to be compared.”
“Well. There is no one I could be compared to, Darling.”
“I was the lover of the Goddess of magic.”
“Yes. And you look me in the eyes now and tell me, that you would think of her, when I fill that pretty mouth of yours.” He missed the tadpoles. He wanted to look into the wizard’s mind. Instead he made do with him swallowing and then averting his eyes. Astarion grinned. He could smell the arousal on Gale. Oh, he liked this little game.
Astarion let go of him and sat down on his place again, opened his legs wide. “I make you an offer, Gale of Waterdeep. Let’s test the waters. A little...teaser, of what live could be like for you. You get on your knees and be a good boy for me.”
“That sounds very degrading and not as if I would get anything out of it.”
“Darling if you did not want to be degraded, you would have fucked a doe eyed little fan of yours and been done with it. Degradation is exactly what you get out of it. Aside from my devotion of course.”
Astarion leaned back and opened his breeches. The heady scent of the wizard had him half hard already and he acknowledged that fact with a groan and a little buck into his own hand.
“ASTARION!” Gale hissed, not unlike the cat back in the Last Light Inn.
“Hm?”
“There are people here! I did not think you were an exhibitionist!”
“I am not. Take care of that pet, will you?”
Gale was flushed in a deep red, splotches on his delectable neck and onto the part of his chest that was visible. They would have to aquire new clothes for him. Wizard-chic wasn’t really a thing and for good reasons. His darling wizard moved these very clever fingers of his and the air around them started to shimmer. An illusion, moving adapting, realistic. Oh how very talented and clever.
“Oh pet. You spoil me. Now. On your knees, clever boy.”
For a moment it seemed as if Gale would not do it. He stood there, chewing on his lip, his fists opening and closing. He stayed like that for the time it might take a rolled dice to come to a stop. Astarion had never been a gambler at heart, but the revelation of victory was a feeling he was aquainted with. He felt it, when Gale averted his eyes and sank to his knees, behind him sat an illusionary Gale, staring at the lance board, deep in thought. There were red splotches on his neck too. Delicious.
The wizard had always run hot. Not quite as hot as Karlach, but he much preferred it this way. His breath ghosted over Astarion’s flesh, damp and warm and alive. Astarion looked down at him and pushed one of his hands into Gale’s hair again.
“Darling. This is not a test you forgot to learn for. No need to be nervous. I assure you that you will be quite divine. Just don’t drool on my shoes. The leather is unforgiving.”
“Glad to see you got your priorities straight. Or not so straight, as a matter of fact. You know, maybe we should just call this and -”
Apparantly his pet needed a little bit of help to get over its nerves. Astarion was kind enough to oblidge. He used the hand, he had in Gale’s hair and pushed him down. The wizard’s teeth pushed against his cock. His beard scratched over the sensitive flesh and the inside of Astarion’s thighs. He did not know yet if he wanted to keep the beard or if they should get it off.
“It is highly un-”
Astarion used his chance and shut the wizard up. He looked kinda confused, kneeling there, a cock between his lips, as if he still had thought that this wasn’t happening. Astarion sighed languidly, stretched. His hip moved and pushed his cock deeper, while he held Gale in place. The illusionary wizard in front of him flickered, just for a moment.
“Oh, darling. Getting excited already? How deliciously needy. You are starved, aren’t you?”
Gale’s groan didn’t exactly sound thrilled.
“Oh relax, take a joke.” He petted the wizard’s ear, drew a shiver from him. “I do enjoy this, you know. Having you on your knees for me. Servicing me.”
Gale twitched, relaxed his mouth a fraction.
“I always assumed that you would take splendidly to being used. These puppy eyes, the arrogance and self doubt.” His fingers wandered over Gale’s cheek, the beard, the reddened lips. “Seemingly high and mighty. Ambitious. Smelling so… You smelled always good. You were made to be consumed. Delectable.”
This time, his wizard did decidedly not groan but moan. Astarion pushed his cock deep and then pulled out, watched the spit dribble over Gale’s lips. “Darling. I did say to watch the shoes.”
Gale glared at him. The illusionary Gale behind him raised his eyes and started to speak. „You might have forgotten basic human or elvish functions, but I can assure you, that it is quite normal to conjure up spit when having something shoved down your throat. It is also quite normal to suddenly bite.“
“I don’t expect you to be normal, my treasure. I expect you to be exceptional.” Astarion could be nice though. He could be gracious. And he pushed his foot against Gale’s crotch to prove it. The spit left a dark patch on his robe.
Gale bucked forward. Shame flushed his cheeks.
“Don’t be shy, darling.” Astarion pressed his foot harder against the bulge. It had to be hurtful at this point. His darling wizard though didn’t seem to notice. He moaned and he sucked – finally getting with the program.
He did keep his hold on the illusion though.
Astarion was well aware of the other patrons, mingling around, doing all their mundane little things. He could hear their heart beats and their chatter, smell the mundanity on them. Vermin.
„Do you remember how you taught me magic? All these little tricks…“
Gale stared at him incredulously. Astarion grinned down at him and used his free hand to summon a mage hand. He inched it forward, let the spectral fingers press against Gale’s buttocks, against his hole.
The wizard’s eyes grew wide.
„I think, if you taught me again, I could manage that little trick with the duplicate. Imagine the possibillities. Sucking me off while being fucked by me at the same time. You would be so full of me. There would be scarcely anything left of yourself.“
Gale pushed against Astarion’s foot, a puppy in heat. Astral fingers started to work him open and his whine was loud enough to make some patrons look over to their table. The illusion of Gale had put it’s head on the lance board and buried it’s hands in it’s hair.
Astarion licked his lips. The smell of arousal, of heated blood was so heavy in the air. He hungered. And he was no longer in the business of denying himself.
„Give me your wrist, darling.“
Gale stopped sucking and moaning. He looked up, tried to pull his arms away. Astarion grabbed it with one hand, put the other on Gale’s head, so the wizard would not retreat any further. „Don’t worry, darling. I won’t waste a perfectly good Gale. I will sample you. And I will let you feel how much I desire you. When you give yourself to me in completion, you will do so by your own accord. You will beg me for eternity by my side.“
It took a moment. There was a fraction of resistance, but then Gale offered up his arm, his wrist, his blood.
Astarion savored the moment, relished the anticipation. He pressed his nose against his wizard’s wrist and breathed. He smelled of magic, of that ozone that stayed after a long rain shower, after lightning cleansed the earth. There were hints of cat, of course and of ink and lavender. It was overpowered by lust though. Heady as an aphrodisiac, as a good wine.
Astarion grazed the wrist with his fangs, just a tease.
Gale shuddered underneath him.
„How long have you hungered for this, pet? Did you stare at me drinking from Tav and imagined it was you? Did you fantasize about me leaving you dry, of consuming you and being the last thing on earth you ever saw?“
Gale shuddered around his cock. The illusion opened it’s mouth, but no noise came out.
Astarion murmured against his wrist, licked over it. „Let me be very clear, my dear. I imagined that too. Well. Not quite. Back then I had softer inklings. But I hungered for you. I desired you. And I needed you to love me like you loved your Goddess.“
That had been it, really. All the devotion, Gale had to give. All that needy desperation. Give me attention, give me love, praise me, pet me, tell me I did good. Notice me.
And all of that had been for another.
Not any more.
His fangs pierced Gale’s skin and blood rushed into his mouth, thick and heady and oh, it was as delcious as he had imagined!
He growled. Gale whimpered.
Astarion used his grip in Gale’s hair to force the wizard’s head up and down, to fuck into his mouth, while wave after wave of sweet ambrosia gushed into his mouth. He lapped and sucked and drank down the whimpers of his sweet wizard. The man was bucking against his foot and the invisible fingers in his ass. His desperation and lust heightened the taste of his blood and when shuddered and found release against Astarion’s foot, the vampire licked over his wound and pulled him of his cock. He spent on Gale’s surprised face, painted his cheeks and eyelashes white.
When he was finished, Astarion smiled.
Gale looked obscene. Debauched. OWNED. Also far, far away. He shook forward and backward, weak as a half drowned kitten.
Astarion looked up and took in their surroundings. The illusion was as gone as Gale’s concentration. A dozen patrons and bartenders looked at them, their cheeks flushed. Mainly they looked at Gale. Astarion did understand. He did not forgive though.
“One moment, pet.”
It took him two minutes. He turned to mist, he slit throats and conjured a cloud of daggers, that killed the ones that were two far away. The inn turned deadly silent.
Astarion walked back over to Gale. The wizard was staring at him, blinked. Then blinked at the dead bodies all around them. He started to say something, but Astarion brushed two fingers over his cheek, gathering his own, cooled cum and pushed the fingers into Gale’s abused, reddened mouth. His wizard moaned as if he could not help himself.
“I couldn’t have anyone else knowing what you look like. Like this. This is all for me and me alone. You are mine. Irrevocably.” He pulled Gale up and against him. His blood gave him the strength to carry him with one arm, even though the bulk of the man should have made that impossible. His fingers kept the wizard docile until they were in the room, the wizard had rented. It wasn’t hard to find. The tressym was a dead give away for one.
He put Gale down on his bed and removed his fingers. He could have washed him or magicked him clean, but he much preferred that his darling would wake up like this: Smelling of him and sex and yearning. Utterly defiled.
“Listen to me, darling. You will sleep now. And when you wake up, you will think about whether or not you want to be mine.” Of course he wanted to. But Astarion wanted him to make that decision. To come crawling. Begging. He wanted him deliciously willing and yearning and hungry. He pressed a kiss to Gale’s wrist. “I am two rooms down. You come to me. And then you will be mine forever.”
He stayed, until Gale was taken by sleep, then he kissed him again and left. He came back once, just to put a present on his bedside table: A collar. His darling wizard loved to degrade himself. And Astarion loved to oblige.