Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized
Zevlor/Astarion | Explicit | Fluff, First Time | 2.4k words
[READ ON AO3]
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Thank you to batscrem for pushing me to post it again.
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Astarion shivered under his flimsy blanket. He turned around again on the plank he used as a bedroll. He cursed softly under his breath. He was a vampire godsdamnit! How come he was cold?! His mind wandered back to Zevlor's hot hands. Those war-worn hands had killed many, be it on the battlefield of Eltugard or on the plains of Avernus, and yet they knew how to be oh so gentle. He remembered those callused palms caressing his skin, drawing soothing cirles, lightly running its claws in its wake…
He let out a frustrated growl as he briskly sat up. A bout of light-headedness struck him instantly, reminding him that he had not fed in days. Even after leaving the formerly called Shadow Lands, animals were still few in the forest, leaving Astarion hungry. Sometimes, it was all he could think about. It left a bad taste of déjà -vu in his mouth. The spawn shook his head. No use dwelling on those particularly unpleasant thoughts for now.
He should go for a walk before dawn and enjoy the quiet. He put on his shoes and got out of his tent. He shivered in the cold night air. It was eerily quiet. No sound could be heard aside from the rustling of the tree leaves in the wind. The vegetation was abundant and lush here despite this, signaling they truly were out of the cursed lands they had had to dwell in. A few good things came out of that, fortunately, like Zevlor… His thoughts turned again to those hot, gentle hands caressing him like he was some sort of fragile porcelain. Astarion shivered, though this time not from the cold. He bit his lip as he thought about the expanse of strong muscles hiding under the tiefling's armor; the quiet devoted passion that slept under the calm mask of the Commander; the sadness his fiery eyes could not burn away.
Astarion sighed. It had been the first time in two hundred years he genuinely enjoyed being with someone. Zevlor had been understanding when the spawn had voiced his refusal to be intimate. He had been wary of this readily acceptance of his wish, thinking the tiefling was simply acquiescing to ease his misgivings about their…relations. The paladin had been true to this word, however. Astarion should have known. This old man was a goody-two-shoes, after all. He had never tried to push his boundaries. Truth be told, it was Astarion who was pushing on his boundaries, testing Zevlor's patience every time he came late at night in his tent. For the first time in his undead life, he wanted to be with someone. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted more and more and more with each session and it was starting to scare him. Was that what desire felt like? Was this why people wanted to have sex all the time?
The vampire shivered again in the cold. He'd had enough of this. There was no snack in sight and he was godsdamned cold. He should get back to camp. Astarion trudged back to the campsite feeling frustrated. This walk had not eased his restlessness by any means and had in fact encouraged him to slide deep in thoughts. There was no way he could meditate now. He huffed a frustrated sigh as he walked by his companions' tents. He had the surprise to see light in Zevlor's tent. How come the man was not sleeping? Pushed by his curiosity Astarion pushed aside the flap of the tent. Zevlor was sat up in his bedroll, panting.
"Astarion?" his brow furrowed in confusion.
"You're not sleeping?" the spawn asked, coming to sit down next to the tiefling.
"I, ah, had trouble sleeping."
Astarion knew exactly what it meant: Zevlor had been plagued by nightmares.
"Just like me. I went for a walk but it just reminded me how much I had on my mind…"
Zevlor cautiously took his hand.
"Are you alright?" he asked, concern thick in his voice.
The spawn shrugged.
"Not worse for wear, at least. But…," and he dropped his voice to a sultry octave, "I've been quite cold, you know."
He watched Zevlor shiver with delight, eyes becoming clouded with desire.
"I think I could help with that," he rumbled with a small smile.
Astarion gave him a toothy grin and slid into his lap, straddling him as he carded his fingers in the Hellrider's silky hair. The tiefling kissed him easily, helped by their countless make-out sessions. Their first kiss had been an unbearably stilted and awkward affair but it had only gotten better from there. Zevlor was a fast learner and had never taken offense in Astarion's sometimes biting rebuttals. He had been patient, kind and always happy to see him. Soon enough the usually sassy spawn didn't have the heart to be mean-spirited with him. To be completely honest with himself…he was smitten. He was despairingly smitten with this old Hellrider and his crinkling eyes.
Astarion slipped his hand inside Zevlor's shirt, caressing the hot skin, following the outline of muscles, gently tweaking a nipple. The tiefling's hands were on his hips, where they belonged. Astarion managed to wrench himself from Zevlor's mouth to pull the man's shirt above his head before diving down to suck on his throat. He felt the quiet whimper he gave. Zevlor made no move to remove Astarion's shirt. He had scrupulously respected the spawn's boundaries, no matter the fire in his eyes during their sessions. Astarion wasn't sure he was ready to tell the Hellrider about the scars on his back yet. Satisfied with the blooming bruises he left on his neck, he trailed back up to the lush lips waiting for him. They kissed more passionately this time. Astarion could feel the desire Zevlor had for him and for the first time in his dead life, this didn't disgust him. On the contrary, Zevlor's desire had been feeding his own.
He grinded his crotch against the tiefling's, moaning softly. They were both hard when they had hardly begun. Astarion would be embarrassed if he was not preoccupied with kissing him silly. Zevlor's hands slowly went down to squeeze the meat of his thighs. His mouth kissed his jaw. His sharp teeth gently brushed Astarion's bite mark, making him moan quietly. Zevlor latched his mouth onto it, sucking a bruise. The spawn's cock twitched at the thought his lover would leave his mark above his old master's. The tiefling wrapped him in his arm before gently lowering themselves on his bedroll. Astarion clumsily removed his pants before eagerly resuming their kissing. The heat in the vampire's belly was volcanic, his hunger overwhelming. He needed him in more ways than one.
"I need you," he stuttered against Zevlor's plush lips.
He watched with delight the arousal cloud the Hellrider's fiery eyes. Yet there was also hesitation.
"Are you sure?" he asked gently.
"Yes," the spawn hissed impatiently. "Now please fuck me with that ridged pole of yours."
The Commander chuckled, eyes crinkling.
"You must stop me if anything happens. For any reason. Do not let me do as I wish as you slip away, do you understand? I won't forgive myself otherwise."
Astarion swallowed, emotions bubbling up unpleasantly in his throat. No one had ever bothered to reassure him like this. It unfurled something deep within him to know this man would refuse to take advantage of him in any shape or form. He was well and truly safe with Zevlor.
"Tell me you understand," the tiefling quietly pleaded.
"I do," he whispered and took his lips again.
Their passion resumed anew. Astarion was now certain of one thing: he wanted Zevlor inside of him before the end of the night. He murmured the modified spell of Grease he would always use before catching the tiefling's hand and guiding it between his thighs. It was Zevlor's turn to murmur an enchantment and Astarion felt magic wrapping around him like an armor. Still, the Hellrider's finger was impossibly careful and gentle when it breached him. The spawn squirmed with impatience, but his lover did not give in. He fingered him carefully, slowly pumping his finger in and out before finding that sweet spot. A loud moan escaped Astarion. He slapped a hand over his mouth, shocked at his own loss of control. Zevlor was panting quietly in his ear. The vampire noticed his lover was smelling differently. It wasn't unpleasant but it was different from his usual smell. Somehow, it added to his arousal. The Hellrider was doing wonderful things to him, massaging his prostate steadily. Pleasure was mounting lazily in his belly as Astarion's mind went blissfully blank. All he could find about was Zevlor.
"Gods, my heart, you're perfect," the tiefling moaned quietly.
The praise went straight to Astarion's cock. Zevlor's scent seemed to become heavier in the tent.
"Fuck me," the vampire gasped, "please."
The Hellrider growled, his eyes stormy with desire.
"Ah, wait- Let me- Let me make you comfortable."
He gently turned Astarion on his side before spooning him. He wrapped an arm around him as his tail wrapped around his ankle. The vampire was all but purring with satisfaction.
"Are you sure?" Zevlor whispered, hands caressing his hips.
"Yes," Astarion growled, pushing back against him and feeling the pulsing hardness of his lover.
Zevlor positioned his cock against his entrance. He slowly, maddeningly slowly pushed in. Astarion let out a shaky breath. Gods, he was so big! He clenched hard, moaning, when the first ridges slipped past his ring of muscles. The Hellrider rubbed soothing circles into the skin of his hips, kissing his neck. Astarion bit his lip, nipples hard and sensitive under his shirt. The second row of ridges breached him and he was left breathless. He was filled and full. Zevlor carefully started with some shallow thrusts, pushing the ridges in and out of Astarion's entrance.
"Ah! You feel so good, my love," the Hellrider panted quietly.
The vampire couldn't help a choked, loud moan.
"Gods, how I dreamed of that, of you, of your skin against mine–" Zevlor was gasping in his ear as his cock rubbed his sweet spot.
He picked up his pace. Astarion's mind was blank, filled only with the pleasure that was starting to tear him apart at the seams. He was unravelling, shaking and trembling in a cocoon of warmth, surrounded by Zevlor's scent. The tent was filled with their gasps and pants. Astarion wanted for this moment to never end. For the first time in his life, he was making love to someone he had chosen. That knowledge alone brought him the greatest of pleasures.
But soon something was slapping his entrance, making obscene, wet noises. The vampire could not divine what it was, but he didn't care. He was too preoccupied by the pleasure unravelling him.
"Please," Zevlor was begging him quietly, "please let me– Ah, please I can't–"
"Yes," the spawn moaned.
Whatever it was, whatever he wanted, he was ready to grant it to him. Zevlor pushed against his entrance again and again, slow and steady, as his tight ring of muscles yielded to the enormous intrusion. Astarion panted, nails digging into hot skin as his eyes watered. He was so close, so achingly close. He felt dizzy and lighthearted and hungry. Instincts took over. He turned his head around to dive his fangs into the salty-tasting neck offered to him. Right as he tasted the rich, hot, delicious blood of his lover, something big popped inside him. His release crashed over him like a tidal waves, sweeping him away in a torrent of pleasure.
For a blissful eternity, Astarion floated in a great ocean of nothingness. Perhaps he even fell asleep. When he slowly came back to himself, birds could be heard outside. He was still in Zevlor's embrace. For a moment panic seized him as he feared he had drained his lover dry, but fortunately the man stirred.
"'Starion?" the Hellrider mumbled, still groggy with sleep.
The spawn hummed, unable to help the twist of disgust on his face as he felt the stickiness on him.
"Everything alright?" the tiefling asked, hand on the vampire's hip.
"I'm sticky," Astarion complained with a pout.
Zevlor quietly laughed, but the seriousness quickly returned on his face.
"Forgive me, I… I did not expect to get so carried away as to knot you."
"Well, I did not expect to get so carried away as to almost drain you dry, so I think that evens it out," the spawn chuckled. "You'll have to ask Shadowheart for some lesser restoration."
Zevlor gave him a tender smile. He got up and went to the basin of water sitting in a corner. He wetted a cloth and kneeled down to gently clean Astarion.
"I can do it," the vampire said petulantly, but did nothing to stop his lover.
Truth be told, he enjoyed the attention he was receiving. Zevlor likely knew it, which was why he was ignoring his complaint. His movements were slow and tender. Astarion was struck by the devotion of his lover. The latter's gaze searched his when he got to his thighs. The spawn nodded with a small smile, giving the Hellrider consent. The warm hands carefully cleaned him in his most intimate places. There was nothing sleazy, nothing salacious in the focused devotion of Zevlor. It was completely alien to Astarion. This kind of touch always had a disgusting agenda for him, but not with Zevlor. It was relaxing not to have to worry about having to endure someone's advances, not to have to be on his guard all the time.
Once he finished, Zevlor slipped back under the covers and pulled Astarion in his embrace. The spawn snuggled him, sighing with content. The tiefling pet his hair, and they stayed like this for a while.
"The others will wake soon," Zevlor said reluctantly.
Astarion only hummed. He too was reluctant to go. He felt good and sated. Zevlor had met all of his needs. He wanted to bask in his warmth and doze in his arms.
"Hang the others," he said with a pout, nuzzling the tiefling's neck. "They've probably heard us anyway."
The Hellrider chuckled before kissing his temple. They listened to the birds in comfortable silence as their travelling companions stirred and went about their days in camp. When Astarion finally emerged from Zevlor's tent, their stares did nothing to sour his splendid mood, even when Shadowheart quipped about Zevlor's low energy and lack of blood.
