#devotion fic

“I found out yesterday. You’re the first person I wanted to tell. Haven’t even spoken to my folks yet,” he told her.

“Then maybe you should ring your mother. You might be able to see her before you leave.” Standing up, Marie carried her plate to the trash can to toss what was left. He watched her for a moment before getting up and carrying his empty plate to the sink. The silence killed him. Normally, he couldn’t get her to stop talking, but now he couldn’t get her to start.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” she spoke barely above a whisper.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, earnestly. He had no clue what was going on in her head. She hadn’t looked at him in what felt like forever.

“No,” she replied, knowing that if she even glanced at him, she might break down. She was in love with him. Hoping he felt the same way, but neither had uttered those three little words yet.

“It feels like you are,” he replied.

“I’m not mad at you.” Pushing past him, she placed her plate in the sink. The clink of their plates hitting each other felt louder than it actually was. “I should get these done. You should call your mother,” she told him.

“All of that can wait. Will you talk to me? Tell me what going on in that head of yours?” he asked. She didn’t respond. “Would you look at me, Doll?” He lifted her chin so that their eyes met. As expected her eyes welled up. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? This isn’t your fault. Yes, I’m upset. Of course I am, but not at you,” she spoke through tears. “I always knew it could happen. You enlisted to serve and now you are. I was just hoping- I don’t know. I was hoping we’d have more time together. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he replied. Kissing her softly, his hands found solace on her waist. She pulled back, looking at him.

“Marty-” She pulled back, looking at him. He was the most handsome man she’d ever met. Gorgeous brown eyes with hints of gold and green. A charming smile that could talk her into almost anything. He grabbed her face, cradling her as if his hands were made specifically to do so.

“Tonight is my last night to spend with you. That’s why you’re the first person I wanted to tell. I could have driven to see my mother, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see you. I wouldn’t have been able to kiss you.” He kissed her. “Hold you.” He dropped his hands from her face to her hips. “I just want to make love to you,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. Giving in to desire, she kissed him. He was right. They only had tonight so they might as well make the most of it.

Making their way to Marie’s bedroom, he fumbled with the buttons on the front of her dress. Eager hands made for clumsy hands. Giving up, he untied his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, discarding it on the floor, soon to be joined by the rest of his uniform.

“Marty.” Marie looked at him with hesitation.

“Yes, Doll.”

“Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

“You know I just want you,” he replied.

“Promise me.”

“I promise if I make it back home, you will be the first person I see,” he vowed. With that assurance, Marie took off her dress, letting it fall to the floor. Immediately covering her body with her arms, she sied away from him. “You don’t need to be shy with me.”

“I- I’ve never-” stuttering on her words, she looked away from him, embarrassed.

“That’s okay.” He lifted her chin. “We’ll take it slow,” he promised, pulling off his tank top. “Come on, Marie.” Grabbing her arms, he pulled them away from her body. “You are beautiful. You don’t have to hide yourself. Not from me.” Peppering kisses from her lips to her collarbone, he evoked a new feeling, something Marie had never experienced. His lips against her skin sent electricity through her body.

“Marty,” she breathed out.

“Mhm.” Pulling back, he looked at her. His eyes were blown out with lust. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’m nervous. I- I don’t know what to do. I- I don’t want to disappoint you,” she told him.

“You could never disappoint me. Like I said, we’ll take it slow. It’s just you and me. Alright?” he asked. She nodded. Slowly, she pushed the straps of her brassiere off her shoulders. He smiled, watching with greedy eyes as she unhooked the back of her bra. Dropping it, she left her chest exposed to him. She could feel her heart pounding. Removing her panties in what felt like the most unsexy way, she looked at Marty for his reaction, but he didn’t seem to agree with her. “You are beautiful. Can I touch you?” he asked.

“Y- yes, you can touch me,” she replied. Caressing her breasts, he rubbed her nipples with his thumb. Another new sensation she’d never even thought to explore. Sensitive to his touch, she let out an involuntary moan. He’d barely touched her and already she was putty in his hands. Kissing her, he walked her backward to the bed, until her legs hit it.

“I can’t take it anymore. I need to make love to you,” he told her. “I’ll make you feel really good.”

“Yes,” she breathed out in response.

“Just lay down. I’ll take care of the rest,” he assured her. Laying down, she waited for him. She’d been jealous of the rumors of his prior bedroom conquests, but in that moment she was grateful that he knew what he was doing because she sure didn’t. He was the first person, the first man to see her naked, Removing his pants and shorts, he stood before her in nothing but his dog tags and watch. He climbed on top of her. “Are you ready?” he asked. His dog tags were cold against her chest.

“Yes. I think so.” She nodded.

“Okay.” He kissed her, distracting her from his hand between her legs, collecting her slick. There was plenty of it.

“Marty,” she moaned. He couldn’t believe how sensitive she was.

“I know. Just getting myself ready for you,” he replied, covering his cock in her slick. Without warning, he pushed his cock into her cunt, making her gasp and cover her mouth. “Just breathe through it. Remember, I said we’ll take it slow.”

“Mhm.” She nodded, trusting him. It felt more uncomfortable than good, making her wonder if she was doing something wrong. His thrusts languished as he tried to make her as comfortable as possible.

“That feel okay?” he asked.

“I thought it would hurt,” she admitted. “I was told it would.”

“I would never hurt you,” he promised. Kissing her, he sped up his movements, the discomfort dissolving into pleasure.

“Oh, God,” she moaned.

“Feels good?” he asked. She nodded eagerly. “Good.” He groaned, snapping his hips into hers. “You’re doing- so good.” The room was filled with lewd sounds and moans. Normally, she’d be worried if her neighbors could hear, but she was too lost in ecstasy to care. Nothing else mattered to her but him at that moment.

“I love you, Marty,” she told him. But it fell on deaf ears as he was too distracted, burying himself deeper into her. “Oh, right there.” She held onto his bicep as he continued to hit her sweet spot. She’d always imagined her first time much differently, but this was better than she could ever have imagined. “Marty.” Cupping his cheek with her hand, she tried pulling his attention. He looked at her smiling.

“You look like a dream, Doll.”

“I love you, Marty,” she repeated. The droplets of sweat on his brow and the way his slick-back hair was now wild was a sight to behold.

“I love you, too.” He kissed her desperately. The power of his thrusts became more forceful. “Oh, Marie,” he moaned against her lips. “I love you,” he repeated. Having never seen this side of him, she enjoyed watching him give himself completely into bliss. “You feel incredible, Doll. So good.” She pulled him by his dog tags into a kiss, arching her body into his. With every snap of his hips, it sent her closer to euphoria. Moaning, she was hit with a sort of intoxication she’d never felt before.

“God, Marty,” she cried.

“I know, Doll. Almost there,” he told her. “Almost.” He groaned. “You are so-” He kissed her, slowing his thrusts. “Marie” Moaning as he climaxed, he rolled off of her, laying down beside her.

“Wow.”

“Good wow or bad wow?” he asked.

“Just wow. I-”

“Was it unpleasant?” he asked, concerned.

“No. It was a little comfortable at first, but it was- it was good.” She looked at him. “Did I do a good job?” Her question made him laugh.

“You were amazing,” he assured her, kissing her. She took a deep breath. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she smiled. “I just hate that you’re leaving.”

“Me too. But I’ll write to you every chance I get,” he promised. “And I hope you’ll write back.”

“I will.” She caressed his cheek.

“You are so gorgeous, I wish I could take a photo and take it with me.”

“Maybe I can get some photos taken and send you.”

“How did you do it?” he asked.

“Shadow,” Vistri collapsed on herself out of hilarity, “Shadowheart and Lae’zel pretended to get into a fight—”

“Pretended?”

“Yes, well, this time.”

“Ah. Do go on.”

“Right. They were shouting over by Wyll, because as you know, Mizora always hangs over by Wyll. Because—”

“Because she’s obsessed with him.”

“Right. Exactly. So,” Vistri broke into giggles again, “So Mizora leaves and—”

“And?” Astarion asked impatiently as Vistri struggled to control herself.

“And when she passed me by! I did a little spell! And… It shoved her stupid, devil panties up her big, blue arse!”

“I hate you!” he howled, laughing.

Vistri was so far gone she collapsed into his chest. If Astarion were to let go now, her face would surely crash into the floor.

“I’m sorry!”

“Without me there!”

“I know!”

“You bitch!”

“I know!”

They sunk to the floor. His knees weakened and his balance collapsed. He fell, and she fell on top of him.

Then there was silence in the church. Only Astarion staring up at Vistri, and Vistri gazing down at Astarion. Their chests danced with heavy breath. He reached up to tuck her little braid behind her ear.

“You are my whole heart,” he whispered.

Vistri shut her eyes, and he reached up to wipe away her tears, “Don’t cry, love.”

She laughed, “It’s so ridiculous! I don’t know why.”

A salty, warm drop landed on Astarion. He let it trickle down his own cheek, leaving a cool trail across his face of her inner life incarnate.

He sat up to hold her better, “Do you have to know?”

Her head shook against his chest.

“That’s all right. Sometimes these things just happen.”

Vistri shut her eyes and found fear woven under layers of her forgotten self. She also found it in Astarion’s care. Somehow those two discoveries were linked, she knew that, but didn’t know what it meant.

Throwing her arms around his neck, clinging like a lost child, she begged him to find her, “I think I might be afraid.”

“Can I tell you a secret, love?”

She nodded and wiped her nose on her arm, for she had no sleeves.

“I’m always afraid.”

He spoke his admittance so close to her trembling lips. She could taste him through his words, and the ache and the void in her both shouted for the salve of him. Vistri leaned in for a kiss. The warmth of it stung her frigid fear.

The moment stilled; they found the stars. His tongue slipped past her lips, and Vistri moaned her acceptance. Now Astarion knew these appetites were truly his, he found himself ravenous.

“Wait,” she interrupted.

“What is it, love?” he asked, his lips lingering on her neck. There was a nasty bite sitting in his fangs with her pulse so near.

“I had a… plan for tonight.”

He nibbled her ear, “Is it a naughty plan?”

Vistri laughed the spikes out of her skin, “A rather silly plan, but one from—Gods!—from the heart.”

Astarion loved when she went all shy, it made her perfect to tease. He chuckled “Please do tell. What does your silly, little plan entail?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“You’ve already made me laugh plenty.”

Vistri rolled her eyes, but she was blushing, “Okay.”

Astarion grinned ridiculously as he helped Vistri to her feet. Her silly, little plan burned inside her pockets. She was discovering so many shades of fear this evening. She thought through this moment so many times it felt casual enough to do for real. Now her thoughts scrambled for a way out, but even with the best excuse, nothing in her wanted to lie to him. Even a tiny deception, after all they’d been through, felt like betraying everything they fostered.

Even at her bravest, Vistri still couldn’t meet his eyes, “I kept something I found in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. I’ve wanted to show you for a while. To share with you...”

Her fist pulled the keepsake from her pocket and stayed shut, “Although, as I warned you, it’s so silly—I just never found the right time.”

A deep breath, and her palm blossomed like a flower; two gold rings sitting at its center.

“…Oh…”

“Please don’t panic!” she said, ignoring her own advice, “I don’t mean it to be that serious.”

Astarion smirked, “Looking to wed me with a delicate veil of blood blooming over my white curls, darling?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

He shook his head as if the denial was delicious to him, “Never in all my days. I’m just as sure of that as I am of you.”

The impulse to forgive him was blasted away by his sudden outburst of laughter.

“Well, I meant this to be a little serious…”

“No,” he protested, trying his best to regain his composure, “You don’t understand!”

“You said you weren’t going to laugh!”

“I made no such promise, but don’t worry. In a moment, you’ll be laughing too.”

Watching him reach into his pockets, Vistri searched for the punchline. Maybe he was freaked out. Maybe he didn’t understand—

“Turns out, we think quite alike. Eerily similar, really.”

Astarion presented in his palm a different set of rings. Vistri’s mind reeled as a dizzying wave crashed over her.

His confession was shy, even though she’d gone first, “I kept these too. Found them near that Sharran nightmare of a hospital—bleak as it was. Always wanted to show you, but never found the excuse. Until now, you perfect thing.”

Vistri wiped her eyes, scoffing, “Who are we?”

“The kind of people who exchange rings in a church. Apparently,” he giggled.

“Gods, it’s so embarrassing.”

Astarion gathered her face with his free hand and held her close. He kissed the top of her head, feeling her hair on his lips, “Why not be as embarrassing as we can fathom?”

Vistri laughed into his chest, “Okay.”

“So… Uh, what do we do now?”

She cleared her throat, “How about… I’ll give you one of mine, and you’ll give me one of yours. Then we can… Oh, maybe we declare how we feel—Is that dumb? Answer me honest.”

His happiness sang though his eyes, “Every time we reach into our pockets, or look down at our hands, we’ll remember that we belong to each other.”

She almost couldn’t take it when he was this sincere, “Your rings are so much fancier than mine.”

Astarion smiled kindly, “I believe they have a warding bond, so do let me know when you plan to wear it.”

“Wait! But that’s—If I get hurt, then you…?”

“I don’t see how that’s any different. Any scratch on you is a stake through my heart. It’s all the same to me.”

A hard lump thrummed alongside Vistri’s pulse as they fought for occupancy of her throat. There was no space left for sentiments, “Mine don’t do anything special.”

“What made you keep them?”

“They belonged to a local couple—dead now,” she swallowed, “The letters on them… They appeared entirely devoted to one another. A couple of ordinary people, but they—You could just tell they were happy, even though there’s nothing left now but bleached bones.”

“And that made you think of me? Other’s devotions?”

She nodded, ashamed to hear her impulse spoken aloud.

“Then they’re special,” he stated. Astarion had more to say, but the words got caught.

Countless things tugged on her soul, haunted things and resurrected dreams. They crawled out from her arteries like roaches, skittering onto her skin.

“I’m the spawn of a murder god.”

“And I’m the spawn of a vampire lord.”

Vistri shook her head, “You’re your own person now.”

“And I still want to be here. Isn’t that funny?”

“Oh, it’s hilarious.”

That was it, though. Astarion could give his affections freely now his life was his to lead. Bhaal still owned her future, and father didn’t approve. Astarion could dispense promises, but Vistri could only give wishes. It didn’t feel fair; made it harder to take everything in.

“I don’t quite know what living is,” she said, “But I know I want to spend it with you.”

Astarion kissed her, “Put a ring on my finger, love.”

She blinked, recovering from the whirlwind of his kiss, “What should I say?”

“No cheating!” he chided dramatically, “Tell me something you feel and something you promise. I’ll do the same.”

“But I can’t make promises,” she heard herself say.

“And why not?”

“The Urge. It’s still in me.”

“I’d rather be the only dark power inside of you.”

“Astarion!” she giggled.

“What does the Urge have to do with anything? A bit of rope when you feel it coming on, and nobody dies.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“Could you make promises before Cazador was dead? Really, truly give yourself to anything? Even if you longed for it with your whole heart.”

“Shit.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Astarion held her tight and thought for a moment. He knew the answer but wanted something different. Even though there was nothing binding in their little theatre, he felt a great sorrow. His freedom didn’t feel the same without hers.

“If you can’t promise, you can’t promise. What else can you do instead?”

Her voice was thick, “I can wish for something. Wishes, I can put my whole heart into.”

He gave the tip of her nose an affectionate peck, “Then we can exchange wishes for now, and save promises for later. Actually—Please allow me one promise. And you don’t even have to return it because you already fulfilled what would be your end of the bargain.”

“…All right.”

“I know-I know it’s bullshit until it happens, but I promise you, you’ll be free of him. As free as I am now. I’ll kill a god if I have to! I don’t know. But I know you won’t be his toy forever, love. And when your life is all yours, on that day, we can make promises together.”

“I think that was three.”

“Vistri.”

“You said one promise.”

He frowned.

“Astarion, I’ll die if I think of it. I can’t hope. I can’t think of it.”

“You won’t die, love, but we can wait if that’s what you want.”

She nodded, “Give me your hand.”

“Oh, right!”

It was like marble, pretty and delicate with a solid strength. His long, pale fingers reminded Vistri of feathers. Art made of nature.

“How I feel about you and a wish?”

“Yes,” he said dryly, “But do make sure it’s only one wish. Otherwise, I’ll come for you.”

Vistri giggled, “I did not come for you!”

Astarion raised his brow, “Really? My mistake.”

“Shush! I’m trying to put together how I feel and you’re teasing me.”

One of his fingers tickled her palm, “Can’t wait to do more than tease you.”

She had to close her eyes and shut him out, or else she wouldn’t make him wait. Vistri knew how she felt, but none of it was in the shape of words. Maybe there was a language out there with some to capture it, but even from the fathomlessness of the Astral Planes, she couldn’t conceive of such a vocabulary existing.

So she settled for her best attempt, “The more you show me, the more I love. Knowing you… Every bit I see, I cherish. You are my favorite thing about the world, and-and I want you. Astarion, I want all of you.”

His tone was warmly strained, “And what do you wish?”

“For our lives to be blended, always. No matter what happens, I wish to never be rid of you.”

Her hands shook as she slipped one of her gold rings onto his finger. After finding which it fit, Vistri lifted it to her lips to bless it.

Emotion clouded his speech, “Thank you. Here let me put the other one on you too.”

They didn’t linger in the moment because they couldn’t. One glance at their matching gilded hands was like a peak at the sun, and their eyes burned from it.

Astarion still had to mark the moment before moving on, “It’s kind of like we’re wearing your heart on our fingers, isn’t it?”

Vistri laughed out of happiness.

“Let’s add mine then, shall we?” he asked, taking hold of her other hand.

“I kept these because I want to protect you. I didn’t tell you about them because I figured you’d never agree. At first. Then I felt too much to give them. Honestly, they’d probably just rot away in a drawer for centuries if you hadn’t brought yours out first. So, thank you for being braver than I. And for being patient with me. And so kind.”

“You taught me how to be all of those things.”

“I was there as you learned along the way. You, my dear, cultivated all that yourself. It’s why I love you so. Or part of why. It’s rather inexplicable actually, which makes the part where I tell you how I feel a bit difficult. How could I possibly capture all of it in the turn of a phrase?”

“Right? It’s so hard!”

“You made it seem so easy,” he giggled, “I’m just so happy that I don’t know what to say. I’m still getting to know what that is, happy, but you’re the one who first introduced it. Actually… That’s my wish. To learn enough that I can tell you. I’ll discover every detail and translate for you; whisper it into your ears every night. That’s what I feel, and that’s what I wish.”

He put the ring on Vistri that would hurt him the next time anyone dared harm her. Astarion would take the hit, even if it were from Bhaal himself. Then she dressed him with the other of the bonded pair. Now they had her heart on one hand and his on the other. Seeing the rings felt the same as when they took each other over his grave once he decided to live again.

“I’m yours now,” Astarion promised.

Vistri threw her arms around his neck, “I was always yours.”

To Astarion, Vistri was the light you see before death, and it brought him back to life. Unreal and bright, like an ideal end to a story; bliss shouted over the blight of his past, and he surrendered to its ebullience. It welled in his eyes, and she kissed it away. He brought her face closer and tasted her mouth before touching her lips. Dissolving self into an ‘us’, they slipped their tongues onto each other, slipped hands under cloth to meet the cool skin underneath.

He picked her up and sat her upon the altar, and possessed, they moaned. Helpless to whatever would happen next, each touch spurred another touch. Every taste only provoked their appetites. Powerless to the miracle of each other, they surrendered to it together.

Astarion leaned forward and crawled to her kiss.

She eagerly gave it, then stole her tongue away to remark, “Good thing our families aren’t here.”

His laughter barked through the church, bouncing down the empty aisles.

Vistri grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him back in, to devour him. He met her with a deep “mmmppphh” that she could feel the buzz of along her teeth. His intoxicating taste was the only thing she ever wanted for the rest of time. Astarion didn’t realize how lucky he was, not having to breathe. Vistri always had to eventually pull away.

“I love you,” slipped out of her so naturally, and used to be so hard to say. It was like taking flight.

Astarion kissed her, over and over, before saying it back.

“I have no gods,” he whispered softly against her jaw, “But I can worship you.”

Vistri yelped from the want that clenched around her like a vice, and she squirmed under his chest.

“I’ll have no sovereign,” she panted, “But I can devote myself to you.”

Astarion smiled so widely it broke their kiss, “You are the most precious thing.”

He stood up and surveyed her with a wild look of affection mixed with lust. Candlelight flickered against the glint in his eye. Then he turned to the long-forgotten, burning votive candles at their side, and told her—

“I have an idea.”

Vistri slipped her tunic off, exposing her back and chest to the cold stone altar.

“I think I like your idea,” she said, having followed the trajectory of his eyes.

“Lie back, darling.”

The candles dripped onto Astarion’s hands before their melted wax met Vistri’s soft stomach. He gritted his teeth and made no sounds. She cried out and laughed heatedly.

A little drop of it on her hip, a button over solid bone. A little stab of a burn that faded fast. As the lightness of pain left her, Astarion caressed her other hip, a gentle tease of his feathery finger. Vistri felt her heart expose itself a bit more with every drop and subsequent caress.

She unraveled as he lowered himself, kneeling. Her belly and hips were decorated with dried wax, and having left a satisfactory painting, Astarion tore her trousers off. Lustily, he trailed his mouth along the inside of her leg. As his touch on her skin cooled in the absence of his tongue, he tipped the dying candle to drip wet heat onto her shivering thigh.

Vistri yelped and Astarion kissed her, slowly, just above the knee.

“Does that hurt, love?”

“A little.”

“Do you like when it hurts?”

Vistri outstretched her arms. She ran her fingers through his hair, tangling herself in it. His fangs scraped along her skin, and she pulled his hair, dragging his face up and down her thigh. Astarion knew his hunger would never best him, but he trembled from the fight.

“I love it when it hurts.

He groaned, a stumble in his control that provided such relief raw emotion escaped it like steam.

Stroking his curls, she begged, “Bite me.”

His armed linked around her thigh like a serpent. Vistri gasped, feeling his teeth pierce the most vulnerable spot, the part prey should never expose to a predator. And he drank her up, sucked her down. Vistri felt the weakness in her head as she gave herself as sacrifice to his ecstasy.

“Take me,” she moaned, rolling her hips; draping her other leg over his shoulder.

He gulped her down with a whimper, then pulled back with a whine. His bloody grin was more warm than devilish. She wanted to see more of it; felt excitement at the prospect of coming days filled with it.

Astarion kissed his bloody bite mark and licked up the mess. Vistri leaned back as his tongue travelled further upwards. When it found her center, he looped his elbows under her knees, and gave it a kiss.

Vistri cried out his name, and the stone shouted it back to them. He felt her nails skate across his scalp and onto his ears. When she grew louder than he knew she wanted to be, Astarion added his fingers to her sweet torment. His sucking and stretching radiated into a beam that made existing in her body something good for once.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured along her folds, “Be a dear and die a little for me.”

Her body took his words as an imperative. The ruined stone around them hadn’t sheltered such praises for decades.

Vistri sat to kiss him with abandon. His hands worked at his tunic, and she helped him out of it. Then off went his breeches and stockings. Naked and trembling, Astarion joined her on the altar. Bodies intertwined; they reached a state of perfection.

Perhaps they were the gods this church was rotting away for.

Vistri rolled out from under him. Straddling him, she looked down and surveyed her beloved. He twitched and shuddered pleasantly as she teased him with a gradual grind of her hips. Hard and unsatisfied, the slow movement against him was equal parts pleasure and torture.

She reached out with a finger to trace his lips, “Whenever I look at you, devotion becomes my favorite word.”

Astarion brought her finger into his mouth, curling the tip of his tongue around it.

“It’s a higher form of love, you see. Most people only give such a thing to gods. It’s when you dedicate yourself, body and soul, to something else. A paladin’s oath. I never wanted to be Bhaal’s chosen, but there isn’t a moment where I don’t wish to be yours.”

He was coming apart underneath her, “Vistri…”

“I love you, and I can’t believe I found you.”

His grip on her thighs tightened enough for her to gasp. He panted, “Take me.”

Doing so all at once, he tore through her like a blade. She needed more, and raised herself for another fall, again and again. Astarion moaned freely under her, not trapped but released; his voice like that of a chanting priest blessing an offering.

Having just feasted on her dragon, god blood, Astarion grew too restless to lie there and take it. He didn’t want to spoil such a splendid sight, but he needed somewhere to put all the power roiling through him. He sat up, embracing her writhing form. Overpowering her rhythm, he wrested control; holding Vistri tight in his lap, rutting into her.

Astarion knew her ecstasy by her breath before he felt her pulse and squeeze around him. Her shouts rumbled under his tongue as he licked her neck. His eyes began to roll back, but he held on to watch her die another few deaths.

“You belong to me now, darling,” he said, “For as long as you wish.”

“I wish it. I wish it.”

“Do you love me?”

“I love you.”

“And who are you devoted to?”

“You, Astarion. Devoted to you.”

“Oh, I know that. Tell me again.”

“Devoted… to yo—Hah—you!”

He flipped her over like a cat with its plaything. On her side a while, then her back.

“Look at me,” he said, and she lost herself. Astarion tumbled into the unknowing with her. Who they were peeled away, leaving only how they felt.

Breath was their last offering to the altar. Reality returned with their clothes, but they brought their fantasy back with them. Their feelings and wishes sat solidly on each other’s fingers and beat life in their chests.

Not wanting to leave the church yet, they sat up against the altar and each other.

“You know,” Astarion remarked, “I thought last night was the best one of my life until tonight.”

Vistri’s muscles were still getting used to smiling so wide, “Every day with you is better than the last.”

He kissed her forehead, “Can’t wait to see tomorrow.”

Possessed, they moaned as he picked her up and sat her upon the forgotten altar. Both helpless to whatever would happen next, they had to follow each touch with another touch. Every taste only made the hunger grow. But even though they were powerless, it was happening to them both and they surrendered to it together.

Astarion crawled to her kiss, and Vistri broke it as he leaned over her.

“Good thing our families aren’t here.”

Astarion’s laughter barked through the church, bouncing through the empty aisles.

Vistri grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him back in, to devour him. He met her with a deep “mmmppphh” that she could feel the buzz of along her teeth. His intoxicating taste was the only thing she ever wanted to know for the rest of time. Astarion didn’t realize how lucky he was, not having to breathe. Vistri always had to pull away eventually.

“I love you,” slipped out of her so naturally, and used to be so hard to say. Now, it was like taking flight.

Astarion kissed her over and over before saying it back.

“I have no gods,” he whispered softly against her jaw, “But I can worship you.”

Vistri yelped from the want that tightened around her, and she squirmed under his chest.

“I’ll have no sovereign,” she panted, “But I can devote myself to you.”

Astarion smiled so widely it broke their kiss, “You are the most precious thing.”

He stood up and surveyed her with a wild look of affection mixed with desire. Candlelight flickered against the glint in his eye. Then he turned to the long-forgotten, burning votive candles at their side, and told her:

“I have an idea.”

Vistri slipped her tunic off, exposing her back and chest to the cold stone altar.

“I think I like your idea,” she said, having followed the trajectory of his eyes.

“Lean back, darling.”

The candles dripped onto Astarion’s hands before their melted wax met Vistri’s soft stomach. He gritted his teeth and made no sounds. She cried out and laughed with heat.