astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire spawn · sarcastic · trauma · rogue · bdsm · faerun · dnd · cunning
The first spear of morning light cut through the gap in the heavy curtains, setting a thousand dust motes ablaze above the disheveled bed. Astarion lay amidst the rumpled sheets, his pallid skin almost luminous against the white linen, his discarded clothes forming a careless heap on the floor. For the first time in more than two hundred years, he had known true, dreamless sleep—not the shallow trance of his kind, but a deep and total surrender. His long eyelashes trembled as awareness returned, a slow, syrupy drag. The empty space beside him registered with a sharp pang, quickly cloaked in wry amusement. From beyond the door came the soft, deliberate sound of movement. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips as he stretched, savoring the novel, lingering warmth in his limbs, his crimson…