Archive of Our Own

Hands on your hips, you stared at the two brass numbers hammered into your door. There was an uneasy feeling swirling in your gut as you clenched your newly minted key in your fist. It was the first time that something was wholly yours, this apartment, yet there was a part of you that wanted to turn tail and run back home, back to where you knew you would be cared for.

But this was good. This was what needed to happen in order for you to step out from under the shadow of the word daughter and become your own person. Sometimes you found yourself regretting staying in your hometown for university, but that had also been for the best. Funny how eager you had been to move out when you were eighteen, but more than half a decade later you wanted nothing more than to return to that wide-eyed teenager.

Things had not been… easy for the last few years. You’d experienced things that had seemed beyond your eighteen-year-old self’s craziest dreams and nightmares. That was part of growing up, you supposed.

The key fit perfectly into the lock, and with a sharp slam of your palm against the door, it swung open to reveal the inside of your new apartment. It was a blank slate; white walls and birch wood floors, ready to be covered by all your knickknacks and messes.

“Home sweet home,” you muttered to yourself. You turned around to start shoving your meager belongings into your new place. Just six boxes, a mattress in your best friend’s truck downstairs, and your backpack that held all your electronics.

Speaking of, you gave up on pushing the boxes inside and set your backpack onto the ground beside you, rummaging through to pick out your phone. The cracked screen was already on. Several missed calls from Karlach littered your notifications.

You tapped on one of them. “Hey,” you sighed when she picked up.

“Hey you! What’s going on up there? Don’t tell me your landlord isn’t even in!”

One of your hands began rubbing at the burgeoning headache forming between your brows. “No, all good on that front. I, er. I do need some help getting my stuff inside.”

“On my way up now,” said Karlach, cheery. The sounds of traffic momentarily muffled whatever she said next before dimming to a dull roar as she entered the apartment building. “Ohh, swanky.”

“I got lucky.” You felt the need to clarify; there was a part of you that resented the idea that you had somehow already made it just by getting your own place. It was a big step in the right direction, but things were far from good. On top of your uneasy job security, there was the matter of continuing to afford this place, groceries, and your distinct lack of any friends or family nearby. You had left your parents’ home hundreds of miles back in order to move into the city, and the longer you spent here, the more you regretted it.

Thankfully, Karlach was an old family friend who lived just a few minutes away. You and her had been good friends when you were younger, always chasing each other around weddings and get-togethers, calling each other your cousin. But things had changed ever since you had moved away from your childhood home, and then things with your parents had hit a rocky edge. As much as you loved them, you were a different person than you had been a few years ago.

You shook the depressing thoughts out of your head. Things would be much better now. You were sure of it.

Karlach came bounding up the steps, a grin across her face. She had grown into an unusually tall woman with muscles to match her stature; one side of her head was shaved while the rest of her hair curled over her shoulder. “Howdy,” she called.

“You’re the best,” you breathed, pushing the door aside so she could shove all of your belongings into the foyer with a single strong push.

She laughed, dusting her hands. “I can start putting things away or go down to grab the last few boxes. Which one is best?”

If you left her here, no doubt your clothing would suffer the same treatment she gave hers, which was to shove them every which way in no observable order into a closet. But a larger part of you was beginning to panic the longer you stood here, so you pressed your key into her hand and held yours out for hers. “I need some air,” you answered.

Karlach gave you a soft look. “Right on. ‘Ere you go.” Then she turned around and started to whistle loudly, reaching into your backpack for the boxcutter you had packed.

Before you could think, you were somehow outside with her keys clenched in your fingers, mouth pursed as a shivery sense of anxiety fell over your mind. Gods, what were you doing? You were a lonely creature by default— to move so far away was maybe the worst thing you could have done.

Karlach’s truck was an obnoxious red. It was the very same truck she’d had since she’d gotten her license, a fact you knew because your mom followed her mom on Facebook. By sixteen you’d already left that familiar town behind, attending a high school five districts away. You unlocked the door and yanked out the last two boxes, stacking them on the sidewalk.

By the time you got back up to your apartment, Karlach had sorted through your kitchen supplies and set up your rusty toaster on the counter. She looked up when you pushed past the unlocked door.

You jerked your thumb over your shoulder. “Could you maybe help with the last two? I used all my energy carrying them up the stairs.”

She laughed, brushing past you and easily maneuvering the boxes inside. “You know,” she said with a smile, “I’m really glad you’re living here. I still remember when we hid under the tablecloths at your aunt’s wedding.” Karlach patted you on the back. “It’ll be good to reconnect. I’ll introduce you to my friends. You won’t be lonely here, promise.”

As always, she had somehow seen through the veneer you put up around others. You gave her a quiet nod in return, then handed her the truck’s keys. “Thanks, Karlach. Did you—”

“I’ll go grab the mattress,” she said. “In the meantime, I ran into your neighbor a few minutes ago. He’s really nice. You should go say hi!”

You squinted at her. “How long was I downstairs?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Karlach said casually, “a while. You needed the air, though, right?”

“Right. I’ll just…” you stepped back outside and gestured at the only other door in the hall. It was straight across the corridor from the elevator. The apartment complex you had moved into was newly renovated, but because it was built in such a crowded city, there was only enough room for two normal-sized apartments on every floor. There were other identical buildings surrounding the one you lived in, though.

Karlach gave you a nod and wandered past you to the elevator. You cast a nervous glance back before walking up to your neighbor’s door.

Your knuckles rapped against the dark wood softly. For a moment you stood there in a suspended state of freak-out. Was this a normal thing people did? Would your neighbor like you? Karlach was a lovable teddy bear, but you were oftentimes prickly and unemotive when it came to meeting new people. It was a marked fact that you hated change. Being forced to interact with new people in hopes that they might end up liking you was more humiliating than exciting to you.

Then the door opened and all thoughts evaporated from your mind.

Standing before you was the single most handsome man you had ever seen. He was dressed ridiculously; even though it was only seven in the evening he was wearing a maroon dressing gown that settled elegantly over his pale skin. Black ruffles decorated the edges of the sleeves and bottom hem, matching the house shoes that poked out beneath the latter. Every line of the man’s body was cut like a marble statue, as if Michaelangelo himself had sculpted him out of only the purest of stone.

He was tall, too. You weren’t short – at least, not abnormally short – but he was certainly a good few inches taller than you. He had a head of snow-white curls and deep brown eyes that almost seemed red under the hallway’s golden glow.

“Yes?” he said snippily.

You goggled at him for a second too long before snapping back into your body, arms glued to your sides like you were a cadet and he was your commanding officer. “Uh, yes, hi. I’m your new neighbor? Down the hall. The, um. The only other door.”

He titled his head to the side, eyes narrowing as he surveyed you. This was the so-called nice neighbor Karlach had met? Every part of him screamed cruel. The way he was looking you over reminded you of being twelve and painfully awkward, the prime target for bullying.

Good Gods, he was handsome though. The tip of his perfect nose angled up as he scoffed. “Great.”

“Great,” you said as brightly as you could muster, which admittedly was not bright at all.

“Astarion,” he answered. “My name. If you need anything, don’t ask.” He glanced at you once more, waiting.

You stuttered out your name and clasped your hands together behind your back. Sweat was beginning to bead at the nape of your neck. You had never been the subject of such ire, nor had you ever been the subject of such a beautiful man’s attention. Both circumstances were equally nerve-wracking.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Astarion grimaced as if he could not imagine a more unfortunate event. “Good night.” And then he slammed the door in your face.

Behind you, the elevator chimed. “I got your mattress! Might need to wipe it down because one of the corners was dragging against the floor the whole way up— woah, what happened?” Karlach’s eyes widened. “You look miserable!”

“Karlach,” you said sullenly, “I think I need to move out.”

“It’s not that bad,” Karlach reassured you through a mouthful of pad thai. “He’s just…”

“An asshole,” you groaned. “Gods, and he’s hot too!”

She nodded sagely. “He definitely is hot.”

You groaned again, rubbing at the now full-blown migraine that was currently wrecking your head. “I’m never going to stop thinking about him. He’s honestly the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, Karlach!”

“Wow,” she said, chewing loudly, “that was fast. True love at first sight?”

“No, he’s just… well. I don’t like him, but he’s attractive. So attraction at first sight?”

“Sure,” Karlach swallowed. She set the container of noodles aside and reached over to pat you on your shoulder. “He’ll come around. You may seem bitchy at first, but he’ll warm up to you.” Removing her hand, she started to rub at her chin, eyebrows furrowed. “But he really was so nice to me. Are you sure we’re thinking of the same guy?”

“White hair, pale skin, a face that looks like it belongs in a Renaissance painting?”

“Yup, that’s the guy. Strange.”

“I don’t think it’s strange at all. You’re super lovable.”

“Awww, shucks. I promise I won’t steal your man, babe.”

You snorted. “You can have him. I don’t think he likes me at all.”

Karlach gave you a knowing look before she took a huge bite of the last scallion pancake. “You say that now. In a few weeks, he’ll be wrapped around your finger.”

“Me? Please. I’ve had exactly two boyfriends, neither of which were actually especially interested in me. I’ll die before I manage to catch a guy like that’s attention for more than a minute.” You paused. “Hey, Karlach, where’s my pancake?”

She grinned at you weakly. “Um. About that…”

♥

You placed the phone in its receiver with a deep sigh of regret. Working as the receptionist to one of the largest law firms in the city might have seemed like an excellent opportunity, but going into law was the furthest thing from your dream. It was a job borne out of necessity rather than an actual interest in the subject. Sure, there were parts that were exciting— just that morning, you had been able to see the penthouse view while dropping off a file for the top hire’s newest case. But it was mostly monotonous and draining.

Black, manicured nails tapped on the desk in front of you and you looked up to meet Jenevelle’s eyes. She was one of the other receptionists, though she worked for someone much higher up the chain rather than at the front desk. She was also one of the only people who bothered talking to you in full sentences here.

“Want to grab coffee for our break? I’ve been given thirty minutes for my hard work,” she said with a smirk.

You really liked Jen. She had a resting bitch face that sent most men running, but underneath that she was the funniest person you knew. Not that you knew many people in the first place.

She reminded you of yourself in that way: sharp on the surface but soft on the inside.

“Sounds perfect,” you answered. You stood and followed her into the back where you both swiped your employee badges to note your break. Jen wrapped a scarf around her throat before tapping you on the shoulder to catch your attention.

“How about that place on seventh?”

“Whatever you think is best.” Pulling on your own coat, you followed her out into the wintry weather. It had stopped snowing, but the peace wouldn’t last long; tomorrow, the city was supposed to get six inches. It wasn’t a lot, but it was more snow than you were used to.  

Your boots left faint imprints as you headed down the street. In the two weeks you had been living here, not much had changed. You were still as lonely as ever, though you’d at least made one friend of your own merit, and you still hadn’t fully moved in. There was a part of you that regretted this whole endeavor, and that part quietly wriggled into your thoughts whenever you started to move your clothes from their cardboard boxes to the closet. Part of you was just waiting for the other shoe to drop: for everything to turn messy and unsalvageable, just like it had before you’d moved.

The only good part of the last half a month was that you hadn’t seen Astarion again. Though, perhaps that was a bad thing. He was easy on the eyes, after all. But he was one of the few constants in your life these days, so you often found yourself wondering about him. What was his job? It didn’t seem to be a five-to-nine like your own; you’d never bumped into him on your way home. Maybe he was a fashion designer? Or maybe he just had a trust fund? He seemed like the type.

He was also a good few years older than you, though, so maybe he had just figured out an easy and steady way to earn income from the wisdom those few years afforded him.

“What do you want?” asked Jen.

You blinked. Somehow you were standing in line at the coffee shop. That seemed to be happening more and more, you being in a daze.

“Hot chocolate?”

Jen snorted. “Sure. Find us a seat, won’t you?”

By the time you had nabbed a two seater near the window, Jen had ordered your drinks. She sat across from you and pushed your hot chocolate forward. “How’s today going?” she questioned.

With a shrug, you took a sip of the drink. “It’s going. A lot of calls from some guy about a wine thing? I gave him an appointment but he kept calling.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah. That guy. Honestly, that vineyard has been a huge issue for us these past few years. We’re only involved since ownership got transferred in a really… weird way.”

“Weird how?” you whispered.

Jen leaned in. “The previous owner died. There was a whole police investigation into his death since he was such a big name. He had seven or so charges though— like, seven people who he was technically the legal guardian of. Most of them stayed out of it but a few of them were battling for sole ownership of the estate. I think they ended up splitting the assets.”

“So that guy who keeps calling…”

“We handled the whole dispute, pretty much. He probably thinks he got cheated, or maybe he was one of the charges who didn’t put any stake in during the initial mess.”

“That’s crazy!” you breathed.

“I know,” she grinned. “Working for these dickheads isn’t fun, but I do love hearing the legal drama that comes with it.”

You nodded, pushing back in your chair. Outside the snow had picked up again, though most of it was melting upon contact with the sidewalks. The tram slowly chugged over the streets, holding up a little more traffic than usual, and as you gazed across the street—

You almost spilled your hot chocolate.

“What?” Jen asked. “What is it?”

“That’s the neighbor I was telling you about,” you said, quickly pointing him out. Astarion stood on the sidewalk right in front of the dress shop parallel to the coffee shop you were sitting at. He was arguing with a man that had honey-blond hair and broad shoulders. The look of contempt that covered his face was somehow even more concentrated than the way he’d looked at you two weeks ago.

“No way.”

You glanced at Jen. “Huh?”

“There’s no way. That’s the guy we were just talking about! I’d bet a million dollars that the guy he’s arguing with is the same one who keeps calling you.”

“Who? Astarion?”

“Astarion!” Jen slapped her hand over her forehead. “That’s his name! If I’m remembering correctly, he’s the one who inherited the vineyard. I think he’s still running that brand of wine? Or maybe he sold the rights and is just giving the seller access to the wine the vineyard makes? Either way, he was one of the more educated ones. Probably why he ended up with so much.”

You peered at him through the window. He one hand on his hip and pointed the other at the taller man, speaking sharply through gritted teeth. ‘Just who are you?’ you wondered.

“Ohh,” said Jen with a snort, “I get it. He’s hot. That’s why you keep talking about him.”

You glared at her, waving a hand as if to shush her. Jen giggled but turned to look at Astarion as well. The dark peacoat he was wearing hung to every sharp edge of his body, accentuating the jagged jut of his hip and the narrow well of his waist. The other man snarled something back before turning on his heel. Astarion watched him go, irritation marking his handsome features. Then he turned and made direct eye contact with you.

Caught red-handed, you offered him a weak wave. One of his eyebrows drew up before he scoffed and started to head across the street. Right to the coffee shop you were currently at.

“We need to go,” you told Jen quickly, panic setting in.

“What’s he gonna do? It’s not a crime to stare at people.”

“Jen, please. I really can’t deal with this today.”

She sighed. “Fine. Let’s leave out the back.”

The two of you hurriedly buttoned up your jackets before stacking your cups atop each other. You gripped them in your hands as you scurried to the trash, shoving them into the glass section to be washed with the rest of the mugs gathered there. Jen was already gone when you turned around.

“Jen?” you said quietly.

From behind you, someone yelped and you were suddenly pushed forward. A pair of strong hands caught you by your shoulders, fixing their fingers into the weak points of the joints there. That was the only reason you felt so faint, you swore, as you looked up into Astarion’s eyes.

“Careful,” was all he said. The word came out low, unhurried, almost like the hiss of a snake. You had never been more aware of how frantic your heart was beating.

“My bad,” you managed to stutter out.

“Oh, who’s this?” called Jen. She stepped forward to stand next to you, and it was then that you put together the puzzle pieces: it had been Jen who had pushed you. You would have stepped on her toes if you hadn’t been manacled in place by your neighbor, who still hadn’t removed his hands from your body.

“Jen,” you said, annoyance clear, “this is my neighbor, Astarion.”

Astarion let go of you like he had been burned.

“It was so nice to see you,” you continued and noted with desperation that your voice seemed to be climbing in pitch, “but we really have to get to work now. Have a nice day!” Grabbing Jen’s wrist, you pulled her out of the shop before he could reply. Not that he would have; he’d looked irritated by the mere notion of you being here.

“Oh my Gods,” gasped Jen with a snort of laughter, “he’s totally into you.”

“You’re being weird,” you complained.

“I’m not! I was right there, I saw that look on his face.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right. He’d never be interested in me. He made that abundantly clear. Anyway, break time’s over.”

Returning home to your empty little apartment was the worst part of today, you decide. Everything was too quiet. You threw your keys onto the counter and collapsed face-down on your couch, feeling the hot humiliation you had been swallowing down start to slide back up your throat.

At least your question about Astarion’s job had been answered: he was a businessman in the loosest definition of the word. And somehow he was connected to your job. That wasn’t an insane coincidence; you worked at the best firm in the city, and if Astarion had wanted premium services, your company would have been the first one he’d gone to.

It was, however, immensely frustrating. The man seemed to be everywhere. The way he looked at you was like he was studying a particularly ugly bug: fascinated but vaguely disgusted all the same.

You wandered over to the front door and outside into the hallway. Standing in somewhere that wasn’t an enclosed space seemed to help some. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath of the slightly stale air in.

The elevator dinged. Just as your eyes fluttered open, Astarion stepped out. He glanced at you, something strange flitting over his face before he took another step forward.

You skittered back against the door.

He stepped closer, stopping right in front of you. “You… work at Adversaries Law, correct?”

With only the briefest of pauses, you nodded.

“Has Petras been calling you?”

“...Petras?”

“The man I was talking to outside the coffee place today. I know you saw— don’t act dumb, darling.”

Darling? Was this what swooning felt like? You bit down on your lip. “I don’t know.”

Astarion glowered at you, shuffled even closer, and said with surprising gentleness, “He has, hasn’t he?”

“I’m legally not allowed to answer that.”

He smirked. “Good, darling. Seems like there’s a thought in that brain after all. If only you were stupider. No matter. Does the name Evander raise anything?”

Evander— that had been the name the man had given you over the phone. It was Petras’ last name, you surmised. “Nothing,” you said, gaining a bit of confidence. You held all the cards here; he was clearly trying to probe you for information.

“Don’t play dumb,” he hissed. “It was cute the first time, but not anymore.”

“How unfortunate for you.”

You watched detachedly as Astarion’s hands clenched and unclenched. There was a strange emotion coursing through you, something powerful. ‘In a few weeks, he’ll be wrapped around your finger,’ Karlach had said. This probably wasn’t what she had in mind, but she’d been right.

“Listen,” said Astarion, changing tactics, “we haven’t known each other for very long. How about you come over for dinner tomorrow night? We can crack open a bottle of my wine.”

My wine? From his vineyard, probably. Ugh, he was smart. He was trying to figure out how much you knew about his situation, and once he’d pinned you down, he’d start working on getting you onto his side.

You peered up at him. Surprisingly, the only emotion in your head was contempt. Just because he was handsome didn’t mean you’d fall for his tricks. In fact, you would probably be the last person who would; men like him didn’t pay attention to you unless they wanted something. With the way he was acting, he had, likely unbeknownst to him, made it very clear he wanted something too.

“I’m busy,” you said dully. “Have a nice night, Astarion.” Then your fingers grasped your doorknob, opened the door, and slammed it in his face behind you.

Fucking asshole.

♥

You had hoped that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try again, but the next morning you found yourself staring up at him from your chair behind the reception desk at work.

Astarion blinked innocently at you. His eyes were definitely not just brown, you thought as you peered at him. They were the most unusual shade of red. Russet. Yes, that was the word.

“Good morning,” you began carefully, “do you have an appointment?”

“My,” said Astarion, “look at you. So polite. Where was that politeness last night?”

The girl in the receptionist booth beside you went bright pink and turned away, but the way she didn’t move away told you that she was planning on listening in to your conversation.

“Can I help you, Astarion, or are you just here to make my life miserable?”

“I need you to get me an appointment with the director.” He set his elbows on the desk and leaned over it, effectively boxing you in. You swallowed and tried to ignore the instinctual reaction your body had to being cornered by an attractive man.

“I can put in a request,” you offered. “Unfortunately, the director is all booked up for today—”

“Tell him Astarion is here.”

You grit your teeth. “I will not do that. Nor will I tell you any confidential information. Have a nice day, sir.”

“Please,” Astarion breathed, tipping his head to the side, but no matter how innocent he tried to appear, he still had the eyes of a snake. And a few days ago you had been a little mouse scurrying in his peripheral— today, you were his prey.

“I can help you over here,” said your partner, shooting you a sharp look as he gestured for Astarion to come over to her. You breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. Maybe he would turn his attention to her instead of you. Then you might actually manage to get through today without tearing your hair out.

“No need,” Astarion answered absentmindedly. “She’s doing such a good job over here.”

Fuck. Double fuck. It was the oddest thing. He had somehow managed to infuriate you beyond belief, yet he’d also turned you on. Granted, you had probably been turned on since he’d put his elbows on the desk and greeted you with a “hello, darling”.

You opened Chrome, then Excel, then typed a random slew of letters into one of the cells. “So it looks like the next appointment is for next month. Would you like me to request it for you?”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Sure, dear. While you’re at it, how about that dinner tonight?”

Another furious batch of letters typed into the next cell. “I’ve requested it for you. And no thank you, to the dinner. If you’re that eager for a date, I actually know someone who’s looking for a boyfriend—”

Astarion grimaced. “I’m interested in you.”

‘More like interested in whatever information about Petras I have to offer,’ you thought. Admittedly, there wasn’t much that you did have. You knew he was planning on launching a full-scale effort into gaining back assets that Astarion and the other charges had, but you also knew that it was probably too late for him. Jen had told you that it had been years since the case closed.

Astarion probably knew that, too. You weren’t sure why he wasn’t willing to use his own instincts; clearly he was aware that Petras was on a mission, given that he’d been asking after him for the past day. Yet he kept pestering you.

“That’s very sweet,” you said gently, “but I’m – surprisingly, I know – not interested. Which I told you last night.”

“Mmm. But perhaps spending the night alone might have changed your mind? You can’t fault a man for asking.”

“It did not. Have a nice day.”

The grin he was wearing widened further, exposing pearly white teeth. You noticed that his canines were somewhat more prominent than most people’s, all the more evidence that he was a predator at heart. “Is there somewhere I can sit?”

You gestured to the area behind him with a glare. “Right there. Please note that I did mention that the director wouldn’t have any appointments today. I’m sure you’re a very busy man, too.”

Astarion’s smirk was practically super-glued onto his face at this point. “I’m actually free all day today. Let me know if any openings pop up. Thanks a million, dearest.”

As he meandered towards the seating area, the girl next to you rolled her chair closer. “Who was that?”

“My neighbor. He’s just messing around— he does have business here, though.” You glanced at her, an idea appearing, “He’s single, by the way. He was glancing at you a lot… maybe you could try talking to him? Best get him before he leaves.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my Gods, really? Okay, okay, I mean—”

“I’ll watch your station,” you said with a hopefully encouraging smile, “go ahead.”

“Thank you so much!” she called as she nearly dashed around back through the gate, unlocking it and skipping over to Astarion.

You bit your lip to keep yourself from laughing. Not a minute later, you heard her chatter pick up. “Hi,” she said shyly, “um, I just couldn’t help but come over.”

Astarion barely glanced up at her. “Hmm?”

“So what are you here for? I know you were talking to our other receptionist, but maybe I can help you in ways she can’t…”

At that, Astarion’s head swung up. He stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time, but then his eyes drifted back to you. You ducked your head and pretended to be very busy.

“That’s kind of you, darling…”

Tuning the rest of the conversation out, you quickly texted Karlach an update on the situation. neighbor guy is here at work, you sent.

to see youuuuuu, replied Karlach.

You rolled your eyes and put your phone face down on your desk. While you admittedly did like having Astarion’s attention, the smarter part of you kept reminding your heart that he was just another man trying to get something out of you. They all wanted something. But that surge of power you’d felt last night (and to a lesser extent, just now) when you’d refused to tell him what he wanted made your entire body sing with happiness.

It would be a shame when he inevitably lost interest in a few days, but for now, you were having a great time with it.

“What was that?”

Surprised, you glanced up to see Astarion leaning over you again, this time with a scowl etched into his handsome face.

“Where’s… what’s her face?” you asked.

Astarion waved his hand dismissively. “Sent her on a fetch quest. What are you doing?”

“Hmm?”

“Why would you send her over? I asked you for a reason,” he stressed.

You finally met his eyes. He registered the anger burning in your gaze a second too late. “Oh, did you? Because you think you can manipulate me into giving you whatever you want, right? Because you think I’m stupid? Spare me, please— just go bother someone else about whatever plans you have. I don’t know anything about Petras or whatever else you want to know.”

His mouth opened, then closed, as a peculiar expression overtook his countenance. “I—”

“Save your bottle of red for someone you actually like,” you snapped. “Now, I have work to do, so if you’re done staring at me like I’m a zoo animal, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”

“Right,” said Astarion softly. He didn’t seem mad, just… shocked. “Have a good day, dear.”

You watched him leave through the glass doors and followed the bottom of his peacoat as it disappeared into the evening sky along with the rest of him. You almost regretted yelling at him but if he’d gone on any longer, he probably would have broken you. Another minute and you’d have been in his kitchen with a glass of his worst wine, spilling your guts in hopes that he might offer a pity fuck for your good behavior.

But you were stronger than that. You knew you were.

And you’d finally proven it.

He left you alone for the next few days. You didn’t see him at all, which was reminiscent of those first two weeks when he’d seemed like a ghost rather than an actual person. It was for the best, of course; you had been right when you’d guessed that he’d lose interest in you. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

To cheer you up, Karlach invited you to go clubbing with her and her friends that Saturday. You’d already met Wyll and Lae’zel, and now they’d meet Jen since you were bringing her. You had a good feeling about introducing them.

At around eight, Jen knocked on your door. She was already wearing her outfit, a short leather skirt and a long-sleeve black top. Her hair was down for once, sitting over her shoulders and in stark contrast to her dark clothes. “What are you wearing?” she asked, aghast.

You looked down at yourself. “My pajamas? I’m changing right now.”

Jen snapped her fingers. “Show me. We need to get you laid tonight. The stress of this whole Astarion situation is making you loopy.”

Flushing red, you yanked Jen into your apartment and slammed the door shut. “Shhh! Not so loud, I don’t know if he’s here!”

“If he is, he should take advantage of the information I just gave him,” Jen said with a sniff.

“Just— help me with my makeup. Please.”

By nine, the two of you had settled on your final outfit. It had been half-buried in the back of your closet, a victim of your manic unpacking.

Jen whistled loudly. “Damn, you look hot.”

The hem of the dress rode up on your thighs as you turned in the mirror. The entire outfit felt precarious, what with it being strapless and shorter than anything you remembered wearing in the past year. You did look hot, though. It was novel— or at least, it hadn’t happened in a long time.

The door made a sound like it was being knocked off its hinges; Karlach was here. You yanked the dress down one last time before scurrying for the doorknob. With a sharp pull, you opened the door.

Karlach gaped at you. “Holy shit.”

“Good ‘holy shit’ or bad ‘holy shit’?” You stepped out of the doorway to brush past the trio, pushing the door open further to allow them to file in. Or they would have filed in, had Karlach not been frozen in shock.

“Good ‘holy shit’,” she gasped. “Oh my god. You’re hot! Why do you always act like you aren’t! Please tell me you know you look hot right now.”

You grinned. “I look hot right now.”

“Oh.”

The four of you swung around to see Astarion standing by the elevator. His eyes were wide as an uncharacteristically awkward expression appeared on his face. He looked as handsome as ever, but there was something so satisfying in seeing him look so unsure.

It wasn’t because of you, of course. “I’m so sorry,” you said quickly, “we’ll be super quiet, they’re not sleeping over and we’re leaving, like, right now. You won’t hear a peep.”

“Alright,” Astarion replied softly. He was still staring at you.

You shuffled aside to let him pass but with Karlach halfway in the hallway, he accidentally pressed against you. You froze.

He froze as well. His jaw was working tightly, like he was trying to sand his teeth down to nothing. You could feel his warm chest pressing against yours; never had you been so aware of the height difference between you two.

“I’m so—”

Astarion brushed past you. “Have fun,” he said tightly, and then his door closed behind him.

“Oh,” said Wyll carefully, “alright. I see what you mean about tension, Karlach.”

You buried your face in your hands, denying that a response.

Three hours later, you stumbled out of the elevator and towards your door. While you weren’t drunk, you were certainly not of your normal mind. More than that, though, everything was spinning. Your mind knew you needed to open your door, but somehow, no matter how hard you tried to jam your key into the lock, it wouldn’t open.

The door swung open, nearly slamming you in the face. Astarion stood before you, a thunderous expression on his face. “What—” his voice drew off into nothingness. “Oh.”

You frowned at him. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, I was trying to get into my apartment—”

Astarion hummed, suddenly seeming very pleased, and placed his hand on your lower back. He gently pushed you into his apartment. “Let’s get you some water.”

You were turned and gently placed onto his very nice couch, deep red and so comfortable you nearly melted into it.

“There we go,” said Astarion. He reappeared in front of you with a glass of cool water, ignoring as you raised your hands up to clumsily grasp at it. Instead, he lifted it to your mouth. You took several deep sips as the fog clouding your mind dissipated with each swallow.

When he pulled the glass away, both of you stared at each other. He wasn’t wearing his ridiculous robe but rather a loose black tank top and a pair of silk sleep pants. “With me?” he asked.

“Mmm.”

You kept staring at him. He really was so handsome. A less inebriated you might have banished those thoughts as soon as they appeared, but tonight you were not of your right mind for at least a few minutes longer, so all you could think about was leaning forward and kissing him.

A thought occurred to you. “Why haven’t you asked me about Petras yet?”

Astarion’s nose wrinkled. “Petras? Why?”

“I’m tipsy,” you said weakly, “if you wanted me to tell you anything about your case, all you would have to do is ask.”

“Are you that easy?” he said with a small smile.

“No,” you huffed.

“Darling,” he began.

You quickly cut him off. “I’ll tell you about him. Petras called me—”

“Stop,” he murmured. Then he leaned forward and brushed the back of his hand over your cheek carefully. “I already knew about that. I already know he’s trying to reopen the case. I already know it won’t happen.”

Those words sobered you quickly. “What? Why did you come in and bother me that day then?”

Astarion snorted. “Are you really this oblivious?”

“What?”

“I… like you. I came to see you. We’ve barely talked but when we do I— I find myself enjoying it. I want to talk more. I’ve never really… felt anything like that. And I’m sure you know, but you’re quite beautiful, dear.”

You blinked at him. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I assure you, I am not.”

Looking at him now, it was abundantly clear he was being honest. There was a crystalline sharpness to his gaze that you had never seen before; he almost looked pained, as if the idea of having feelings hurt him. But here he was, telling you about his awful feelings for you. Even if you didn’t know him very well, you knew that this was unusual for him. Perhaps this was even the first time this had ever happened.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked.

“Please,” Astarion murmured, but he was the one to lean in. His mouth felt like molten lava against yours, juxtaposed with the startling wetness of his tongue. He licked into your lips and pried them apart. His head tipped to the side as his nose pressed into your cheek.

You gasped, and he took the opportunity to kiss you deeper. One hand came up to grip at the back of your head, pressing you so close you wondered if he was trying to climb inside you. You’d never been kissed with so much passion. It made you dizzier than drinking had.

“Gods,” he groaned. Suddenly he was pressing you against the couch cushions, pressing your thighs wide to crowd into your space again. You squirmed, blushing furiously— your dress had pushed up your hips at the movement, and now there was only your underwear and his thin sleep pants between your naked skin and his. Astarion didn’t seem bothered by this at all; if anything, it seemed to rile him up further. His pelvis rocked against you, and you gasped as his clothed cock rubbed against your clit.

It had been an accident, you were sure, but it made Astarion growl like the wild animal you had known he was, rocking into you more frantically. There was so little between you two that you swore you could feel the head of his cock almost as exactly as you would have without any clothes at all.

“Astarion,” you moaned lowly.

“Yes,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Yes, say my name. Tell me it feels good.”

“It feels good,” you echoed, voice far away.

He pressed up against you and ground down, his open mouth licking at yours like he was trying to breathe air into you. Your hips jerked up, rubbing your cunt against his cock through his pants. Astarion made a sound like he’d been shot. “Fuck.”

You reached up to wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, slotting your mouths together with more finesse than Astarion had been using. Something hot and sharp was throbbing in the pit of your stomach. You dug your fingers into his hair and pulled him closer with a gasp.

He said your name, choking around the syllables as you reached for the ties to his pants. Your hand closed around his cock. It was almost embarrassingly wet, so much so that you could feel the dampness from the head leaking pre-come against your thumb as you gave him a slow pump through the silk.

“Please,” he moaned.

Oh, that was nice. You hummed obligingly, pumping him again. “Can I—”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Astarion pleaded. “Fuck, please. Please let me fuck you.”

That same surge of power you had felt upon refusing him any information returned, surging through you tenfold. The ties of his pants slipped open, and you reached into his pants to circle your hand around his cock. It was practically quivering in your palm, giving a weak kick as you leaned forward to lave wetly against his mouth with your own. “Want me to sit on it?”

Astarion made an incomprehensible noise.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he said weakly.

You let go of his cock— the sound he made at that was punched-out, thrumming with need, and wicked. “Sit on the couch,” you said.

Astarion shuffled past you, sitting heavily where you’d been not a moment before. You took the time to admire him. His head was tilted back, sweat running down his pale throat, and his arms were thrown wide over the back of the couch. Tenting his pants, the shape of his cock was absolutely obscene. There was a wide wet spot where it pressed against the fabric. His eyes met yours, feverish, wanting. Wanting you. And wasn’t that spectacular?

You stood on wobbly legs and Astarion groaned. “Look at you,” he mumbled, having regained some of his composure, “my sweet girl. So good to me.”

Damn straight. With a smirk, you dug your thumbs into his hips and pulled his pants down, letting them puddle around his ankles. Astarion’s cock slapped up against his stomach. It glistened, nearly purple at the head. You couldn’t resist leaning forward to rub your thumb over it.

His hips pushed up needily into your palm. You closed your first around him, slowly pumping him. A slick, wet sound sounded through the room as you swept back up, squeezing tight around the head as Astarion made a wrecked sound.

“You want it?” you asked, half-teasing but honestly worried that he might have changed his mind.

“So, so bad,” he admitted, almost miserable about it, “ever since you knocked on my door. So— oh, Gods— so fucking cute. Dreamt about you clenching around my cock— wanted to stretch that tight little cunt out with my cock so badly it made me stupid.”

You laughed. “Yeah? I’ll give it to you, ‘Starion. Just keep being sweet.”

Astarion gave you a vaguely put-upon expression at that, but it morphed into one of betrayal as you let go of him. You pulled the dress off, then your underwear, and carefully hovered over him with a knee on each side of his hips.

He was almost pained as he asked, “Are you—”

“Shhh,” you soothed, pressing your finger over his mouth. You settled gently over him, your pussy pressing softly over his shaft as you rocked forward. The head notched into your slit for just a second before slipping back as you rubbed wetly over the base of his cock.

His hands grappled for purchase, tightening over your waist. Astarion leaned up and licked across the space between your breasts, digging his blunt teeth in a little. The rocking continued, more frantic, as the mess between you two grew exponentially greater.

“C’mon,” he growled, and then started hitching his hips up to press against you harder. You were nearly beside yourself with the need to sink down onto his thick cock, but teasing him for all the stress he had given you won out. You reached down to rub slowly at your clit, hips jerking up rather than down onto his dick.

Astarion’s head fell back with a groan. His eyes rolled back as you granted him a little more friction. “Fuck, good girl, that’s good,” he slurred.

“It’s good?”

“So good. Please let me put it in. Sit on it. Please.”

He was, unfortunately, really cute when he begged. You settled above him now and began to press the head of his cock inside you. Both of you groaned as it popped in.

Pausing there, you looked down at him. His eyes were wide, black pools of desire. The charming curls that usually draped over his forehead were pushed back, exposing his widow’s peak. His nostrils flared as you lowered yourself down slowly.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You nodded in agreement, beyond words yourself as your hips met his. He was so thick inside you. You could feel his cock stretching you out, wet and messy as his hips twitched upwards ever so slightly.

You rose up and pressed back down. Astarion gasped, eyes squeezing shut, as you repeated the motion faster, faster. Soft, slick sounds filled the room, interspersed by your name moaned by his lips.

“Astarion,” you cried, pushing down harder, “Astarion, help, please—”

It was like a switch had been flipped. His hands tightened around your hips and he planted his feet against the ground, holding you in place as he jackhammered up into you. The head of his cock pressed against that spongy part inside you, forcing you to squeak out his name at every frenzied thrust.

You bounced wildly on his lap, hands reaching forwards to grip his shoulders for purchase. Astarion was sweating, gasping, and without another word he was flipping the two of you over. He pushed your legs up over his shoulders as he frantically fucked into you, moaning into your neck.

One of his hands slid down to draw circles onto your clit; you shrieked as his thrusts somehow got faster.

“So loud,” he breathed teasingly, “everyone can hear you, you know? Everyone knows how pretty you sound when I fuck you. Do you think they can hear how wet you are?” He purposely slowed down, slamming into you and pulling out slowly enough for you two to clearly hear the loud sound of your pussy trying to suck him back in.

“Astarion— please, ahn—”

He laughed, the sound choppy and weak, and started fucking you faster again. “Is my sweet girl embarrassed? Don’t be. I’m going to think about this every time I see you, every night when I get my hand around myself I’ll be thinking of your cunt squeezing around me. Fuck, that’s it…”

You cried out again, squirming against him. His eyes fluttered shut as he rut into you. “I’m almost there, please, just a bit harder—”

His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing it on just the right edge of painful. Your mouth snapped open, feeling the band of your pleasure drawing tight, and one of your hands grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in. You moaned into his mouth, crying out in a whiney groan of his name, pathetic and horrible, and Astarion’s cock twitched inside of you.

It only took two more thrusts to have you coming undone, muffling your delirious cries into the soft velvet of his mouth. Astarion whispered your name like it was a curse.

“Fucking—” he pulled out of you, suddenly towering over you on his feet, and gripped you by the hair. “Close— close your eyes.”

You used a precious moment to stare up at him. His cheeks were flushed with exertion, mouth poised in a snarl, his cock dripping wet from your come and his own pre. His eyes softened as you met them. You allowed your eyes to slip close, and not a minute later his frantic cries of “fuck” picked up again.

Your pussy clenched around nothing as a whimper left his lips; the tip of his cock pressed stickily to your cheek as his hand moved frantically over its shaft.

“I’m— oh, Gods, I’m coming—”

Something hot and stringy struck across your face, and Astarion let out a sound that you wouldn’t soon forget. Before you could even begin to clean yourself up, he was on his knees in front of you and wiping his come from around your eyes. His mouth pressed against yours as his arms came to pull you into a crushing embrace.

“Shit,” you breathed.

“I know,” said Astarion softly, “fuck, I made a mess of you.” And because he was an asshole, one of his fingers came up to tuck into the swollen mess between your thighs. “Fuck…”

You moaned but slapped his hand away before he could get any more ideas. “The mess is on my face,” you told him, pointed.

“Mmm.” He leaned forward and licked his come off your cheek, smirking at the scandalized look you gave him. “Let’s go clean you up.”

You sighed. “Are you sure? I can leave.”

Astarion’s brow furrowed. Hurt flashed across his face as he asked, “Do you want to go?”

“...no,” you said finally. “No. But this is because you like me, right? Not because of Petras—”

Astarion licked another string of come off your face, pulling you into a messy kiss. The taste of him was slightly sour on your tongue. “Don’t mention him when I’ve just come across your darling face.”

“I mean it—”

“I do too. I want you, not whatever stupid information you think you have on him. Now come. I’m tired, and you are too. And I don’t think come is conducive to good skincare.”

At the end of the night, you fell into his arms, wrapped up in his cool sheets and wearing his clothes. Astarion nuzzled into your neck, his embrace tightening as you squirmed a bit. As sleep began to take you, you couldn’t help but think that in the end, he was more of a cat then he was a tiger.