Fangs & Blades

It was in a daze that she tried to occupy her mind, only to have recalling images of quiet lovemaking, Astarion's moans, and a sore throat left to tell the story of it. In her attempts to focus on anything other than the novelty of being held, Victoria's thoughts turned into strategic territory, her attention slipping back to leadership and the responsibilities she had with the party members.

"We need to get moving tomorrow," she decided, tucking her head under Astarion's chin in the place he had carved for her.

Granted, they deserved the respite after their last battle, to cure the injuries and celebrate the win. But the time for frivolous talks by the campfire was done.

"Indeed. There's a great deal ahead of us. I've heard rumours of an old Sharran temple nearby that's been abandoned for quite some time. Could be fruitful to visit, see if there's anything left behind."

His hand started to absentmindedly run along her back, tracing light circles with the hopes that she would let them stay like this for just a little longer.

"Shadowheart will love that," she said with a subtle grin.

"Hm, but I suspect our dearest Lae'zel won't be too pleased about a detour that's likely full of traps." His hand trailed down to her hips, gently squeezing her side. "But... are you sure you don't want a few more moments to relax?"

All she heard was something something Lae'zel, something something concern about her self-destructive tendencies. Victoria squeezed her eyes shut to will her mind back to the present. "No, no more delaying. We need to move."

"But promise me you'll take care of yourself. You seem so fragile, like all it would take is one little press against your pretty neck, and..." He mimed, grabbing the side of her neck. To his astonishment, she stretched it, looking up at him while elongating the neck so that his hand better fit. "Are you implying that you wouldn't mind if I wrapped my hands around it? Is that what this is?" he asked as he gave her a gentle squeeze, letting her know how easy it would be for him to do so.

"Yes," she confirmed with certainty. "But not now." Her terrible acceptance of physical touch was a thing to overcome, as being seen and cherished wasn't in the encyclopedia of her knowledge for approximately the same period that Astarion had been a spawn.

With a hand on the back of her head, he pulled her into a slow kiss, testing the limits of what was allowed. He could still taste himself in her mouth.

"Would you stay here, darling, or do you wish to return to your tent?"

"I can stay," she conceded, lowering her face and resting her forehead on his chin.

Not to count that Victoria had set fire to her bedroll after Astarion had purposefully rolled in it to spite her. At least the wooden plank had a fur on it, besides his shroud, though the greater deal was forcing herself to rest outside her space.

"Good, good," he purred. "My blankets are more comfortable anyhow."

"I don't think blankets will be enough to keep the cold away when it's us who are under it," she said into his collarbone.

Astarion raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" he asked, his hands running over her back. She was very receptive to touch, now. "Because I can think of a few very fun ways that we could warm ourselves up."

She forgot how Astarion always thought there were hidden intents in her honest, literal sentences.

"No... No, I wasn't suggesting anything. It was an accurate observation. My body temperature is lower than average, and you're undead. Blankets work by trapping body heat, so if we don't provide any heat to begin with, it doesn't... doesn't work." She spoke patiently, trying to get him to understand what she had assumed was obvious.