I finished setting up my tent and grabbed the carafe of wine nestled between by pack and my blanket, the contents sloshing around, and the smell of sour, fermented berries stinging my nostrils. I pressed the container to my lips, wishing the wine quenched my thirst instead of making it worse. But I longed for the cloudiness first, the weight of my cares to be lifted for a moment. Alcohol was a luxury I rarely afforded myself. My oath didn't forbid indulgences, but I certainly did. My oath was all I had left, no family, no friends, not very many memories left to me after I was found with my head bleeding on the beach after the crash. I remembered my name, and I remembered my oath. Everything before that either appeared insignificant compared to the current situation at hand or didn't appear to me at all.
A fleeting loss of balance swept over me as I stood with the carafe, spilling some of it on the dirt at my feet, drops of blood red seeping into the ground as I steadied myself on a tent pole.
"Such a pity to let a fine red as that go to waste," the voice of a vampire, the first I had known outside of fiction, drifted through the air with such nonchalance it almost made me drop my guard. What little guard I had left thanks to the esmeltar. I did not turn to look at him.
"There's plenty more," I said, trying to hide any slurs from escaping my lips as I attempted to shoo him away. "Check with Karlach. She swiped everything from the stronghold, so I am sure she has enough to spare." I expected him to saunter off and bother someone else, but Astarion lingered and gingerly cleared his throat.
"I didn't mean the wine." I turned my head to look at him, the farthest thing from patience painted on my face as my blurred vision rested upon his pale, yet perfectly exquisite form. Even caked in dirt and goblin blood, he was quite a sight to behold. It made me wildly uncomfortable in ways I was unfamiliar with. His eyes then traced a gash on the back of my thigh, one that I hadn't noticed. The adrenaline numbed the pain initially, and then the alcohol after that. I stumbled as I reached down for my pack for some salve, now becoming aware of the deep stinging sensation penetrating to the bone. An arm swept across me, catching me as my leg gave out from under me. My head began swimming as the alcohol made its way behind my eyes and into my ears.
"Gods, you've been hitting that bottle hard this evening, haven't you?" he said as he guided me to the ground to sit. I remained silent as I slid my leg out from underneath me, trying to get a look at the wound. "Take those trousers off," he commanded. An uninvited panic consumed me at his boldness. My chest pounded and my eyes tore to the fire where the others had their backs to us, laughing loudly in boisterous conversation. My hand met my dagger quickly, but Astarion was faster. His grip tightened around my wrist and forced me to drop the blade. He made an impatient huff. "Oh, come off it, as if that is one of the things on my mind right now." Our gazes met at that moment, his looking surprisingly sated like I was unused to seeing, my body remained tense as the quake of fear began to subside and my head pounded away the surge of adrenaline. "I only mean to help," he said quietly as I dropped my shoulders into a slouch. "Don't get used to it though."
He helped me peel the pants off my wounded leg, as I was now barely able to lift it. A pool of blood began to congeal beneath me where I sat as Astarion snatched the bottle of salve from my backpack and furrowed his brow as his hands ran over my skin diligently, deliberately, delicately. My blood coated his fingertips as he cleaned the wound with his handkerchief, and my heart began to pound once more. This time it wasn't anxiety, but something else entirely. The laughter continued around the campfire but felt muted as Astarion tended to me.
"I saw this happen to you by the way. I didn't realize it was this bad." I remained silent. "It was partly my fault," he said as he held up his right forearm, sporting a smaller cut than mine. "I received some of that scimitar as well." His eyes remained focused on the task, so I was free to study him for a moment. Skin like crushed pearls, garnet eyes glinting in the sunset, wisps of silver plastered to his forehead from sweat. His breath was calm and steady, as the collar of his shirt hung off him and I could see the definition of his chest. The whispers of his body teased me, and I felt forced to look away. Astarion gave an amused huff. "Enjoying the view, darling?"
"I'm not sure what you mean?" I managed to stutter as he swiped a large glob of the salve on my leg.
"Breath quick, heart pounding, mind racing. Your lust was practically deafening just now."
"Lust?" I said louder than I meant to, the group around the fire quieting to hear what was going on a few tents away. "I refute that," I whispered sharply. He lifted my leg to a bend and began to wrap a cloth bandage around the freshly addressed injury. As he tied it snug against my skin, an unbidden piece of me wished he had pulled it a little tighter.
"No need to feel embarrassed, love," he declared, quite amused. "I can hardly say I blame you." His hand lingered on my skin longer than necessary and he crept intimately closer, his fangs dangerously close now. "It isn't everyday one as chaste as our beloved paladin is mere inches away from the convergence of pain and pleasure in the delectable form of a quenchless vampire, now is it?" I attempted to blink away the blurs and swirls from the alcohol and focus on remaining stoic. Equal parts of me wanted to push away from him, stumbling into the woods alone, and stay put and let him continue to torment me. The drink in me cemented my body on the ground as I watched him bring his fingertips to his lips, my rosy blood still wet, not yet sticky. He hummed as he relished the taste. "Even with that sour wine, you taste sweeter than I ever would have thought a stuffy paladin could. Now I really regret you pushing me away the other night." I felt myself unwittingly turning my head and baring my neck to him as his scent washed over me like the gales in a storm. He chuckled again as he pulled away from me and stood up, holding his hand out to keep me from stumbling again. I grabbed his hand, my blood still caked under his fingernails, and allowed him to help me steady myself as I stood.
"Astarion!" Gale called from the fire, now standing imposingly. "Let her be, for pity's sake. Astarion brushed himself off and let go of my quaking hand. He must've noticed I was a bit shaken, trying to shake off the haze from the drunkenness mixed with whatever the hells that was.
"Pay no mind," Astarion said quietly, his tone still very tricky. "It's no fun when you can't defend yourself. Maybe another night you'll let me have another taste."