Hello, everyone! Here is Chapter 11! And, I decided that it's time to spice things up. We've gotten this far with the story, so let's get "rated" for a chapter. I mean, it's still relevant to the plot but, I went there anyway.

But, more importantly, I'll be traveling for the holidays for several weeks, which means that there likely won't be a new chapter until January. So don't worry if the next installment seems late. I haven't left, I'm just temporarily elsewhere! See you in the New Year and, in the meantime, enjoy the new hotness. - Nas

Chapter 11 – A Bone In Her Teeth

From the bottom of a misty sea cave, Lyric thought she could hear someone calling out to her. But the sound was faint and echoed back and forth against the walls which dripped in a constant tap-tap-tap on the rocks below. The air against her skin was cool and moist, tasting of salt and…smokepowder? Either way it was acrid, and it irritated her nose. At least it was dark though. Blessedly dark, since her head hammered with incessant pain.

From somewhere high above, she thought she could hear Astarion's voice. He was angry. Hurt. Shouting with grief in a way that made the raw agony of his torment subsume every word. He rarely spoke, much less yelled, with such anguished vulnerability. He hated it. Hated how it made him feel helpless because he thought that it revealed his weakness. But it also made her want to go to him, to rush to his side and take hold of him so that he would remain grounded in the storm. But she couldn't move. Every part of her felt frozen to the stones and every time she tried to peel the hoarfrost away, it was as if her limbs had dissolved into ghostly vapors.

And then, there was another voice. Familiar, but only in the way that it reminded her how much she hated the man who possessed it. What was he saying?

"All that power!" The voice cried. "Consume the seven. Consume the seven thousand. Consume me!"

Lyric twisted in her unconscious prison.

"Come now, Astarion. What's one more sacrifice to fulfill your destiny! All you have to do is…Kill her!"

More terror. More screams. Hordes of wild animals thrashing against their cages. A ruckus of ungodly misery.

But he was in there. She could feel him close by. So, Lyric reached out, threading the fibers of her heart into her thoughts to conjure a memory of happiness and content. It took her a moment to find the specific one she wanted but when she did, it was easy to take hold of it. She then fed the reminiscence into the squirming tadpole, threatening it with all manner of horrific tortures if it dared to defy her now. "Consume!" She heard, screamed again as the sound broke into an echo of repetitive syllables. But Lyric reached past the image of Cazador that had lived in her mind since the Hecatomb and touched the silhouette of the man crumpled before him. The strands of his silvery hair shimmered in the mirrored light and suddenly, she felt him move.

The memory flowed out of her, and the cave transformed.

She woke with a start. But Lyric was relieved to see only the wall of Astarion's tent and to hear the chirps and hums of a far-away forest dreaming through a late-night slumber. She was, however, a tad embarrassed to find that she had slid so far to the side of the pallet that her nose was pressed flat into the canvas and her foot was stuck in a flap-seam.

The smooth, buttery voice that had brought about the yelp hovered over her as she turned to look back at the man who's bed she shared. He propped himself up, wedging his fist beneath his chin and his elbow into the thin mattress, "You've been tossing about for hours." He said. "That must have been some nightmare." His face was placid in the darkness. Relaxed and without the habitual upturn to the corners of his mouth. Lyric sighed; relieved to have him. Truly him and not the rogue's façade that played the rake and snared the unwary.

Funnily enough, she didn't actually recall having any bad dream though; nor had the day before been particularly harrowing as so many had. Even so, if she had been reliving some memorable crisis it would have been completely unlike her to act out physically in her sleep. Her ranger's instincts were better than that. Fitful unconsciousness was a danger that could alert any passing predator or highwayman to one's location, so it was always best to lie perfectly still until one had full command of one's senses again. As elves did in their reverie anyway.

"I don't-" She paused, not entirely sure how to answer. "I have no idea. I don't remember any terrible visions, it would seem that my heart is steady, and I don't feel frightened." Astarion nodded, gesturing for her to lay back down. Lyric smiled as she pulled back from the tent wall and comfortably leaned against his bare chest once more.

Although Astarion was content to return to their rest once again, Lyric was wide-awake. And as was often the case when she experienced bouts of trance-insomnia, she had a bad habit of talking to herself. Quietly, in murmuring whispers, but once Lyric got involved in a conversation with his collarbone or his shoulder blade, there was no end to it. It was all well and good though, since Astarion hadn't been sleeping well either. So, they filled the time together with idle chatter, occasionally laughing and giggling at some vulgar comment or especially gross recollection of their travels.

"I still can't believe you made those githyanki wait for you while you had a heart-to-heart with a blue jay. You could literally see the steam wafting out of their ears."

"Hey, he was in crisis, ok?"

"So were we!"

They were almost like a pair of besotted adolescents, trading benign secrets from underneath the blankets while hiding a lantern in the pillows. But it was at these times when they were the most intimate, and Astarion the most tender and open that he would ever be. She could make him safe here, at least for a short while before the rest of the camp awoke. And in return, he was captivatingly sweet and, dare she even think the word, honest. All because she could nip kisses onto the end of his nose, tickle his chin with her hair, and talk about absolutely nothing for an hour.

Even as she continued to mindlessly throw her various theories about the Shadow Curse, mind flayers, tadpoles, Halsin, and the rest of their companions into the conversation, Astarion's crossed feet, one arm thrown under his head, and his stomach flush against hers made him seem as if he was hanging onto her every word. Maybe he was, for all she could tell. But either way, he watched her with gentle eyes and drew small circles on her hip with the tips of his fingers.

"You know, my love, I do enjoy our little chit-chats but I'm afraid that if you don't find your way back into the bedroll, you're going to be an utter mess come morning. We have a long way to go tomorrow, after all." He chided in a soft voice, smoothing her hair down against her back absently.

"Well, then it's your fault for letting me get away with keeping you awake. You could have just rolled over and ignored me."

"Dah-ling, how gauche." He replied with an intentionally overwrought accent. "I may be a vampire, but you should know by now that I could never be such a lout as to dismiss a lover in that way."

"Oh?"

"Indeed. Back then, the intent may have been malevolent but that's no excuse to be tactless. Crude insensitivity is the mark of the uncultured, and I am anything but."

Lyric couldn't help but chuckle. "Mm-hmm. And I am sure that having a body as perfect as Candlaron's marble magnum opus didn't hurt."

Lyric never ceased to amaze him; she was full of such vibrant spirit and kindness but had the same absolutely crass sense of humor as the most grizzled seadog. She could kiss him with the breathless devotion of a romance novel heroine and then scream 'fuck you, I'm gonna pluck you like an overgrown cunt hair!' in the same two-minute stretch. It all just came perfectly natural to her. Astarion sighed, running a hand over his forehead for a moment, "Either way, flattering as it is, my lovely, you can't just lie here staring at me all night."

There was no response, Lyric had been a borderline insomniac for years. Both pirates and rangers often slept outside in the elements; so, to be dull to the world could be a death sentence even in the small enclaves of tree huts and berths. It was why she had developed the odd habit of constant self-talk. It was like a lullaby that she could sing to herself when the nights were just a little too cold or a little too lonely. But, at present, she was neither cold nor lonely…

Lyric's thoughts were interrupted when her lover suddenly pushed her down and muted any potential noises with an unexpected kiss. It took a moment, but once she registered what was happening, her body answered him immediately. She flung one arm across his shoulders and used the other to grip the back of his neck; letting him know that he would not be allowed to pull away very quickly. His skin was warm, as it always was, and the weight of him resting against her would never cease to make her heart flutter or her ears grow hot.

The tadpole squirmed with the waves of psychic energy that pulsed through it, trying to protest the strengthening connection between the two elven minds. Lyric flashed a memory of the Elf-Eater and its mind-draining tentacles through it. 'If I die, you die, you little bastard' she reminded it and the tadpole went still, becoming compliant once more.

A muffled mewl left her throat, as Lyric was lifted up slightly to lie flat against the mattress so that Astarion could press his own body firmly on top of hers. He then moved his attention to her neck, dragging his tongue against the supple flesh there, one hand firmly keeping a grip on the roots of her hair as a precaution to keep her exposed to him. It was an ingrained quirk of his that made her absolutely weak in the knees.

"This is sudden," Her voice was already failing her. Contrary to their companion's beliefs, Astarion was not actually given to abrupt intercourse. He certainly loved to imply it, hint at it, and flirt his way around it, but when it actually came down to doing the deed, he tended to be far more careful and restrained. It actually took time to seduce him and even longer to actually win him. Astarion however pulled away for a moment, meeting her eyes with a sly grin.

"There are other ways to make you tired, you know." An embarrassed huff from the ranger was seemingly contradicted by how red her cheeks were. He kissed the flushed skin delicately. "Or, as you suggested, I suppose I could just…roll over and leave you to your own devices."

"You better not."

It was Lyric who initiated the next kiss, combined with enthusiastic touches to his face and arm. She felt Astarion smile as he used the distraction of his tongue to settle himself between her thighs. He thus returned to his assault on her neck, the tips of his fangs occasionally catching on a crease in her skin as if a bite were imminent. A shaky breath escaped her. Lyric knew he was teasing but she was otherwise unable to contain her anticipation. It was rare in these dark, hellish days that Astarion was inspired to lovemaking. Real, wanton, and ardent passion breaking through the fear and the desperation all around them. She lived for these moments when all she could feel was his desperate desire to consume her, and to be consumed in return.

"Do it, you worthless brat!" Cazador howled. "Consume her!"

Lyric could feel how hard her lover was, his hips bucking erratically as he tried to create just the right amount of friction between them. He didn't want to take her fully just yet, but he did want her begging him to. To feel every bit of what he had to offer just close enough but never quite crossing that last threshold.

"Useless sniveling child! Do it! And maybe you'll finally be something. You have no other choice, and you know it. Consume her!"

Wet kisses dipped lower, a hot mouth moving across her chest, stopping momentarily at pale scars to lap at their edges. His hands then abandoned her waist, reaching up to dig his thumb into one pert nipple and suckling anywhere his mouth could find.

Her own hands went from clutching onto the fabric of the bedclothes to kneading the heel of her palms into his lower back. A low groan of approval encouraged her efforts, even as Astarion was trying to keep his attention focused on her chest. He knew what she wanted but he wasn't quite there yet. Which, of course, should have meant that he would be able to anticipate her next move, but he was too caught up and nearly snarled when well-practiced hands slipped down and found his length, wrapping her fingers around it, and stroking him far too gently. Through narrowed eyes she evaluated his expression carefully, since Astarion had different ways of expressing the kinds of provocation he liked and the kinds he didn't.

The pad of her thumb darted over the tip of him, smearing a small bead of moisture over the head, and finally earning a pleased moan from the man above her. This was the kind of provoking he liked. In fact, Astarion stayed rigid and partially upright as she repeated the action, using the fluid as a lubricant to let her hand glide more smoothly along his length. Astarion leaned into his breathing as if overtaken by reverent meditation, but the ragged breaths coming out in barely controlled gasps gave away his need.

Suddenly, he snatched Lyric's hand away, taking her other wrist along with it and pinning them firmly above her head in only one palm. She raised an eyebrow and cockily tilted her head at him, "Me coming undone first was not the plan." He answered. Her cheeks flushed as her lover resumed his previous ministrations. But it was clear that Astarion was already far further gone than he was letting on. He was ravenous for every sensation, every little morsel of attention she offered him was instantly eaten from her hand and swallowed. This was a feast, and he was starving.

"Astarion, no!" Shadowheart cried out from the trench. "Don't do it! You can't! Please!"

She stilled, feeling his middle and index fingers slide into her wet center. She let her shaking hands dig into his ribs, feeling the dexterous movements gliding against her womanhood. Lyric swore she could even feel the Weave sparking in reaction to the energy coalescing between them, warmth flooding her abdomen, wanting nothing more than for him to stop toying with her and accept the joining. He pushed the two fingers together again, rubbing small circles just above her most sensitive nub.

She clung to him, loosing a loud cry against his neck in a largely vain attempt to keep their activities just between the two of them. Her legs spread further apart to allow him more access but also in the hope that he would respond to the action instinctively and answer her call. But instead of giving in as her body commanded, his fingers dipped down lower, pressing one between her folds for just a moment before both teased around her entrance, not allowing them to slip inside. She bucked violently, growling at him in warning. [Lyric Disapproves]

Astarion forcefully brought Lyric back to his mouth for a kiss but pulled his hand away from her completely so that he could flatten it onto one of her thighs, opening her up to him even more. A strangled moan came from her again as she used her other leg to squeeze against his hip and draw him into her. It was always like this between them. The push and pull of desire as each attempted to work the other into the precise way they wanted them. Sometimes she would be triumphant, and he would relent. Other times the older vampire was far too overwhelming, and she would be at his mercy for hours at a time. But in every consummation, they came together as one; yet never parting as two halves. They always faced each other whole. And in this lay the secret of their healing.

"You are so beautiful." She heard him say, somewhere in her hair. He placed a kiss on her temple, moving the strands from her face with a thoughtful gesture. Though she meant none of it, Lyric gave him a glare of displeasure in response; as if to say that she was seconds from throwing him out of his own tent to sleep alone next to the campfire with the dog and the owlbear cub. His chest rumbled in amusement. She'd threatened to leave him to lie with the dogs before but as soon as he raised himself up to grab her hips firmly beneath him, he knew she wouldn't make good on it.

"Do you want me?"

"What do you think?"

"Is that a yes or a no?

"You're impossible."

"So, no?"

"Astarion?" She purred, curling around to brush her lips against his ear. "There could be ten thousand men outside my tent right now, and each one of them flawless enough to rival Sune herself. Made just for me by the gods of the elves. An ocean of adoration as far as my eyes could carry me. But my heart would see only you and I would cut every one of them down into a stain of blasphemous viscera until I found you."

He broke and she trembled, satisfied that his composure had finally disintegrated. She rarely got to see him truly unraveled, stripped of his normally uptight composure and arrogantly prideful demeanor. But whenever she spoke into his wounds, directly into the bleeding lashes across his soul, it was a power no blood magic could defeat. He needed her, and he needed her now.

Tightening his grip, Astarion began to push firmly inside of her; a choked whimper leaving her lips and her eyes falling shut in bliss as he did. Her lover definitely made insomnia worth every minute of unnecessary consciousness. He was also trying to be gentle but continued to press harder into her until he was fully sheathed. It was then that he remained still to let her adjust to being taken, head down as he concentrated on the feel of her body all around him, trying to steady himself.

"Mmmm, please move!" Her mind reeled, barely able to get the words out of her mouth in more than just one long garbled note. Then, her back arched off the bed when he withdrew, red eyes now wine-dark with lust, locked on the woman underneath him. Astarion loosened his grasp on her hips, holding on to soft thighs instead. This brought him closer to her lips and he took full advantage of the position, leaning down to ravish her with a mixture of quick pecks, precarious bites, and fully devouring kisses.

The pace he set was slow and measured to begin with, though he knew she wouldn't tolerate that for long on a night like this one. As his pace increased, appreciative fingers began to dig into his back, leaving little reddish crescent shapes that momentarily rewrote the lines of his scars. A part of him even wished that they would somehow become permanent, and that, in a way, she could compose something of herself in the Infernal letters he carried. His mouth moved to her neck again; all of the effort he'd put into not leaving marks already forgotten. Soon, tiny droplets of red started to well up as his teeth danced along smooth flesh.

His thrusts became more sporadic, pulling out almost completely before he slid back inside of her as deeply as he could. The power behind his movements meant that she had to hold tight to his back just to stay in place. But then he paused again, the stunning sensations nearly causing him to spill everything he had inside of her. With a deep breath, he pulled out of her completely, hissing as the cool air touched the sweat that now dappled his body.

Astarion's hand went to her face, fingers caressing her cheek and prompting her to open her eyes and look at him. Lyric did so and was not disappointed by the view of his elegantly smooth skin and naked torso, his thighs tense with unreleased pleasure. He pressed their foreheads together, one hand rubbing circles into the scar on the left side of her chest without a thought.

"Get on your knees."

There was no taunting nor malice in his voice. Just absolute hunger. Astarion's life had been a famine of any real satisfaction and he'd always been denied true relief. Now, he was desperate to be sated and the promise of its reality, right there in front of him, was too much for him to resist.

Without shame or even a second thought, Lyric twisted her body to turn onto the blankets, resting on her forearms and letting her shaky legs spread apart until she was kneeling comfortably, ready for him to come to her. Astarion watched her as she did so, reveling in the intoxicating desire he felt spreading through him. He wanted nothing more than to be joined with her again and to stay that way forever.

Lyric tossed her wild red hair over the pillows and looked back at him with a lustful but haughty expression. It was enough to get him moving again, since such taunting simply would not be tolerated. Astarion inhaled sharply, grabbing her waist again and entering her more leisurely this time, using more precision in the hope that he would find that spot inside of her that would make her call his name out into the night. And then, he was taking her, each hard thrust arched deeply into her body so that every little movement he made would be felt at her core.

"'Starion!" Lyric's entire body attempted to jerk away from the abrupt onslaught of pleasure. Unfortunately for her, Astarion was truly talented in this particular art and, from time to time, he clearly took great pride in being able to use it for his own gratification and for the delight it brought to his lover. A smug smile even threatened to form at the corners of his mouth as his thrusts became more aggressive. It wasn't as if Lyric didn't know this about him though, and she deftly angled her body to tighten down around him. The conceit vanished from his posture almost immediately and she caught a glimpse of his face, along with the absolutely carnal gleam in his eyes.

Then, he nearly fell onto her back and Lyric could feel the sensuous waves of imminent completion roiling through him. He also grit his teeth so hard she could hear the rasp in his breath as he tried, with all his considerable might, to not cry out. Unfortunately, she would have to leave him to it this time because her own body had, at long last, reached its peak. She froze, still receiving each of Astarion's rough thrusts as he too lost himself in their coupling. With a final exclamation of pure joy, her body convulsed as bursts of euphoria spread through her. She swore her vision even went blurry after a powerful shock like blessed lightening rushed through her. But her lover was soon to follow, so she prepared for him by bracing her hands against the head of the frame and arching her spine just enough to expose the back of her neck.

Astarion lasted only a moment longer, the pleasure coiling up into every muscle until his movements became forced and indecisive. Then, the tight cords binding him from the inside snapped all at once and an unexpected shout greeted her as he spilled himself completely, reflexively moving over her so that their hips would remain paired. That they would stay united.

Lyric muttered something incoherent as she could feel the undeniable heat of his seed filling her. A sensation that she still marveled at, and that Astarion still obviously wasn't completely used to because he couldn't seem to help but pin her for as long as it took him to finish his release. It still poured out of him in violent waves, but Lyric happened to find this particular part of their lovemaking to be especially beautiful. He held her so close and so tightly, as if he'd never let go. He peppered happy, almost giddy kisses all down her neck and shoulders. Sometimes, she thought he might have even whispered a few dangerously secret words of love to her as well. Words that he would never say in any other situation but this one.

For several minutes, they lay together in that position, catching their breath as a pleasant afterglow settled in. Astarion moved first, pulling out carefully and grumbling a little when the tight heat was taken away. As he then flopped onto his back, he pulled Lyric's spent form into a loose embrace so that she could once again rest her cheek against his chest. She mumbled something then, but it was nothing more than a few incomprehensible sounds. All he could understand was the last part. "…all of me."

"Astarion, put down the knife." Shadowheart held her gauntlet out defensively. "This…this ritual, this isn't power. It will only destroy you. It will destroy you both!"

Astarion hugged her closer as he felt her drift off into reverie at last.

"And you have all of me." He said. "In this life….and in this death."