"Fraygo's Flophouse was particularly seedy tonight – or maybe it was Astarion's mood souring the place. The entire bar had a musty smell mixed with old ale and vinegary beer that made Astarion's stomach turn over. As if there were food in it. There hadn't been a crumb of food inside him in years.

Still, Astarion felt a sickness in his stomach as he approached the bar and ordered an ale – any ale would do, since it was merely a prop – and glanced around the dim tavern. Cazador was getting frustrated with him. He'd not been bringing back as many prospects to the mansion as his siblings. In fact, his first "catch" was only last week – a pair of giggling girls who had been thrilled to receive a private invite to a "party" at the large Mansion in Lower City. It had been too easy. And it made Astarion realize, glumly, that he'd now have an eternity of leading easy prey to their death. How lucky he was for this second life, wasn't he?

Well, if he was condemned to this life, he might as well make it simple and easy and get it over with so he could sulk in his room the rest of his life as he tried to remember what human pleasures felt like.

He spotted his next target easily. He was sitting alone at an empty table, looking like he was sulking into his mug of ale. Long, blonde hair, high cheekbones, bright eyes, soft lips...oh, he would do, certainly. In another life, Astarion would even enjoy seducing him, in understanding what made him moan, where he was soft and hard. A little thrill went up his spine, remembering past relationships.

But...that was over, now.

"You know, I don't think Fraygo's is going to like customers seeing you with that loathing face while staring at his signature brew," Astarion opened as he slid up to the man's table. "It's bad for business."

The man just grunted, not acknowledging the vampire before him. "Yeah? What's it to you?" he said, turning his head and looking even more sour.

"Well, I'm rather found of the clientele here, so please stop making them think the ale is poisoned," Astarion added, taking the empty stool next to the man at the table. That made the man shift, sit up a bit taller. "Want to tell me all about it instead? I promise I'm a better listener than aged barley."

Finally, a glance shifted in Astarion's direction. The man's eyes slowly looked him over, as if considering. Astarion could tell his presence was having an effect on him. It was hard for victims to not be affected. Though a spawn, he felt a vampiric enhancement over his human form in every way: his jaw sharper, his hair wafter, his scent stronger.

The man huffed. "Why would you want to hear my sob story. Are you trying to sell me something?"

"I'm not selling anything," Astarion replied innocently. I just think something so pretty shouldn't be frowning like that," he added softly, intimately. He brushed his fingers against where the man's arm rested on the table, gripping his ale.

The man looked up at him fully then. Why, he was even more stunning face on. Youthful – no more than twenty – doe-eyed, but a strong jaw. What an intoxicating mix. Astarion was almost envious.

"Its…it's Delilah," the man said, choking back a sob on her name. "Said she...she didn't want to be with just a cobbler's son. Said she was running off with a Flaming Fist, or whatever."

Women troubles. Perfect. He was in a malleable state. Astarion said in a hushed voice, "I can help you forget about her."

The man shifted his body towards Astarion. "How…how would you do that?" he whispered back. Astarion could feel the younger man's intrigue. He wanted to be distracted by Astarion, clearly, but he seemed torn, between wanting to sulk or wanting to give in.

For a fleeting moment, Astarion wanted to tell the man to run, to get out of here, to return home and forget about Delilah and work for his father and live his simple human life. But, then Astarion thought of the night ahead of him if he didn't bring someone home. Of the beatings. Of the long, tortuous sessions with Godey…he swallowed the thought and brushed his fingers against the man's arm. "First, start by telling me your name, sweetheart." Astarion was so close the words were barely above a whisper. He'd made sure to crunch on some mint leaves earlier so his breath wouldn't smell of blood.

"Se…Sebastian," he said softly, almost nervous.

"Sebastian," Astarion repeated, taking his time drawing out the letters, letting the word fill his mouth completely. "How lyrical."

"I…I suppose," he mumbled. "What's yours, then?"

No use in a fake name – Sebastian wouldn't be around long enough to report him, and no one in the Flophouse could hear a word of their conversation. "Astarion," he drawled, taking pleasure in announcing his name for the younger man.

"That's beautiful, too," Sebastian said then, fully turning to face Astarion. Their knees were touching between the two stools. "You're beautiful, too," he breathed next.

"Not as beautiful as you," Astarion said, and it was almost true. Sebastian would make a lovely vampire. Too bad Cazador wasn't planning on keeping him alive long enough to find out.

"I've never called a man beautiful before," Sebastian said next, seeming more nervous – but more excited – with every word.

"I'm guessing then you've never…kissed a beautiful man?" Astarion asked next, with a slight pout to his lip.

"No," Sebastian said softly. "But I have…I have thought about it."

"Did you kiss Delilah?" Astarion asked, his hand now on Sebastian's knee.

Sebastian shook his head. "She broke up with me before we could."

Astarion tsked. "What a shame," he muttered. "Would you like to learn how?"

"With…with you?"

"Darling, who else?" Astarion teased. "I'll teach you how to kiss in a way that'll make Delilah, and anyone else for that matter, think you're irresistible." He hand cupped the back of Sebastian's neck, his fingers settling into that long blonde hair.

"You would do that?" Sebastian asked, now leaning towards Astarion.

"I'm dying to," Astarion whispered before he closed the gap between them, before he settled his mouth against Sebastian's.

Sebastian chest rose with an inhalation as Astarion pressed his lips on his. Then, deftly, he peaked his tongue out to coax open the younger man's mouth. Sebastian met him and curiously let his tongue brush back against Astarion's. Sebastian's hands found Astarion's thighs and he gripped them.

Astarion, for a moment, let himself feel the pleasure of this, the simple joy of kissing a beautiful mouth, of showing off his seduction skills. The night he could have with this man. He could teach him everything. He would be such a good student too, their lips and tongue now moving in a rhythm, the way Sebastian was already worshipping him. He had a brief ache of pleasure course through him at the thought of spending an entire sleepless night together, of lounging naked and spent in each other's arms until morning.

"Knowing it wouldn't happen made Astarion pull back. Sebastian looked surprised at the abrupt ending. "I'm sorry, was I –"

"Not you, darling," Astarion quickly recovered, squeezing the man's thigh. "I just think…I'm not sure Fraygo's is the best place for this. We could take our lessons somewhere more…intimate," he purred.

"Um…all right," Sebastian said, clearly not ready to have had Astarion's mouth leave his. "Where did you have in mind?"

Astarion stood up and offered out his hand. He took his time looking over Sebastian, admiring the blood flushing his face, knowing it would be drained soon. Then, before he could lose himself in guilt and pity, Astarion shut off, closed it down, became the mask he was learning to put on more and more with each passing day.

"Let me show you the way."