Icebreaker - nyxueaurelia - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: Starry, Starry Night

Chapter Text

He heard her before he saw her.

“I always sit here.”

The voice was cool and impatient, with just a tinge of barely-disguised disgust. Astarion slid in the door of the lecture hall, peering around for the source of what was sounding like quality entertainment.

“I do not believe these chairs are reserved,” snapped an equally sharp voice.

Astarion sank into a chair several rows back, spotting the two girls near the front row. One was tall and willowy, with long, pitch black hair tied back into a braid. The other was smaller, but she was all sharp muscle and rigid lines, reddish hair spilling around her shoulders in an assortment of braids and dreads.

“And I believe that I always sit here, so move,” hissed the girl with the black hair.

“T’chk,” snapped the other. “Self-important brat.” With that, she scooped up her books and stalked to the other side of the room, shooting utterly deadly looks across the room to the black-haired girl.

Astarion couldn’t help himself; he moved down until he was sitting behind the girl with the black hair.

“If looks could kill, you would be dead and buried several times over, darling,” he purred.

She jumped, spinning around to look at him. Her eyes narrowed, and she said, “I don’t think it was any of your business, now was it?”

“Darling, if you have an argument that loud in front of the entire room, I’d say you’ve made it public business.”

She glared at him; Astarion had to admit her death glare was top-tier. “Do not call me darling,” she snapped.

He let a smirk slowly spread across his face before finally meeting her eyes. He was momentarily distracted; they were rather lovely eyes. A beautiful mid-toned green, framed with thick, dark lashes, and almost too much dark kohl smudged around them. “Whatever you say, darling.”

She sucked in her breath, fingers tightening around the pen she had just dug out of her backpack, and Astarion was momentarily concerned that she was about to stab him with it. Instead, she spun around, braid nearly slapping him in the face, and sat down.

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as their harried-looking professor rushed into the room, aiming for the desk and apologizing for being late.

Maybe this class wouldn’t be so bad after all.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“So, darling,” he said, sidling up to the girl after the professor had dismissed them. “What exactly did she do to cause that much rage?”

She glared at him again. “If I tell you my name, will you stop calling me darling?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose, her lips pursed in such a tight line they were nearly white.

“Jenevelle,” she finally said. “Jen.”

“It’s lovely to meet you then, Jenevelle,” he said. “My name is Astarion.” He gave her his best dramatic curtsey, and when he righted himself, he realized she had just kept walking and left him standing there like an idiot.

He had to laugh; she was feisty. He liked feisty.

“It was nice to meet you too, darling,” he called after her retreating figure.

Without missing a beat, she lifted one hand, extending her middle finger into the air.

He burst out laughing.

Oh, I like her.

He spun around, heading towards his dorm, a smile still on his face.

His good mood was somewhat squashed when he shoved open the door to his room, revealing his roommate, Gale. As per usual, he was hunched over his desk in the corner, a stack of books balanced near his elbow.

“Hi, Astarion,” he said, not even lifting his head from the book he was squinting at.

“Afternoon, darling. Have you even moved since I left?”

Gale looked at him, blinking in confusion a few times. “I…I think so?”

“You…don’t know.”

Gale shrugged. “I was reading,” he said, like that explained everything.

“Did you even go to class this morning?” Astarion asked, sighing.

“It’s Wednesday,” said Gale. “I don’t have class on Wednesday morning.”

Astarion sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Gale. Darling. It’s Thursday.”

“Wait, what?” Gale sat up, groping at the nightstand next to his bed for his phone and peering at the screen. “Oh, gods, it is Thursday.”

“I know it is, darling. That’s why I was at my astronomy class,” he said patiently. He and Gale had gotten off to a rocky start at the beginning of the year, but they’d slowly started getting along better after winter break had ended. They shared a mutual friend in Wyll, who lived down the hall from them, and he’d served as a bit of a buffer between the two. Astarion wasn’t sure if they were actually friends yet, but they were definitely past ‘just tolerating’.

Astarion sank down to sit on his bed, looking Gale over. “Gale, darling. When was the last time you even took a shower?” he asked, running a hand back through his mess of silver curls.

“I…Sunday? I think?”

“Gale.”

“I’ll take one later,” he mumbled, turning back to his pile of books.

Astarion sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. One of Gale’s biggest shortcomings, in his opinion, was his ability to become obsessed with a project or subject to the point of ignoring most other things - it wasn’t unusual for him to barely sleep once he’d really gotten involved in something, or to forget several meals in a row, or just not take the time to shower. Astarion had made it his own personal mission to remedy this for the spring semester, but Gale - who had been knee-deep in some sort of physics project that completely eluded Astarion - was making it as difficult as possible.

“Darling, I am physically dragging you to the cafeteria in an hour so you actually eat, and I would be most grateful if you’d take a gods-damned shower first so I don’t have to hold my breath while I do so.”

Gale glared at him, slapping his book shut. Without a word, he stalked towards the bathroom they shared with the room next door.

Astarion rolled his eyes, flopping back onto his mattress and pulling his phone out. It was definitely time to waste time scrolling. Maybe if he was lucky, he could find a hookup for later. He opened Finder, skimming through his recent matches, wrinkling his nose at them.

Honestly. He would think that eventually, the odds would have to be in his favor to get a match who didn’t lead off with a picture of their sub-par co*ck or a message that just said ‘u wanna f*ck?’ So far, though, the Finder gods had refused to bless him. He even had double the chances of getting someone reasonable, since he identified as a raging pansexual, but the pickings had been pitiful this semester.

He paused on one of his matches; it intrigued him due to how different it was. The girl was posing on top of a black blanket made out of some sort of fluffy material. Her hair was long and dark, carefully arranged to cover her bare breasts. A delicate hand with a shimmery black manicure rested at the apex of her thighs, blocking it from view. And, interestingly enough, the picture cut off at her neck.

This intrigued Astarion for one main reason : his own pictures also did not include his face. Body shots, yes, suggestive shots of the outline of his co*ck, yes, but none actually showing it.

Interesting.

He swiped right on her picture, admiring the curve of her waist, the smoothness of her skin. And then -

shadowheart : I see we have similar approaches when it comes to our photos.

astarrynight : It would appear so. It’s not often I find a kindred spirit here when it comes to photos.

shadowheart : You also type in complete sentences. Truly an outlier.

astarrynight : I’m not a savage. Of course I type in complete sentences. I even have proper grammar and punctuation most of the time. You should see me use an Oxford comma.

shadowheart : That may be the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me on here.

astarrynight : Somehow, I doubt I’ve had much competition. I don’t know about you, but I mostly get messages that say things like ‘lol u wnna f*ck?’.

shadowheart : Don’t even get me started. The amount of unsolicited dicks I get is entirely unreasonable.

astarrynight : I swear I will not send you a picture of my dick unless you explicitly ask me to.

shadowheart : I take it back. THAT may be the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me on here.

astarrynight : I’m on a roll tonight. 😉

shadowheart : You’re on something, that’s for sure. So, what exactly are you looking for on here?

Well, THAT was a question for the ages.

astarrynight : A little fun. Someone interesting to talk to. I’ve got one out of two. I’m telling you, I’m on a roll tonight.

shadowheart : And what, pray tell, constitutes ‘a little fun’?

She had to be kidding…right?

astarrynight : By the hells, my dear. Sex.

shadowheart : And if that’s NOT what I want tonight?

astarrynight : Then we continue talking in actual sentences with proper punctuation and enjoy each other’s company.

shadowheart : You really know the way to a girl’s heart.

astarrynight : I do my best.

Gale chose that moment to slink out of the bathroom, hair damp, wearing only boxers and a t-shirt.

“Please tell me you plan to wear pants to dinner,” Astarion said, sighing.

“Of course I am,” said Gale indignantly.

“Just making sure,” he said cheerfully. He looked back down at his phone, waiting eagerly for another message.

shadowheart : So, what does a starry night do with his night? ✨

astarrynight : I am unfortunately about to physically drag my roommate to the cafeteria for dinner, because when he gets involved in projects he tends to forget that he exists on the mortal plane and requires pesky things like food.

shadowheart : Oh dear. That’s nice that you’re going to make sure he eats, though.

astarrynight : We got off to a bit of a rough start, but we get along pretty well now. I’m going to have to run, but I’d love to chat more sometime if you’d like.

shadowheart : I would very much like. 🥰

astarrynight : I’ll message you later, then. 🖤

shadowheart : And you send me black heart emojis? You really do know what I like. Have fun dragging your roommate out.

astarrynight : Thank you, love. 😘

“What are you grinning like an idiot about?” Gale asked, smoothing his hair back into a messy bun.

“Oh, nothing, darling. Come on, let’s see if Wyll wants to come with us.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

“I hope they’ve still got pizza tonight,” said Wyll hopefully as they pushed open the door to the cafeteria.

“I’m just holding out for something edible,” grumbled Astarion. “Hells, maybe something recognizable.”

“It’s not that bad,” protested Gale.

“Gale, half the time you don’t even look at what you’re eating because your nose is always stuck in a book,” Astarion reminded him.

Wyll rolled his eyes at them, herding the three of them towards the line. Thankfully, it was reasonable tonight; on some nights - usually when they served nachos - the line would stretch out the door.

Astarion let his eyes wander around the room, looking for an available table. A lone figure at a table in the corner caught his eye - it was the girl from his class this morning. She was huddled over the table, peering at her phone, stabbing at a salad, and giving off impeccable ‘stay the f*ck away from me’ vibes.

So, naturally, Astarion decided the thing to do was say hello. “Get me some pizza?” he asked Wyll, interrupting whatever he’d been talking to Gale about.

“Sure, but where are you going?” asked Wyll.

“Going to snag a table. And say hi to someone real quick.”

“Someone, eh?” asked Wyll, raising a brow.

“Thanks, darling,” he cooed, slapping a ten-dollar bill into Wyll’s palm and threading his way through the tables.

Jenevelle was studying her phone so intently she didn’t even see him approach, which may have accounted for how high she jumped when he said, “Hello again, darling,”

The bite of salad on her fork went flying, and she nearly dropped her phone. She glared at him, saying, “Gods, you again?”

“It’s nice to see you too, Jenevelle,” he said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes - Astarion was getting the feeling that was one of her favorite forms of communication - and said, “I was just leaving.”

He eyed her half-finished salad, raising an eyebrow at her. “Giving up on dinner already?”

She huffed out a breath. “Maybe I’ll take it with me. Gods. I was busy.”

“Right, right. Busy staring at your phone,” he teased.

“Whatever I was doing on my phone is none of your gods-damned business.”

“Are you always this prickly, or is it just me?”

Jen glared at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not, darling,” he said agreeably. “I’m going to rejoin my friends,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of Wyll and Gale, who were claiming a table across the room. “If you’d like to join us, you can. Of course, if you’d rather be a recluse, that’s your prerogative,” he finished. That said, he nodded at her, weaving his way back through the tables to plunk down in a chair across from Gale, his back to Jen.

Wyll eyed him suspiciously. “Astarion, why is that girl attempting to murder you with death stares?”

“I asked her to join us. I’m guessing that’s a no.”

Gale leaned sideways, peering around him. “I’m going to say it’s absolutely a no, since she’s slamming things into her bag and stomping out the door. What in the hells did you even say to her?”

“Why is it my fault?” he said indignantly. “She’s in my astronomy class and we met this morning. I was just saying hello.”

“And…a friendly hello makes her storm out of the cafeteria?”

“I met her because she was reaming out some other girl for taking her seat.”

“Her…seat. In an open lecture hall,” marveled Wyll.

“You see why I was curious now?”

Gale snorted. “Actually, after this long, yeah, it does make sense with you.”

Astarion gave Gale a withering look. “Uncalled for.”

Wyll snickered, sliding a plate with two slices of ham and pineapple pizza in Astarion’s direction.

“Ah, thank you, darling,” he said cheerfully. He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

Gale shook his head. “How you can eat an abomination like that is still beyond me.”

“Don’t knock it,” said Astarion, taking another bite.

Wyll pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “You’re both dumb.” He gave Gale’s pepper and onion laden slices a pointed look before taking a bite out of his slice of pizza, which was just plain cheese.

“And you’re bland,” said Astarion mildly.

“Just see if I get your pizza again while you try to go flirt,” sniffed Wyll.

“I wasn’t flirting,” protested Astarion.

“You’re always flirting,” Wyll pointed out.

It was Astarion’s turn to roll his eyes. “Whatever, darling.” He took a larger than usual bite out of his slice of pizza, glaring at him.

“Oh, just shut up and eat your pizza,” grumbled Gale. “Was there ice cream?”

“Asking the important questions now,” said Astarion.

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake -” muttered Wyll. “Yes. Ice cream.” He pointed across the room to the soft-serve machine, currently surrounded by a gaggle of sorority girls.

“Marvelous,” said Gale, finishing off his last slice of pizza and getting to his feet.

Astarion finished his and stood, stretching. “Want me to get you some?” he asked Wyll.

“Nah, not tonight. I’ll guard the table,” he said.

“Thanks, darling.”

Two bowls of ice cream and a decent amount of friendly teasing later, they all headed back to their dorm, saying goodbye to Wyll before Gale and Astarion wandered down the hall to their room. Inside, Astarion flopped on his bed, pulling his phone out, while Gale planted himself back at his desk, opening the book he’d been involved in earlier.

With a final glance in Gale’s direction, he opened Finder, poking at his messages.

astarrynight : I have returned from braving dinner with my roommate. How’s your night? 😀

He grinned, pleased when a response popped up almost immediately.

shadowheart : Aside from never getting any peace and quiet, just fine.

astarrynight : No peace and quiet, hmm?

shadowheart : Well, I have some NOW. Thank gods. I hate people.

astarrynight : Is this when I say you’re a girl after my own heart? I’m fairly sure I hate about 90% of people myself.

shadowheart : Truly a kindred spirit.

astarrynight : It would seem so. I don’t suppose you’ve rethought the ‘little fun’ thing?

shadowheart : I think I want to talk to you more first. If I f*ck you, then I fear you won’t talk to me anymore, see.

Astarion chuckled, shaking his head.

astarrynight : I suppose that’s fair. Talk it is, then. I won’t ask again, but if you change your mind, let me know.

shadowheart : I don’t suppose you’d send me another pic, though? 😘

“You little minx,” he mumbled, smiling.

“What?” said Gale, jerking his head up from his book.

“Nothing, darling. Sorry. Talking to myself.”

Gale grunted, leaning back over his book without another word.

Astarion scrolled through the various pictures on his phone, finally settling for one of him in tight black briefs, clearly showing the outline of his co*ck. He was twisted slightly in the picture, perfectly posed to showcase the long lines of muscle in his back, arms up above his head. He hesitated for a moment, then tapped it to send it.

shadowheart : Holy sh*t.

shadowheart : You are f*cking hot. 🔥

astarrynight : You haven’t even seen my face. I could very well be a troll for all you know.

shadowheart : I can always put a bag over your head if it comes down to it.

Astarion burst out laughing, drawing another glare from Gale as he sputtered apologies in his direction.

astarrynight : Don’t threaten me with a good time now, love.

astarrynight : I don’t suppose I get another picture, do I?

shadowheart : Hmm. I suppose you HAVE been a good boy, sending me such a nice picture.

Astarion waited, staring at his screen in anticipation.

The picture popped up, and he got to his feet, heading towards the bathroom. He desperately needed some privacy to deal with his now-hard co*ck.

In the confines of the bathroom, he started the water for the shower, slowly fisting his co*ck as he gazed down at the picture. This one was from behind, showcasing a perfectly-heart-shaped ass, a sheet of inky black hair rippling down her back in loose curls, and an enticing amount of side boob.

shadowheart : Oh dear. Did I break you?

astarrynight : No, you just made me flee to the bathroom so I could properly…admire your picture.

shadowheart : Oh, gods. Are you seriously jerking off to my pictures?

Astarion paused, looking down at his co*ck in his hand, then shrugged, opting for honesty.

astarrynight : Yes.

shadowheart : Like, right NOW?

astarrynight : I can show you if you’d like.

astarrynight : But only if you ask. I seem to remember telling you I wouldn’t send you a dick pic unless you asked.

shadowheart : I -

shadowheart : Gods. Yes. Let me see.

He had to fight back the moan that wanted to explode out of his throat as he carefully adjusted his camera, filming a short clip of him stroking himself, making sure to show his thumb sliding over his slit, catching the moisture there.

shadowheart : Oh f*ck.

astarrynight : Like what you see?

shadowheart : Yes.

He kept stroking himself, leaning halfway into the shower, the other hand still on his phone, panting slightly as the tension coiled in his lower belly.

And then -

shadowheart : Only fair.

A video popped up. Astarion hit play, watching as two long, slender fingers slid alongside a beautiful rosy pink cl*t before plunging inside herself. She withdrew her fingers, spreading them out before the camera, wetness stretching between them, and -

“Oh, f*ck -” he gasped, his knees nearly buckling as he came, shooting rope after rope of cum into the shower.

astarrynight : Gods. You’re going to be the death of me. I just came so hard my knees almost gave out.

shadowheart : tell me what youd do to me

He felt a smile slide over his face; she was clearly down to one hand. Perfect.

astarrynight : Well, love, I would want nothing more than to run my tongue over that perfect pink cl*t of yours, swirling around it until you’re BEGGING for more. I’d slide a finger in you - just one to start with - and then, if you’re good, I’ll give you another, pressing them against you until you’re dying to feel my co*ck inside you. I would kiss my way back up your body, hooking one of your legs up and out of the way with mine as I did, and then slide into you nice and slow, just barely f*cking into you until you’re losing your mind over how BAD you need me to f*ck you. And then, and only then, will I pull almost all the way out before ramming back into you, teasing my fingers around your cl*t the entire time, until I have completely unraveled you and you’re coming on my co*ck so hard that you won’t even be able to remember your name.

Astarion waited patiently; it was almost two minutes before a response popped up.

shadowheart : Well, I don’t think I’ve ever made myself come THAT hard before. Gods. I don’t think I can EVER actually meet you, you’ll ruin me for everyone else.

astarrynight : I aim to please.

shadowheart : f*cking hells. Gods. I - I need to go. I need a shower. A cold one.

He started chuckling, shaking his head.

astarrynight : Enjoy yourself, love. And think of my hands touching you instead of your own in the shower. Goodnight. 🖤🖤🖤

shadowheart : Goodnight, star. ✨

f*ck. Now I need a cold shower too.

Chapter 2: The Astronomer

Chapter Text

Another week crept by in a blur of classes, homework, too much cafeteria pizza, and making sure Gale actually did things like eat and sleep. Astarion himself had been drowning in papers; he had turned in a paper on the Canterbury Tales this morning for his medieval literature class, and he had just put the finishing touches on one about the fall of the Roman empire for his world history class.

Oh, and message the mysterious shadowheart whenever he had the chance.

Their messages had flown back and forth, fast and furious, every single night. Sometimes it stayed clean, learning about each other’s likes and dislikes, current movies and books, and so forth. And some nights it deteriorated into increasingly explicit sexting. Astarion had finally just given her his number, and while she refused to call him - or show him her face - it did allow them to send longer videos back and forth, which they had taken full advantage of.

Gods. She was going to make him crazy. He’d asked, cautiously, about possibly meeting, and she’d shot him down cold every single time. She was too shy, she’d say. Or too nervous. Or too - well, anything, really. Astarion had also asked if he could call her - no. FaceTime? Also no. He’d offered to send her an actual picture, and she’d declined that too.

He was starting to get concerned that he was being catfished, if he was being honest.

I’m starting to think you’re just catfishing me, love.

There. It was finally out in the open. He waited, tapping his fingers anxiously against the screen of his phone.

I’m not. I swear. I’m just…

Shy. Busy. Nervous. I know.

I’m sorry.

I know.

Give me some more time. Please.

He sighed, raking a hand back through his curls, exasperated.

Fine.

He shoved his phone in his pocket, pushing open the door to the lecture hall for his astronomy class, sliding into his usual seat. Jenevelle wasn’t there yet, and he was tempted to sit in her seat, entirely to aggravate her for entertainment. He had just stood up when she flew into the room, dropping down into her seat, face flushed.

“Hello, darling,” he said, leaning forward.

She heaved a sigh. “Would you please stop calling me that?”

“I’ll consider it.”

The look she gave him would certainly have made a lesser mortal flee in terror, but Astarion had made a lifelong career out of vexing people, and he just smiled sweetly at her in response.

Astarion was saved from her retort by their professor skidding into the room, late as usual. He took occasional notes, mostly doodling constellations in the margins of his notebook, and not paying much attention until the end of class when the professor said, “As you know, we have our first lab coming up this Friday night. I want…let’s see…” He stopped, counting the rows in the room, then nodded. “Row one, turn around. Row three and row five, turn around. The person behind you is your partner for the lab. You’ll be filling out star charts and mapping constellations.”

Jen was staring at him with barely-disguised disgust. “Oh, for f*ck’s sake,” she muttered. Astarion gave her his most charming smile in return, twirling his pen between his fingers. “I just won’t go,” she continued.

There was no way the professor had heard her, but his next statement called her bluff. “Please remember this lab will count for 50% of your midterm, with the exam counting for the other 50%. Do not miss this.” He paused, looking thoughtful, and then said, “Besides, we’re only doing the lab twice this semester, and we have good telescopes. You’ll like it.”

“Not likely,” Jen mumbled under her breath.

“I’ll see you all Friday night!” the professor called, dismissing them.

Jen was stuffing her notebook and a bag of multi-colored pens into her backpack so violently Astarion thought there was a solid chance she was going to rip it. She stalked towards the door, black braid bouncing over her shoulder. Astarion followed her, saying, “Hey. Jen. Hold on -”

“What?” she snapped, spinning around.

He sighed, shifting his weight back and forth. “Look, I know you aren’t happy about this -”

“What was your first clue?” she sneered.

“ - but I’m good at this sh*t,” he continued, flipping his notebook open.

She froze, staring at the gridded paper, eyes widening. He had been slowly and steadily filling in constellations and patterns for weeks, almost entirely from memory, and he flipped several pages, showing her how they shifted through the seasons.

Jenevelle put her hands on her hips, annoyance crackling around her like an unsavory aura. “And?”

“I’m just saying, you could be a little less of a bitch to me, considering that if you just show up, you’re guaranteed an A on this. I do star charts for fun.”

“Did you seriously just call me a bitch?”

“Is that seriously all you got out of what I just said?”

They stared at each other; Astarion folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

She finally exhaled through her nose, deflating slightly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll see you Friday.”

“It’s a date.”

The death glare was back, and he dodged as she tried to swat him on the shoulder.

“Bye, darling,” he called, sauntering in the direction of his dorm.

“Do NOT call me that!” she called after him.

He only hesitated for a moment before he put an arm in the air, extending his middle finger.

Astarion could have been wrong, but he was fairly sure he heard a snort of laughter from behind him. He smiled to himself, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder, and headed back to his dorm.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Astarion rubbed a towel over his damp hair before securing it around his hips, ducking out of the bathroom and heading for his dresser. Gale was actually out for the night, leaving Astarion to his own devices for once.

He rummaged in his dresser, extracting an old t-shirt that had been washed so many times it was thin and soft and felt like a whisper floating over his skin as he pulled it on. A pair of boxers, his black sweatpants, and a quick pass of his fingers through his still-damp hair, and he collapsed onto his bed, scooping his phone off his nightstand as he did. It was definitely time to try to talk to shadowheart.

Good evening, love.

Much to his joy, her response was near-instant.

Good evening, Star. How was your day?

Just got out of the shower. It’s better now that I’m talking to you. 🖤

Flatter a girl, why don’t you. And thank you for giving me mental pictures of you fresh out of the shower.

Anytime, love. And I plan to flatter you whenever it’s appropriate.

Just make a girl blush, why don’t you.

That didn’t take much effort to make you blush. I am clearly evolving.

Oh, please. Hah.

What is the ever-so-easily-flattered shadowheart doing with her evening?

The usual. Laying in bed. Scrolling. Pretending to do homework.

I am actually ALONE for once. My roommate went to some sort of study session thing for one of his physics classes.

Oh reaaaaaaalllllllly….. 😈

Yes really. Why, do you have any…suggestions on how to fill my pathetically boring evening?

I could probably come up with something.

I’m all ears, love.

At the risk of sounding too forward…

Now I’m REALLY all ears, love.

Make me come.

Astarion stared at his phone, a slow smile spreading across his face.

You know, I could do an even BETTER job with slightly different circ*mstances…

I have no doubts. But I’m comfortable in bed and I’m more than a little wet…

“f*ck,” he muttered to himself, feeling his co*ck stir in response to that statement.

Why don’t you be a good girl and show me?

That’s not even FAIR. How am I supposed to resist that?

You aren’t, love. Now come on, be a good girl and show me how wet you are for me.

Astarion waited patiently.

I have an idea.

Oh?

I could, possibly, video call you, but I’m not showing my face. Or talking.

“Oh, hells,” he mumbled, already freeing his co*ck from his sweatpants and stroking himself several times. Astarion glanced down, admiring the wetness gleaming on the head of his co*ck. He was about to roll his thumb across it when he thought better of it.

Well, love, if you’re going to, now is the time. I’m already so hard I can barely think straight.

Astarion waited again; sure enough, his phone rang a second later. He made sure the camera was focused on his co*ck before he answered. And promptly nearly dropped his phone, because the mysterious shadowheart had her phone on a tripod or mount of some sort, aimed at her body.

Astarion let his eyes wander; he could just see the edges of her dark hair, brushing over the tops of what he considered perfect handfuls of breasts, pink nipples hardening as fingers traced indulgent circles around them.

“Beautiful,” he said.

He heard a low chuckle, delicate and glittering, before an arm stretched out to adjust the camera, aiming it lower.

Astarion hummed appreciatively as she settled herself back on the fluffy black blanket, legs spread, giving him a perfect view of her folds. She traced her fingers slowly down, across her lower abdomen, one hand sliding down further to stroke her inner thigh before creeping up to spread herself open to him, wetness glistening as she did.

“You weren’t kidding, love,” he told her, doing his best to pitch his voice lower than usual. “So wet,” he murmured, watching intently as she slid a finger over her cl*t, eliciting a low moan from herself as she did. Astarion stroked himself a bit more vigorously, letting his thumb drift over his slit, dragging the wetness across the head of his co*ck with a groan.

He could hear ragged breathing as she slid a slim finger inside herself, then a second, before withdrawing them to show Astarion the wetness clinging to them. He moaned, tightening his grip on his co*ck, his own breathing getting steadily more ragged.

She slid two fingers back inside herself, this time with more intent, thrusting into her wetness rhythmically while her thumb brushed against her cl*t with every stroke. He could hear her whimpering, one leg drawing up next to herself as she worked. Her other hand had vanished upwards, and Astarion could only assume she was pinching at her nipples.

Astarion watched, transfixed, as the hand reappeared, taking over the teasing of her cl*t as she repositioned her hand to add a third finger. Her moans were high pitched, breathy little things at this point, her thighs shaking and tensing visibly as she worked herself closer to the edge.

“f*ck,” he whispered to himself, his co*ck leaking and throbbing relentlessly as he gripped the base of it, trying to stave off the org*sm that was threatening him. “Come for me, love. Please.” he growled.

And she did, spectacularly; her back arched up off the bed, knees jerking inwards, a keening wail echoing as she rode out the last of it all over her now-drenched hand. Astarion let out a whimper, spending himself all over his hand, some spilling over onto the bed as he gave himself a few more strokes to milk every bit of release out.

It was quiet except for their shaking breaths, and then she leaned down, forming her hands into a heart shape, and disconnected the call, leaving Astarion floating somewhere in space as he tried to figure out what in the hells had just happened.

Goodnight, Starry. You were wonderful.

He stared at his phone, a disbelieving giggle escaping him before he was able to formulate a response.

Goodnight, love. Just think of how much better I would be in person…

I am thinking about it, trust me. Goodnight. 🖤

Astarion thumped his head back on his pillow, shaking his head.

“f*cking hells,” he mumbled, pulling his t-shirt off and starting to clean up the mess he’d made. “What the f*ck am I even doing?” He finished mopping himself up, throwing the shirt into his laundry basket, and headed to take another shower. He needed to clear his head, because he damn sure couldn’t even think straight after that.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“What are you smiling about?” Gale asked him on Friday night, looking at Astarion suspiciously.

“Nothing,” he said, stuffing his notebooks, a pouch of fine-tipped markers, and his water bottle into his backpack. “Just excited about the astronomy lab. You know I love star charts.”

“Ah, right,” said Gale. “You’re always doodling those.”

“Yup,” Astarion agreed, smoothing his hands through his curls, peering at himself in the mirror. He may have made a bit more effort than normal tonight; he was wearing a pair of dark rinsed jeans, a close-fitting black t-shirt made out of incredibly soft cotton, and a pair of black Doc Martens that had survived high school with him. He frowned, grabbing a tiny bottle from his dresser, shaking a few drops of oil into his hands, and smoothing them through his curls. That done, he nodded in approval at his reflection. “I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up for me.”

Gale snorted. “Gods. At least don’t bring them back here.”

“What makes you think I’m bringing someone back with me?” he protested.

“Astarion, I’ve lived with you long enough to know when you’re just going to class and when you’re trying to impress someone.”

He shrugged at Gale, shouldering his backpack. “Later, Gale.”

“Good luck.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

Astarion hiked his way across campus to the building where the astronomy lab was being held, climbing what felt like an unending amount of stairs before he shoved open the door to the roof. His professor smiled and waved, and Astarion nodded in greeting before grabbing one of the blank star charts from the small table near the door.

Telescopes were in a large ring around the edges of the building, and roughly thirty students were milling about, peering through the lenses and adjusting dials. Astarion squinted into the shadows, looking for Jenevelle, but he didn’t see her anywhere.

Gods. Did she REALLY not come?

He rolled his eyes, claiming a telescope in the far corner and started focusing the lenses, peering into the telescope and adjusting knobs.

“Hello,” said a cool voice.

Astarion lifted his head, grinning when he saw Jen standing on the other side of the telescope, arms crossed over her chest and looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“Ah, so you decided to grace me with your presence,” he teased, turning another knob carefully.

“It is half my midterm grade,” she muttered. She shifted her backpack around so she could pull out a pouch of pens, sighing. “Did you get the chart?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, tapping his bag with his toe. The empty chart was laying on top of it, and Jen scooped it up, sighing.

“I’m sure the ground is a perfect place for it,” she told him.

“It was on my bag, darling, not the ground. And besides, I was busy getting everything adjusted since you were late.”

“I was not late,” she snapped. “I was here exactly on time and not a minute sooner.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, unwilling to continue the argument. “Do you want to mark things or look?” he asked her as politely as he could manage.

She gritted her teeth slightly. “I’ll mark. You…seem to know what you’re doing,” she said, gesturing at the telescope.

He gasped, holding a hand over his heart in mock surprise. “Darling! Was that almost a compliment?”

If looks could kill, Astarion was sure he’d just been struck down where he stood.

“Gods, I despise you,” she grumbled, glaring at him.

He stopped, standing back with his hands on his hips. “Why?”

She stared at him. “What?”

“Why?” he asked again.

She rolled her eyes - Astarion was even more sure that it was one of her main forms of communicating - and said, “Shouldn’t we be doing this lab?”

“We should,” he said pleasantly. “However, I can fill out this chart from memory. I’m going to guess that you can’t. So either you answer my question, or I’ll be glad to fill my portion out without you.”

She took a step back, almost like she was evaluating him and his threat level before she said, “Given that we don’t have that much time, can we discuss this after we finish?”

Astarion considered her offer for just a moment before giving her a sly smile. “Come get coffee with me when we’re done,” he said.

“What?” Jen was looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

Astarion raised an eyebrow at her. “You. Me. Coffee. Talk. I’ll even buy.”

Jen was just staring at him, bewildered, before she finally snapped out of it. “Fine. Yes. Whatever. Let’s just get this done, shall we?”

Astarion grinned at her. “I knew you’d see it my way,” he said sweetly.

She thumped him on the head with her bag of pens, sighing. “You’re impossible,” she said, but the usual venom wasn’t present for once.

“I know, darling. Now let’s get this done.”

She shook her head, barely hiding a smile. “Okay.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

As it turned out, things went rather smoothly once they stopped sniping at each other non-stop, and they were handing over an impeccable star chart roughly an hour later. The professor nodded at them, waving, and Astarion held the door open for Jen so they could go back down the endless amount of stairs.

“Was that really that bad, darling?” he asked her, clattering his way down next to her.

She sighed before reluctantly saying, “You are actually very good at that.”

“That truly pained you to say, didn’t it.”

“Yes.”

They both chuckled, coming to the last landing before the ground floor. Astarion paused, looking over at Jen in the dim light, his heart flipping over for just a moment as he actually looked at her. She wasn’t wearing anything special; just jeans and a plain burgundy t-shirt with a pair of Converse. Her hair had been twisted up into a messy knot on top of her head instead of in its usual braid, and Astarion was momentarily mesmerized as she pulled it loose, waves of dark hair rippling down her back before she bound it back up.

“What?” she asked him, ponytail holder held in between her teeth as she finished twisting it back into place.

He shook his head, unwilling to admit his momentary lust. “Where do you want to go for coffee?” he asked instead.

She shrugged. “The Starbucks in the quad?” she asked.

“Good enough,” he said. They had made their way down the final stairs by now, and pushed their way out into the cool night air before heading in the direction of the quad.

“So. You were going to tell me why you despise me,” he asked her, a teasing note back in his voice.

She huffed out a bit of a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“That was the entire reason? Just that? You couldn’t tell me that earlier?” he said incredulously.

“Oh, gods,” she said, rolling her eyes yet again. “You just hit every nerve I have and I think you’ve hit some I didn’t know I had in the time I’ve known you.”

“I bet I have,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Uncalled for,” she sniffed, poking him in the shoulder.

“Oh, darling. I think you like me and it’s f*cking killing you,” he said, giving her his most seductive smile.

“Do not even think about giving me that look ever again,” she snapped, pushing open the door to Starbucks. “Just for that, I want a cake pop too,” she said, sailing past him to the counter.

He stared after her, a chuckle slipping out.

I like her.

They managed to order without too much bickering, finally settling down at a table outside. Jen leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of her iced vanilla latte and nodding in approval. Astarion was busy scraping the extra whipped cream off the top of his iced mocha, popping it directly into his mouth.

He saw Jen looking at him in amusem*nt and said, “I’m a sugar fiend, okay?”

“That explains a lot,” she said dryly.

“You were the one who required a cake pop, not me.”

“And you were the one who wanted extra extra whipped cream and extra chocolate drizzle.”

To which Astarion had no reply, because, well, he f*cking loved whipped cream. He shrugged at her, scraping another bit off with his straw and eating it before plunging the straw into his drink. He took a sip before sitting back in his chair and eying her. “So, you despise me?”

“Sometimes,” she muttered. “You’re nearly tolerable right now.” She took a bite out of her cake pop, catching a few crumbs with her fingertips.

“I’ll take nearly tolerable,” he said thoughtfully. “The thing is, darling, if you stopped trying so hard to hate my guts, I think we’d get along quite well.”

She glared at him, licking the crumbs off her fingertips. Astarion had to concentrate hard for a moment because gods, that was much more arousing than it should have been.

“I don’t know how to break this to you, darling, but I’ve been talking to someone for a week or two,” she told him. “I have no interest in dating.”

“Did I say dating? I just said I thought we’d get along. You remind me quite a bit of my best friend from high school, actually.” Astarion smiled to himself; he missed Minthara terribly. Unfortunately, she was on the other side of the country and knee-deep in a political science degree, and she barely had the time to talk beyond a ‘hi how are you’ these days.

“Oh?” said Jen, finishing off her cake pop.

“Mmm-hmm. You’re both professional ice queens. Apparently I have a type when it comes to friends,” he told her, tapping the side of her foot with his own.

“I am not an ice queen,” she protested. “I’m just…shy.”

He gave her a Look.

She folded in seconds. “Okay. Maybe I’m a bit icy,” she allowed. “I don’t like most people, okay?”

“Me either, darling. All I’m saying is we could try disliking people together occasionally.”

She sighed, sitting back in her chair and contemplating him.

“Fine,” she huffed, glaring at him. “Occasionally.”

He gave her a charming smile, running a hand back through his hair. “Lovely. Can I have your number?”

She was back on guard instantly, giving him suspicious looks. “Why?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Because that’s what friends do, darling. Text and make plans. Send each other stupid memes.”

She rolled her eyes. “I bet your stupid meme texting is excessive.”

“You’ll never know, since you won’t give me your number.”

“Oh, for -” She threw a balled up napkin at him, fuming. “Fine.”

He opened up his contacts, typing in “Ice Queen Jenevelle” as the name.

“Did you seriously label me - oh, you are such a right bastard -”

He grinned, fingers hovering above the screen, waiting for her to rattle off her number.

“555-983-2341. Your meme game better not suck,” she threatened.

He finished adding it to his phone, nodding. “I’ll text you something scandalous later so you’ll have mine,” he said, finishing off his drink “Perhaps we could consider doing something ridiculous like going out for tacos next week.”

She looked thoughtful. “I do like tacos.”

“Everyone likes tacos.”

She shrugged, nearly smiling. She pushed her chair back, gathering up her backpack. “Thanks for the coffee, Astarion.”

“Can I walk you back to your dorm? It’s late,” he said, frowning.

“I’ll be fine,” she sniffed.

“Please, darling. It’ll make me feel better.”

That earned him another eye roll. “Fine.”

He scraped the last of the whipped cream out of his cup with his straw, popping it in his mouth while standing up. “C’mon,” he said.

“I’m in Nocturne,” she said, referring to the all-female dorm.

“Lovely,” he said. “I’m in Harper, myself. For some reason my request for Nocturne was turned down.”

She snorted, covering her mouth to smother what sounded very close to an actual laugh.

“I heard that,” he said, bumping his elbow against her.

“You heard nothing.”

“Uh-huh. How is Nocturne? I’ve heard it’s really nice, I’ve never been inside.”

She nodded. “It is. Got renovated a few years ago, and the rooms are pretty nice. I’m in a corner, so I somehow ended up with my own tiny little bathroom, which is glorious.”

“Oh, lucky you,” he said. “I share mine with three other guys. It’s exactly as gross as you think.”

“Ew,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I do not want to know.”

“You really don’t,” he agreed, thinking about how many times he, personally, had jacked off in the shower. Really, it was a miracle the dorm plumbing worked at all, given how many other guys lived in the dorm and presumably did the same thing.

“I even have a single,” she continued, arching her brows up at him.

“What in the hells, Jenevelle,” he said, gawking at her. “How in the nine hells did you manage a single and your own bathroom?”

She shrugged. “Luck.”

“Luck,” he said, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“Luck,” she replied, her face giving absolutely nothing away.

“Right,” he said dubiously. They were approaching the front of her dorm, and he nodded at her. “This is where I leave you, darling. See, this getting along thing isn’t that terrible, now is it?”

She was heading up the stairs to the door, pausing with her hand on the brass handle. “Thanks, Astarion,” she said. With that, she pushed the door open and vanished inside.

He chuckled, shaking his head, and started the hike back across campus to his dorm.

~~~***~~~***~~~

He was nearly back when he decided to message shadowheart, in hopes of getting her attention before he made his way back into his room.

Evening, love.

“What the -” Astarion stared down at his phone, the message unsent and a popup on his phone informing him that “this contact already exists”. He tapped the box, and -

OH, f*ck -

Astarion collapsed onto the bench outside his dorm, staring at his screen, tapping back and forth between the contacts, ice running down his spine as he realized.

The numbers matched.

Shadowheart and Jenevelle.

“Oh, f*ck,” he swore out loud. “f*ck, f*ck, f*ck -”

NOW what do I do????

He stared at his phone with growing horror, shaking his head. And then he was getting to his feet, running into the dorm and clattering up the stairs to his room before bursting in the door.

Gale jumped, spinning around and nearly knocking his stack of books over.

“Astarion? What in the hells?”

“Come with me, we need Wyll too,” he said desperately. “I need help.”

Gale got to his feet without another word, following him out into the hall and down to Wyll’s room. After retrieving him, they returned to their room, Astarion pacing back and forth in the tiny space while Gale and Wyll eyed him with trepidation.

“Astarion? Mate? What’s wrong?” Wyll asked, looking concerned.

“I have a huge f*cking problem,” he said. “f*ck.”

“Are you going to tell us or just pace and swear?” asked Gale, his eyes sliding back to the pile of books on his desk.

He finally stopped pacing, dropping down onto his bed and yanking his pillow over his head. He resurfaced a moment later, saying, “I matched with this girl on Finder a few weeks ago.”

“Oh boy,” muttered Wyll, settling himself on the floor and leaning back against Gale’s bed.

“And we messaged there for weeks. I finally gave her my actual number and we’ve been texting like that. But she wouldn’t call me or FaceTime me or anything.”

“So…you’re getting catfished,” Wyll surmised.

“Worse,” Astarion muttered. “We’ve been exchanging pictures and videos and stuff, but no faces -”

“Oh, gods,” said Gale. “You didn’t.”

He glared at Gale. “I did. Quite a few of them. But only because she asked.”

Wyll was burying his face in his hands, shaking his head.

“So you’ve been getting catfished and sending dick pics. And…?” Wyll peered through his fingers at him, looking even more apprehensive.

He smashed the pillow back over his face before saying, “And that girl from the cafeteria weeks ago, the one from my astronomy class. She hates me. But she got stuck as my lab partner tonight and I somehow convinced her to go get coffee after,” he said, his voice muffled. He pulled the pillow back off his face and spit the rest out. “And she gave me her number and when I went to text it just now my phone informed me that contact already existed -”

“Oh, f*ck,” swore Wyll, catching on immediately.

Gale was looking somewhat bewildered before it seemed to click. “Oh. Oh, sh*t,” he said.

“Yeah. Finder girl and astronomy girl are the same f*cking person.”

Wyll and Gale were gaping at him, and Astarion hid back under his pillow. “f*ck,” he yelled.

“Are you going to tell her?” asked Wyll.

“I’m going to have to. I promised I’d text her tonight so she’d have my number,” he said. “Gods, this is going to be a disaster.”

“You could use a fake number,” Gale said off-handedly, like he hadn’t just handed Astarion a solution.

“What?” He yanked the pillow off his face, sitting up to stare at his roommate.

Gale shrugged. “Make a fake email account and use the free voice and texting with it.”

“Astarion, I don’t think that’s a good idea -” Wyll interjected.

“Would that work?” he asked Gale.

“I - I think so?”

“Astarion -”

He waved an arm at Wyll impatiently, listening to Gale. “That would work?” he asked again.

“It should, but Astarion -”

Astarion was already grabbing for his laptop, shuffling it onto the bed and flipping it open.

“Astarion, this is a terrible idea,” said Wyll. “If you tell her now, you can possibly salvage it. If you let it drag out, there’s no chance.”

He paused in his typing, thinking. “You think it’ll ruin it?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“It was YOUR idea,” he told Gale, glaring at him.

“Now, wait just a moment. I never said it was a good idea -”

“Gods. Astarion, you have to tell her. If you want to keep her as a friend in any capacity, you have to tell her,” pleaded Wyll.

He looked back and forth between Wyll and Gale several times before he slowly closed his laptop, sitting back on his bed.

“I’ll talk to her,” he muttered. “After class on Monday.”

“There you go,” said Wyll, patting his shoulder.

“If she’ll even talk to me, because I guarantee she’ll be pissed off I didn’t text her like I said I would.”

Gale shrugged. “I don’t believe you have many other options.”

He crashed back down onto his bed, pressing his pillow back over his face.

“f*ck.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

*** Please admire this angry little Jen, who is COMPLETELY over Astarion's sh*t. I LOVE HER SO MUCH. Thank you so much to the talented Dr. Roach!

Chapter 3: The Kiss

Chapter Text

Despite his best intentions, Astarion found himself making an account that night so he could text Jenevelle.

Hello, darling. Thanks for getting coffee with me.

I thought you forgot about me. I had a nice time.

See, I told you we could be friends.

We can TRY.

I’ll see you in class Monday, darling.

Have a good night!

He threw himself back onto his mattress, groaning.

“Oh, gods, you did it anyways, didn’t you,” said Gale, rolling over to look at him.

“Yes,” he muttered. “Just to say hi. I’ll talk to her Monday.”

Gale sighed, shaking his head. “I should never have suggested this, Astarion.”

Astarion glared at him. “But you DID.”

Gale shrugged, rolling back onto his back and resuming scrolling on his phone.

As if on cue, Astarion’s phone pinged with a text.

Evening, star. ✨

He groaned, thumping his head back against his pillow several times before answering.

Good evening, love. How are you?

I’m okay, I guess.

What’s wrong?

I don’t know. Weird night.

Astarion knew - he knew - that he shouldn’t ask, but -

What happened, love? If you want to tell me.

The three dots indicating that she was typing were there for an uncomfortably long time before the message finally appeared.

I don’t really want to talk about it. I was just having an insecure moment but I feel better now. 🖤

Aww. I’m sorry. Maybe I can make your night better…. 😘

I’m sure you could. Maybe I should actually call you…

“Oh, f*ck -” He shot a look at Gale, who had put his earbuds in and was oblivious to his current plight.

As much as I’d enjoy that, love, I can’t right now.

Oh.

Maybe later. I’m sorry. I’m not feeling very well.

Oh, I’m sorry. Do you need to go?

I probably should. Maybe some sleep will help.

Okay, star. Feel better. 🖤

Thanks.

Astarion stared up at the ceiling, kicking at his bed angrily. “I am so f*cked,” he muttered to himself.

~~~***~~~***~~~

By the time Monday rolled around, Astarion was a mess.

Thankfully, Jenevelle hadn’t tried to text him - although shadowheart had. He’d pled headache and an inability to squint at his phone without making it worse, and she seemed to believe him.

But as he pushed open the door to his astronomy class, he felt nothing but dread sinking through him, especially when Jen looked up and actually smiled at him on his way in. He smiled back, wiggling his fingers at her, before sitting down behind her as usual.

Class dragged on and on; Astarion passed most of it doodling constellations in the margins of his notebook and trying to distract himself.

She’s going to kill me.

He sighed, leaning down to rest his forehead against his notebook for a moment. He was not optimistic in the slightest with how this was going to go, but he really didn’t think he had many choices.

“I should have your labs graded by the end of the week, and don’t forget the actual exam part of your midterm is Friday! See you all later!”

Astarion stood, stuffing his notebook into his backpack before leaning forward.

“Jen?”

She spun around - gods, why is she smiling again - and said “Astarion.”

“I - can - I need to talk to you,” he finally said, all in a rush.

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but she nodded. “I’m free now, if you are,” she said cautiously.

He nodded. “Yeah. Let’s - gods. I don’t know where to go.”

Jen eyed him, almost like she was evaluating him before she said, “Come on.” She took off walking, Astarion scurrying beside her.

“Where are we going, darling?”

“My room.”

“Your -” He stopped in his tracks, blinking at her.

“Is that all right?” she asked, turning to look at him.

He nodded slowly, unsure what to make of this development.

She huffed out a breath. “Don’t get any ideas. I just don’t have any more classes today and I have a single.”

“Right,” he agreed.

Well. Okay then. This was not what I expected -

A short walk later, Jenevelle was pushing her way into her dorm, beckoning for him to follow her. Several groups of girls were clustered in various spots in the entryway, all of them absolutely staring as he went past with her. Jen seemed immune; she didn’t even give them a glance, but Astarion could hear the whispers starting as soon as they made it to the hall.

“I think you just gave them gossip fodder for weeks, darling,” he commented.

“I have no doubt. All-female dorm, and not a lot of guys visit. Especially not ones that look like you.”

“What do you mean, ‘like me’?”

She hit the button for the elevator, glaring at him. “Really, Astarion? You must have some clue that you are, indeed, more attractive than the average guy around here.”

He shrugged; he was, in fact, aware of the fact that he was a handsome bastard.

She rolled her eyes as they stepped into the elevator, smacking the button for the top floor.

“Ooooh, penthouse suite,” he teased.

She snorted. “I wish.”

They leaned against the back wall of the elevator together, shoulders nearly touching. Astarion could feel it brewing between them, some sort of nervous anticipation, and he said a silent prayer that she wasn’t going to kill him, because - well, he liked her. She was snarky and sarcastic and nearly impossible to get along with - and he truly liked her.

Hells. He always did like a challenge.

The elevator crawled to a stop, the doors rattling open. Jen led him into a hallway decorated with paper flowers creeping along the edges of the walls, along with paper lanterns drifting down from the ceiling.

“We had a hall decorating contest for spring,” she explained, seeing him examining it all.

“It’s nice,” he said. “The best we do is try to not leave trash in the halls,” he said, chuckling. “Although the Halloween decorating contest was amazing.”

“Yeah?” she said, turning a corner and leading him down the last bit of the hallway, stopping to unlock the door.

“Yeah. Our floor won.”

“What did you do?” she asked, opening the door and gesturing for him to follow her inside. She tossed her backpack onto her desk chair, and Astarion dropped his next to the door. Her room looked exactly like he had expected; there was a dark gray shag rug on the floor, and her bed was neatly made, with the fluffy black blanket from the pictures folded carefully at the foot. A pile of pillows adorned the top, along with a stuffed owl. She had a handful of posters on the walls, mostly for local bands and shows. A laptop sat on her desk, surrounded by a mix of colored pencils and markers, as well as several candles. There was also a bookcase tucked into the corner of the room near the door that he assumed led to her bathroom; it was nearly overflowing with books. He drifted over to inspect it as he answered.

“We covered all the fluorescent lights in the hall and everyone dragged their tv’s outside the rooms and turned them on to a channel with just static. So you’d get off the elevator into darkness, except for an endless line of staticky televisions. I cannot express to you enough how unsettling it was.”

“Gods,” she said, a note of admiration in her voice. “That’s….kind of amazing. And cheap, too.”

“Yeah. We actually scrounged cardboard out of the dumpsters to black out the lights, so it didn’t cost us a thing. It was pretty awesome.”

“What did you win?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

He grinned. “A couple of boxes of ice cream sandwiches and two bags of Halloween candy.”

She started laughing. “Stellar prize.”

“Hey, they were even name-brand ice cream sandwiches.”

Jen snorted. “Oh, well, that changes things.”

He nodded. “It does.” He turned back to her, finally sliding down to lean against the dresser, legs stretched out over the rug.

“So what did you need to talk about?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

f*ck.

He sighed, running a hand back through his curls.

“I - f*ck. I don’t know how to explain this, and I’m hoping you aren’t going to kill me, because I truly didn’t know,” he started. Jen was eyeing him suspiciously, the earlier friendliness fading rapidly from her face.

“I guess the easiest is - well, do you have your phone?” he asked, biting his lip.

“Yes,” she answered slowly, pulling it out of her pocket.

He closed his eyes for a moment before pulling his out, scrolling through his contacts to shadowheart, and sent a message.

Hello, love.

Jen’s phone pinged, and she stared at it, her eyes widening in shock.

“YOU,” she hissed, glaring at him. “What the f*ck.”

“I know,” Astarion said desperately. “I didn’t know until the other night when I tried to text you after we had coffee. I truly didn’t know, Jen.”

She stared at him, eyes narrowing. “You sent me a text that night.”

“I know,” he said miserably. “I used an online text service. I wanted to tell you in person. That’s why I cut the conversation short.”

Astarion couldn’t read the look on her face; it was cycling through a range of emotions. Anger. Shock. More anger. And - something he thought may have been lust?

Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she leaned back on her bed, staring at him.

“Well, sh*t,” she finally said. “What are the f*cking chances,” she mumbled.

Astarion was starting to relax slightly; she at least hadn’t thrown him out immediately. “I’m so sorry, Jen. I had no idea.”

She studied him for a long moment before she finally said, “I believe you. f*ck.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Gods. Thank you. I was f*cking terrified to tell you.”

“Why?” she asked softly.

“Because -” He stopped for a moment, studying her carefully. “Because I enjoy your company,” he finally said. “Whether it’s been in person or texting. I’ve truly had fun texting you. We had a lot of similar interests. And, well…” He trailed off for a moment, finally meeting her eyes. “It was kind of hot, you have to admit.”

She snorted, burying her face in her hands, the tips of her ears suddenly a telling shade of red. “f*ck,” she said, something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle escaping. “I cannot believe I’m having this conversation with you,” she said. She peered at him through her fingers, shaking her head.

“So…now what?” he asked, getting to his feet and taking a few steps towards Jen, sitting down on the bed next to her.

“I -” Jenevelle looked completely caught out; a lovely flush was spreading up her cheeks, all the way to her ears again. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know what I want. I didn’t…expect this,” she said.

Astarion reached out, carefully tugging the tie off the end of her braid and slowly unraveling it, brushing his fingers through the thick curtain of dark hair. “Well,” he said, voice low. “We can be friends. We can be more. We can be friends with benefits. It’s your call, really,” he told her, smoothing his hand over her hair. Her breath caught momentarily, and she gave him an uncertain look.

“Friends,” she whispered.

He immediately let go of her hair, nodding. “Okay.”

“But - Astarion -” she said, her eyes searching his face.

“Yes, darling?”

“I - just once?” she whispered, swaying towards him.

“Just once what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “That could mean a lot of things, Jen.”

“Kiss me,” she said softly.

Astarion tilted his head, meeting her eyes, and nodded. He leaned in, cupping the side of her face with his hand, before he brushed his lips against hers lightly. Then again, with more intent, his other hand resting on her shoulder. He moved his lips against hers softly, finally tracing his tongue against the seam of her lips, swallowing her little gasp as she parted her lips, letting him explore her mouth at a languid pace. The hand on her cheek had drifted back into her hair, and he tangled his fingers in it as he slowly plundered her mouth. One of her hands was clenched in her lap, but the other had finally come up to rest on his shoulder tentatively, fingers tightening against him as he nipped her lower lip before letting her go.

Jen sat there, eyes still closed for several seconds before they fluttered open, looking at Astarion.

“Astarion - I - I think you should go,” she said in a rush. “This was a mistake.”

He nodded, getting to his feet and grabbing his backpack. His hand was resting on the doorknob when Jen said, “Please,” her voice uncharacteristically shaky.

Astarion gave her a searching look, frowning slightly. There was something else going on here, something he couldn’t quite -

“Go,” she begged, looking very near tears, much to Astarion’s horror.

He held his hands up in surrender and let himself out, leaning back against the closed door for a moment and trying to regain his equilibrium.

Well. That went well until it…didn’t.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Astarion laid on his back in a patch of grass outside his dorm, staring up into the sky and watching the stars glitter above his head.

This is the epitome of ‘it’s complicated’.

He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes and adjusted his position slightly. He was using his backpack as a rather terrible pillow, and his pouch of markers kept shifting and poking him in the side of the head.

Friends.

He’d wanted to leave things up to Jen, considering he was the one who had discovered this mess. And then she had to go and ask him to kiss her and now he was spinning helplessly, searching for something to anchor him back to the ground.

but what if i want to be more than friends -

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

you know you’re terrible at relationships -

He always had been.

this is different -

He closed his eyes, and fell back through time.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“Oh, f*ck, yes, yes, right there -”

Astarion gripped her hips firmly, bending himself over her back slightly as he rammed into her, fingers teasing over her cl*t. Her breathing had gotten heavy and fast, and he kept up the pace until she let out a howl, spasming violently around him and sending him right over the edge with her.

“f*cking hells,” she mumbled, sprawled on her stomach on the mats, the scent of sweat, sex, and pine air freshener lingering in the air.

She reached out, trailing her fingers down his back as he dropped down next to her. “Such a good boy,” she murmured.

“Only for you,” he answered her, the words thick with lies in his throat.

She chuckled, twirling one of his curls through her fingers. “Really, Astarion. I’m well aware you’re f*cking more people than me,” she cooed.

“I -”

She pinned him with a look, rolling onto her side, oblivious to the way her skin stuck to the vinyl of the mat below her. “Astarion.”

He closed his eyes, huffing out a breath. “I shouldn’t be f*cking any of you,” he muttered, his voice low.

She sat up completely, her eyes fiery. “And you will keep your f*cking mouth shut about it, now won’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, struggling to his feet and finding his clothes. He tugged his pants on as quickly as he could, stepping into his shoes without even bothering to tie them.

“I expect to see you Thursday after class.”

“I know,” he told her, shrugging into his t-shirt. He unlocked the door of the weight room, slipping out like a wraith, pressing a hand to his eyes.

It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. It’ll be -

The knot in his chest twisted its way into his throat, and he broke into a run, trying to put as much distance between himself and his mistakes as possible.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“I do not understand why you insist on participating in this humiliating charade, Astarion,” she said, propping her feet up on the bench next to him and leaning back to look at him closely.

“Minthy -”

“You’re an idiot,” she said dryly. “This is destroying you.”

“Minthara -”

“I’m not finished speaking to you,” she snapped. “I told you this was a bad idea in the first place. You’re keeping secrets you should not be keeping, Astarion.”

“I didn’t know what else to do -” he said desperately.

“You know exactly what you should have done, Starry. But you chose the wrong path, and now you’re drowning.”

“I don’t know what to f*cking DO, Minthara.” Astarion nearly exploded, sitting forward, voice spiking. “I don’t know what to do,” he said again, this time much more broken. He leaned forward, head in his hands, trying to fight the tears burning behind his eyelids.

He didn’t even have to look at Minthara to know she was giving him one of her signature deadly looks. “Do not even think about crying over this, Astarion. This is a disaster of your own making.”

“Some friend you are,” he mumbled, wiping his eyes.

“The logical thing when one gets propositioned by a teacher is to decline. And report it. But no, you were much too eager to have his co*ck in your -”

“Minthy!”

She continued, unperturbed by his outburst. “His co*ck in your ass. You were so sure you were saved when she figured it out. But no, she just decided to blackmail you with the knowledge, and now you’re f*cking two separate staff members.”

“I KNOW.”

Minthara glared at him, carefully rearranging her platinum blonde hair back into a neat ponytail, pulling out perfect face-framing pieces without even having to think about it. “I’m not done,” she told him.

Astarion heaved out a sigh, a hand over his eyes. “By all means, Minthara, continue telling me how much I’ve f*cked up my life.”

“I plan to, Astarion.”

“I f*cking hate you.”

“You hate that I see you.”

He glared at her, thinking - not for the first time - that if he didn’t adore Minthara so much, he’d want to kill her on a daily basis.

“And you hate that I refuse to tell you what you want to hear. But I will always tell you when you’re wrong; what kind of friend would I be otherwise?”

“One who isn’t a f*cking icy bitch.”

She gave him her best death stare - he’d seen some good ones in his day, but Minthara’s was utterly withering in a way no others were - and he shrank back on the bench, waiting for her to finish lambasting his stupidity.

“Astarion, your final mistake was trying to find a way to make it not hurt so much, and started going places you should not be so people who should not be looking at you can take you home and f*ck you or be f*cked by you.”

He couldn’t help it; a sob finally slipped past his defenses, making him hiccup pitifully.

“There are better ways to escape, Starry. Much better than what you’ve been choosing,” she said quietly. He gave her a pained look, knowing exactly what she was referring to, but that was a whole other problem -

“There’s only two more weeks until we graduate, Minthy,” he finally managed to get out. “I’m eighteen. It’s not illegal, just…inappropriate. I can survive two more weeks.”

Minthara sighed, meeting his eyes, her dark brown ones boring into his. “I have no doubt you can survive, Starry. But what is the cost?”

He could feel his lower lip trembling, and then he was doubled over, sobbing into his hands.

Astarion was so shocked when he felt a tentative hand on his back that he nearly stopped crying. He lifted his head to see Minthara looking at him with something that looked almost like sympathy in her eyes. She grasped his chin in her hand, forcing him to look at her, before she said, “Astarion, do not lose yourself for them.”

He couldn’t help it; he pitched forward into her, forehead resting on her shoulder, bawling.

And, finally, he felt one stiff, tentative arm wrap around his shoulders before he felt the sharpness of her chin resting on top of his head.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“What’re you doing out here?”

Astarion was startled out of his reverie by Wyll’s voice. He looked up, seeing him bending down to look at him, and sighed.

“Thinking,” he mumbled, wiping at his eyes.

Wyll frowned, settling himself on the grass next to him. “Astarion?” he asked, his voice much softer. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I just -” He cut off, sighing. “Missing people.”

Wyll raised his eyebrows at him in question before leaning back on his hands and staring up at the sky.

“Minthara. My best friend.”

“Ah. Not near here, I would assume?”

He shook his head. “On the other side of the country, plowing through a political science degree and rarely has time to talk beyond a ‘hi I’m alive’,” he said with a sigh. “She - she helped me a lot in high school, even if I f*cking hated her sometimes.” He looked up at the sky again, eyes tracing over the stars. “I miss her.”

Wyll patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s hard, when there’s people you spent so much time with and then you come here and it’s -”

“Gone,” Astarion supplied.

“Gone,” Wyll agreed. He flopped down onto the grass next to Astarion in a companionable fashion, folding his arms behind his head to use as a pillow. “What’s she like?”

Astarion snorted with laughter, shaking his head. “She’s an absolutely glacial bitch,” he said, chuckling. “She pulls no punches - you can always count on her to tell you exactly what she thinks. She will never lie to make something palatable; oh no, you’re always getting her honest opinion, no matter how brutal it is. She will never tell you what she thinks you want to hear.” He smiled a bit, tugging at a few strands of grass. “But she’s also viciously loyal and will utterly destroy anyone who comes for someone she cares about. She’s possibly the sharpest, most strategic person I know - never, ever play lanceboard with her, because she’s always at least ten moves ahead.”

Wyll frowned. “She sounds like…a handful,” he said tactfully.

“Darling, you have no idea,” Astarion said, still chuckling. “She’s impossible, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything. She sees me more than anyone else ever has.”

“What do you mean?”

Astarion sighed, twisting the bits of grass he’d plucked around his fingers. “She never lets me hide from the truth.”

Wyll nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “Maybe you should call her,” he said lightly. “Sounds like maybe you need her.”

“What?”

“Astarion, you’re laying in the grass, staring at the sky, looking something close to wrecked, and when I ask you what’s up, you tell me about your one real friend. Something tells me you need her right now,” he said, shrugging.

“She’s busy,” Astarion said.

“I bet she’d make time if you need her,” Wyll said, sitting up and brushing his hands off. “I’ll see you later,” he said, smiling at him and patting his shoulder.

Astarion watched him go, shaking his head. And then he pulled his phone out, sending a text.

Minthy? I need…well. You.

His phone rang less than a minute later.

“Astarion,” came the cool voice he knew so well. “What’s wrong?”

“I -” He stopped, his throat suddenly incredibly tight. “I just miss you,” he mumbled, waiting for her to blast him for bothering her for this.

There was a sigh from the other end, the sound of water splashing, and then, “I miss you too, Starry.”

Well. I didn’t expect that.

A second later, Minthara switched the call to video, and he was treated to her lounging back in what appeared to be her bathtub, platinum hair piled into a messy knot on top of her head, looking more tired than he’d ever seen her.

He couldn’t see himself well in the tiny square in the corner, and he sat up, scooting back until he was close enough to the dorm lights that she could see his face.

Her face broke into a wide smile. “There you are, you handsome little sh*t.”

He burst out laughing. “It’s good to see you too, darling.”

“I just -“ she paused for a moment, indecision dancing across her face. “I needed to see you.”

“Same, Minthy,” he managed, the tightness back in his throat. He bit his lip, trying to keep himself in check. He swallowed hard before he said, “In the bathtub, Minthara?”

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “You said you needed me,” she said softly. “I did not want you to wait. What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice much gentler than usual.

He wiped his eyes, shaking his head. “I met this girl and she reminds me a lot of you. Guess it made me miss you more than usual,” he said, trying to smile.

Water sloshed as Minthara shifted her position. “Oh? Tell me.”

“Her name is Jen. Jenevelle. It’s currently complicated.”

Minthara snorted. “Starry, you only do complicated.”

“Hey now,” he protested.

“It is true, is it not?” She gave him a piercing look, and Astarion had to marvel that even though she was hundreds of miles away, she could still completely break him with a look.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “Gods, I hate it when you’re always right, you bitch.”

“It is not my fault I know you so well, Astarion.”

“Technically it is, since you actually talked to me.”

She smiled a bit, as did Astarion. They’d met their freshman year of high school when they had ended up paired for a history project. They had each been delighted to find out the other harbored a passion for ancient civilizations, and relieved that they were both willing to work. It had taken a while for Astarion to get her to talk about things besides the project, but they got there eventually. Before long, they seemed to always be together.

“What seems to be the problem, then?” she asked, water rippling as she shifted, sliding down until her chin was level with the water.

“I…I kind of want her,” he admitted. “As more.”

Minthara arched her perfectly-tweezed brows. “Be careful, Astarion. Not everyone understands the intricacies of friends with benefits.”

“I didn’t mean that,” he said indignantly. “Well, I guess it’s on the table, but I would actually date her,” he sniffed.

“Astarion, if she’s like me, you do not want to date her,” Minthara said, resurfacing slightly and running a hand back through her damp hair.

Astarion snorted. “That’s why we were delightful friends with benefits.”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought we agreed that you would not bring that up,” she snapped. “Do not remind me.”

He grinned at her. “Right.”

She gave him her patented death glare. “Astarion,” she said, the warning clear in her voice.

He held his hands up in surrender, trying to hide his smile. They’d slept together a handful of times in their senior year; Astarion supposed he had her to thank, really, for some of his skills, because she had been a rather demanding partner. Minthara, of course, maintained that she just knew what she wanted, thank you very much. And, well, Astarion had been happy to oblige.

They’d had a good time -

“Quit thinking about it,” Minthara bit out, still glaring.

“Apologies, darling. Technically, it’s your fault I’m thinking about it, since it was -“

“Astarion, I will disconnect this call immediately if you finish that statement.”

He chuckled. “Yes, darling.”

She huffed out a breath, barely hiding her smile. “I do miss you,” she said. “It’s been so busy. I did not even realize how long it had been since we last properly spoke.”

“Oh, only since before winter break,” Astarion said sourly.

Minthara winced visibly. “I will endeavor to stay in better contact. I do…value our friendship,” she said, her voice going soft. “All right, Star?”

He nodded, the tears back in his eyes. “Okay, Minthy. And…thanks. For calling so fast.”

“Astarion, if you need me, I will always be there,” she told him, eyes boring into his. “You know that, yes?”

He nodded again, unable to speak. A tear broke loose, sliding down his face.

“Starry?” Her voice was gentle again.

He finally met her eyes. “I miss you, Minthy. And I love you,” he said in a rush, before disconnecting the call, head in his hands.

I love you as well, Starry. I shall call next week.

Astarion stared down at the text for a long moment before he burst into tears.

Chapter 4: Nighthawks

Chapter Text

A week later, and they were definitely, unequivocally friends.

Jen sent him cat memes. Astarion sent her borderline inappropriate memes. Jen would counter with her absolutely stellar gif game. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed texting someone this much. They’d gone for coffee again - Jen bought this time, much to his amusem*nt - and had spent a delightful hour discussing their current favorite television shows. (Astarion’s was Traitors, and Jen’s was Six Feet Under.)

The awkwardness from those last moments in her dorm room had faded away; he hadn’t brought it up, and neither had Jen. Astarion wasn’t sure what had happened; he had chalked it up to her losing her nerve or changing her mind.

Which was fine. That was her prerogative. He was happy to be just friends. He could do friends. It would be fine.

Astarion sat on the edge of his bed, digging his phone out so he could send her a text.

Hello, darling. Would you like to go get tacos after class Thursday?

I would LOVE to go get tacos after class Thursday.

Perfect. Can’t wait. I need tacos and queso dip in my life.

I would cut a bitch for a margarita, but alas. Underage.

“Hmm,” Astarion mused out loud. “Hey, Gale?”

Gale jerked his head up from his book, turning to look at him. “Yes?”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to buy me a bottle of tequila?” he asked, giving him his most charming smile.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Gale agreed, already looking back at his book.

“Can we go later? Please?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, darling.”

Astarion smiled to himself, stretching out on the wine-red velvet blanket that covered his tiny dorm bed. Gale was just old enough, thankfully.

Good news, darling. My roommate is old enough and has agreed to supply me with a bottle of tequila.

I love your roommate. Tell him thank you.

Will do.

That settled, Astarion rolled over to grab his copy of Beowulf that he was reading for his medieval literature class while he waited for Gale.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Astarion headed for his astronomy class on Thursday, a bottle of tequila tucked down safely inside his bag. This was either going to be a brilliant idea or a terrible one, and he wasn’t sure which it was going to be yet. Jen smiled at him as soon as he entered the lecture hall, and he grinned back at her before dropping down into the chair next to her.

He’d started sitting next to her ever since the kiss, and she hadn’t objected. He rather liked it; now he could scribble little notes to her in the margins of his notebook, or show her whatever constellations he was doodling. She seemed to like it too; after the first class next to each other, she’d started sketching various animals and tilting the book for him to see.

It was…nice.

This was what friends did, right?

And if he could smell her this close - musk, vanilla, and a hint of jasmine - well, that was his problem, not hers. Right?

He doodled a bottle of tequila in the corner of the page, and Jen elbowed him lightly in the ribs. She sketched out a questionable-looking taco, and he retaliated with a burrito with googly eyes. Jen nearly snorted, pressing her hand over her mouth and shaking her head at him. He grinned, leaning back in his chair and tugging the end of her braid gently.

Their class finally ended, and Jenevelle immediately descended into giggles, slapping at his shoulder as they started walking in the direction of the taco truck.

“You are going to get us in so much trouble.”

“It’s not my fault my stupid little drawings amuse you so much.”

“And it’s not my fault your stupid little drawings are questionable enough that they crack me up.”

“Are you insulting my art skills?” Astarion huffed, putting a hand over his heart and finding his best offended look.

“Yes,” said Jen sweetly.

“Hrmph. I’ll have you know that while I can’t draw for sh*t, I can sew.”

“You - wait, what?”

“Sew. I used to do costuming for the drama club in high school.”

Jen gawked at him for a moment before she said, “Are you serious?”

He dug his phone out, flipping to the correct album and handing it over. She stared at the screen, admiring the renaissance robes, angelic wings, and a particularly stellar set of fairy costumes before looking back at him, an awed look on her face.

“I take it back. I believe you, and I’m kind of shocked.”

He shrugged. “I get that a lot. I guess I don’t look like the costume-making sort.”

She looked him over from head to toe. “I don’t know. You’ve got style. Checks out.”

“Oh, I do?”

“Well, maybe not today,” she teased.

He chuckled; she wasn’t wrong. He’d been in a hurry this afternoon and was just wearing a pair of dark rinsed skinny jeans and a soft gray t-shirt, along with his boots.

“I’ll try harder next time,” he told her, pausing to smack the button for the crosswalk.

“Good.”

He snorted. “Picky, picky.”

“I can’t help it. I’m hungry. I require a taco.”

The light changed colors, and they hurried across the street, approaching the food truck. “Well, your wish has been granted,” Astarion told her. “C’mon.”

A few minutes later, they were settling themselves at one of the dusty wooden picnic tables near the truck, paper baskets of tacos in hand. Astarion made a show out of peering around suspiciously before pulling out the bottle of tequila, spiking both of their margaritas with it.

“Gods, you’re the best,” said Jen, taking a sip. “That’s perfect.”

“I’ll let Gale know,” Astarion said. “He actually put his books down to go buy this last night. And believe me, that is not an easy thing to get him to do.”

“That’s your forgetting-to-eat roommate?”

Astarion nodded. “He’s a nice guy. Smart as f*ck. But…a little strange sometimes,” he said, chuckling. “We didn’t get along very well until after winter break, but we’re closer to friends than not these days.”

“That’s good,” she said, taking another sip of her margarita. “Hey, do me a favor? Hit this again?”

He grinned at her. “Darling, I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

“I can’t believe you’re a religion major,” Astarion slurred.

“Yeah well, I can’t believe you haven’t picked a major!” she countered, also slurring slightly.

It had been a solid hour, and they’d had their tacos; fortunately - or unfortunately, he supposed - their margaritas were both now practically just tequila over ice, and they were both rapidly approaching ‘trashed’.

“We should probably go,” he said, louder than he meant to. “While we can still WALK.”

Jen chugged the last of her drink, thumping the mug down like she’d just thrown back a shot - which, considering the lack of margarita in it, he supposed she had - and stood, wobbling slightly. “Okay.”

He got to his feet, wobbling slightly less, and she grabbed his arm as soon as he was within reach.

“Don’t get any ideas now,” she said. “I just need to not fall over.”

“Of course. Friends. I know,” he said, leading her to the crosswalk.

“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He sighed, trying to think clearly, but Jenevelle was making it rather difficult. “Darling, you are not making this easy on me.”

“Making what easy?”

They crossed the street, fumbling their way past the business school building and aiming for the quad.

“You know what,” he grumbled. “This is rather pushing my limits, darling.”

“I - what?” She stopped walking, blinking at him.

He heaved out another sigh. “Come on, Jen. Let’s get you home.”

Jen looked ready to protest, but she took his offered arm again and let him lead her back towards her dorm, tripping occasionally over her own feet.

“How are you not tripping?” she accused him.

“I’m only mostly trashed,” he said, grinning.

“Unfair,” she sniffed, grabbing his arm tighter to keep from tipping over.

Jenevelle’s dorm was in view, and Astarion adjusted his grip on her arm, patting her hand absent-mindedly. “We’re here, darling.”

“So we are,” she said. She paused, looking at him thoughtfully before saying, “Are you coming in?”

FRIENDS FRIENDS FRIENDS -

He took a deep breath. “I would love to, darling, but I don’t think it’s a great idea,” he said gently, letting go of her arm and taking a step back.

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “Why not?”

“Because you are definitely drunk and I am mostly drunk, and I’m not sure how well that whole ‘friends’ label will stay in place right now.”

She swayed towards him, resting her head against his chest. “That’s okay.”

Gods give me strength -

He lightly gripped her shoulders, pushing her back. “Jen. You’re drunk. I’m mostly drunk. Bad idea, love.”

“You don’t call me that,” she snapped. “Only when I was shadowheart.”

Astarion blinked at her in surprise before saying, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize -”

“What, I was only worth calling that when I was getting naked for you?”

“I didn’t say that -”

“I was only worth that kind of attention when we were -”

“Jen -”

“And you won’t come with me NOW after hitting on me for weeks -” She swatted at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

“You’re DRUNK -” he snapped, holding her flailing arms down.

“f*ck,” she yelled, shoving him away by the shoulders. “Just - go, Astarion. GO.”

He backed away from her, wondering how, exactly, things had gone so f*cking wrong so fast.

“Jenevelle,” he said softly. “Don’t do this, love.”

“f*ck you, Astarion.”

She turned on her heel, stumbling up the steps and letting herself inside without turning back. Astarion stared after her, a sick feeling twisting through his gut as he watched her go.

“f*ck,” he muttered to himself. He turned, starting the hike back to his dorm, fighting tears as he went.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Harper was in sight, and Astarion collapsed on the soft patch of grass he’d taken to laying in and thinking. He pulled his phone out, frowning, as he realized that he hadn’t heard from Minthara in a week like she’d promised.

“Figures,” he mumbled. The buzz he still had was absolutely affecting his judgment - or so he told himself, because deep down, he was pissed she hadn’t, and he was still upset about Jen - as he fired off a text.

Going to call me next week, huh? Did you mean in two weeks? Three? Never?

That done, he slammed his phone down next to him, staring up at the sky. It was a cool, clear night, and the stars were glittering like glass above him.

“I thought perhaps I would do better than call,” said a familiar voice.

Astarion jerked himself upright, spinning around to see Minthara leaning against the lamppost outside his dorm, wearing a simple black wrap dress and an incredible pair of knee-high black boots involving a lot of straps and zippers.

“MINTHARA?!?!” he squawked.

“Astarion,” she said, nodding.

He stumbled to his feet, trying to decide if he’d had enough to drink to make him hallucinate. He stepped closer, reaching out to poke her arm several times.

“Holy sh*t,” he said. “Minthy, what the f*ck?” He stared up at her, noting the way the corners of her mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly.

She shrugged casually. “I was worried about you,” she said coolly. “I’m just here for the night. Flew out after my last class and have to take an ungodly early flight back to make class tomorrow. Your roommate - studious fellow, really - finally managed to tell me you were out, so I was waiting for you.”

“You -” He blinked a few times, tears burning behind his lids. “You were worried?”

Her eyes softened almost imperceptibly before she said, “Yes.”

Astarion continued to stare at her in utter disbelief.

f*ck it.

He did the only thing that seemed right. He threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her, face buried against her neck. “Thank you,” he whispered. She patted his back lightly before she sighed and gave in, hugging him back. Minthara ran her fingers through his curls once in an affectionate manner before she let him go, stepping back.

“Come,” she said. “I got a room in town.”

He grinned at her. “Hot damn.”

One short taxi ride later, Minthara was letting them into what could only be described as an utterly swanky hotel room.

Or suite, Astarion supposed. He tended to forget that Minthara came from money - and lots of it - until something like this happened and it became relevant. Forking over the cash to fly cross-country on a whim and reserving a hotel room much too fancy for a single night was something that didn’t even phase her. The room had a separate sitting area, and the bedroom had a bed large enough for at least four people, as well as floor-to-ceiling windows with expansive views of the city.

“What the hell, Minthy,” he said, laughing. “You’re f*cking crazy.”

She sniffed at him. “Just because I have standards.”

“You mean you have a credit card with no limit.”

She shrugged casually. “Same difference.”

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” he said, smiling.

Minthara nodded at him before saying, “And I - I truly have missed you, Starry. I did not intend to go so long between contacts, and I was concerned at how…” She paused, considering her words. “At how shaken you seemed.”

Another long pause, before she said, “You’ve only said you’ve needed me twice.”

He met her eyes, the smile falling off his face as he remembered. Astarion hadn’t really even considered that when he’d sent that text, but her instant response suddenly made much more sense.

“Minthara -“ he said, his voice slightly strangled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -“

“Yes, well,” she said, brushing some invisible lint off the skirt of her chic black wrap dress. “You understand now why I was concerned.”

He did.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“Minthy?” Astarion panted into the phone, curled into a ball and shaking violently. “Minthara?”

“Astarion? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“Minthara - I - f*ck. I need you,” he wailed.

He could already hear her footsteps rattling down the length of wooden stairs in her house and keys jingling.

“Where, Astarion?”

“My house. I’m in the treehouse.”

“Five minutes,” she said, hanging up without another word.

Astarion trembled, touching his fingers to his lips tentatively and whimpering when they came away bloody.

f*ck f*ck f*ck -

Breathe -

He stared at the ratty wooden wall of the ancient treehouse, arms tight around his knees, shivering as blood slid down the backs of his arms. He’d spent a lot of nights here, but never quite like this.

Breathe, breathe -

Blood was dripping onto the floor of the treehouse, making Astarion cringe forwards and scoot towards the wall, away from the puddle of blood collecting underneath him. He slowly tipped forward, laying on the floor, dust tickling his nose.

That f*cking bastard -

Footsteps, light and quick, were racing across the yard towards him, leaves crunching as they went.

Rattling.

Minthara’s head poked up through the trapdoor, her eyes widening in alarm as she saw him. She scrambled up and in, pulling her backpack off and rooting around in it for a moment before coming up with some gauze pads and an ice pack. In some hazy, floundering part of his brain, Astarion couldn’t help but marvel that she knew him well enough to come prepared.

“Come,” she said gently. “Let me see to you.”

He sat up shakily, scooting closer. Minthara turned on the flashlight for her phone, flipping it over to act as a lantern rather than rely on the streaks of moonlight dripping into the windows.

“Minthy…”

“Hush,” she scolded, dabbing carefully at his lip and frowning. Her fingers brushed across his forehead, and she pressed the gauze down firmly, making him wince.

“I didn’t know that one was there,” he whispered.

She said nothing; just kept holding the gauze while dabbing at his lip with her other hand.

“Hold,” she instructed, tapping lightly at the piece on his forehead. He did, and she sat back, inspecting the rest of his face. “Anything else?” She rummaged in her bag again, pulling out a thin blanket. “What is all this blood from? And where is your shirt?”

He gave her a pained look before slowly shuffling around so his back was facing her.

Minthara sucked in her breath sharply, her fingers brushing across his shoulder.

“Astarion, I cannot fix this,” she said softly.

“Minthara, please -“

“Astarion, I can’t -“

“Please,” he managed, and then burst into tears.

She picked up her phone slowly, and Astarion spun back around in alarm. “Minthara, no -“

It was too late. She had already dialed, and her voice was steady as she said, “Yes, I need an ambulance.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

“You scared the hells out of me that night, you know,” Minthara said casually, like they weren’t discussing the worst night of his life. She scooped up a thick, leather-bound folder from the desk, tossing it to him. “Order whatever you want, Starry.”

He blinked at her a few times, trying to get his thoughts back in order. “Right,” he said, flipping the menu open.

“Your back healed well?”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Yes. Can we please not discuss this?”

“Apologies. I was - I won’t bring it up again.”

“Thank you,” he grumbled, peering at the menu. “Anything?” he asked, tapping the page.

“Yes.”

“Gods, I adore you,” he said, plunking himself down in the desk chair and rolling over to pick up the phone.

“Get me wine and ice cream,” she said, rummaging in a duffle bag and heading to the bathroom, a pile of dark red material in her arms.

“Of course, darling,” he called after her, already dialing the number for room service.

“And fries!” she yelled from the bathroom.

“Yes, darling,” he yelled back.

Minthara emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, clad in a dark red tank top and matching pajama pants, her hair long and loose around her shoulders.

“Food should be here in a few,” he told her.

“Marvelous,” she said, sinking down onto the couch and propping her feet up on the coffee table in front of her. “So, tell me about this girl of yours.”

“Oh, is it gossip time?” he asked, dropping down next to her.

“Well, yes,” she said, looking at him like he was an idiot.

Astarion chuckled as he leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, we got tacos tonight, and everything was FINE until I walked her back to her dorm…”

~~~***~~~***~~~

“Gods, Astarion, you have it bad for this one,” Minthara commented. She was sprawled across the bed by now, finishing off the last of her hot fudge sundae while Astarion worked on a bowl of butter pecan with caramel sauce.

He sighed. “I know, Minthy.”

“Of course you are, though, if she reminds you of me.”

He threw his napkin at her. “I thought we agreed to not bring that up.”

“No, we agreed that you would not bring it up. I am still allowed.”

“That isn’t fair!”

She shrugged, throwing the napkin back at him. “Too bad.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Well, yes. You know this.”

He snorted into his glass of wine. “Ah, Minthara. You are my favorite impossible bitch.”

She nodded. “As I should be.”

He met her eyes, and they both broke up into giggles.

“So what do I even DO with this?” he asked her, scraping the last of the caramel out of his bowl and setting it on the coffee table.

Minthara made a face. “She told you she wanted to be friends. You respected her wishes. And now she is upset that you did.”

Astarion sat back, pondering. “Well, when you put it that way, at least I don’t feel like I didn’t anything wrong.”

She shrugged. “You didn’t. She doesn’t know what she wants, and that is not your fault.”

“Gods, Minthy. I am so glad you’re here,” he said, collapsing onto the bed next to her.

“I am glad I came as well, even if I’m going to be so tired I cannot think tomorrow.”

He wrinkled his nose at her. “I am sorry about that part.”

She licked the last of the fudge off of the spoon before setting the bowl on the nightstand. “Astarion, I came because I wanted to. Do not apologize.”

He nodded. “How are things going for you?”

She rolled her eyes. “So many papers. So much studying. Some of the work is much more difficult than I anticipated,” she admitted. “I have had a hard time making friends,” she added, her voice soft.

Astarion gave her a wry smile. “You do remember I was one of your only friends before, right?”

“Well, yes, but I thought -” She stopped, running a hand back through her spill of platinum hair. “I thought it may be easier, somewhere that everyone didn’t already know me,” she finally said.

He nodded. Minthara had not had an easy time, that was for sure. Her family had moved shortly before she started high school, and she stuck out like a sore thumb. Her aloofness and biting remarks certainly hadn’t helped her case in the slightest. But Astarion had liked her from the start, and once they had done that history project together, that was it. They understood each other; he was never offended by her iciness, and she wasn’t phased by his excessive flirting and bravado. They drove each other crazy, and there were days when they wanted to kill each other, but somehow, it had just worked.

“I’m sorry, Minthy,” he said, stretching out on the bed. “If they’d give you a chance, I’m sure at least one of them would love you,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes again. “Do not flatter me, Astarion.”

He grinned. “Never, darling.”

Minthara rolled over to look at him, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“You love me anyways.”

“I really do,” she said, letting out a long-suffering sigh.

They were quiet for a minute before she said, “Are you really okay, Astarion?”

He blew out a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling. “What are you really asking, Minthara?”

She arched an eyebrow, meeting his eyes intentionally for a long moment. “You know exactly what I’m asking you.”

He did.

“I’m not f*cking anyone I shouldn’t be, if that’s what you want to know,” he said sourly. “I learned my lesson with that.”

“I -” She stopped, biting her lip. “I wanted to apologize.”

“What?” He sat up, looking down at her in confusion. “What in the nine hells do you need to apologize for?”

“That day. On the bench. I -” She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. “I was extremely hard on you. For something that wasn’t your fault. You - you were -”

“Minthy, don’t,” he said softly. “I could have said no.”

“You were underage, Astarion,” she snapped, fire in her eyes. “And even when you weren’t, it was intensely inappropriate, given the situation.”

“Minthara -”

“I know he wasn’t actually your teacher -”

“Minthara, please,” Astarion snapped, his voice louder than he had intended. “Please,” he tried again, finding a more normal volume. “I knew what I was doing. I f*cked up. The end.”

“Astarion, for someone as smart as you are, you’re an absolute idiot sometimes,” she said, sighing. “Please shut up and let me talk, because I really -” She stopped yet again, eyes glassy, before she continued. “I really want to make sure you understand what I saw. You need to understand.”

He huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. By all means, drag up everything I’ve tried to bury.”

“That is exactly why I’m dragging it up, Astarion. You never dealt with it.”

Astarion rolled over, burying his face in a pillow. He knew damn good and well that she was right. That didn’t make it any better, not by a long shot.

He’d never been quite the same.

He finally lifted his face out of the pillow and made a ‘go on’ gesture in her direction, steeling himself for the onslaught.

Minthara sat up, crossing her legs underneath her and gazing down at him before she started to talk. “It was the start of our senior year. You were still seventeen. A minor. And you were so excited when you were accepted into the internship program for the lawyer.”

Their school had offered internships with various local businesses and ventures, and the positions were highly coveted and competitive. Astarion had been thrilled when he had been selected to intern for the Szaar law firm, which was a highly respected name in town.

“You were absolutely thrilled to start there,” Minthara said softly. “I remember you calling me after your first day, telling me that you knew what you wanted to do with your life now.”

Astarion remembered. He nodded at her stiffly, picking at his cuticles as she kept talking.

“And then you called me after you had been there for roughly two months to tell me that your boss had backed you into a supply closet to pin you against the wall and kiss you,” she continued.

Astarion opened his mouth, but Minthara cut him off before he even got a word out. “And yes, Starry, I know you wanted it, but that didn’t make it okay.”

He groaned, pulling a pillow back over his face. Minthara immediately reached over, pulling it away. “I apologize, Astarion, but you do not get to hide from this,” she admonished him.

He glared at her and said, “Well, do go on then.”

“So then you started f*cking him - which, I want to remind you, was illegal when you started - and it was fabulous until you developed some sense of self-preservation and wanted a way out. And then Marlowe somehow put the pieces together, and instead of reporting everything like she should have, she blackmailed you into f*cking her,” Minthara sneered.

Astarion threw an arm over his eyes, tightness building in his chest. Marlowe had been the guidance counselor responsible for organizing all of the internships, and she had either known what was going on or made a very educated guess. Astarion wasn’t sure he’d ever been as shocked when she’d told him that she knew…but had ‘conditions’ when it came to keeping her silence.

That was how he’d wound up on deserted gym mats at least once a week, sweat and rubber and pine air freshener lingering in the air as he f*cked her while he floated somewhere near the ceiling.

He was suddenly aware of the quiet, and fell back into himself to see Minthara now kneeling next to him on the bed, a hand on his face. He blinked, somewhat confused, as she sat back and frowned.

“I see that’s still an issue,” she said, sighing. “Starry…”

“Yes, Minthy. I know. I need therapy blah blah.”

She gave him one of her best withering looks before saying, “I just worry about you, Astarion. The fact that you have never accepted that you were the victim in all this has upset me more and more as we got more removed from the situation.” She paused, and then added, “And I know how you get sometimes. With the depression. The disassociation. I worry,” she said anxiously. Then, quieter, “I worry about you.”

Astarion exhaled noisily, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not as bad as it was. After. You know.”

Minthara just shook her head at him. “That is another thing that I do not think you understand ‘how bad’ it was.”

He pressed his hands against his eyes, like it would help press the tears back in. Like it would do anything.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“Here, lean on me, Starry,” said Minthara, carefully adjusting herself so he could lean heavily on her shoulder, staggering his way into her house. “I know. I know it hurts. Come on, you can do it.”

Astarion gritted his teeth, shuffling his way into the spacious foyer that opened up into a huge formal living room. He’d spent a lot of time at Minthara’s house over the years, but it still floored him at just how fancy it was.

“Where are we going?” he asked, sweat starting to bead on his brow from the effort of just staying on his feet.

“Bed,” she answered. “Come on.”

By the time Minthara had managed to get him upstairs and into a room, he was in so much pain that he didn’t even register that it was her room at first. She settled him onto the bed as gently as she could, smoothing a hand over his hair whenever he whimpered.

“You’re okay, Star,” she said, her voice tight. “It’ll be okay.”

She gingerly crawled onto the bed next to him, leaning back into the mountain of pillows behind her. “Do you need anything?” she asked, sounding a bit uncertain.

There was a long pause, and then he wordlessly extended a hand.

She took it, lacing her fingers with his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Sleep,” she instructed him.

Astarion let his eyes drift closed, and he was gone in a matter of moments.

~~~***~~~***~~~

The first thing Astarion saw when his eyes fluttered open was Minthara, sprawled back in her pile of pillows, hair a messy tangle around her shoulders. He shifted slightly, a hiss of pain escaping as he did. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, peering down at him in concern.

“Starry?”

“It -” He stopped, not wanting to seem as broken as he felt. But the pain overruled his thoughts, and he heard himself say, “It really f*cking hurts.” He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, and Minthara was already scrambling off the bed, returning a moment later with a glass of water and the pills the hospital had sent him home with. He swallowed two before carefully laying down in the mountain of fluffy pillows, a whimper slipping out as he moved.

“Minthy? Can I -” He nodded in her direction, and she frowned for a moment before she understood, scooting closer and adjusting her position so he could rest his head in her lap. She gently carded her fingers through his hair, sighing.

“I already spoke to my parents,” she told him quietly, tucking a particularly rambunctious curl behind his ear. “You’re staying. Probably until we have to leave in the fall.”

He tilted his head enough so he could see her face, his tears completely breaking free at her words. “Thank you,” he managed to get out in between sobs.

She traced her fingers through his hair again. “Of course, Astarion.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

Minthara shifted onto her side in the bed, adjusting the pillows to her liking and yawning.

“Tired?” Astarion asked.

She nodded. “I’ve been tired since I started classes,” she said dryly.

Astarion got up, flipping off the lights except for the bathroom. “I’ll take the couch,” he told her, turning off the lamp in the corner.

“Astarion, please. This bed is big enough for four people.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Mind if I ditch the jeans?”

“No.”

Astarion shimmied out of his jeans, crawling into the bed on the opposite side in his t-shirt and boxers. “Oh, hells. This is nice,” he said, his voice slightly muffled as he sank into the pile of pillows.

“It is,” Minthara said, voice soft.

“Minthy?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low. “For…all of it. Being my friend. Helping me when - well. You know. Coming out here. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Minthara made a pleased hum in response. “You are welcome, Starry.”

His breath caught slightly before he said, “This reminds me of…after. You know.”

She made a soft noise of agreement. “Yes, it does.”

“That meant a lot to me,” he whispered. “I didn’t have anywhere to go once my parents found out about everything,” he said, bitterness lacing through his words. “And you didn’t hesitate.”

“Of course I didn’t. You are my best friend, remember?”

He chuckled, a sob sneaking out with it. “I do. I do remember.”

Silence. Astarion burrowed down into the pillows, sniffling. Remembering.

Then, a light touch on his arm; Minthara brushed her hand down until she could lace her fingers with his.

“Minthy?” he said quietly. He knew - he knew - where this was about to go, and it only took him a moment of deliberation to decide that yes, he wanted this.

He needed her.

Minthara shifted closer to him, dark eyes glimmering in the faint light coming from the bathroom. She sighed, squeezing his fingers in an unspoken question.

Astarion studied her face carefully before he asked, “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. “Is this what you want?” she continued.

He huffed out a breath, fingers tightening against hers. “I…yes,” he murmured. “I’m so f*cking tired. Of it not meaning anything.” He paused, considering his words before he continued. “And I know what this means.” Another pause, and then, “I need you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

She nodded. “It means what it always did.” She let go of his hand to tuck a curl behind his ear, fingers trailing down his throat. “Comfortable.” She brushed her fingers back up his throat, moving them into his hair, before she said, “I need you too.”

He moved closer; he could feel her breath flutter across his face. She closed the gap between them in one decisive motion, pressing her lips to his. Astarion felt himself practically shudder in relief; she tasted like chocolate and reassurance. Familiar. He kissed her back, fingers sliding through her hair, cupping the back of her head delicately. She fit herself against him with a sigh, and it felt like being known - and gods, if that wasn’t what he needed, he wasn’t sure what was.

They’d been together before, but it had always been under the limits of being teenagers with unpredictable privacy, and things had always felt like some sort of desperate rush, more than anything. A way to escape, more often than not.

But this - this, they had time, and Astarion luxuriated in being able to just touch and linger. It was more of a slow exploration, hands on bare skin, followed by lips. It was clothing discarded without any hesitation or self-consciousness. It was Astarion sighing into Minthara’s mouth as she gripped his length, stroking him slowly. It was Minthara whimpering against his neck when he finally sank into her, a slow push and pull of movement that steadily increased in heat and in need. It was Astarion burying his face in her hair, smelling lilacs and sugar, drowning in the give and take of it, like the tide coming in and retreating over damp sand. It was Minthara, gasping out his name as she came apart beneath him, and it was Astarion clinging to her desperately as he lost himself in her.

It somehow meant everything and nothing at the same time. And as Minthara curled up against him, he nuzzled his face against her hair, finally feeling like he could breathe.

Chapter 5: The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Text

A gentle hand patted Astarion on the shoulder a few times before shaking him slightly. “Astarion?”

“Mmmmph,” he mumbled, rolling over and stuffing his face back into the pillow.

“Starry. Come on. Wake up.”

He rolled onto his back, looking up to see Minthara gazing down at him. She was wearing another wrap dress - this one an abstract black and purple swirling print and the same black boots from yesterday - with her hair pulled back into a loose bun, a few strands framing her face.

“Morning, Minthy,” he mumbled. “Time to go?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You do not have to leave until noon, but if you want to leave with me and get a ride back to your dorm, you can.”

He sat up, rubbing at his face sleepily. “I’ll come with you. Give me a few minutes?”

She nodded. “I ordered some breakfast, as well, if you want to take it with you.”

“Gods, I adore you, Minthara.”

“I know. Now get a move on.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

Astarion stumbled his way into the bathroom - he was not a morning person in the slightest. He squinted at himself in the bathroom mirror before splashing some water on his face.

The memory of last night slowly trickled back into his brain, and he sighed, leaning against the counter.

He didn’t regret it. And, really, as he splashed more water on his face, trying to clear his head, he had the thought that it was, without a doubt, the most honest sex he’d ever had. It had been good physically, of course, but - gods. Astarion realized he was going to have to finish untangling the thoughts and feelings twisting through his head later; now was absolutely not the time.

“f*ck,” he mumbled, wetting his hands so he could attempt to tame his hair. After a few attempts, it was clear that his hair was past saving; he ran dampened hands through it, frowning at his reflection when the curls flew out in whatever direction they damn well pleased.

Oh well. Minthara’s seen me much worse.

Much, much worse.

He closed his eyes, fingers gripping the marble edge of the counter, trying to focus.

A few slow, deep breaths, and the room ever so carefully righted itself again. He poked at his hair again before realizing the mirrors were set up in such a way that he could see the back of his head for once.

Back.

His back -

He only hesitated for a moment before he pulled his t-shirt up, peering into the mirror.

Astarion supposed if one approached it clinically, it was just scars. Nothing to be afraid of or to shy away from.

It didn’t help if they were attached to him.

He let his eyes slowly roam over the reflection, taking in the bumpy, raised tissue that littered his back. Some of it was still much redder than he would’ve expected, given that it had been over a year since the…incident. But, then again, he generally went out of his way to not look at it; in fact, this was his first time really looking at it in months.

He didn’t like to remember.

~~~***~~~***~~~

They leaned against the outer wall of the hotel, waiting for the taxi Minthara had called for. Not speaking, but it didn’t feel awkward; more…bittersweet than anything, Astarion thought.

He didn’t want her to go.

The taxi finally arrived, and they clambered into the backseat, still quiet. Minthara was peering out the windows, watching the strip malls and fast food joints flash by as they got closer and closer to campus. Astarion picked at the styrofoam container of food Minthara had ordered him as he slouched down in his seat, fighting the urge he had to touch her. When the taxi turned the corner, approaching his dorm, he finally gave in, leaning his head against her shoulder for a moment. He could feel her turn towards him, and then she leaned her head against his for a brief second.

f*ck. He bit his lip, trying to keep himself in control.

They pulled up outside his dorm, and Astarion looked over at Minthara, unsure of what to say or do.

“Please wait for a moment,” she instructed the driver, and got out with Astarion, meeting him at the back of the taxi.

He regarded her for a moment before he reached out and pulled her into a hug, resting his head on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For everything.”

Her arms eventually came around him, one hand lightly stroking his back. “Of course. I will always be here if you need me. You know that, right?”

He nodded against her, fingers tight against her lower back. She finally pulled back, taking his hands in her own and studying his face closely. Minthara reached up, brushing a tear off his cheek with her thumb.

“Do I need to stay?” she asked softly.

Yes.

He shook his head. “You’ve already done too much.”

“Astarion -”

“Minthara, please. I’ll be fine. Just missing you already.”

She smiled at him, one of her extremely rare, true smiles that reached her eyes, making the corners crinkle up ever so slightly. She patted the side of his face before leaning in and kissing him gently, resting her forehead against his for a brief moment before she straightened up and turned back to the taxi.

Minthara’s hand was on the door handle when she paused, saying. “I am not always the best at expressing my feelings with words.”

He nodded slowly; he knew her well enough to understand.

“I love you too, Minthy.”

She smiled again, and then she was gone, slipping back into the taxi and waving at him as it pulled away.

He stumbled towards the dorm, sniffling the entire time.

“Oh,” said a cool voice.

Astarion practically jumped out of his own skin when Jen greeted him. She was sitting on the front steps of his dorm, an unreadable expression on her face.

“I see how it is,” she sneered. “You turn me down so you can go f*ck someone else.”

He froze, his tears spilling over as he leveled her with the nastiest look he could muster. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, and you have no right to speak to me like that,” he hissed. “You have no idea who she is. What are you doing, anyways - stalking me?” He wiped at his face, furious with himself for letting her see him like this.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “If you must know, I was intending to apologize to you. That was before I saw you kissing some sl-”

“Stop right there,” he growled, his voice low. “Don’t.” He stormed up the steps past her and into the dorm, his tears spilling over again as soon as he was inside.

Astarion ran up the stairs, chest tight, tears still streaking down his face; whether they were from his little encounter with Jen or from Minthara leaving, he couldn’t say for certain. He unlocked the door to his room, shoving it open with his hip.

“Gods, there you are. I was worried - Astarion?”

Gale had turned away from his desk, his eyes softening as soon as he saw him.

“Astarion?” he asked again.

He shook his head, throwing himself down on his bed and pulling his pillow over his head.

A moment later, Gale squeezed his shoulder gently. “If you want to talk, just let me know. I’m going to put my earbuds in and go back to my books.”

Underneath the pillow, Astarion nodded in relief. He counted to twenty in his head, giving Gale enough time to settle, and then he finally gave in to the storm brewing in his chest as he burst into noisy, hiccuping sobs. He clutched his second pillow to his chest, pressing his face into it.

f*ck.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Time passed.

Hours. Maybe a day. Astarion wasn’t exactly sure. He was curled into a ball, blanket pulled up over his head.

At least he wasn’t crying anymore. For the moment, anyway.

He dragged his phone under the blankets with him, flipping it to stare at the texts on the screen.

Minthara : I have made it back safely. Call me if you need anything, yes?
Minthara : I miss you.

Jen : I may have overreacted a little bit. Can we talk?
Jen : You weren’t in class. Are you THAT mad?
Jen : Astarion? Are you okay?

Astarion groaned, dropping his phone back into the mess of blankets on his bed. He realized a moment later that he was crying again, and he thought, briefly, that this must be what a breakdown felt like. He curled into a tighter ball, pulling a pillow to his chest, and waited for the tears to stop.

More time passed.

Gale had left him a sandwich and a soda at some point, along with a banana. He’d nibbled at it, but the thought of actually eating made his stomach roll precariously.

Some part of him had realized, by now, that he was not okay. That he was sinking so far into himself that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resurface.

He wasn’t sure, really, what had set him off. Perhaps it had been seeing Minthara and finally relaxing around someone. Perhaps it had been seeing his scars. Maybe it had been Jen, her eyes cold as she’d yelled at him.

Whatever it was, the outcome was the same. He was near-numb, twisting the same bit of his bedsheet back and forth between his fingers hypnotically. He couldn’t think.

There were few things Astarion hated as much as not being in control. And right now, he certainly was not. He twisted the sheets harder, pinching his fingers.

Time.

Murmured voices in the room, and he finally felt a hand on his shoulder. “Astarion.” The voice was firm and familiar, and he surfaced from his blankets, slowly turning his head to see Wyll, with Gale lingering behind him.

“Astarion?” Wyll’s voice was softer now, and much more concerned. “Come on. Up.”

He started to roll back over, but Wyll caught his shoulder. “No. Come on. Up. This is for your own good.”

Astarion glared at him, even as he felt more tears starting to leak from his eyes. “Just leave me alone,” he said, but there was no venom in his words. Only resignation.

“We can’t do that, mate. You’ve been staring at the wall for two days. Come on, now.”

“f*ck off,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Nope. We aren’t leaving. Come on, Astarion.”

He slowly, reluctantly, rolled over before putting his legs over the side of the bed, gripping the sheets tightly as the room spun around him. Everything settled back into place after a moment, and he got to his feet, trembling.

“There you go,” said Wyll. He patted his shoulder. “Come on. We’re going outside.”

“No,” he whispered, wiping at his face. “Please.”

“Then shower. Pick one.”

He glared at Wyll. “Why don’t you both just leave me the f*ck alone?” he asked, raking a hand back through his hair.

“Because, believe it or not, we give a sh*t about you, Astarion,” said Wyll, giving him an exasperated look.

“Outside,” he finally mumbled.

“There you go,” said Gale, sounding pleased.

They half-led, half-dragged him to the elevator and then outside. Wyll went straight to his patch of grass that he’d taken to lying in and pointed. Astarion sighed before sinking down to the ground, glaring at them both.

“Are you happy now? I’m touching grass,” he said, peeved.

Wyll sprawled out next to him, while Gale sat down cross-legged in front of him.

“I am, in fact,” agreed Wyll cheerfully.

He tucked his knees up to his chest, folding his arms over them and then resting his chin there. “I suppose you want to know what’s wrong.”

Gale shrugged. “If you want to. If not, we can just sit here and talk about other stuff.”

He nodded automatically, wondering how long he would have to sit here to make them happy.

Gale, predictably, started babbling about his current physics project. He lost Astarion within a few sentences, although Wyll was trying his hardest to follow the intricacies of it.

“Jen hates me and I slept with Minthara,” he blurted out.

There was silence for a long moment as Wyll exchanged a look with Gale before he carefully asked, “Why do you think Jen hates you? And I thought Minthara lived on the other side of the country?”

Astarion buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know what happened. Jen and I got tacos and got drunk, and when I walked her back to her dorm, she wanted me to come in with her. I said no because she keeps saying she just wants to be friends and she was way too drunk for me to be okay with it. And she freaked out at me.”

Gale made a face. “You did the right thing, though.”

Astarion heaved a sigh. “I know I did. She was still furious though.”

Wyll looked thoughtful before he said, “If she has said she just wants to be friends, then you didn’t do anything wrong. Hells, a lot of people would’ve just gone in with her, regardless.”

He shook his head. “I’m sure. But I’m not like that. And then I came back to the dorm that night, and Minthara was here.”

Gale’s face lit up in recognition. “Oh, gods, was that the blonde who was looking for you? She had knocked on the door and she was extremely put out that I didn’t know where you were or when you’d be back.”

Astarion groaned, his face back in his hands. “She’s my best friend. Things just get…muddled sometimes,” he said with a sigh.

“Muddled, eh?” Wyll raised an eyebrow at him.

He shook his head. “We have a lot of history, to put it mildly. Met our freshmen year of high school and were inseparable. Slept together a few times our senior year. She literally saved my life. Flew across the country because she was worried about me.”

“Saved your life?” Gale asked.

Astarion bit his lip, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t want - I can’t -”

Wyll intervened. “Don’t worry about it, mate. What’s important is she was there for you.”

He nodded, eyes filling with tears again. “f*ck. I am so tired of crying,” he muttered. “I feel like I’m broken or something right now,” he admitted.

Wyll patted his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Astarion.”

He heaved out a sigh. “I hope so.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

Back upstairs, Astarion resumed his position curled in bed, staring at the wall, fingers still tangling in his sheets. Behind him, he heard Gale sigh, and vaguely heard him mumbling to Wyll, but thankfully, they left him alone this time.

From somewhere in his pile of blankets, he felt his phone buzz. Astarion groped around until he located it, peering at the screen.

Jen : Astarion? You missed the mid-term review today. Are you okay? I’m worried.

He sighed, thumping his phone back down. The entire concept of trying to formulate a coherent text was just overwhelming at the moment.

It was all too much.

He must have drifted off, because when he opened his eyes again, it was dark; he could hear Gale’s steady breathing coming from the bed next to him. He carefully rolled himself out of bed, taking a second to steady himself before he shuffled into the bathroom.

For a brief moment, he didn’t recognize himself when he looked in the mirror over the sink; he gripped the edges of the counter tightly, trying to force his mind to focus on the here and now. Astarion splashed water on his face several times, peering at the mystery reflection in the mirror, watching as water caught on dark eyelashes, sliding in rivulets down high cheekbones. He sucked in a breath, then another, and things finally snapped back into place; that was him, with amber-colored eyes, full lips, and a head full of silver curls that were a hopeless mess after several days of laying in bed.

“Gods,” he muttered to himself. “What am I even doing?”

f*ck.

He wasn’t even sure when he’d last felt this jumbled up inside; his brain was fluttering from thought to thought, memory to memory, never completely landing on a single one and letting it surface. It was disorienting and jarring as all hell. He raked his hands back through his hair, wincing when his fingers caught on several knots.

“Gods-damn it,” he muttered, poking at his hair suspiciously. This was going to officially be awful to fix. He picked up his brush for a moment before heaving a sigh and dropping it back to the counter with a clatter.

Too much effort.

He took a minute to pee before stumbling his way back to bed, collapsing into his pile of blankets with a sigh.

“Okay, Astarion?” Gale said, sounding half-asleep.

“Fine, darling. Go back to sleep.”

Astarion rolled onto his side, pulling the blanket up over his head and closing his eyes, even as he felt more tears slowly leaking out.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Someone was screaming.

Astarion shot straight up in bed, flailing, pain ripping through his back with every motion.

Hands caught his own, gripping his wrists firmly as he struggled.

“Astarion! Stop!”

Panic spiked through his chest, his breath getting tight and stuttering as he struggled for air.

“Astarion! Stop! It’s me. It’s Minthy. Calm down,” a voice pleaded.

He finally managed to focus on the slim figure kneeling on the bed next to him, doing her damndest to pin his wrists down.

Air rushed into his lungs in a huge whooping gasp, and all the fight drained out of him as reality trickled back in.

He pitched himself forward into Minthara, who caught him, pulling his head in against her chest. One of her arms was wrapped around his shoulders, and the other was cupping his head against her.

“Calm down,” she said, her voice low and steady. “You’re okay. You’re in one of the guest rooms at my house. It’s just me.”

He winced, becoming aware of the pain shooting through his back as he came back to himself completely.

“I think I tore some stitches,” he whispered, his face buried against her shoulder.

Minthara sighed, untangling herself from him and flipped on the bedside lamp. She ran a hand back through her hair, surveying the scene in front of her.

“f*ck,” he muttered, looking down at the bed. He’d definitely torn quite a few stitches; there was a small pool of blood forming where he was sitting.

Minthara headed into the attached bathroom, returning with a towel, which she gently pressed against his back. “Come on, Starry,” she said, biting her lip.

He stumbled to his feet, swaying into her as she looped an arm around his waist. She led him into the bathroom, settling him on the closed toilet seat so she could survey the damage.

“How bad?” he asked her.

She blew out a deep breath, fingers featherlight across his shoulder. “I think you need a shower to clean up, honestly. And then I’ll tape you back up as best I can, unless you want me to take you back to the ER -”

“No,” he said instantly. “You. Please,” he whispered, pressing a hand to his eyes.

She nodded, leaning into the shower to turn the water on. “Are you steady enough to get in here yourself so I can find you some new sheets?”

He gave her an apologetic look before shaking his head.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Let’s do this, then.” She had him stand, leaning against the wall, while she stripped him out of his sweatpants and boxers, before steadying him as he stepped into the shower, hissing with pain as the water fell over his back. The floor of the shower immediately turned an alarming shade of red, and he wobbled slightly as he stared at it.

“Eyes on me,” Minthara said. He dragged his eyes up to meet hers, and his heart sank when he saw tears streaking down her face.

“Minthy -” he started, unsure of what to even say.

“Don’t,” she said. “I’ve got you.”

Thirty minutes later, Minthara had extracted him from the shower and done her best to bandage the gashes he’d ripped open in his panic. She’d changed the sheets, and was now settling him back in bed, fetching a glass of water and two of his pills for pain.

“Okay?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “This - this shouldn’t be your problem -”

“Shut up, Astarion,” she told him, carefully adjusting the blankets so they stopped at his waist.

“Minthara -”

“Astarion, shush,” she said, exasperated. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He could feel tears in his eyes again, and he dropped his face into the pillow so she wouldn’t see.

“Starry?” she asked, her voice gentle. “Do you need anything else?”

Astarion lifted his head enough so he could look at her before he said, “Please stay.” A sob broke loose despite his best efforts, and he managed to say, “I can’t - I don’t want to be alone.”

Minthara nodded, settling herself on the bed next to him. After a moment, she held an arm out to him, and he inched closer, resting his head in the hollow of her shoulder. She gently brushed her fingers through his curls, and he let out a shuddering sigh, wrapping an arm around her as best he could.

He had nearly drifted off when he heard her whisper so softly that it was almost inaudible. “I’m not going anywhere.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

Astarion woke up to his phone buzzing incessantly next to him, making him groan as he slapped at the pile of blankets until he located it.

Jen : I know you’re mad, but if you’re so mad you’re skipping the midterm, you’re an idiot.
Jen : It starts in less than five minutes. Get your ass in here.
Jen : Astarion? Seriously?
Jen : I have to put my phone away now. I hope you’re okay.

“f*ck,” he mumbled, rolling onto his back and rubbing his hands over his face. He debated not going, in hopes of his prior impeccable work getting him through, or pleading illness to his professor. And then logic kicked in, and he remembered he was here on a scholarship that could be revoked if his grades dropped too low.

He slowly sat up, getting to his feet and shuffling his way to his dresser and staring at it for a long moment.

Too complicated.

Astarion finally settled for grabbing his backpack, sunglasses, and as an afterthought, one of Gale’s ridiculously ugly knitted beanies, yanking it down over the disaster that was his hair. He grabbed the banana Gale had left him the other day and took off, eating the banana in several large bites while in the elevator. Once outside, he ran.

He skidded into the room roughly five minutes late; every head in the room swiveled his direction as the door creaked open. He gave the room an apologetic wave before scurrying up to the professor, grabbing one of the test papers and heading to the first available seat he saw, rather than his usual.

He could practically feel Jenevelle’s eyes boring holes through him.

Astarion took a deep breath, blocking it all out, and started to write.

It didn’t take him long; he was done in roughly forty minutes. He dropped his test in the basket, nodding at his professor before slipping out the door.

He didn’t get far before he heard someone running behind him, and sure enough, a moment later, he heard, “Nice of you to show up.”

He heaved out a sigh, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head while he turned to face Jen, arms folded across his chest. He didn’t say a word, eyeing her suspiciously.

Uncertainty flickered across her face before she said, “Astarion? Are you all right?”

He couldn’t help himself; a snort of laughter escaped. “No, darling, I’m not. However, I do thank you for reminding me about the midterm so I could pry myself out of bed. I’ll see you next time.”

He turned to go, and she grabbed his arm, nearly stamping her foot in frustration. “Will you talk to me?” she asked him desperately.

“Why? You already made your assumptions. What good will it do for me to tell you anything?”

She exhaled hard, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Astarion…I’m trying to apologize. Please. Give me a chance.”

He studied her face carefully, those big green eyes pleading with him, and he finally heaved out a sigh. “Fine.”

“Are you willing to come to my room with me?”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes briefly. “Absolutely not, darling,” he muttered.

“Somewhere on the green?” she suggested, referring to the huge, open field in front of the library.

“Yes. Whatever. What else could possibly go wrong,” he said, sliding his glasses back down.

She gave him a suspicious look, brows narrowing, before she said, “You’re not okay at all, are you.” It was a statement, not a question in the slightest.

He didn’t bother answering. He just trudged along beside her. Really, what else was he supposed to do?

He followed her onto the green, where she took off for a towering oak tree and settled herself on the ground next to it. He sank down next to her and waited, tugging at the hat self-consciously.

“First, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I acted when we went to get tacos. You were doing something most guys wouldn’t do and listened to the boundaries I had set and didn’t ignore them when it was clear we were both drunk. And, well, thank you for that,” she said, fussing with the tie on the end of her braid.

Astarion shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”

Jen gave him a pained look before she said, “It really was, and I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged again, trying to focus on Jen and not the dull roar of chaos lurking in the back of his head.

“And I’m sorry for yelling at you at your dorm. You’re right. I had no right to do that. I really was there to apologize, and was waiting in hopes of catching you to go get coffee,” she said, scuffing her foot against the dirt. “I was…a little shocked when you got out of that cab, and even more shocked when, well.” She made a bit of a dismissive gesture, flushing slightly.

He nodded at her. “Okay,” he said, unable to form anything more coherent.

She blinked at him a few times, taken aback. “Just…okay? That’s it?”

He let out a brittle laugh, thumping his head back against the tree. “I appreciate the apology. Forgiven. Whatever,” he said, flicking his fingers into the air. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to nothing,” he said, moving to get up.

Jen caught his arm, tugging him back down. “Astarion,” she said softly. “What is going on?”

He shook his head, extremely glad he’d slid the glasses back down to hide the tears he could feel forming. “Just a little episode. I’ll be fine.”

The concern in her eyes was almost too much to bear; it was much too close to the look Minthara had given him. “Astarion…” she said, her voice trailing off.

“My best friend,” he said suddenly. “She flew across the country because she was, justifiably, worried about me. I spent the night with her in town eating ice cream and fries in a highly overpriced hotel suite,” Astarion said. He left out the rest; quite frankly, it was none of Jen’s business.

“Oh,” Jen said, looking surprised. Then, “Oh,” again, this time with a note of understanding lacing through it. She eyed him speculatively, finally asking, “And…you normally kiss your best friend goodbye?”

He raised his eyebrows at her, but didn’t answer the question.

She sat back, staring at him, clearly trying to work the situation out and failing. He finally took pity on her and said, “I’ve known her since my freshman year of high school. She’s my best friend. She…she pretty much saved me our senior year. So yeah, we have a lot of history. There’s no one I trust more,” he said, his throat tightening at the words.

Jen frowned at him before tilting her head and saying, “Okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Are we done?” he asked her, pulling his backpack onto his shoulder.

“I - yeah. We’re done,” she said, still looking rather flummoxed by him.

He got to his feet, swaying slightly, resting his fingers against the tree before he nodded at her and turned to go.

“Thank you for getting my attention about the midterm,” he offered.

“Astarion -“

“Yes?”

She stepped around so she could look at him, green eyes wide and worried. “I do care,” she said quietly. “Let me know if I can help.”

He touched her hand gently, and then turned to start the trek back to Harper, his head absolutely pounding.

I should have just stayed in bed.

Chapter 6: The Fountain

Chapter Text

The haze that had enveloped Astarion since Minthara had left was slowly beginning to lift, his thoughts no longer feeling like they were being dragged through mud constantly. He’d been surprised to see it had been slightly over two weeks; it felt like it had been much, much longer.

Doesn’t it always, though?

He was squinting at his laptop, working on a paper for his medieval literature class. He was way behind in more of his classes than he would like to be; it had taken him a decent bit of pleading and wheedling to get extensions on assignments for business calculus and a forgotten world history paper. Jen, at least, had saved him from total ruin in astronomy, although he’d barely been to the class since the midterm. The few times he had gone, he’d sat on the other side of the room, avoiding Jen’s accusing stares as much as possible.

I already know the material.

Or, that’s what he was telling himself.

He’d had bouts of…whatever this was, before.

Depression, Minthara had told him once. Disassociation.

He sighed, thumping his head back against the wall, eyes drifting closed. He didn’t like thinking about this.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“Astarion.”

Everything was blue. He was buried underneath a heavy blue comforter and soft cotton sheets with a faded pinstripe print, and the bits of light that managed to bleed through tinted his world blue.

“Hey. Starry.”

Some part of him wanted to move. To answer. But the other parts of him were a cacophony of chaos, overriding anything rational.

The edge of the blanket lifted up, and Minthara peeked inside the gap, her eyes dark with concern.

“Astarion?” she asked, her voice much more gentle than normal.

He closed his eyes, becoming aware that his lashes were wet. That his face was wet. That the pillow underneath his head was damp.

There was a deep sigh, and then the blanket dropped back down, enshrouding him in the dim blue light once more.

A moment later, he felt the blanket lift again, the mattress dipping slightly in front of him. Minthara slid her way into his little cave, cupping the side of his face with her hand and brushing tears away with her thumb.

“What can I do?” she whispered, looking sadder than he’d ever seen her.

He managed a shrug, fresh tears spilling down his face.

“Oh, Astarion,” she murmured. “Come here.”

He scooted towards her, resting his forehead against her chest, wrapping an arm around her and clinging tightly to her waist.

“Okay,” she said softly. “It’s okay.”

They laid there for a long time; Astarion had slid his hand under the edge of her shirt, stroking the smooth skin of her back, the feel of her beneath his hands steadying him somewhat and anchoring him back in reality. Minthara was carding her fingers through his curls, delicately untangling knots as she did; Astarion wasn’t sure how she was managing to do it without yanking his scalp, but she was.

“What am I going to do, Minthy?” he finally whispered, his face buried somewhere in her hair at the curve of her neck. He breathed her in - sugar and lilacs - and felt himself settle more. This, this he knew.

“You’re going to stay here until it’s time to leave in the fall,” she told him. “We’ll go get your stuff when your parents are at work.”

“My mother…” he managed, his voice breaking.

Above him, Minthara sighed, picking one last knot of hair loose and cupping the back of his head to hold him against her. “It’s not a good idea, Starry, and you know it.”

“It wasn’t her fault, Minthara.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “It’s still a terrible idea. Do you really think your father won’t find out?”

He could feel his lower lip quivering before he managed to say, “No.”

“I’m sorry, Astarion. But you’re - you’re barely back in one piece right now,” she murmured, patting his shoulders and letting her fingers tap on some of the remaining bandages.

She was right, and he knew it.

Not that it made it any better.

“I hate this,” he whispered. “The situation. How f*cking broken I feel. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. I like having a plan.”

“I know you do.”

“f*ck,” he finally said, pulling his face out of her hair to look at her.

She brushed a few curls out of his face with a sigh, fingers trailing down his neck and brushing over his shoulder. “I know.” She hesitated, and then said, “I hate seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“This,” she repeated, tugging slightly at the blanket over them. “I hate seeing you so shut down.” There was a pause, before she said, “Of course, it’s still better than you being gone.”

“Minthy, please,” he mumbled. “I - I can’t think about that right now.”

She hummed in agreement, tucking a curl behind his ear.

He couldn’t blame her, really. Astarion had realized - well, Minthara had pointed out - that he had developed a tendency to just check out completely sometimes, drifting along in his own head until something forced him back in.

Astarion hadn’t realized how bad it was until he’d ended up at Minthara’s house; after that night when he woke up screaming and ripped the stitches in his back, she’d stayed with him as much as possible. And, of course, she had been the one to realize that he was fading out of reality.

He didn’t know what to do about that, either.

He leaned back enough to meet Minthara’s intense, dark eyes, before exhaling a breath that seemed to come all the way from his toes. He slumped back down against her, pressing his face into the crook of her neck.

“This,” he mumbled, his words slightly muffled by her hair.

“What?”

“This is what you can do.”

He felt her laugh more than he heard it, and he felt Minthara ruffle his now-untangled curls. “All right.”

“You’re only going to let me because I’m wounded, aren’t you.”

This time, he heard the laugh. “Astarion,” she started, trailing off. “You idiot.”

He pulled his face out of her neck, looking up at her. “What?”

She was smiling slightly, shaking her head. “You idiot,” she repeated. “Don’t you know I’d do anything for you by now?”

He adjusted the blanket over their heads, burying them back in blue-tinted darkness before he whispered, “I know.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

He rubbed his eyes, vision blurring from staring at the laptop screen for too long. Or, perhaps, from letting his mind wander into things he didn’t like to remember. Astarion glanced out the window, taking in the clear sky with puffs of clouds above, and then he was slapping his laptop shut and getting to his feet, grabbing his sunglasses and shuffling down the stairs and out the front door of the dorm.

It was just as nice out as it had looked from inside. He looked around for a moment, his head clearing even more, and wandered in the general direction of the green.

Astarion clearly wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the weather; clusters of students were dotting the green, some of the girls even sunbathing in the balmy heat. He chuckled, adjusting his sunglasses and strolling towards the library.

He was about halfway there when his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to glance down at the screen.

Minthara : How are you, Astarion?

He sighed, looking around, and walked across the green to the fountain in the center, settling himself on the wide marble edge around it. He carefully angled his phone, taking a selfie with the fountain spraying up behind him. Astarion glanced at the photo, nodding in satisfaction, and sent it to Minthara.

I see you’re still a handsome little sh*t.

Of course I am, you impossible wench.

Uncalled for.

Oh, darling, you wouldn’t even know what to DO if I didn’t verbally spar back.

I certainly do know.

Oh?

I would have to block you, of course.

He snorted with laughter, shaking his head. Some things never changed.

Ah, Minthara. I do miss you.

I know. I am glad to see you’ve left your room.

He grimaced, sliding his sunglasses up on top of his head.

I should never have told you that.

And why not?

I didn’t want to worry you.

Astarion, I’ve worried about you for nearly five years. This is not a new feeling.

Oh.

I’m still glad you’ve left your room. I was considering coming back, if things did not improve.

Wrong picture, then. I meant to send you the one of me under my blankets.

Astarion.

I’m kidding, darling.

Are you, though?

He huffed out a breath, running a hand back through his hair.

Mostly.

Astarion. Do I need to come back?

No.

Would you tell me if I did?

No. 😘

You’re impossible.

And you love me anyways.

I could hear that sigh from here, Minthara.

You know me too well.

Touché.

I just wanted to check on you. Please call me if you need anything, yes?

I’m fine, Minthy.

But thank you. 🖤

He slid his phone back into his pocket, flicking his sunglasses back down over his eyes as he did. The fountain was misting water onto his back and into his hair; he took a moment to tousle his fingers through his curls to encourage them to behave.

Astarion got back to his feet, meandering his way to the Starbucks in the quad, treating himself to an iced mocha with way too much whipped cream and settling down at one of the tables outside. He was flicking through apps on his phone, finger hovering above Finder. He hadn’t touched it since his little incident with Jen. He debated for a moment before tapping it, scrolling through recent matches and wrinkling his nose.

He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t.

He tapped the messages icon anyway, eyeing the pictures she’d sent him.

f*ck.

He closed the app, scraping some whipped cream off the top of his drink with his straw and popping it in his mouth. He rocked the chair back slightly, sighing, and scrolled his way to Reddit instead. Clearly, catching up on internet drama was the better choice.

And yet.

Jen had been on his mind much more than he would like recently; he didn’t feel good in the slightest about the way their last conversation had gone. He’d had enough time by now to think about her reactions, and he suspected he was missing quite a bit of information that had caused her to act the way that she had.

Not that he was entitled to it in the slightest; he certainly had more than a few skeletons he would much rather not think about most of the time, much less tell anyone about.

But…it helped him understand. He took the last sip of his coffee, thinking.

There was also the slight complication of Minthara; he had little to no desire to explain that. Hells, he wasn’t even sure anymore what was going on with Minthara. They’d long had an understanding, of sorts, that anything physical between them was very much a friends with benefits situation.

Even so…Astarion couldn’t get a lot of that night out of his head. Or his thoughts from the next morning, which he still hadn’t entirely tried to unravel. It had felt…different in a lot of ways. Maybe because they were older. Maybe because they hadn’t seen each other in months. He sighed, scraping the last of the whipped cream off the sides of the cup, slouching down in the chair.

“Astarion?”

He was startled out of his reverie by a tentative voice next to him, and he jolted upright to see Jen standing there, shifting her weight back and forth nervously.

“Hey, Jen,” he finally said. He extended a foot, pushing the chair across from him out in invitation, nodding for her to join him.

She slowly sank into the chair, studying him carefully. “You - you look better,” she said, biting her lip.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I actually left my room.”

She blinked at him a few times, finally saying, “Oh.” She frowned, continuing with, “So it wasn’t just astronomy you were skipping.”

He shook his head.

Jen worried her lower lip between her teeth momentarily before saying, “I thought - I thought it was me.” She flushed, looking down at the table.

“Don’t flatter yourself, darling,” he drawled, leaning back and crossing his ankles.

Her head snapped up, the hurt suddenly very clear in her eyes, and Astarion winced in spite of himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That was uncalled for.”

She blew out a long breath before she said, “I suppose I deserve it.”

He shook his head. “No.” Astarion reached out, momentarily considering taking her hand, but pulled back, fiddling with his now-empty cup instead.

“Can - can we start over?” Jen asked tentatively, peering up at him through her feathery layer of dark bangs.

This time, he did reach across the table, taking her hand for a moment and squeezing it. “We can try,” he said.

A smile spread across Jen’s face, slow and sweet as honey. “Okay,” she said, sitting back.

He chuckled, nodding towards her in a mock bow. “Hello, darling. My name is Astarion, and I’ve been holed up in my room under a pile of blankets for the last few weeks.”

The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, and she returned his mock bow. “My name is Jenevelle, and I’ve been pretending everything is just fine while I’ve gone to class the last few weeks.”

“I truly was not skipping class to avoid you,” he murmured. “I’ve barely been to any of my classes the last few weeks and now I’m paying for it. I spent most of the day writing papers and had to get out for a little bit before my eyes exploded.”

She snorted. “Gods forbid your eyes explode.”

“I do try to avoid that.”

“Thank goodness, since you have such unique eyes,” she said, arching a brow up at him.

Astarion could feel the heat creeping up his ears as he ducked his head. “They’re not that unusual,” he mumbled.

“I’ve never met anyone else with eyes that shade of…amber? Gold? I’m not even sure exactly what color they are,” she mused, leaning across the table to look closer. “I would’ve sworn at first that they were contacts, but I’m pretty sure they aren’t.”

He smirked at her, running a hand back through his curls and sitting back in his chair. “Not contacts,” he finally said. He hesitated for a long moment, and then offered, “My mother’s are the same color.”

“Huh,” she said, looking thoughtful. “Either way…” She stopped, tracing her finger along the edge of the table for a moment, before she said, “Either way, they’re…I want to keep looking,” she finally blurted out.

He leaned forward, balancing his chin on his fist, looking her in the eyes. She had turned a rather appealing shade of red, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears. “Gods, don’t do that,” she squeaked.

Astarion grinned, sitting back and crossing his arms across his chest “Apologies, darling.”

She attempted to glare at him, but given how much she was still blushing, there wasn’t much feeling in it. “You are not sorry,” she grumbled.

“No, I’m not,” he agreed. He was rather enjoying flustering Jen at the moment. She sat back in her chair, spots of color bright on her cheeks before she kicked him under the table half-heartedly.

She shook her head, almost like she was trying to re-center herself, before she asked, “So what were you doing holed up in your room for weeks?”

He made a face at her, wrinkling his nose. “Pass. Next question.”

She blinked in surprise before saying, “Okay…why did you really not come in with me that night?”

Astarion sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re really going for the jugular here, aren’t you, darling?”

“Not exactly,” Jen said. “I could’ve asked about the blonde.”

“I told you who she was.”

She gave him a Look. “Astarion, I’m not stupid.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “It’s complicated,” he said dryly.

Jen rolled her eyes at him. “Somehow, I knew that was what you were going to say,” she grumbled.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted. She waited, clearly expecting more information, but when he didn’t offer any, she sighed, glaring at him.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“Funny, you’re the second person to tell me that in the last fifteen minutes alone.”

“Oh, really?”

He nodded, trying to not laugh.

“Gods,” she grumbled, kicking him again. “Impossible.”

“I’d like to remind you that you were the one that approached me just now.”

Jen rolled her eyes again, resting her forehead on the palm of her hand. “Point taken.”

They sat in silence for a minute, Astarion toying with his empty cup and Jenvelle tracing her fingers along the edges of the table.

“So, what now?” she finally asked, sounding uncertain.

He shrugged. “You tell me. I left it up to you, remember?”

Jen bit her lip, looking thoughtful. “You did.”

Astarion waiting, running a finger around the rim of his cup. She was watching him closely, indecision all over her face, and he could practically see the question floating around her head.

“Her name is Minthara,” he finally said. “She’s been my best friend since we were freshmen in high school. We have a lot of history.”

“You told me that,” Jen said, looking unimpressed. “You’re just repeating what I already know.”

He hesitated for a moment before he said, “I lived with her for a few months before I came here.”

“Oh,” Jen said, her face practically shuttering closed at his words.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he muttered. “At all.”

“What am I thinking?” Jen asked, looking annoyed.

“I’m assuming you’re thinking we spent months doing nothing but having wild sex.”

“More or less.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t -” He stopped, biting his lip and looking up. He finally looked at Jen and said, “It wasn’t like that. My parents kicked me out right after I graduated. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked almost ashamed. “I - I’m sorry,” she said lamely. “I - sh*t.”

“Her parents were kind enough to let me stay until we left for our respective schools,” he continued. He closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. “I had…just gotten out of the hospital when I arrived to stay with them. She took care of me.”

Jen frowned, looking at him curiously. “Should I ask?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Okay.” To his relief, she dropped the subject.

“And you already know why I didn’t come in with you. You were drunk. I was somewhere between tipsy and drunk. I was not okay with coming in and dealing with a situation with questionable levels of consent.”

She sat back, something very much like wonder dawning on her face as she looked at him.

“What?”

Jen shook her head at him, a smile playing on the edges of her lips. “You’re…you’re something else,” she murmured. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Darling, is anyone?”

She snorted. “I suppose not. I honestly thought you had said that because you thought it was I wanted to hear. But…you truly mean it,” she said softly, her eyes locked on his.

He nodded, his next words right on the tip of his tongue, and he had to fight to swallow them down.

f*ck it.

“Look,” he murmured. “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to not have limits respected. I don’t f*ck around with that.”

Her eyes widened as she understood, and she caught one of his hands, squeezing it gently.

They looked at each other, the silence twisting their truths between them.

He finally pulled his hand back, offering her a ghost of a smile. “I need to get back. I’m more than a little behind.”

She nodded, getting to her feet alongside him. He wiggled his fingers at her before turning to leave, raking a hand through his hair as he went.

“Astarion.”

He stopped, turning to face Jen, and she scrambled towards him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and tucking her head against his shoulder.

It took him a moment, but then his arms came down to circle her, one hand drifting down her back slowly, ducking his head to rest it against hers. She let him go after a moment, nodding, and Astarion turned back to the sidewalk, shuffling back to his dorm, but feeling better than he had in days.

Chapter 7: White Calm

Chapter Text

Astarion was sprawled across his bed, a pile of books surrounding him and a plethora of pens getting lost in his blankets. Across from him, Gale had a similar mess, and Wyll was laying on his back on the floor between their beds, a biology textbook open and laying on his face.

“I’m not sure studying works like that, darling,” Astarion said, tossing a pen in Wyll’s direction and bouncing it off the cover of the book with a resounding thunk.

“It’s called osmosis, Astarion,” Wyll answered, his voice muffled by the pages.

“Actually, Wyll -” Gale started, clearly gearing up for a scientific lecture.

“NO!” Astarion and Wyll both shouted, Wyll sitting up and yanking the textbook off his face.

“I was just going to explain how it worked,” Gale mumbled, looking wounded.

“I’m sure you were, darling, but then you were probably going to explain seventeen MORE biology related things, and Wyll already looks like his brain is full.”

“That’s because it is.”

Gale glared at them both, huffing in indignation before grabbing the largest book on his bed and flipping it open.

“Maybe we need a break,” Wyll mused. “We’re all getting snippy.”

“That’s because our brains are full,” Astarion remarked, thumping his business calculus book closed and tossing the notebook he’d been scribbling in on top of it. “I’m not even seeing numbers anymore when I blink.”

“That’s because it’s business calc,” Gale commented. “There’s barely any numbers.”

“Ah, yes. You would be correct,” Astarion agreed. “I still say we go get milkshakes and fries or some sh*t.”

“I second this motion,” Wyll said, stacking his books up neatly next to Astarion’s bed.

There was silence as Wyll and Astarion both stared at Gale, who had gone back to perusing his physics book.

“Gale. Darling.”

“What?”

Astarion sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Put the book down, darling. Milkshake time.”

“But I have -”

“No arguing,” Wyll said, getting to his feet and grabbing Gale’s arm. “You need something to fuel that big brain of yours.”

“But I was almost done -”

“Then you’ll be done right after we get back,” Astarion said, grabbing Gale’s other arm. “Now shut up and come with us.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

They meandered their way across campus to the tiny ice cream shop on the main road, squished in between a Taco Bell and a McDonald’s. Wyll shoved the door open, immediately heading to the counter to peer into the glass cases to see what the current flavors were.

“Oh, nice,” he said. “They’ve got the chocolate eclair one again.”

“That was good,” Astarion agreed.

Gale was already talking to the girl at the counter, and a moment later he was holding a cup with two scoops of pistachio and looking quite pleased with himself. Wyll got a waffle cone with the chocolate eclair, and Astarion settled for a chocolate milkshake with extra whipped cream.

They settled themselves down at a table in the corner, digging into their treats.

“Gods, this is exactly what I needed,” said Astarion happily. “Brain fuel in the form of pure sugar.”

Gale shook his head, chuckling. “Technically, complex carbohydrates would probably be a better choice -”

“I have a waffle cone. That counts, right?” asked Wyll.

Gale heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Cretins,” he grumbled. “It would need to be a whole wheat cone -”

Astarion licked a blob of whipped cream off the spoon he was holding. “Eat your ice cream, darling. It’s good for you.”

Gale glared at him before digging back into his ice cream, taking care to kick Astarion underneath the table.

“Now now, boys, behave,” Wyll scolded them, taking a bite of his waffle cone.

“He started it,” Astarion said sulkily.

“Did not.”

“Did too -”

“I swear, I will turn this table around -”

By then, all three of them were laughing. Astarion was snorting into his milkshake, unable to stop the giggles that kept threatening to explode out of him.

Gale finally recovered, taking another bite of ice cream before saying, “I take it all back. This was a good idea.”

“My ideas usually are,” said Astarion, nodding solemnly.

“Sometimes,” said Wyll, elbowing Astarion in the side.

He grumbled in Wyll’s direction, taking another sip of his milkshake. “Give me a break. My brain only started actually working again a week or so ago,” he said.

Wyll raised his eyebrows, clearly not having expected Astarion to bring that up.

Hells, I didn’t expect me to bring that up either -

Wyll blew out a breath before he said, “I’m glad you’re…well. Better. I think.”

Astarion suddenly became very interested in studying his milkshake, unable to look at either of them.

“Astarion?”

He sighed, looking up at Wyll. “Yes, I’m doing better.” He ran his fingers through the condensation on the outside of his cup, water beading against his skin, before he said, “Thank you both. I don’t think I told you that,” he muttered.

Gale shook his head. “You didn’t. But it’s okay. I’m just - I was worried,” he said, those big brown eyes locked on him.

Astarion rubbed his eyes, debating how much to tell them. He finally opted for the truth; they both truly had done more than most would when it had come down to taking care of him. To not just let him rot away inside his own head.

Or, well, at least as much of the truth as he could manage.

He sat back in his chair, taking a long sip of his milkshake to stall while he got his thoughts in some sort of order.

f*ck.

“I - I have some issues with depression. Obviously,” he finally said. “And disassociation, although I don’t think that’s happened much here as far as I can tell.”

Gale frowned, his entire face concerned. “That’s - pardon me, I know I shouldn’t ask this, but - that’s usually from some sort of trauma, no?”

“Yes,” he answered shortly.

He and Gale stared at each other from across the table, while Wyll’s eyes flew back and forth between them, gauging the situation.

“My father kicked me out after I graduated,” he said, studying his glass intently. “He…didn’t agree with some things I had done. I was in the hospital for a week shortly after graduation, and Minthara brought me home with her because it was clear I was not welcome at home,” he said, horrified to feel tears burning his eyes. He took a sip of milkshake, then another, trying to calm his nerves. “She took care of me for several weeks,” he said quietly. He glanced up at Gale, remembering his earlier curiosity, and said, “That’s how she saved me.”

“Astarion…” Gale started, before trailing off uncertainly. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I’m glad you had Minthara, though.”

“Me too,” he said, swiping at his eyes. “I stayed with her until we both had to leave for school.”

Wyll was nodding, his eyes soft. “She sounds like a good friend.”

Astarion nodded in response, unable to get any more words out. He swirled his straw in the remains of his milkshake, staring into the glass. Thinking.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” Minthara said, sighing. She was sprawled on her back on her bed, her head nearly in Astarion’s lap as he busied himself with braiding her hair.

“I know,” he said. “This has been…not how I expected any of this to go.”

Minthara snorted. “Quite the understatement, Astarion.”

He shrugged. “Well, you’ve gotten a front row seat to my life imploding, I didn’t think I had to overstate it.”

She made a face, saying, “You’re correct. I apologize.”

“It’s okay,” he said, gently smoothing another piece of hair back into the braid in his hand. “It just…it is what it is. I can’t change it,” he said bitterly.

“Astarion…”

He shrugged again. “It’s just so f*cked up, Minthy. All of it.”

“I know.”

“I still can’t believe that bastard threw me out.”

Her brows narrowed, eyes dark. “That bastard deserves to have spiders crawling over him every night so he cannot sleep. Or a date with a very sharp knife. Or - well. You get the idea. I could be creative.”

Astarion wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not; he settled for giving her hair a half-hearted tug in annoyance.

“You were able to get everything you needed?” she asked.

He nodded, eyes closing slowly as he pulled a strand of her hair smooth with his fingers.

~~~***~~~***~~~

They had snuck over to his house nearly a week prior; Astarion literally had to pick the lock on the back door because none of his keys worked anymore. He hadn’t really been surprised, but it had still been yet another knife to his heart. He’d been sure, at that point, that his room would’ve been emptied and everything disposed of, and he’d been unable to contain his sigh of relief when he opened the door, revealing it all to be exactly as he’d left it. Minthara had already been in motion, yanking open dresser drawers and scooping out stacks of clothes to throw into the trash bags they’d brought along. Astarion stared around the room, a sick feeling twisting in his guts as he realized that this was likely the last time he’d ever stand in this room.

“Astarion, come on -” Minthara had encouraged him, and he sprung into action, grabbing his laptop, some favorite books, and other little personal bits and bobbles he couldn’t bear to leave behind. He took a moment to unpin a picture of himself and Minthara from the corkboard over his desk; in it, she was sitting on a picnic table behind him while he stood in front of her, leaning back into her shoulder, both of them grinning into the camera. They’d taken it a few weeks before school had ended, and he’d loved it so much he’d actually printed out a copy for them both.

He grabbed his backpack from the corner, stuffing the laptop and pictures and books inside before casting another look around the room, his chest tight.

“Is that it?” asked Minthara, throwing a few pairs of his shoes into the last bag. He looked into his now-emptied closet, nodding silently. “Come on,” she said, and they hustled everything outside, loading the bags into the trunk of Minthara’s car.

“I need a second, Minthy,” he whispered. She looked like she was about to protest, but she restrained herself, nodding. Astarion dashed back to the house and scuttled off to the kitchen, spinning in a circle as he looked for something to write on. He finally just grabbed an unopened bill and snagged a pen off the counter before he scribbled out a note.

Mom -

I’m okay. Everything is healing and I’ve been with Minthara. She’s taken good care of me.

I’m leaving tomorrow. I won’t be back.

I’ll keep the same email address I’ve always had. If things ever change, let me know.

It wasn’t your fault.

I love you.

Astarion

He dropped the pen with a clatter on top of the counter, aware that tears were sliding down his face as he condensed an entire lifetime into less than ten sentences on the back of an envelope for a credit card bill. He pulled in a deep breath, thinking, before he dashed down the hall, tucking it inside the dresser drawer with her undergarments; he knew there was no chance in the hells his father would find it there. That done, he headed back down the hall, trailing his fingers along the wall one last time.

“Starry?” Minthara was waiting at the back door, holding a hand out to him.

He took it, and she led him out to her waiting car, handing him a pile of napkins from Starbucks to blow his nose into. Astarion curled himself into a ball in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the remaining shreds of his prior life as they pulled away.

He’d stumbled his way upstairs, after, when they’d returned to Minthara’s house, and he’d crawled into his bed in the guest room, pulling the blankets up over his head to shut everything out.

It hadn’t taken long before he felt the edge of the blankets lift, and Minthara had scooted in behind him, very carefully fitting herself against his still-tender back as she wrapped an arm around him. She hadn’t said a word, and she just laid with him as he cried for everything he’d left behind, gently stroking his arm or hair occasionally.

Astarion had even managed to fall asleep like that, with Minthara wrapped around him and keeping him steady. To be fair, she had taken to sleeping with him anyways ever since that horrible night he’d woken up screaming and torn the stitches in his back; having her there seemed to help. If he did startle awake, he could reach a hand out and touch her, grounding himself back into reality.

It helped.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“What am I -” He stopped, staring down at the dark gray of her bedspread, pale fingers spread out across it, not wanting to sound desperate. But -

“What am I going to do without you?” he whispered, finally voicing the fear he’d had for the last month. He had no doubts that Minthara had kept him from completely shattering into pieces in the last few months; she’d spent countless nights soothing him through nightmares, changing bandages, keeping him here.

Minthara sat up, earning herself a squawk of protest as Astarion lost his hold on her hair, the braid he’d been working on slipping apart in moments. She turned to face him, gripping his chin so he had to actually look at her.

“Astarion, you’ve dragged yourself kicking and screaming through the f*cking hells in the last six months. The fact that you’re even able to sit here and braid my gods-damned hair without going to pieces is admirable, much less the fact that you’re still looking ahead to the future.” She paused, letting go of his chin and cupping the side of his face with her hand. “You’re the strongest person I know,” she whispered. “You’re going to be fine.”

He gave her a desperate look. “How do you know?”

“Because I know you,” she said simply. “You’re a survivor, Astarion, no matter what gets thrown at you.”

He closed his eyes, tears spilling over as he slowly shook his head. He finally opened them, meeting Minthara’s dark ones before he said, “I wish I could believe you.”

Something flared in her eyes before she snapped, “When have I ever lied to you, Astarion?”

His shoulders dropped, and he whispered, “Never.”

“I don’t lie to you,” she said. “Ever. Why would I?”

“I know,” he said miserably. “It’s just - it’s hard to believe.”

“Look at me,” she said quietly.

After a long moment, he did, meeting her eyes and seeing the certainty in them. The love. The fear. The -

He surged forward, a hand cupping the back of Minthara’s head and the other going to her chin, tilting her just so before he devoured her. She moaned into his mouth, arms wrapping around him as she slid into his lap.

A sliver of reality trickled in, and he gasped, “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first -” They hadn’t slept together in ages; it hadn’t exactly been high on his priority list the last few months, given everything he’d been dealing with. But he shouldn’t assume -

“Astarion, shut up,” Minthara said, kissing her way down his neck as his head fell back. Against his ear, she whispered, “I want this. Before you go.” She punctuated that with a slow grind of her hips down against his already-hard co*ck, pulling all the air from his lungs as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, nipping at the skin there lightly. “And my parents are at that charity function,” she said, running her tongue along the shell of his ear. “I want to f*ck you,” she whispered. “Until we can’t even think.”

“Oh, gods,” he muttered, his hips bucking up against her at those words. “Yes,” he said. “I - f*ck, Minthy - want you.” His hands were at her hips, gripping them tightly as she squirmed in his lap.

She whipped her shirt off, tossing it aside. He groped at her back, unhooking her bra and peeling it off of her, his mouth immediately going to capture a dark nipple, already tight and hard underneath his touch. Minthara groaned, holding his head against her, even as she kept up the maddening roll of her hips against his length. Even through the layers of clothes, it felt absolutely delicious; Astarion was fairly sure he was already leaking into his boxers.

Minthara carefully relieved him of his shirt, her hands smoothing down his bare chest before she gently pushed him back into her pile of pillows. He fell back willingly, watching as she shimmied her way out of her jeans, tossing them off the bed to join their shirts, and then proceeded to strip him out of his sweatpants. That done, she crawled back on top of him, her lips hot and needy against his as he licked into her mouth. He let his hands explore the smooth skin of her back before moving to her sides, then up to cup her breasts, fingers plucking and pinching at her nipples as she moaned. Minthara ground down against him again, and he let out a ragged moan; with less clothing in the way, he could feel the heat of her. He slid a hand down between them, dipping under the band of her underwear to explore her; her breath caught at the first slow slide of his fingers over her cl*t. She was so f*cking wet; Astarion let out a reverent-sounding “Oh, f*ck,” as he felt it. She whimpered, grinding against his fingers.

“Astarion, I’m already about to - oh, gods, yes -” Minthara started, losing the sentence completely as he slid two fingers into her soaked entrance, thumb brushing her cl*t. “About to come -” she panted, riding his hand shamelessly.

“Good,” he said, brushing against her cl*t with a bit more pressure, and she was undone, quivering around him as she dropped down on top of him completely, panting into his neck. He slowed his fingers, working her through it, before withdrawing and sliding his hand back to grip her ass.

“No one else has ever made me come like you do,” she commented, her face still in his neck.

He chuckled, pushing some of her hair out of his face. “I just pay attention,” he told her.

Astarion could feel her smile against his skin, and she sat up, balancing on her knees and sliding her underwear off before relieving him of his boxers.

“Condom?” he asked. She lunged over him to her nightstand, tugging it open and triumphantly surfacing with a package. Minthara ducked her head, taking him into her mouth for a moment, pulling a low groan from him as she teased her tongue up the underside of his co*ck, finishing with a slow lick of the head before she ripped the package open and rolled it onto him. Astarion watched, transfixed, as she smoothed it into place and then crawled back on top of him, guiding him inside her with no hesitation.

“f*ck,” he said, his voice unsteady; she was all tight, wet heat squeezing around him and felt utterly divine.

Minthara was whimpering, adjusting herself slightly before slowly rocking her hips, her head falling back in pleasure as she moved. “Gods, that’s good,” she said, her voice breathy.

He hummed in agreement, holding on to her hips as she rocked against him steadily.

Astarion pulled her down, kissing her, even as he slowly thrust up into her. Enjoying the feel of her wrapped around him as long as he could, not wanting to chase his org*sm yet. Just enjoying her heat. The closeness. He threaded his fingers through her hair, tilting her head exactly enough to give him access to the sweet curve of her neck, which he proceeded to suck and bite marks into. Give her something to remember him by.

Minthara’s slow rocking was picking up speed, whining as she tried to find the angle she liked.

He chuckled into her ear, nipping her earlobe. “You ready for me to f*ck you?”

“Gods, yes.”

Good enough. He rolled them over, hooking one of her legs up over his shoulder the way he knew got her off, and started f*cking into her hard, determined to break her just from his co*ck. Minthara yelped at the change of position before dissolving into wordless little noises of encouragement as he rammed into her. After a moment, he hooked her other leg up as well, nearly bending her in half as he continued burying himself in her; he was sinking in all the way to the hilt with every thrust, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

“Come for me,” he gasped, gripping the base of his co*ck as he tried to stave off his org*sm. “Please,” he begged, thrusting into her firmly, letting the fingers at the base of his co*ck tweak her cl*t as he did.

“Oh, sh*t, Astarion - right there - f*ck -” Minthara came apart beneath him, gripping his arms tightly as her back arched up into him. That was enough to encourage Astarion to let go, grunting as he came so hard it felt like his brain had dissolved into static.

He pulled out of her before collapsing next to her with a contented sigh. She rolled to face him, brushing renegade curls out of his face for a moment before she dove towards him, pressing her face into his neck.

“I’m going to miss you,” she whispered, the words muffled by the skin of his neck.

“I know,” he murmured back. “I know.”

She snuggled up against him, wrapping herself around him. “I’m staying like this.”

“Please do,” he told her, brushing a piece of platinum-blonde hair back behind her ears, leaving the rest unsaid.

He knew she knew.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“Astarion?”

He snapped back to attention, blinking a few times. “Sorry, darling,” he offered. “I was drifting a little.”

Wyll took another bite of his waffle cone, eying him speculatively. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking.”

Gale looked like he was about to say something, but he scraped the last bit of ice cream out of his cup instead, staying quiet.

Astarion sighed, slumping forward and resting his forehead against the palm of his hand. “Things are a mess, honestly.”

“How so?” Gale asked.

He used his straw to scrape some of the dregs of whipped cream out of his glass, pondering. “It’s…it’s complicated, with Minthara,” he murmured. “If she was closer, I’m pretty sure we’d actually be a thing by now. But as it is…we both know it’s not workable right now. So I guess it’s a friends with benefits thing when we do see each other. We slept together when she was here, and right before I left to come here, but it had been months before that.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I just don’t even know what that is these days.”

Wyll looked thoughtful, finally asking, “Have you even talked to her about it?”

“Not explicitly. We did, back before we got together the first time, and it was a perfectly good friends with benefits thing. I think we slept together maybe…five or six times? It wasn’t super often,” he mused. “It was always good, but we didn’t make a regular thing out of it.”

“This may be a ridiculous concept, but perhaps you should talk to her about it again sometime?” Gale suggested. “That might help you sort it out in your head, at least.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Probably. We just…don’t really... I don’t know. Minthara isn’t a big feelings person.”

“And you are?” Gale said.

Astarion kicked him under the table, causing Gale to hiss in pain and kick him back while Wyll rolled his eyes.

“Are you two done?” he asked mildly.

“Yes,” said Astarion. “But he started it.”

Gale gave him his most innocent smile, while carefully rearranging his hair with his middle finger and causing Astarion to snort with laughter.

“Anyways,” Astarion continued, recovering. “Then there’s whatever is with Jen. She ran into me in the quad the other day and I think we’ve mostly worked things out. She apologized, at least.”

“What even happened?” asked Wyll. “The last thing we heard was she was mad you wouldn’t come in with her because she was drunk.”

“Yeah, about that. I came back to the dorm after I’d spent the night with Minthara, and Jen was waiting for me on the steps, and saw Minthara kiss me goodbye. She was pissed.”

“Oh, gods,” said Wyll, shaking his head.

“You really have some terrible luck, Astarion,” Gale added.

“You’re telling me,” he grumbled. “She did apologize, though, for all of it. I think we’re…okay now, at least. She’s hard to read. It’s so strange, because she was…so confident on Finder, and now…”

“Well, you’re a known quantity now, not just a faceless username,” said Wyll with a shrug. “It’s real.”

“True,” he sighed. “I just…I like her. I really do.” He looked sheepish for a moment before he added, “She reminds me of Minthara a lot, to be honest.”

“Don’t tell her that,” said Wyll, looking alarmed.

“Too late,” he said, grimacing. “I told her that way before I knew who she was.”

Gale made a face. “Astarion, could you possibly make this any messier?”

“It’s my specialty,” he said, shaking his head in dismay. “I’m really bad at relationships, to put it mildly.”

“I’ll say,” Gale agreed.

He kicked Gale under the table again. “You didn’t have to agree with me.”

“I’m basing this on the fact that you barely talked to me the entire first semester and kept bringing random Finder hookups back to the room.”

Astarion shook his head, amused. “Just for that correct observation, you get a free kick.”

Gale thumped him in the shin, making Astarion swear and rub his leg.

“I am not carrying either of you back to the dorm if you maim each other,” Wyll piped up.

“Maybe we should head back before it becomes a possibility,” Astarion pointed out.

“Good call,” said Gale, pushing his chair back.

~~~***~~~***~~~

As they approached the dorm, Astarion said, “I’m going to stay out here a bit,” while indicating his patch of grass. “I need to…think. Or something.”

Wyll nodded, patting his shoulder, and then dragged Gale towards the dorm with him, leaving Astarion to settle in the grass, staring up at the rapidly-darkening sky.

I don’t know what I want.

Really, that wasn’t anything new. Astarion was well aware that the vast majority of his decisions were made on instinct and impulse, for better or for worse. Trying to sort things out in his head before went against everything in his nature.

“Why do I feel like I’m making things more complicated than they should be?” he muttered, collapsing back into the grass.

He finally pulled his phone out, fingers hovering over the screen for a long minute before he sent a text.

Hey, Minthy.

He didn’t have to wait long for a response.

Hi, Starry. 🖤

Are you all right?

What, I can’t just text you to say hi?

Of course you can. I just…worry.

I’m actually glad you texted me. I wanted to talk to you.

Oh, gods. What did I do?

His phone rang a second later.

“Hello,” Minthara’s voice was cool, as always, but Astarion knew her well enough to hear the slight tremble of nerves.

“Hey, Minthy,” he said. “What did I do?”

He could practically feel her sigh over the phone. “Astarion…it’s not what you did. It’s more…I am concerned about something you have not done.”

Astarion blinked in confusion. “What the hell, Minthy?”

“And, Astarion - you aren’t going to like this,” she muttered.

He sighed in resignation. “What, Minthara?”

“In my opinion, as your best friend, I truly think you need to deal with the things you haven’t.”

“I’ve dealt with it,” he snapped, annoyed.

“You’ve dealt with it by ignoring it.”

“Minthara -”

“Astarion, listen to me for once in your damn life,” she said sharply. “Not just listen and agree and then do whatever you were going to do anyways. You need help, and you know it.”

“Minthara -”

“I am not trying to be mean to you, or make threats. But…I was concerned when I saw you. It’s not better.”

“Minthy, I am fine -”

“So fine you spent two weeks in bed.”

Astarion hissed out a breath, his chest tightening. “That was a low blow, Minthara.”

“It is the truth.”

“Gods, you’re a bitch.”

“You only call me that when I get too close to things you do not wish to speak of.”

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake -”

“You know I’m right.”

Astarion gaped at his phone, trying to find a good retort.

Before he could, Minthara said, “I’m going to go now, Astarion,” her voice sounding unusually tight. “Call me after you have thought about this conversation, yes?”

“Minthara -” he snapped, but it was too late; she’d already hung up.

He stared at his phone, blinking in disbelief.

f*ck.

Chapter 8: Moonlight

Chapter Text

In retrospect, Astarion was surprised it took as long as it did.

From the moment he’d set foot in his dorm, he’d gone out of his way to make sure no one saw the scars on his back.

Hiding them from random Finder hookups wasn’t easy, but it was doable. He’d figured out if he left his shirt on - especially if he acted like he was so overcome with lust that he was going to explode if they didn’t f*ck right then - he was in the clear. He’d been asked, once or twice, why he still had his shirt on, and he was always able to shrug it off and distract his partner.

But it wasn’t easy, hiding them from a roommate who basically only left the room for class. Astarion figured out a system within a week or so; he always got changed in the bathroom after a shower, and thus, his secret had remained safe. He would change in the room on the rare occasions when Gale was at class or had gone out, but in general, the bathroom was where he would hide.

It was a good system. A near perfect system. A system that got utterly destroyed one warm spring afternoon, when Gale had left for class, and Astarion had decided to change clothes before going to the library.

He had JUST pulled his shirt off and tossed it into his laundry bag when the door swung open with no warning, revealing Gale.

“I completely forgot to grab my notebook, and - oh, sh*t,” Gale breathed.

Astarion was struggling violently with the t-shirt he had grabbed off his bed, spinning around and groping for the armholes desperately. He finally managed to tug it into place, his head popping out and giving him a perfect view of Gale, frozen in the doorway, a look of utter horror on his face.

“Astarion,” he started, his eyes wide.

“Don’t,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare.”

“But -”

“Shut the f*ck up, Gale,” he snapped, grabbing his backpack from the floor and his sunglasses off the dresser. “Move.”

A stunned Gale managed to shuffle a few steps to the left, and with his pulse pounding in his ears, Astarion shoved past him, nearly running down the hall to escape him.

f*ck, f*ck, f*ck -

He hurried into the stairwell, tears stinging his eyes.

You knew this would happen eventually.

Well. Yes. He had. That didn’t make it any better. The only person he’d willingly shown his scars to had been Minthara, and she’d literally helped bandage him up, so it wasn’t like they were a surprise to her.

WIth her, he didn’t mind.

He slammed out of the dorm, pushing his sunglasses down over his eyes, and stalked aimlessly in the direction of the quad.

He had no idea where he was going, and quite frankly, he didn’t care. He just needed to get as far away from Gale as possible right now.

You know this was your fault. You got careless.

He hissed in annoyance, swatting away the little voice in the back of his head. He knew damn good and well it had been his fault; there had been a reason he had spent the entire f*cking year getting dressed in the bathroom. He knew better.

f*ck.

He raked a hand back through his hair in annoyance, striding his way through the quad and dodging the knots of his fellow students sprawled here and there in the grass, soaking up the warm weather.

A few more minutes of walking, and he realized where he had been heading the entire time. He hadn’t consciously planned it, but it seemed his body’s autopilot had a pretty good idea of what he wanted. Needed. Wanted? Hells, he didn’t know anymore.

He looked up at Nocturne, sighing, and pulled his phone out.

Are you in your dorm?

He waited anxiously, tapping his fingers on his thigh, trying to not look like a total creep lurking outside the all-female dorm.

Yeah, why?

Can I come in?

Um, sure. I’ll come get you. Hang on.

Thanks.

He blew out a breath, trying to relax. Then another. He leaned against the concrete railing for the stairs leading to the door, waiting.

A few minutes later, the front door opened, and Jen peeked out, hair falling like a curtain around her, out of its usual braid for once. He attempted to give her a smile, walking up the stairs.

“Hey, Jen.”

“Astarion?” He could hear the questions in her voice, and he sighed, resigned.

“When we get upstairs,” he murmured.

She nodded, leading him towards the elevator.

“I was getting concerned they were going to call the campus police on me for loitering outside the all-female dorm,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Always a possibility,” Jen said, raising an eyebrow at him. The elevator dinged open, and they stepped in, leaning against the back wall.

Somewhere around the third floor, there was a gentle brush against his hand. He smiled a bit, relaxing the fist his hand was clenched into, and he could almost feel some of the tension melt out of him as Jen tentatively laced her fingers with his. He sighed, thumping his head against the back wall of the elevator, and squeezed her hand gently.

The elevator finally crawled to a stop, and Jen tugged at his hand, pulling him down the halls until they got to her room. She unlocked the door, leading him inside, and finally turned to look at him.

“Astarion?” she said softly, catching his other hand and squeezing it as well.

He heaved out a sigh, reluctantly letting go of one of her hands to take his sunglasses off and discard them on her desk before dropping his backpack next to the door with a thump. That done, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

“Okay,” Jen murmured, sliding her arms around him, one hand tangling in his curls and the other looped around his lower back. “It’s okay.”

She slowly backed up, eventually sitting down on her bed and pulling him with her. He still had his head on her shoulder, his face now buried somewhere in the sweet skin of her neck. Jen had moved on to gently rubbing his back, and he stiffened, pulling away.

“Not my back,” he whispered.

“Oh - okay. I’m sorry,” she said anxiously.

Astarion rubbed a hand over his face before blowing out a deep breath. “You didn’t know. I - I’m sorry to just - f*ck. I’m sorry,” he muttered, resting his face in his hands.

“Astarion - it’s okay,” Jen said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what is going on or why you’re here or why you’re upset, but it’s okay. You can sit here with me as long as you need to,” she said earnestly.

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak at the moment. Something in his mind seemed to snap, and he suddenly got to his feet, pacing back and forth in front of Jenevelle. She sat back on the bed, worry trickling over her face as she watched him.

“I need to show you something,” he finally said.

“Okay,” she said slowly, the worry on her face increasing.

“I - my pictures on Finder. They were old.”

“Okay…”

“Because - well - I didn’t -” Astarion stopped pacing, standing in front of Jen and shivering slightly. “I didn’t want people to see. Anyone I matched with, I - I made sure they didn’t -”

“Astarion, you’re starting to freak me out a little bit,” Jen said, eyes wide and searching.

He huffed out a breath, shoulders dropping in defeat.

Just - just show her -

“Astarion?”

He yanked his t-shirt off and spun around all in one fluid movement, standing in front of her and trembling violently.

Jenevelle sucked in her breath sharply, and he heard the sound of her getting to her feet behind him. Her fingers brushed over his shoulders, then down, down, featherlight across his back.

Astarion couldn’t stand it; he jerked away from her touch, spinning back around to face her. He gave her a watery smile as he moved to pull his shirt back on.

“Wait,” she murmured, catching his arm. “Please.”

He froze, watching her carefully, every nerve online and firing wildly in panic.

“I think you’re beautiful,” she whispered, before taking a step closer and sweeping him into her arms.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, really, but it certainly hadn’t been that.

Astarion rested his head on Jen’s shoulder, breathing her in, trying to steady himself. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight against her.

“Thank you,” he whispered, navigating his way through her hair to kiss her cheek softly.

She pulled back, hands still resting lightly on his shoulders. “Thank you for trusting me,” she told him, squeezing his shoulders before letting him go. She stepped back, not quite able to meet his eyes, fidgeting slightly.

Oh. Great.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling his shirt back on.

Jen looked up, eyes wide with alarm, and stammered, “Oh, gods, no, it’s not - it’s not you,” she said desperately. “It’s - f*ck.”

Alarm bells were starting to sound in Astarion’s head, and he eyed her closely. “Jen?” he asked softly.

She met his eyes, and the alarms in his head got even louder when he realized he could practically see the fear shimmering in hers.

Jen blew out a sharp breath, shaking her head. She finally whipped her shirt over her head, holding it tight to her chest.

Astarion frowned, perplexed for just a moment - and then his eyes went to the ladders of scars on her upper arms. Some were old, silver against her skin, but some were clearly more recent; they were red and puffy, standing out against the paleness of her skin. He reached out tentatively, stopping an inch or so away from her arm, a sick feeling slowly churning in his gut as he realized. Jen was visibly trembling, fear plain on her face, and he finally just reached out, pulling her into his arms. She exhaled a shaking breath, tucking her head under his chin, as he slowly ran a hand down her back.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Scars don’t exactly bother me, love.”

Jen let out a sound that was half a sob, half a relieved chuckle, and she melted against him, clinging to him tightly.

“f*ck,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“It - it was just easier than -”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he said softly, tangling his fingers in her hair.

She shivered against him, finally pulling back and wiping at her eyes. “You know,” she mused. “I have a bottle of wine I’ve been saving. And this seems like a good time to get it out.”

“Gods, I adore you.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

Astarion leaned back against the bed, bumping his shoulder against Jen’s. “Share,” he said, holding his hand out. She rolled her eyes, handing the bottle of wine to him. He took a long swig, nodding in approval. “That’s pretty good,” he said.

“Glad it meets your approval,” she said, sighing. She stretched her legs out over the charcoal-colored shag rug on the floor, wiggling her toes. She’d turned off the overhead light, opting to light the plethora of candles on her desk, and they threw exaggerated shadows onto the wall behind Jen as she moved.

He grinned at her, stretching his legs out next to hers. “We should do this more often,” he said.

“What, let you come hide out in my room and drink the wine I stole?”

“Wait, you stole it?”

“Well, yes,” she said, blinking innocently at him.

“I knew I liked you,” he said, tapping his feet against the rug. “I never asked,” he continued. “How in the hells did you end up with a single?”

She snorted, taking another drink out of the bottle of wine. “I had a roommate,” she said dryly. “She moved out within a month and they never gave me another.”

“Why did she move out?” Astarion asked, curious.

Jen heaved an exasperated sigh before saying, “According to her, I was a bitch-faced ice queen.”

He snorted with laughter, sprawling out across the rug. She poked him with a bare foot, trying to conceal a smile. “Don’t laugh at me!” she said, even as she started giggling.

“Bitch-faced ice queen,” he said, descending into full-out bellows of laughter. “Gods, what did you do to this poor girl?”

“Nothing!” she protested. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, patting her foot. “I’m sure.”

She sighed, taking another drink of wine and passing the bottle over to him. “I don’t get along with a lot of people,” she said.

He cut his eyes in her direction before taking a drink. “No sh*t.”

“Astarion,” she protested, poking him again with her foot.

“Sorry, darling,” he said, chuckling. “It’s just, I met you because you were busy not getting along with someone. I know you don’t get along with most people.”

“I don’t,” she said, studying the wall behind him intently. “I - gods. I…” she trailed off, raking a hand back through her spill of black hair.

He sat up, looking at her closely, all teasing gone. “What is it?” he asked her softly.

She finally looked at him, her shoulders slumping. “I wanted my own space for once,” she admitted.

Astarion waited, taking another long drink out of the bottle. In front of him, Jen shifted back and forth uneasily, chewing on her lip.

“I was in foster care from the age of sixteen,” she murmured. “It was always…loud. Crowded. No privacy. No security.”

“Oh,” he said, taken aback. “I - I’m sorry,” he finally said, scooting next to her and patting her leg.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “You didn’t know.”

He nodded, taking another swig out of the bottle, enjoying the way the edges of his mind were starting to blur ever so slightly.

Jen suddenly dove at him, burying her face against his chest. His arms came down to circle her automatically, a hand sliding back into her mass of dark hair.

“Stay?” she whispered. “Please? I don’t want -” She stopped, closing her eyes momentarily. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He nodded. “Sure. Have an extra blanket?” he asked, flopping down on the rug.

She rolled her eyes. “Astarion, you idiot,” she said, but there was no venom in it for once. She got to her feet, crawling into her bed and holding out a hand.

“Oh,” he said, blinking at her. “Right.” He clambered to his feet, sliding in beside her in the narrow bed.

She settled against him, her head on his shoulder, an arm around his waist. “No funny business, now,” she said, kicking him lightly in the shins. “I just...I didn’t want to be alone with my own thoughts.”

“I didn’t either,” he admitted, his voice low.

She nodded, her fingers tapping random patterns against his chest. “Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened?”

Well, that’s a loaded question -

“As in, what happened to make me come here or what happened to my back?”

“The first,” she said quickly. “I’m curious about the rest,” she admitted. “But I would never presume to ask.”

He chuckled a bit. “You sort of just did, love.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she protested.

“I know,” he said. They were quiet for a moment before he said, “I’ve successfully hidden my back from my roommate until a few hours ago.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “I take it he saw, somehow?”

Astarion nodded stiffly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice tight.

Jen looked thoughtful, her fingers now trailing patterns up and down his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “That must be upsetting when it’s not on your terms.”

“You could say that,” he grumbled. “I just - f*ck. I don’t like people seeing it,” he said quietly. “There’s very few people I’ve let see it willingly.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” she told him, patting his arm.

“Likewise,” he told her.

Her second question hung heavily in the air between them; Astarion was having a violent battle inside his own head over it.

Just tell her -

But I don’t want to THINK about it -

Minthara’s voice slid into his head again, reminding him that he needed to actually deal with things -

“My dad was an abusive piece of sh*t,” he blurted out suddenly. Against him, Jen went incredibly still, tilting her face up to look at him.

Astarion closed his eyes, trying to fight back the worst parts of himself before he spoke. “I made some mistakes my senior year of high school,” he started, his voice shaking slightly. “When it got back home, it didn’t go well,” he murmured.

He could still remember the way his stomach had plummeted that day when he’d walked in his front door and his father had immediately yelled for him to get the f*ck in the kitchen.

Astarion did, and the world slowed and spun in a dizzying fashion, because sitting at his dining table were his parents and Cazador Szaar. His father looked utterly furious, although that was generally his usual state. His mother had clearly been crying - which was her usual state - and Cazador looked for all the world like the cat who had just eaten the proverbial canary. He’d met Astarion’s eyes for just a moment, a triumphant gleam in his eye, and Astarion knew - he knew - what had happened. He knew.

And all he could do was slowly sink down into a chair and wait for his world to shatter around him.

“He - he liked to beat the sh*t out of me. Out of my mom. It had gotten really bad that last year, because I started getting in his way. He was still a lot bigger than me, but I was at least bigger than my mother,” he said bitterly, an endless stream of nightmares twisting through his mind. Of shoving his mother behind him, of seeing the look of utter shock and fear on her face the first time he’d dove in between them, screaming years of pain in wordless noises as he blocked her body with his own.

It wasn’t the first time he’d traded his body for something.

Jen was quiet, watching him with an unreadable expression on her face.

“That night, he started with a f*cking frying pan. I wasn’t expecting the first few hits,” he said, his voice distant. He tapped his forehead, indicating the thin scar there. “That was from the pan. He split my lip open badly too. The rest was just…it was bad,” he managed. “I was…I was really banged up, to put it mildly.”

“Astarion,” Jen whispered, her hand resting softly on the side of his face.

“And then - and then the f*cking thing broke. He hit me hard enough that the pan cracked apart and left him with a wooden handle still attached to metal. Really sharp metal.”

“Oh, gods,” gasped Jen, her eyes wide as she understood what had happened.

He closed his eyes, remembering his absolute fear, the way it had gripped his throat and refused to let go, once he realized. There’d been a moment where he’d thought - just for a moment - that it was going to be over.

And then his father had lunged at him. He’d turned to flee, but the handle caught him in the back, jagged metal catching the skin and ripping its way through his shirt as he crumpled to the ground.

He could still hear his mother screaming.

“Astarion?”

He fell back into himself, shaking his head. “You saw my back. So you know how it went,” he said bitterly. “He finally tired himself out and I staggered my way into the backyard and somehow managed to climb up into my treehouse; I guess I thought I would somehow be safe there. And I called Minthara. She was the one who called 911.”

“Oh, my gods,” said Jen, tears in her eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, watching flashing lights dance behind his closed eyes. He could still picture it, the way the lights had bounced off the walls of the treehouse, the way Minthara had flown down the ladder to direct the paramedics. The way he had passed out halfway down the ladder, falling the last few feet to the ground.

Silence, except for Jen’s sniffling.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” she whispered, tightening her hold on him. “So sorry.”

He nodded, unable to speak.

They were quiet for several minutes; one of his hands had found its way to her hair and was combing through it idly, and she was tapping a foot lightly against his shin.

“I - I need to not think about that anymore,” he said, his voice shaking. “Can I just - out of curiosity, darling, why do you get along with me?” he asked, tugging a strand of hair gently.

She snorted against him. “Really, Astarion?”

“Indulge me and my need to change the topic,” he said, spiraling a piece of hair around his fingers and glancing down at her, momentarily distracted by the fact that he was so close he could see each speck of glitter in her eyeshadow.

“Because you’re as much of a diva bitch as I am,” she said, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Rude.”

“And, well. I don’t know. I see a lot of myself in you, I guess.”

He hummed thoughtfully, trying his hardest to fight the urge, but -

“I could see myself in you too,” he said, losing the internal battle of being appropriate.

“Oh, gods,” she muttered, kicking him firmly in the shin.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, trying to sound contrite.

“You are so not sorry,” she said, kicking him yet again.

“Ow!” he complained. “I couldn’t resist.”

“I know,” she said, exasperated.

There was another long pause, before she said, “I’ve never actually…” She paused, glancing up at him. “Never actually been with a man,” she finished.

“Oh really, now?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she murmured against him. “Several women.”

Her fingers traced down his chest slowly, and Astarion pulled in a deep breath, trying to weigh out the situation.

Finally, he said, “Well, darling, if you ever want to test the waters, I’m available.”

She sat up, looking down at him. “I f*cking hate you,” she finally said.

“I know.”

He sat up next to Jen, studying her face. The room was all shadows except for the light bleeding in from the streetlights outside her dorm and the handful of candles on her desk, and he could see the uncertainty all over her face.

Astarion finally reached out, cupping the side of her face in his hand. She melted into his touch, eyes drifting closed. He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers and kissing the tip of her nose.

Her eyes shot open and she stared at him before starting to giggle. “Did you seriously just kiss my nose?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck. Jen sucked in her breath sharply, a hand coming out to rest on his shoulder as he slowly worked his way up the slender column of her throat.

Logic set in a moment later and he dropped back down to the pillow, stretching. She was still sitting with her eyes closed, looking completely confused when they fluttered open and she realized he’d laid down.

“It’s your call, Jen,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow and trying to ignore the fact that he was already half-hard. “If you want to, I promise I’ll take good care of you. If you don’t, I’m happy to just play with your hair and go to sleep. And I’m happy to leave if that’s what you’d rather,” he finished.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and she blinked rapidly at him. “If - if we - no strings attached?”

“Darling, as long as we stay friends, I could care less if we ever f*ck again.”

She was quiet, fingers drawing patterns on the sheets. Finally, she rolled away from him, groping at the drawer of her nightstand, rattling it open and sweeping a hand inside. A moment later, she dropped several condoms into his hand.

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Prepared, aren’t we?”

“Oh, gods,” she muttered, slapping his shoulder. “They hand them out like candy in the quad and I…kept a few in case.”

“In case what?” he asked, peering at the packages and selecting one before setting them down on the desk next to his side of the bed.

“In case I lost my gods-damned mind and decided to actually have sex with a guy,” she snapped.

“‘A guy?’”, he asked, forming air quotes in front of himself.

She glared at him. “With you.”

Astarion grinned at her. “Just checking,” he said lightly. With that, he reached out to her, brushing her bangs out of her eyes lightly. She shivered underneath his touch, swaying forward slightly.

He peered down at her questioningly. “You never told me what you wanted,” he said, tangling his fingers in her cloud of dark hair.

In response, Jen tugged at his shoulders, pulling him down on top of her. Her lips collided with his somewhat clumsily at first, but it only took a moment before she was nibbling at his lower lip and letting him explore her mouth with his tongue. Astarion sighed into her mouth, tongue leisurely stroking against hers, a hand tracing up and down her spine ever so gently. Jen hooked a leg around his hip, pulling him closer, and he heard her sharp intake of breath as she got her first feel of his hardness pressing against her. He rolled his hips against hers, a hand bracing her lower back, swallowing her little whimpers as he did.

“Oh, you like that?” he murmured, rolling his hips forward again, letting his co*ck press against her. One of her hands flailed about before grabbing his shoulder for stability, her eyes wide.

“Yes,” she managed, grinding down against him. It was his turn to gasp, his hands running down her back, fingers toying with the edge of her shirt. He slowly tugged at it, soft cotton gliding over her skin, before pulling it over her head completely. Astarion pulled his off as well, tossing both shirts to the floor. He let his hands trail across her waist before sliding up to cup her breasts, a hand moving behind her to expertly unclasp her bra and discard it. He ducked his head, pulling a soft pink nipple into his mouth, tonguing it gently while his fingers toyed with the other.

Jen moaned, her head falling back as she rolled onto her back. Astarion settled himself over her, moving across to her other nipple, plucking at the damp one he’d just abandoned with his fingers. “Gods,” she whispered, clutching his head to her, one leg drawn up next to him. He nudged her legs apart with his knee, pressing his leg in between her thighs and smiling as she clawed at his back, clearly requiring something to hold on to.

“Good?” he asked, making sure she was still okay before he pushed further.

In response, she grabbed the hand tickling at a nipple, guiding it down, down, down, sliding it under the waist of her pajama pants. He nibbled his way back up her chest, across her collarbone, before nearly biting her where the skin of her neck met her shoulder. Jen cried out, arching up against him, and Astarion took that opportunity to slip his hand into her underwear.

She was soaking wet; he moaned against her neck as his fingers slowly slid across her folds. Jen let out a yelp as he dragged his index finger across her cl*t, circling it gently several times before continuing down to press at her entrance. She buried her face in his neck, her breath hot against his skin, and he slid a finger inside her slowly. Jen gave a breathy moan, her hips bucking forward subconsciously, and he obliged by adding a second finger. She was hot and wet and soft as velvet around his fingers, and he groaned, capturing her mouth again.

Jen gasped, fingers tight against his shoulders. “Astarion -” she started, but he adjusted his hand slightly, letting his thumb rub circles around her cl*t while he slowly thrust his fingers in and out of her. “Oh, f*ck,” she whimpered, pulling his face to hers and assaulting his mouth enthusiastically.

Astarion kept stroking her, feeling her clench and tense around his fingers with every brush of his thumb against her. “Go ahead,” he whispered, breaking the kiss she’d trapped him in. “I know you’re ready. It’s okay. Come for me, love.”

Jen whined breathlessly, meeting his eyes for a moment before she said, “I really do hate you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “Now be a good girl and come for me.” Jen was holding her breath, tension coiled in every inch of her body before she shattered at his words, crying out and jerking violently against his hand, even as he gripped her hips firmly with his free hand, trying to keep her in place.

“f*ck f*ck f*ck -” she gasped, still twitching against him slightly when he finally withdrew his fingers. He met her eyes and slowly, deliberately, licked his fingers clean. Jen’s eyes widened nearly to the edges of her face, and she let out one last, “Fuuuuuuck,” as she watched him. He ran a hand down her bare back, curving over her ass before he smiled at her.

“What do you think, darling? Still hate me?” he murmured, leaning in to bite her earlobe. She sagged against him, forehead against his shoulder, breathing hard.

“Yes,” she grumbled. “You are such an asshole,” she finally said.

“I know,” he said, nibbling his way down her neck, marks blossoming on her pale skin as he sucked at it. “But you love me anyways.”

“Delusional,” she muttered, gasping as he bit at the tender skin of her collarbone. “Now make me come again,” she demanded, tapping her foot against his leg.

“Greedy little thing,” he whispered against her skin.

“You did promise you’d take good care of me,” she reminded him.

Astarion ghosted his hands down her body, fingertips barely touching the skin of her sides before gripping her hips firmly. “So I did,” he told her. “I’m trying to decide,” he said, licking a slow, trailing stripe up the side of her neck. “If I should make you come again with my mouth first or if you’re ready for my co*ck.” He punctuated that with a thrust of the aforementioned co*ck against her thigh, groaning quietly at the sensation.

“Whatever you want,” she said, her voice much higher pitched than usual.

“No, I believe it’s what you want,” he reminded her. “I am here to make you feel good,” he whispered, bending to take a pert, pink nipple into his mouth again, rolling his tongue around it. Jen keened, arms stretching above her head, body bowing up into his. He paused in his ministrations, blowing lightly on her now-wet nipple, causing her to grab for him, hips grinding up against him.

“f*ck,” Jen gasped. She shook her head slightly, almost as if she was trying to clear it, before she said, “Go down on me.”

Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Please.”

He chuckled, running his hands down her sides before hooking his thumbs under the waistband of her pants and tugging them down, taking her underwear with them. “With pleasure,” he said, kissing the newly exposed skin of her thighs. Jen gasped, shivering against him, and he sat back on his heels so he could admire her.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, a pale hand splayed across her stomach.

“I’m already going to f*ck you, you don’t need to get any of your lines out on me,” she said, glaring at him.

“It’s not a line,” he told her, eyes still floating up and down her body. She was beautiful, even more so in person; her skin was all peaches and cream, soft curves and gentle lines. He slid between her legs, hooking one knee up over his bare shoulder, a hand carefully spreading her open before him. Gods, she was beautiful everywhere, he realized; her folds were a perfect delicate pink, her cl*t covered by a tiny hood of shell pink, rosy lips slick with her wetness. “Beautiful,” he murmured, before leaning in to gently run his tongue along the fold between her cl*t and labia, repeating it on the other side.

Jen gasped, hands flying down to grip his silvery curls, a heel digging into the bed beside him as she squirmed. “Ah - Astarion -”

He circled her cl*t several times, finally flattening his tongue out and stroking up her folds, gratified when her spine arched off the bed as she moaned. “Oh, f*ck,” she gasped.

“Still hate me?” he breathed, resuming his circling of her cl*t, interspersed with slow, languid strokes. He slid a finger inside her, then a second, hooking them at a well-practiced angle.

“Yes - holy sh*t,” Jen gasped, fingers tightening in his hair and pushing him down between her thighs. “What - gods. Do that again.”

“Mmm, I’m not sure if I should,” he teased, giving her cl*t several quick flicks with his tongue. “Since you still hate me and all.” He pressed his fingers inside her, causing Jen to make a garbled whine that sounded something like “don’t you f*cking stop.”

He chuckled, his breath hot against her thigh, before twisting his fingers just right again. He did it once more, this time locking his lips over her cl*t as he did and sucking, and Jen grabbed for her pillow, stuffing it over her face and nearly screaming. He took that as a sign to keep going, and kept probing inside her with two steady fingers, teasing his tongue over her cl*t, occasionally sucking it into his lips, and the next thing he knew her heel was gouging into his shoulder, and the pillow was barely muffling her scream as she jerked forward into him, wetness dripping down his fingers.

He licked her gently a few more times before slowly withdrawing his fingers, admiring the wetness shining on his hand before sliding up next to her. He peeled the pillow off her face, leaning in to kiss her. Jen grabbed for him, whimpering, before she said, “What the f*ck did you just do to me?”

“Ruined you for all future lovers.”

“Well, sh*t,” she said, swatting at him. “Gods. That was amazing.”

“Mmm,” he agreed, grinding his painfully hard and neglected co*ck against her thigh. He’d been leaking steadily since the first time he’d made her come, and his boxers were damp and clinging to him hopelessly.

“Oh,” she said, a hand dropping to grip his length nervously. He closed his eyes, breathing fast, as she gave him a few experimental strokes.

“Can I…” she asked, tugging at his sweatpants. He nodded, wriggling out of them and his damp boxers, leaving them bare against each other. Jen slid her fingers around him, stroking him, swirling her thumb across the head of his co*ck, catching the precum gathered there and using it to stroke him. Astarion groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck as she continued to explore him, fingers gentle but insistent.

Jen finally paused in her stroking to pull his face out of her neck, kissing him slow and sweet before she tugged at him, pulling him on top of her. He lunged towards the desk, grabbing one of the condoms and rolling it on before settling against her, one forearm resting next to her head, fingers combing through her hair.

“You’re sure?” he asked her, studying those big green eyes carefully.

She nodded, hands on his shoulders.

He kissed his way along her jawline up to her ear, murmuring, “I’d like you to actually say it, please.”

“Yes,” Jen gasped. She adjusted herself beneath him so he was probing against her wetness, squirming at the sensation. “Please. Inside me.” He met her eyes for a moment before kissing her forehead, and slowly pressed in.

Jen sucked in her breath sharply; Astarion wasn’t sure what, exactly, she’d done before, but he could tell she was tight. He rocked against her slightly a few times, and then pushed forward all at once, sliding in much easier than he had anticipated due to how slick she was. Jen grabbed at his shoulders, eyes wide, gasping at the new sensations. He waited, holding himself still against her, feeling her heat surrounding him, and asked, “Good?” in a choked voice.

“I…” Jen rocked up against him tentatively, her mouth making an ‘o’ of surprise, and she moaned. “Yes,” she finally hissed, moving against him carefully, testing the waters. “Astarion?” she whispered.

“Yes, love?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit strained as he struggled to hold still.

Jen tightened her fingers against his shoulders, burying her face in the crook of his neck, before she whispered, “I don’t hate you.”

“I know,” he told her, kissing her temple. “I know,” he said again, voice fading out as he adjusted himself carefully against her.

He brushed her bangs out of her face gently, pressing his lips to hers in a searing, needy kiss, and started to move.

“Oh, gods,” Jen whimpered beneath him, her hands flailing around him before gripping his back, nails digging into his skin.

“There you go,” he murmured, rocking gently against her. She was raising her hips to meet him, finding the rhythm, her breath hitching and catching. “You’re doing so well,” he encouraged her. She whined, nipping at his neck, one foot hooking around his back.

Astarion put a little more force into his thrusts, watching Jen’s face carefully. “You’re taking me so well, love,” he panted, his lips against her ear. “Gods. So - f*cking - tight -“ he gasped, burying himself to the hilt in her, luxuriating in the feel of her heat surrounding his co*ck.

“Ah - Astarion -“ she whimpered, trying to rock up into him as he switched back into small, shallow thrusts. “Oh, gods,” she gasped, the hand on his shoulder gripping him firmly. “You feel so good,” she finally whispered, tugging at his hair just hard enough to make him moan.

“What do you think, darling, can I make you come one more time?” He slid a hand down between them, twitching his fingers against her cl*t and slowing to long, dragging thrusts.

“I - f*ck, Astarion - I don’t know - but - gods.”

Astarion chuckled, burying his face in the sweet-smelling bend of her neck, nibbling and biting at the tender skin there, and continued his slow, steady slides in and out of her, intent on unraveling her completely.

“Astarion?” she gasped.

“Hmm?” he asked, his mouth still occupied with her neck.

“Harder.”

He smiled against her skin, gripping her hips and pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back into her warmth. She yelped, one leg curling around him, the other twisting the sheets into helpless knots. He did it again, and Jen’s head tipped back as she moaned, low and guttural in her throat.

Astarion was close; he had been for awhile, and he was having to really concentrate on not coming yet. He pressed his fingers against her cl*t, rubbing circles around it, wondering if he could wrench a third org*sm out of her before he broke.

“Oh, gods -” she gasped, clinging to him as he kept up the harder, faster pace, the rickety frame of the dorm bed squeaking insistently underneath them. “Astarion - you’re going to make me - I’m -”

That was as far as Jen got before she let out a high-pitched keen, descending into a low moan as she spasmed around his length. He rammed into her a few more times before he followed her over the edge, groaning. Astarion collapsed on top of her for a moment and then thought better of it, carefully pulling out of her and dropping down next to her, trying to catch his breath.

She rolled her head in his direction, meeting his eyes, and then they were both laughing helplessly.

Jen smacked him on the chest, shaking her head.

“Ow! What was that for?” Astarion yelped, dodging as she attempted to slap his shoulder.

“You -” slap - “have -” slap - “RUINED -” slap - “ME.”

He started laughing, holding his arms up to fend off her slapping. “Darling, I did promise I would take good care of you.”

“I didn’t expect that,” she huffed, swatting him one last time for good measure. “Gods. You are such an asshole,” she grumbled.

“I mean, I could have just gotten myself off and rolled over and gone to sleep,” Astarion offered.

“Oh, f*ck you,” she said.

“I did.”

“Astarion.” That earned him another slap, this one to the side of his head.

He grinned at her, reaching over to run his fingers through her hair. “Well, I don’t know about you, darling, but I enjoyed myself.”

She huffed at him, glaring, and finally said, “Gods. I did too.”

“That physically hurt you to admit, didn’t it.”

“Yes, you asshole.”

He chuckled, still brushing his fingers through the thick silkiness of her hair. “Do you still want me to stay?” he asked.

“Astarion, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I already asked you to stay earlier. And we just finished f*cking. Yes, I want you to stay.”

Astarion shrugged at her. “I never assume, darling.”

She rolled towards him suddenly, burrowing into the hollow of his shoulder, tugging the fluffy black blanket up around them.

They were quiet for a minute, and Astarion finally said, “Are you good?” He kissed the top of her head, wrapping an arm around her.

Jen hummed against him happily. “Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” she said, chuckling quietly. “Gods.”

“Apologies, darling,” he teased, tapping his fingers down her back lightly.

She snorted. They fell quiet again for a minute, and Jen finally whispered, “I don’t hate you. At all.”

“I know.”

“Thank you for making sure it was a good experience,” she said, her voice so soft he could barely hear her.

He tightened his arm around her shoulder before kissing the crown of her head again, fingers trailing through her hair. He closed his eyes, and with Jen’s slight weight tucked against him, he slept.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Astarion woke up the next morning rather disoriented; he was crammed into a tiny dorm bed that was not his own, and it was still nearly dark outside. Next to him, Jen was curled up against him, her head tucked into the hollow of his shoulder, her hair a wild tangle of dark waves over his arm. He glanced down at her sleeping face, smiling a bit before he leaned down to kiss her forehead. He shuffled into a more comfortable position, pulling the blankets back up over them, and buried his face against her hair, breathing a sigh of contentment against her.

“Starion?” Jen murmured, still sounding half-asleep.

“Go back to sleep, love, it’s not even light out,” he whispered, brushing her hair back.

“Mmm,” she mumbled, rolling on top of him, her body pressing down into his insistently. He smoothed a hand down her back, cupping her ass, and groaned when he realized how hard he was.

Jen had apparently realized it too; she made a tiny noise of surprise as his co*ck twitched against her thigh. “Oh,” she said, a hand running down his arm.

“It’s got a mind of its own in the morning,” he grumbled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What if I want to worry about it?” she asked, slowly grinding down against him, making them both gasp at the sensation.

“Your - f*ck, Jen, that feels good - call, love.” She was still grinding on his length, hands exploring his chest, his shoulders, his arms restlessly.

“Can I - like this?” she whispered, untangling herself from him enough to plant a knee on either side of him and sitting up slightly.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I am more than happy to let you do the work,” he teased her. He groped towards the nightstand, fingers snagging the foil of a condom package. He hesitated, then said, “Let me touch you, first?”

She flushed, ducking her head. “I…don’t think that will be a problem,” she said, catching one of his hands and guiding it down to the apex of her thighs. She was still balanced on her knees above him, and he slid his hand between them, groaning when he felt how wet she was.

“Gods, Jen,” he marveled. “I haven’t even done anything.”

She ducked her head more, hiding behind her hair. “I was having a very good dream, all right?” she grumbled.

“Oh, were you, now?” he asked, circling her cl*t slowly with his first two fingers.

She whimpered, rolling her hips down against his hand. “Yes,” she gasped.

“And what exactly were you doing in this dream?” he murmured, sliding his fingers down to press into her, his thumb against her cl*t. She moaned, rocking against his hand, slowly f*cking herself on his fingers.

“I was -” She stopped, gasping for air. “I was on top like this. But not your fingers,” she whispered, blushing again.

“I can stop if you want,” he offered, before starting to roll his thumb against her cl*t every time she rocked against it.

“Oh, f*ck -” she managed, picking up speed as she rode his hand. “Gods. Please don’t stop, you’re going to make me come -”

“Good,” he whispered, moving his thumb faster. Her breath caught, and then she shattered around him, falling down to his chest and moaning as she spasmed around his fingers.

Jen laid on his chest for a minute, trying to catch her breath, and Astarion ran his hands down her back before gathering her hair up and pulling it back slightly. She finally sat up, backing up somewhat and letting her eyes wander up his body. She reached a tentative hand out, gripping his co*ck, and gave him a slow stroke, her eyes flickering up to his face uncertainly.

“Is this - is this good?” she asked anxiously.

“Like this,” he said softly, covering her hand with his own and increasing the pressure and speed. “Gods, yes, like that -” he groaned, his head falling back as he let go of her hand, letting her take control. “Just like that,” he encouraged her. She kept stroking him, and Astarion finally groaned, reaching down to still her hand. She looked up at him, biting her lip, and he said, “If you keep that up, this will be over in the next minute.”

“Oh,” she said, looking rather proud of herself. He chuckled, groping for the condom and rolling it on before beckoning to her. She shuffled back up, positioning herself over him before gripping his co*ck with one hand, the other balanced on his chest. Jen slowly sank down, her eyes widening at the stretch and feel of it from this angle, while Astarion moaned, his hands on her hips to steady her.

“sh*t,” she whimpered, sliding down the last inch or two until she was resting on his thighs. “That - oh. That’s good,” she gasped.

“Very,” he managed, struggling to hold still. “Are you good?”

She nodded before giving an experimental roll of her hips, a hand on his chest, the other groping around until she found the hand on her side, clinging to it. She rolled her hips again, and this time her head tilted back, a throaty moan escaping her.

He gave her a minute to find a slow rhythm, and then started moving against her, drawing a string of curses from her. “Astarion - oh, f*cking hells -”

Astarion gave a breathy chuckle, sliding a hand between them and tweaking her cl*t every time she rolled forward.

Jen straight-up wailed as he did, her thighs clamping against him tightly, and she started moving faster, chasing her org*sm relentlessly. He could feel her clenching around him occasionally and he groaned, the fingers of his free hand digging into the soft skin of her hip.

“Come for me,” he pleaded, nearly begging. “Please, Jen, I’m about to come -”

That was apparently all she needed before she exploded, spasming violently around his co*ck as she fell forward onto him, wordless little whimpers and moans of pleasure streaming from her throat. The feel of her clenching around him undid him, and he pulled her close, his co*ck throbbing and pulsing inside her as he came.

Jen laid on top of him, looking vaguely stunned. He managed to brush her hair back so he could see her, smiling at the f*cked-out look on her face. “Come here, love,” he murmured, rolling them to the side so he could pull out of her carefully before disposing of the condom. That done, he flopped back down next to her, chuckling as she immediately attached herself to his side.

“That was really f*cking good,” she finally mumbled, patting his chest. “Really good.”

He kissed her forehead, brushing some renegade strands of dark hair out of her face. “It was really good,” he agreed.

“Can I go back to sleep?” she said, already sounding halfway there.

He chuckled, a wave of affection rolling over him as he looked down at her. “Absolutely,” he whispered, ducking his head to kiss her.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Jen was pressed against him, her breathing deep and steady within minutes as she fell into a sound sleep.

Astarion wasn’t so lucky.

What the f*ck are you doing?

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling of Jen’s room, an arm still wrapped around her. Some part of him felt like he had made some sort of terrible mistake; another part was still feeling nothing but post-sex bliss. He had a peculiar feeling he’d used her, somehow, to distract himself, and the more he considered that, the worse he felt.

Then again, she’d agreed to no strings attached.

And yet - there was something in the way she was wrapped around him, in the way she’d yielded to him so completely that - well, quite frankly, it did things to him.

He felt wanted. He felt needed. And gods, if that wasn’t the most potent combination in the world to him.

I am so f*cked.