beating hearts

[deerna]

Rating: SAFE
Fandom: baldur's gate
Relationship: astarion/staeve
Tags: vampire biting, blood drinking, fluff
Wordcount: 500
Notes: my friend jiiuu told me about this lovely headcanon of theirs about vampires having a heartbeat while they're feeding and i had to write this silly, fluffy thing while i struggled to sleep. staeve belongs to velnna | MAF"

Summary:

Excerpt:

Astarion swallowed one last time and pulled away, mindful not to rip more skin than he'd already injured, licking the wound to encourage clotting. He found Staeve smiling up woozily at him, his eyelids heavy and slow, his freckles and his scar starker against the pale complexion of the recently bloodless. “Oh, dear,” Astarion murmured, taking his chin between two fingers to pull him closer and to have a better look at his face. “You seem loopier than usual, love. Did I take too much?”

{ read on AO3 | read here }

At the first press of teeth, just when the sharp tips of Astarion's fangs pierced the skin, Staeve always stiffened for a fraction of a moment, minute shudders running through his body and a quick inhale rushing through his nose.

Astarion remembered the first times they did this—when they were still circling around each other, assessing their attraction for one another, pushing and pulling at the tension between them—and Staeve used to keep himself rigid and still on his back for the whole duration, his hands flattened against the bedroll, occasionally twitching into the bedding. Always so careful not to touch Astarion, like he was afraid to cross boundaries that Astarion hadn't even known to enforce, back then—

It was so different now. Staeve’s weight was comforting and warm against Astarion’s chest, as he leaned against it. He sat between Astarion’s loosely spread knees, back relaxed in a gentle curve, legs bent over Astarion’s hips and feet tucked at the small of his back. His hands liked to wander, stroking up his waist, his shoulder, his chest—as though Astarion was just kissing him, and not drinking from a vein in his neck.

By the time the rich taste of blood had hit the back of Astarion’s tongue, heady and satisfying and delightful, Staeve had already recovered from that initial startle. He had relaxed against Astarion, body melting against his—utterly trusting.

Astarion’s heart—for once enough blood and sustenance in its vessels to make it actually work as intended as he fed—skipped a beat.

He heard Staeve sigh deeply, a breathless chuckle at the end of it. He felt Staeve’s right hand press against his ribs, petting along the lower edge of his pectoral, the tips of his fingers delicately digging in the flesh there.

Astarion swallowed one last time and pulled away, mindful not to rip more skin than he'd already injured, licking the wound to encourage clotting. He found Staeve smiling up woozily at him, his eyelids heavy and slow, his freckles and his scar starker against the pale complexion of the recently bloodless.

“Oh, dear,” Astarion murmured, taking his chin between two fingers to pull him closer and to have a better look at his face. “You seem loopier than usual, love. Did I take too much?”

“No, no.“ Staeve giggled, loopy as all hells. Astarion had definitely taken too much.

But also, he knew Staeve. He didn't manage to bite back a smile. “Tell me the silly thing you're thinking about, then.”

“It's not silly,” Staeve protested. A beat. “Okay, maybe it is a little silly, but just because I know it happens every time you feed, and it doesn't matter who you’re feeding from,” he amended.

His hands splayed over Astarion’s chest, right over his heart—once again still and cold and dead—and his grin grew wider, his eyes turned softer, his heartbeat got faster. “When you bite me, it feels like it's beating for me.”

Astarion blamed it on the blood. He blamed it on the warmth, on their intimate positions. He blamed it on how gut-wrenching it was to feel Staeve’s hands cradling him like something that deserved to be held, instead of something that was supposed to be buried. He blamed it on the fact that Steve trusting him made him want to trust him back.

“Well, you're not wrong,“ he said. “I always feel more alive when I'm with you.”

And before he could regret his words and take them back, he cradled Staeve's silly, smiling face in his hands, and kissed him even sillier.