Sickeningly sweet - JoCeption - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Night had long since settled over camp. Another day filled with running and harrowing fights pulled everything back to their bedroll rather quickly. To his credit, Ikaryas did his best to talk their necks out of most tight-edged situations, yet every once in a while, the man’s mischievous mind ran his mouth before he could be stopped and the idiot got himself pelted into another wall. It was those moments which dragged up doubt as to why the Tiefling had been named leader of their group of misfits yet despite any questionable stupidity, the loyalty of the party never wavered far enough. For all his recklessness, the man had proven himself to be deeply caring, determined and cunning.

He had also, to Astarion’s misfortune, portrayed an impressive restlessness. He spent most nights staring off into the darkness surrounding their camp. At first Astarion had assumed some deep-seated paranoia yet his eyes gave away no hint of distrust, instead a deep storm of emotion seemed to rage within them in the few hours shielded by the night. He cared little for its meaning when the whole behavior meant no moment of privacy as soon as Astarion exited his tent. Privacy, which he would have very much liked to use for a proper hunt. As it were, he had managed to catch and drain a boar early on into their travel but by the time he had returned, Ikaryas’ blank stare had greeted him. The man had yet to approach Astarion about it but it was certainly only a matter of time before that particular weight came crashing down in him.

Now, for the first time in days, Ikaryas had been exhausted enough to disappear into sleep with the others. Ideal timing for Astarion, if he could actually get up and hunt. As filling as the boar had seemed in the moment, between all the running they did throughout the day and the number of times Astarion had gotten hit, the blood had run out long ago. And no matter how skilled a healer Shadowheart was, even she could not replenish blood which was never his to begin with.

Astarion was used to going about his night starving, he had perfected the nonchalant act to never let anyone in on the pain constantly eating through his body. However, he never had to endure such long-lived levels of exertion. How he had not yet fallen off a cliff was beyond him and this evening he had just barely managed to shrug off his armor before collapsing onto his bedroll. He had not moved an inch since then, staring out of his tent opening once the others had eventually retreated into their own quarters. The possibility of going out for a hunt had long since vanished. Even if he managed to drag himself far enough into the forest, he was in no condition to actually catch anything and Astarion would rather not burn his remaining energy by fruitlessly chasing after prey. The thought of what would happen in the morning if he failed to leave the tent without collapsing had haunted his mind for days now.

However…he supposed there could be one more option. His eyes slipped back to the still-burning fire, illuminating his companions’ tents. Ever since the thought had gripped him just around dinner, his mind had been fighting with the prospect of that particular imagination. He shouldn’t, probably. Should he? What was stopping him, aside from the deep trepidation gripping his bones? Even now, Cazador’s command was echoing in his mind. But it felt hollow, faint, just as distant as any compulsion he would have felt ever since leaving the Gate. His mind hardly paid them any notion now and faintly Astarion wondered how much of that was the hunger clawing at his throat and how much his own determination. He liked to think he was being incredibly self-determinate and clever, if only because he wasn’t charging into the matter blind with desperation.

Lying motionless in his tent for hours had given Astarion ample time to consider his options. Biting Karlach was out of the question for obvious reason. The same went for Gale who may just manage to give him food poisoning. Lae’zel would strike him down before she even fully awoke. Similarly, Shadowheart would most certainly smite him where he stood and Astarion was not yet desperate enough to bite their monster hunter. That left one very easy choice.

Ikaryas had pitched his tent not too far from Astarion’s, the cover pulled aside to allow for an easier view of the sky. Stalking closer, Astarion could see how the other man had sprawled out over his bedroll. Ikaryas had a habit of stretching along the entirety of his tent, his arms folded beneath his head which in turn had been practically buried in his mountain of pillows, exposing the delicate curve of his tender neck. It was ridiculous how perfect he looked right then.

Kneeling down over the still body, Astarion was hit by the persistent scent of wildflowers which clung to the body, the sensation growing almost suffocating as he carefully leaned in. The rich scent of the blood engulfed his brain, leaving no room for hesitation as he leaned down and- “Good night to you too.”

sh*t.

Stumbling back, Astarion locked eyes with a very unimpressed Ikaryas. “You know, I really do prefer your advances when I’m awake enough to enjoy them.” “This isn’t what it looks like”, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, “This isn’t what it looks like! I just needed, well, blood.” Rip it off like a bloody bandage. It was too late now either way, best to hope Ikaryas didn’t wake the entire camp right away. A strange look passed Ikaryas’ eyes. Astarion wondered what he saw, studying him as intently as he did now.

“You look like sh*t”, Ikaryas whispered, forcing Astarion to step back towards his tent to hear him at all. He bit down a sharp remark towards the entirely unsolicited comment in favor of not getting a stake run through him. So far, the other man had made no move to attack him but Astarion knew better than to let himself fall into that sense of security. “When was the last time you ate?” What? Ikaryas’ eyes had yet to betray any intention of harm, the crease in his eyebrows only deepening the longer Astarion took to answer. “Just a little over a week ago. Not on any of our companions, mind you.” The crease did not ease, “I’d imagine you need to eat more often than that.” “No need for you to worry, darling. I’ve gone longer without.” He hoped his voice did not shake nearly as bad as it felt. While not outright cruel, such signs of weakness where scarcely heeded favorably by the other man.

Ikaryas stared past him into the darkness, though what he hoped to see Astarion could not decipher. After a torturous stretch of silence, his golden eye returned to bore into his. “You need to eat. You wouldn’t have risked getting caught if you had any other option”, the crease made room for an entirely too honest worry, “I would have helped if you had told me sooner.” The words shouldn’t have surprised him as much as they did, reckless fool that Ikaryas was. He tried to shake off the odd sensation creeping below his chest, “Yes well, the matter is hardly good dinner conversation.” A smile quirked up pink lips at the words but Ikaryas did not respond further, simply patting the place next to his bedroll. When Astarion made no move to step closer, he let himself fall back into his pillows with a heavy sigh. “What did I just tell you? Come on”, he lightly patted his throat with a grin, “Dinner’s ready.” Was he serious? Astarion hesitantly knelt back down next to him, waiting for the other shoe to drop yet Ikaryas did nothing but wiggle to get himself comfortable, that infuriating grin dimmed into an unbearably soft smile. “I may not be able to stop”, Astarion warned. Even know, the other smelled intoxicating and his mouth watered at the thought of sinking his fangs into the soft unmarred skin. “I’ll stop you”, Ikaryas sounded entirely unbothered. Oddly enough, Astarion believed him.

Before he could reconsider, Astarion leaned over his body and sunk his fangs into the neck. He faintly perceived Ikaryas stiffening beneath him with a groan before the body went slack against his, the foreign heat seeping into his body. Then the blood filled his mouth and all thoughts ceased. The cloying taste was utterly divine, a lushness which pervaded every sense and sent bolts of heat shooting through his body. It slipped down his throat thick as honey and twice as sweet. A welcome blissfulness filled his mind and he sunk into the warmth engulfing him.

A pressure against his chest pulled him from the sensation, the faint call of his name ripping Astarion away from the form beneath him. Clarity flooded his mind as he leaned over Ikaryas. The hot pink skin of the Tiefling had adopted a far paler shade, his eyes threatening to slip shut already, yet his flaming gold iris stayed trained on Astarion. He rose quietly, aware of the power coursing in his muscles, his senses sharper than he could ever remember. He was more sated than he could have dreamed. Logic demanded he go hunting while he could, yet he doubted any prey would be as full-filling as the man before him.

Still, he turned towards the woods, all-too aware of the eyes still burning into his back. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”