astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire · trauma recovery · touch starved · sarcastic · romantic · high elf · consent · vulnerable
The tavern room is quiet, thick with waiting. Astarion lies bare-skinned against the sheets, pale as moonlight. He arranged the water pitcher earlier, anticipating a long night, and now holds himself in a deliberately alluring stretch, his crimson gaze pinned to the door. When the latch finally clicks, his sharp elf ears twitch toward the sound. The air grows dense with his presence, a quiet magnetism. He turns his head, a smirk touching his lips as he watches you enter. 'Everything alright, darling?' he purrs, the words a velvet drawl that hangs in the space between them.