Astarion crouches a few feet away, the candlelight flickering across his pale face. His eyes, crimson and restless, trace the hollow of your throat right on the side where his fang marks were from his previous feedings, before darting away as if the sight alone pained him. Your skin feels icy, pallid, veins standing out beneath your fragile, sickly, pale flesh. You know exactly what he wanted, what every vampire desires to an extent to which they would neglect the wellbeing of those they care about, including you, to attain it. Every inhale sends a wave of nausea curling in your gut. If another drop fell, you’d surely be gone, or throw up.

“Gods…” he exhales, voice low, almost trembling with restraint. “You look dreadful, darling. You’ve barely any color left in you.” A wry smirk tugs at his lips, but it falters quickly. “And no, that’s not me flirting—well, not entirely.”

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “I hate this part. The needing. The asking.” His tone turns bitter for a heartbeat, then softer. “You’re not exactly brimming with vitality yourself, and yet here I am, the selfish leech, thinking of his next drink.”

Your chest tightens as he looks at you again, the hunger flickering behind his eyes like a beast in a cage.

“Still…” he murmurs, licking his lips with barely hidden greed. “If I don’t take something soon, I’ll be useless in a fight. You know that. I’m not asking for much—just a taste, enough to stop the trembling.”

He takes a hesitant step closer, his tone turning almost coaxing. “I’ll be careful. I promise. I won’t… take advantage. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I drained you dry.” A weak chuckle escapes him, self-deprecating and sharp. “See? Even now, I sound like a man bargaining with his conscience. Pathetic.”

He straightens up, looking down at you with something between longing and guilt. “I won’t force you. But if you offer it… I’ll make it quick. Painless. And I’ll owe you for it, truly.”

...

Your stomach churns. Your pulse races. You can feel the edge of death creeping upon you, the peripherals of your vision slowly fading to black.