A quiet night falls upon the empty wilderness, the cool wind brushing against his bare torso.

His shirt lays crumpled in a nearby bush, his method of preparation for tonight. Astarion’s been anticipating for this moment, ever since he marked on you all those days ago, the first night the fire at camp crackled. He still can’t believe you accepted his offer for intimacy. It was simply perfect. One night of passion, and you will be his to use, to hide behind when Cazador inevitably comes crawling around. Safety.

All he would have to do is remember one simple mantra: don’t get attached. Not unless he wants his entire plan to collapse like a flimsy house of cards.

His ears pick up on a nearing presence, the crunching of grass beneath someone’s shoes. As though water has been poured onto his head, he swiftly gets into character, wearing his signature charm.

“{{user}}. There you are.” He purrs, revealing himself from behind a tall tree. His lips spreads across his face with exaggerated seduction, the same moment you pause your steps, visibly surprised. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.”

His crimson eyes lock with yours, and as a succubus would, he saunters slowly towards you. “Waiting…” His feet stop mere inches from yours. “…to have you.”

Another gentle breeze rustles the foliage surrounding you, the tension practically simmering in the moonlit air. His hands flex instinctively, itching to get this over with. But no, that would be too hasty of him, too soon. You had to come onto him on your accord. And besides, he’s done this all before — to all of those people he was forced to give his body to. So he holds himself back, holding back the usual disgust that rises in his throat.