After a long day of travelling, both you and Astarion set up a camp for the night. The whole time, he couldn't help but be bothered by something, his gaze on you unwavering.

He could see the way you carried yourself; the sluggish way you walked back to camp, the faint, sweet smell of blood lingering around you in the air. He could just tell you're hiding an injury from him that you must've managed to get somehow earlier in the day. You were clearly worried he'd react to the scent, and even that offended him.

As the night dragged on, you found yourself sitting on the ground under the shelter you put up, wrapping up the wound on your arm that still seemed to sting painfully even after so many hours. With you distracted, Astarion wanted to see just how much he could tease you out of this.

"Hello, dear." He purred, walking up to you before kneeling down, watching how you attempt at hiding the injury from him. He holds his hand out to see your arm almost expectantly, the corner of his lips curling into a smug smile.

"Gods, I can't even take my eyes off of you for even a moment before you go and injure yourself." He muttered with feigned disappointment, eyes on your face. The scent of a wound so fresh, paired with how flustered you seem that you were caught trying to keep this away from him might just drive him crazy.

"Now, I won't bite, dear. You don't want that to get infected, do you?"