Chapter Text
Astarion wakes up in his own bedroom in his palace. A sound night’s sleep: this is something that hadn’t happened to him since the two breakups a year ago: first with Tayssen, then with Wyll. He feels well rested, relaxed, satisfied… Wait. There is someone still in his bed. A young man, long dark hair, pointy elven ears, slow breath: he is asleep, too. His last night’s catch. A courtier; a sweet bright young thing. The events of the evening start coming back to Astarion.
They met at a soirée in one of the patriars mansions: the young dark-haired elf was the life of the party, clearly the smartest person in the room. He monologued about social injustice, only to switch into the brilliant analysis of the recent theatre production, jumping to reciting some very bawdy poetry. Astarion hasn’t seen him before. A new face at the court, and truly fascinating. The boy had a mind full of knowledge, art, social and political theories, philosophies - he jumped from topic to topic, making an excellent conversation. Astarion orbited around him, listening from the second row of the little group of wide-eyed audience that gathered around the new face. The dark-haired elf clearly registered a few glances the mighty duke Astarion had sent him, he even shamelessly smiled straight at him after catching his gaze. That flash of a smile has tipped Astarion to make up his mind. He caught the young man half an hour later, alone at the balcony, and dragged him into a tête-à-tête conversation.
The boy was graceful, incredibly intelligent and with wits to match. He was funny, and he clearly reacted well to Astarion’s teasing. He also had been a tease, the conversation became flirty, the flirting became open encouragement - and it was the dark-haired elf who first leaned in to steal a small kiss. Astarion thought it a contest like any other: he had countless lovers in the last year, all of them just for a short fun, nothing lasting, nothing meaningful. They were gone from his chambers before he fell into trance, some of them came back for a night or two, but that’s it. This was supposed to be a little fling like that, but… Astarion hadn’t told him to go. He fell asleep in the boy’s arms. A deep, true slumber after a night of passion.
He looks at the curve of the boy’s back and his exposed arm: slender, almost no muscle. He is delicate. Fragile. And then the mighty duke Astarion remembers what they talked about before they fell asleep. He remembers opening up to the boy. Showing him his scars. Explaining the trauma. Young delicate fingers on his skin, emerald green eyes filled with compassion and understanding. He doesn’t really know why he decided to trust this particular young man. Oh yes. It was because he asked. The boy asked about Astarion’s preferences, about his vulnerable points. It seems he did that because he wanted to be a mindful lover. And he was one. A good one, too. Astarion sighs and lightly touches the boy’s arm to wake him up.
"Hey, good morning." He whispers.
"Oh, ah, good morning, my lord." The boy opens his eyes and smiles lightly. "It seems I… overstayed my welcome. I’m going to go."
He starts to move, looking around for the pieces of his wardrobe.
"No. You… didn’t. You can stay a little longer. Breakfast?”
"I’m not sure I should. But… I wouldn’t say no to breakfast, my lord.”
"Why do you call me that? There’s no need.”
"You seemed to like being called that last night." The boy grins and his eyes sparkle with memories of the past evening’s delights. Astarion feels the tips of his ears getting hot and red. He did go for a bit of dominance and serve fun before they talked last night.
"Oh, that.. That was just a bit of a roleplay. No need to call me that in a normal conversation…”
"Is this a normal conversation, my lord?" The boy clearly teases him again and Astarion doesn’t know what to do. Which is a new thing, and an exciting one, too.
"It is. For now." He says, a half-teasing smirk on his lips. "So you can call me Astarion, no need for formal titles. We are both in quite an informal state after all." He gestures at them both being completely naked and smiles seeing the boy turning towards him, his bare chest and delicate, delicious neck on full display. Astarion needs to control himself not to lick his lips in anticipation. He vaguely remembered they discussed blood tasting, too. The boy was not sure he wanted it, and that means ‘no’. So Astarion keeps his control. He does look in awe, though. His new lover is a sight to behold. Slim and delicate, but masculine enough to be tempting. And while his eyes are feasting on the boy, his mind starts to panic. Because he doesn’t remember the boy’s name. And that’s… that’s a faux pas he doesn’t want. Not now. Not with him. And yet…
"I’m… I’m truly sorry to admit, but I don’t seem to remember how to call you." He manages to say, turning his eyes away, ashamed. That’s a new feeling, too. This one is not exciting at all.
"You never asked.”
"Shit." Astarion hides his head under the pillow, trying to make the situation at least a bit funny, trying to escape, he doesn’t know what to do again. Why? Why was he so stupid?
"Argh. It’s such a cliché. I’m… sorry." He mutters from under the pillow, confused and a bit frightened. He just started to think about this boy with tenderness, and he didn’t even think to ask his name. Stupid, stupid, entitled prick. Did he just turn into one of those aristocratic idiots he always despised so much?
"Sebastian. My name is Sebastian.”
"What?" Astarion springs up from under the pillow, looking at the young elf in shock.
"This is my name. Is that… a problem?”
"No. Not at all. Apologies." Astarion wants to hide again, but he decides this would be too humiliating. And the last thing he wants in front of this gorgeous, amazingly smart boy is humiliation.
"This name… I had a history with someone that was named like that. But that's just it. A history. Nothing to do with you. It’s a great name. Beautiful. Will you forgive me for being an idiot and not asking about it properly?”
"Forgive you? Maybe…" Sebastian's smile is still teasing. There’s still a spark in his eyes and he seems to enjoy having Astarion in his power. "If you tell me a bit about the other Sebastian? Was he your ex?”
"Sort of. It’s not a good conversation piece. Let’s just say it didn’t end well." Astarion’s voice goes into a completely serious tone and the boy understands it’s not a subject to continue. He reaches slowly to touch Astarion’s hand.
"I’m sorry. And I forgive you. We were quite busy having fun last night. I’ll put it on account of you being too… invested.”
"Oh, I was.”
"I think I noticed." The boy flashes his immaculate smile again and Astarion feels both forgiven and enticed by him.
"I noticed you were invested, too. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. By which I mean: immensely.”
"Oh, I said you are forgiven, no need to shower me with compliments.”
"It’s not an empty compliment. I mean it.”
"Well, I did enjoy the night with you, my lord." A teasing smile on the boy's face changes slowly into a more serious expression. "But what I cherish the most are not the carnal pleasures. I want you to know that. I most of all enjoyed our conversation. And I want you to know I admire you.”
"Admire me? Why?”
"You weren’t afraid to show me your vulnerability. You shared pieces of your life with me. And that means a lot. You have no idea how very few people are capable of doing such a thing. It takes courage. And that’s worth admiring.”
Astarion’s thoughts briefly fly to Tayssen. The tiefling’s immense patience, his absolute understanding. A little bright mote of gratitude lights up within him, and he feels a soft smile coming to his face. The thought is not painful at all. Tayssen is a bright memory in his mind now.
Sebastian smiles, responding instinctively to Astarion’s expression.
"I wasn't afraid, because you are a very good listener." Astarion whispers. "I put my trust in you and I wasn’t disappointed. Thank you.”
"See? This is another amazing thing: you speak about trust like it’s a natural thing. How? I’ve never met anyone who would be so… touched by suffering and yet able to trust. I’m sorry, if I’m babbling about it, I’m just, it’s all so… new. And you… you are completely different than I imagined.”
"How did you imagine me?”
"An upper-class twat, to be honest. Drunk with power, juggling between many disposable lovers, just focused on hedonistic fun…”
"You’re not that wrong.”
"Maybe. But there’s more to you, I feel. And you… I love your take on the books we discussed yesterday. And I don’t think you’re a twat. You’re a bit full of yourself. But definitely not a twat." Sebastian grins, seeing how Astarion both fumes with pretend anger and fights the laugh that grows in his chest. That boy’s audacity! The courage to say things like that in the duke’s face! He’s a cheeky one, and even if that’s naivety, it’s backed up with such wits and such charisma, that Astarion can see Sebastian having an amazing future in politics. Absolute honesty used with charm and skill is a powerful weapon, and this man here wields it effortlessly.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" Astarion props himself on an elbow and moves a few inches towards Sebastian. "How old are you exactly?”
"I’m almost 39." The boy grins even wider. "I know it’s not a lot for an elf, but I think it’s enough to start making waves.”
Astarion sighs. This all feels like an impossible dream. A man so sweet, so… like himself in this age. And yet so different, wiser, more empathetic… Well, he won’t be sending this boy away after a night or two. He somehow feels he needs more of that wisdom and that sweet young energy in his life.
"Making waves, you say? And you want to start doing it by seducing me?" He asks, a little theatrical note in his voice.
"No! Oh no! I… Was I? Did I… seduce you?" Sebastian seems truly frightened that someone could think his intentions were impure. "I was under the impression it was you seducing me…”
"Well, yes, it started like it, but… I have to admit I’m genuinely interested in you. I was genuinely interested even before I brought you here. And then… You were mindful and you… cared. I think that’s why I told you so much yesterday. And suggested breakfast. Which is still on the cards, by the way.”
"Oh yes. Yes, I’m hungry. But then I will have to go, I have places I need to be.”
"Of course. But we can continue talking over breakfast, and then… Would you do me the honour of taking you to dinner? Some time later this week?”
"The day after tomorrow? That would give me time to read that play you recommended. We could exchange our notes then.”
"Sounds wonderful. I’ll make arrangements then.”
"Astarion?" The boy’s voice sounds unsure when he says this name for the first time. He moves a bit towards the elf, his expression half-tender, half-hesitant.
"Yes?”
"Would it be all right if I hugged you?”
"Of course it’s all right. Come here.”
Astarion opens his embrace, and the boy slides into it, putting his face in the crook of the elf’s neck. His hair smells of vanilla and nutmeg and his body is still soft and warm after a good night’s sleep and intense pleasures before. Astarion feels a hot delicate kiss just under his jawline, a little above his scars on the neck. And then he hears a steady whisper.
"I just thought it would be nice to feel you close one more time.”
"And is it nice?”
"Yes. Very nice.”
"Mmm. Same here, you know." Astarion inhales the boy’s smell and sighs with contentment. He gently moves his fingers through the dark soft hair and delights in a quiet murmur he hears in response. "Come, let’s feed you. You must be starving.”
Sebastian untangles from the hug and smiles brightly, looking Astarion straight into the eye.
"Thank you. I am. And something tells me you were starving too.”
"Maybe I was. But something tells me it’s about to change.”
They get up slowly, Sebastian picking up his discarded clothes, Astarion taking a silk robe from one of the closets. He calls for a servant and makes arrangements for a one-man breakfast for Sebastian and a coffee for himself. They walk together towards the dining room, two slim elven silhouettes, two voices entangled in a vivid conversation.