These Cursed Hands (Touch Me With)

"I thought you might like it," I spoke so softly I worried the wind had carried my words away, but Astarion faced me, one eyebrow quirked in curiosity. My gaze flickered over to him, then swiftly away. "You do like it, don't you?"
"Yes, I do." There was a warmth there, in his voice. Not the melted chocolate, sun-warmed honey kind he could turn on and off at will, but something fonder. Clearer. Like the tinkling babbling of a stream and the rustling of leaves.
"Good, then."

An Astarion fic that begins the night he tries to feed from you. First person female reader. (Cross-posted on ao3)