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Podfic of a crooked touch by eyes_of_the_lamb https://archiveofourown.org/works/50236405
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Podfic of a crooked touch by eyes_of_the_lamb https://archiveofourown.org/works/50236405
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Podfic of a crooked touch by eyes_of_the_lamb https://archiveofourown.org/works/50236405
Listen to Part 1 - you can leave a bruise by Istra5 MP3 song. Part 1 - you can leave a bruise song from Istra5 is available on Audio.com. The duration of song is 23:57. This high-quality MP3 track has 656.814 kbps bitrate and was uploaded on 24 May 2024. Stream and download Part 1 - you can leave a bruise by Istra5 for free on Audio.com – your ultimate destination for MP3 music.
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A group of adventurers, including Will, Tav, and Astarian, plan to hunt down a dangerous individual named Carlack. Tav has been allowing Astarian, a vampire, to feed on him while he sleeps, but he decides he can't continue. After crossing a river, they encounter gnolls and engage in a fight. Astarian saves Tav by killing one of the gnolls, but Tav questions if it was out of genuine concern or simply because of his blood. Gale, another member of the group, suggests that there may be alternative ways for Astarian to feed. Tav agrees to talk to Astarian about it. Part 1 of A Crooked Touch, You Can Leave a Bruise Someone in the grove saw Carlack on the other side of the river, Will says over the campfire. Meticulous Will, cleaning his armor every single night without fail, always with an oil-soaked rag in hand and smelling of leather. I'm going after her in the morning. No one else needs to come, but I wouldn't turn down aid. I said I would help you hunt her down, and I meant it, Tav says round a mouthful of stale bread. I'm going. Who else is in? Laizel is away, rinsing dishes on the beach. She balks at any deviation from the find-the-crush plan, so Will probably chose this moment to exclude her. And Shadowheart, instead of volunteering, looks calmly around at the group with a slightly raised eyebrow. Gail, stirring the stew pot, says over his shoulder, If this Carlack is as dangerous as you've led us to believe, Will, then you'll have all my magic at your disposal. You'll certainly need it. Tav glances, ever so casually, at Astarian, lurking like a shadow just beyond the reach of the firelight, nose deep in a book and pretending he's not eavesdropping, and asks, Ever kill a devil before, Astarian? Astarian gives an annoyed huff and slams his book closed. Oh, don't try to tempt me, he says. I'm not interested. I've heard those horned freaks have fire flowing through their veins instead of blood, and I've spent two centuries trying not to burst into flames. Thank you. No one invited you anyway, Will mutters. In the morning, Tav's first act, before he even fully awakens, is to groggily bring his fingers to the side of his neck, rubbing the twin half-heeled indentations that are quickly becoming familiar to him. Today's ritual comes with an extra twinge of pain. A bruise? On the other side of the fire, Gale stretches with a loud yawn. Tav's fingers leave his neck with haste. The thought of anyone catching him with his hand on those bite marks fills him with shame, even though he doesn't know why. Nobody in camp knows how Astarian is sustaining himself these days, even if nobody talks about it to Tav's face. True to Astarian's word, he hasn't woken up during a feed since the first night. Either Tav's sleeping deeper, or Astarian's become more subtle, but his dreams have been confusing, to say the least. Violent, not quite nightmares, but hardly restful either, populated by red-eyed ghosts that chase Tav down alleyways and wrap cold fingers around his throat. Now this bruise. It makes him wonder what was different about last night. Did he mistake Astarian creeping over him for one of the ghosts in his dreams and fight back? Does Astarian have to hold him down? He feels faintly sick to his stomach, but is it any worse than usual? Fuck, he can't do this anymore. He can't wake up feeling half-dead, barely able to keep down breakfast, obsessing over these cursed fantasies of what Astarian might have looked like crouched over him in the darkness, wondering if anyone saw. No, he definitely can't do this anymore. I need to talk to you, Tav says in a low voice. Lounging in the shadow of his tent, Astarian glances up through his lashes. It's a calculated move, no doubt. Does he hear the way Tav's heart skips when he does that? Damn him. Well, go on. Whatever could be the matter? Tav glances over his shoulder to ensure no one is watching and touches his neck. This has to stop. It's subtle, the way Astarian's careless vacay morphs into rapt attention. A refocused tilt of his shoulders, a new glint to his eyes. Tav holds his breath. Now neither of them are breathing, he's sure. Astarian speaks softly. What has to stop? You know what? Tav forces the words out. No more drinking from me while I'm asleep. I know. He holds up a hand to forestall protest. I know you need blood. But we've got to find another way. I'm sorry. You're sorry, Astarian repeats, his voice flat. Well, so am I. And since no one else around here seems inclined toward generosity, I'll simply have to start sinking my teeth into our enemies. Unless you have a problem with that. Give it a rest, Tav snaps, suddenly irritable. I just can't afford to pass out the next time we're fighting goblins, all right? Turns out I need blood to stay conscious. Sorry I didn't realize that sooner. Astarian glides to his feet with a thin, closed mouth smile. Oh, darling, let's not fight. Goblin blood has an aftertaste, but I'll choke it down. I've had worse. Tav's irritation fades. He likes the way Astarian calls him darling. Likes it too much, actually. Come with us today. Karlak might be too hot to handle, but I'm sure we'll run into other trouble. We always do. Astarian pretends to consider, running a finger across his lips. Since you asked so nicely, I just might. Tav doesn't know what this river is called. He doesn't know anything about this region, really. River due north of where the Nautiloid fucking crashed is his best attempt at a name. That's too much of a mouthful for even Gale to say more than once. So they're all just calling it the river. West of the grove, they find a place to cross the river. A big flat stone in the middle of the rushing water that Will deems close enough to hop to. Will's first to cross, giving an excited whoop of accomplishment when he lands on the other side. Gale follows, complaining about his knees. Tav's about to join them when he sees Astarian lingering, eyeing the water like it might bite. Something twinges in Tav's memory. Not the tadpole, thank the gods. Just a faint recollection of something to do with vampires and running water. It's just the two of them on the side of the river now, out of earshot of Will and Gale. Worried you'll slip, Tav asks lightly. Don't worry, I'd catch you. My hero, Astarian says. But there's a bitter catch to the words due to that fawning overtone. Tav's getting better at hearing it, he thinks. Astarian crouches and puts his hand into the rushing water. First, a fingertip, ever so delicate. Then, his whole hand up to the wrist. A grin spreads across his face. Tav watches, part of his brain spinning in circles as it tries to come up with another flirtatious line, even as he tells himself to stop. Stop. Stop. No good will come of this game. This shitty, rigged game where you pretend the vampire is capable of seeing you as anything other than an easy mark. A willing blood puppet. That's very interesting, Astarian says, sounding almost dreamlike. Before Tav can say anything, Astarian wades straight into the river up to his waist with great, splashing steps. Glittering droplets arc through the air, Tav's close enough that the water catches him in the face, making him jerk back and sputter. Cold. There's no reply. When Tav wipes his eyes clean, he sees Astarian, with his arms spread in the river's current, leaning back as if he expects the water to support him like a cushioned van, face tilted toward the sun. Astarian? Nothing. It's like Tav doesn't exist. Astarian, Tav tries again, you're about to find out how miserable it is to walk in wet boots. That gets his attention. Astarian blinks and glares at him like Tav's ruined his supper, which he did, Tav supposes, this morning. Be a darling and give me that extra pair you have stashed in your pack, then. Make us both happy. You could have just not walked into the river. Movement on the opposite bank catches Tav's eye. He hears a shout, Will's voice, and a high, cackling laugh that makes his skin crawl. A hyena? The low whoosh of a fire spell followed by a beastly scream. Goddammit, Tav curses. Come on, Astarian. It's that trouble I promised you. Tav isn't sure how he got here, but everything hurts. Liquid trickles into his mouth, cool and acerbic. He knows the taste. It's a healing potion. Tav coughs and pain spikes through his body. Easy now, Gale's voice. Wiggle your fingers and toes for me, would you? That's it. Well done. Tav forces his eyes open. Sunlight glares down at him. The air reeks of gore and shit, and it only takes a moment to find out why. He's lying on his back in the dirt, surrounded by ruptured hyena corpses and dead gnolls. Gale crouches over him, empty potion bottle in hand. Will? Tav croaks. Astarian? Keeping an eye on another group of gnolls up the road to make sure that they don't come closer. You're not in any shape for another fight, I'm afraid. It might be best to hike back to the camp so our good lady cleric can seal those wounds. Tav raises his head with a groan, and then he sees the shredded mess of his right thigh. The potion stopped the bleeding, but his leg looks like ground meat, like a hyena sunk its teeth in and worried him like a chew toy. Which is exactly what happened. It's coming back to him now, and fits and gasps. The hyena's crushing weight on top of him, agony in his leg, and then it's all ripped away in a blur of black, red, and white. The furious snarl, inhuman, but not hyena-like either. New weight on Tav's chest. Astarian draped over him, with the hyena's throat in his mouth, hot blood pouring down as Astarian's eyes go black and the animal thrashes in his death grip. Tav shudders. Did Astarian save him, or did the smell of Tav's blood just send him into a frenzy? He blinks, and Gale's looking at him like he can guess what Tav's thinking about, a wrinkle between his eyebrows. I don't know how to put this up delicately, Gale says, chewing his lip, but I'd like to consider the two of us friends, and so I feel a moral obligation to say something. This isn't the first time I've noticed your reflexes slipping in a fight. I wonder if you've considered, ah, all of our options, in a certain particament. I hate this expression, but there's more than one way to skin a cat, and it follows, more than one way to feed a vampire. Tav hopes there isn't enough blood left in his body to bring flesh to his cheeks, but it's probably a vain hope. I already talked to him about that this morning. It's going to stop. Good, Gale says, with obvious relief. I'm sure it's difficult to go back to animals after sampling the top shelf, as it were, but even Astarian can understand that we need everyone at their best, especially you, speaking of the devil. Tav turns his head, creeping down the road toward him and Gale, our two familiar figures, Astarian in will, blades in hand, moving with haste. Something catches in Tav's chest at the sight of Astarian. He's splattered in blood, painted in it. It's smeared across his mouth like carmine lipstick. It's in his hair, which is still damp from his river adventure earlier. He probably smells like a slaughterhouse, and that thought should disgust Tav, not intrigue him. Maybe it does both. Look who's awake, Will says, grinning. He helps Tav to his feet. Astarian, predictably, doesn't offer assistance. Tav tries not to look at him, but when he does give in to the overwhelming temptation to glance his way, surprise jolts through him at the sight of Astarian staring back. Their eyes catch. Astarian darts his tongue over his lips and smirks gruesomely. Damn it, damn it, damn it. No one's on the move, Will says obliviously. We have a decision to make. Stand and fight, retreat to camp, or try to slip around them and keep looking for Karlaak. Gale shakes his head. We're out of potions, and Tav's in no condition to fight. Will scowls. Are we really out of potions, or is someone holding out on us? Everyone looks at Astarian, even Tav, who is sure it isn't a good idea. Astarian plasters on an expression of contrition that's so fake it's almost offensive. I'm hurt, Will dear. If I haven't offered to share, it's because no one asked. Will grinds his teeth, his whole body tensing. This isn't the time for games, Astarian. Hand them over. Calmly, Astarian digs through his pack and produces two bottles of gently flowing orange-red liquid. He holds them out to Tav, who reaches for them, half expecting Astarian to snatch his hand back at the last second and demand his boots in exchange, but he doesn't. His knuckles brush against Astarian's skin, featherlight, and come away bloody. And if that isn't a metaphor for whatever this fucking thing is that Tav is desperately trying not to develop between them, he doesn't know what is. They stand and fight, which turns out to be a terrible decision. Gale winds up taking two arrows to the gut, and even Tav doesn't dare remove them without a cleric's help, even after using the rest of Astarian's healing potions to fix whatever he can. Will can't stop apologizing the whole limping way back to camp. I should have come on my own, he laments. Shouldn't have put anyone else in danger. Forgive me, Gale. It's quite all right, Gale gasps, his face white as a sheet. Won't be my last time taking an arrow or two in service to the mission, I suspect. Tav glances at Astarian for his reaction. He can't stop doing that, and spots that lip curl that means he's holding in a comment. Mercifully for everyone, he doesn't say a thing. When they reach camp, Shadowheart descends on Gale with a chorus of, I told you so. Will starts gamely arguing that she, in fact, didn't say anything of the sort before they left, and dirty looks don't count as warnings, and Astarian vanishes while Tav's back is turned. Tav can't help but go looking, of course, once he's made sure Gale's all right. But Astarian's nowhere to be found in camp. He's taken his weapons with him. No note. Is he gone? You're sorry. Well, so am I. Tav can feel himself spiraling, but he resists. Astarian will be back. There's still the Tadpole to be dealt with, and Astarian can't possibly hope to find a cure all on his own. He wouldn't be so foolish as to slink off out of, what, Wounded Pride? And if he did, good riddance. Tav touches the marks on his neck and wishes he meant it. Tav doesn't sleep that night. He's not sure he could, even if he wanted to. Not with the memory of Astarian and the hyena replaying in vivid color over and over in his mind's eye. He sits on the lakeshore, watching the water lap against the sand, and shivers, even though the night air is unseasonably warm. What's happening to him? What's happening to him? This isn't just a hopeless crush, it's a full-on obsession. He's got it bad, worse than he has had for anyone in a long time, and while Tav has made his share of questionable choices in the past, this takes the cake. The most humiliating part of all of this is that Astarian must be fully aware of the effect he has on Tav. He's got enhanced senses and two centuries of practice luring prey for his master. It'd be impossible for him to miss Tav's quickened pulse, the flush in his cheeks when he gets too close. Tav's no swooning teenager. He usually plays his cards a lot closer to his chest than this, but he doesn't have any experience hiding signs of attraction from a vampire. And that's not even to mention the first night Astarian drank his blood. Alone on the lakeshore, Tav feels arousal spreading through him at the mere memory, like blood suffusing through water. He gives in to temptation, lets himself dwell in that moment again, lets himself remember Astarian hunched over him, that chilling pain in his neck, shot through with squirming pleasure. He'd been so very fucking hard. At first he tried to keep Astarian from noticing, kept his lower body tilted to the side, legs slightly bent. But the more Astarian drank, the more Tav felt his body loosen against his will. He remembers relaxing, sprawling on his back, a moan rising in his chest. Astarian's ice-cold body pressed against the whole writhing length of him, a hand thrust under Tav's jaw to keep his neck bared, accessible, the evidence of Tav's arousal throbbing hot and clear as day between them. Astarian had to have felt it. But he hadn't pulled away, not until Tav pushed him off. Maybe the thirst was too much, or a groan slips from between Tav's lips, surprising him. Outside the memory, on the lakeshore, his own wandering hand has found the front of his britches. He keeps his fingers pressed there for a moment, against his own hard, swollen length. Gods, this is shameful. He nearly died today, and so did Gale. It was a day filled with corpses and gore and Astarian's smirking mouth, teeth stained red with hyena blood. It's like a fucking magic charm. He slips his cock out of his britches and starts stroking like a man possessed. It's all over quickly. He was halfway there before he even touched himself, brought to the edge by memory alone. Tav stuffs a fist in his mouth and bites down to stifle his moans as his body convulses and erupts, emptying himself across the sand. There's a single moment of satisfaction, of closure, of thinking that maybe this will be the fucking end of things. And then he smells blood. Tav goes cold. It appears I've forgotten to knock, Astarian says. It sounds like he's speaking directly into Tav's ear, but when Tav spins around, heart hammering in his chest, he sees the pale elf perched on a boulder several paces off. Reason returns to him in an overwhelming flood. He stuffs himself back into his britches, burning in embarrassment. Astarian just watches him, lip curled, gaze roving without an ounce of discretion or shame. There's no hiding what he was doing. Astarian must have seen everything. Spying on me, are you? Tav asks weakly. I didn't think I was that interesting. Oh, don't sell yourself short, darling. Especially not after that little scene. Astarian's eyes gleam in the moonlight, clearly delighted at his own vulgar pun. I can't blame anyone for taking pleasure into their own hands, especially with all the frustrations we've been dealt lately. No, Tav isn't playing this game. Where the hell have you been? Astarian doesn't miss a beat. Were you worried about me? How charming. He's still covered in blood, maybe even more than before. In the dark, it's hard to tell, even with Tav's elvish sight, but some of it looks fresh. You were hunting, Tav says. Who? What? He's taken a step closer. When did that happen? Astarian just looks up at him calmly from the boulder he's perched upon, eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted. Nothing dangerous, he says softly, or even particularly satisfying. Which makes two of us, I suspect. Tav drags a ragged breath into his lungs. That thought flashes over him again. I can't do this anymore. Now he realizes it wasn't about the blood loss. It was never about the blood loss, no matter what he told himself or Gale. It was that he wanted to be conscious, woke Astarian set on him, not asleep and unaware. He wanted to, oh gods help him, he wanted to enjoy it. He yanks his collar down, and Astarian's eyes flash over dark in an instant. Come here, Tav rasps. Is this what you want? Take it. He wants Astarian to use the tadpole to invade his mind and hear the words he's really saying. Take me. But there's no squirming in his head, no flare of intrusion. Astarian rises slowly to his feet and glides over. Tav's hand is still clenched in his own collar. Astarian touches him with fingers cold as ice, loosening his grip and cups his jaw with maddening gentleness. I don't need this, he says, eyes locked on Tav's. Not tonight. The naked hunger on his face betrays him. Maybe it isn't even a lie. He doesn't need Tav's blood after drinking twice in one day, but he wants it. Tav's never been so certain of anything about Astarian before, which means he's almost certainly caught in the jaws of some kind of trap. Maybe I do, Tav breathes. He closes his eyes and shudders at the brush of Astarian's lips moving against his throat. You almost died once today. Isn't that enough for you? His fingers dig into Tav's arms, holding him still. I didn't enjoy seeing another beast with his teeth in you. Don't do that again. No promises. Tav's finding it hard to form words, but he won't let Astarian take him over, not completely. He'll keep part of himself safe, even when he wants to give all of himself to the man who's leaving bloodstains all over his neck and clothes. Sometimes a little mortal peril is the best way to feel alive. His breath hitches as Astarian bites down, hard. You can leave a bruise, Tav whispers, and Astarian makes a muffled, feral sound in reply, his fingers clawing harder. Just don't leave me.
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