Astarion x M!Reader

Forty-Five

The beating of his heart was up in his throat as Cazador pressed his chest into the curve of Astarion's back. One hand grabbed his wrist, forcing him to drop the bow while the other wrapped around his chin to twist it up until a sharp pain pierced his spine.

Cazador wasn't as tall as you but tall enough to look over Astarion's shoulder. There it was, this disgustingly twisted smirk, so sure of himself yet so pleased by the fear that shimmered in his preys red eyes.

Deep down Astarion was convinced that he didn't even need blood to survive. He feasted off this fear with far more pleasure and satisfaction than any blood could have given him.

His touch was cold, so different from yours. It felt like it burned a frostbite into his neck to leave a mark for all of eternity.

"What?", Cazador's voice crept into his ears like a rat into pilled up trash, dug deep for something to chase its teeth into until something would soothe the desires. "No hello? What a shame, I had assumed you were one of my well behaved spawns. I had trained you so well."

The hand that held Astarion's wrist loosened, wandered to his chest and all the way down to the hem of his pants. He couldn't move, could not resist as he grabbed a hand full.

Before Astarion had shared a bed with you his body would have reacted to this unwanted touch nonetheless. He had been a slave to Cazador in both body and mind.

His flesh had been weak to the poison that his control was. But now he had tasted an antidote, something that had given him a different view of things.

Astarion had felt pleasure through your hand. He had felt loved, he had wanted to be with you and his body had obeyed that choice.

With Cazador it was different now.

"Leave me.", he hissed, teeth clenched and started to fight against the influence of his masters powers.

His mind was dizzy and his limbs tired. It felt like he's had too much wine. With the different that he knew exactly what was going on.

He could feel Cazador linger in the back of his head, his claws buried in his brain to pull at whatever string he needed to make him obey.

Astarion cut one of those strings.

Cazador frowned. His hand froze, came to a rest just right above his crotch. A breath escaped him, long. Almost surprised.

But surprise was something that couldn't irritate him for long. Thin, black eyebrows drew together as displeasure appeared inside the red of his iris.

"Say that again.", it wasn't a request but an order, combined with the most threatening tone a man could speak his words with.

The grip on Astarion's chin tightened. Sharp nails dug into pale flesh, deep enough to create two crescents. Warmth kissed his skin as thin strands of blood ran down his neck. It was caught by his collarbones.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Astarion fought back the pain. He wouldn't fear, not anymore. He didn't have to for he knew that you would not allow Cazador to harm a single hair on his head.

Even though the beating of his heart pounded against the bones of his rib cage he steeled his mind. Red eyes met red eyes.

Resistance and displeasure collided.

"I said...", Astarion pushed his foot into the space between Cazador's legs, turned his ankle and kicked the side of his masters knee cap as hard as it was possible for him. "Let. Go!"

A grunt escaped the vampire lord's thin lips as his leg gave in and he stumbled to the side. It was a simple attack, a foolish excuse of an attempt to make him fall.

It wasn't the strength that send him stumbling back. No, not at all. If anyone else had tried to pull this prank on him he would have laughed and sliced some throats.

But this was different.

This was Astarion who attacked him, his precious little dove that had been so obedient, so well trained for all these years.

This was the first time he had attacked him. Ever.

Taken by the surprise, Cazador took a shaky step back. Astarion struck the opportunity and freed himself from his claws, tore his head to the side and jumped away.

As he did so, sharp nails scratched across his chin, leaving deep scratches of red. Some oozed with blood while the feeling of a fire licked across his jawline.

The stench of iron was in the air.

An uncomfortable kind of dizziness made his steps shake as he tried to head for the shadows in hopes they'd somehow call you to his aid.

Blood ran down his neck while fear tied his throat once more.

Weakness.

Why in the name of the Absolute did he have to be weak right now?

The last bit of Cazador's influence tugged at the back of his brain, paralysed his legs and made his lungs contract. Air got stuck in his throat. His hands rose to grab it, desperately trying to get rid of this pleasure that tried to choke the last bit of existence from his undead flesh.

Tears filled his eyes, turned the world watery before him. It felt like he was drowning while air was all around. So near yet so far.

"You little bastard!", never before had Astarion heard Cazador speak in this kind of voice, shrill and dripping with anger.

Every word was like poison that dripped from his tongue. It lay on his skin like water, seeped into his flesh and made his bones crumble.

Astarion wanted to vomit.

This wasn't the same. This wasn't what Cazador's powers had felt like before. It was worse, so much worse as if he had lost that last bit that had made him manageable.

Now there was nothing to hold onto in this sea of pain, no lighthouse to lead the way, no shore that could make hope grow in his chest.

Choking and trembling he fell to his knees. Soft grass met his face as he collapsed. The salt of his tears made the wounds along his jaw burn like hellfire.

In one last, desperate attempt Astarion reached out for the shadows. The tips of his fingers caressed them.

"I- I don't... want to die...", he begged, his voice not even a whisper anymore.