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bellanouva9

5 months ago

Chapter 15: A hunger crueler than bloodlust

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue, Chapter One; Chapter Two, Chapter 3, Interlude Chapter 4 Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Interlude 2 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 , Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, flashbacks to sexual violence, discussions of sexual violence, dubious boundaries, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 116k

Warning: SMUTT, Heavy BDSM Play!

Status: Ongoing

Chapter 16: Oct 2 2024

Song of the Hour:

Red Room - Bryce Savage

Entire Story Link on AO3 Spotify Playlist AO3

After the Cut!

Chapter 15: A hunger crueler than bloodlust

Astarion led Sima through the grand halls of his palace, the air thick with a quiet urgency. Vampires flitted about like shadows, their presence a mere whisper against the ancient stone. Their eyes flicked toward him in deference, but they lingered on Sima, drawn to her like lost souls hungering for the light. Curiosity simmered beneath their gazes, envy curling like smoke. And in some, something far darker stirred—a longing to possess what they dared not approach. Sima stood out, a jewel in their midst, glowing against the cold, pale hues of the vampire nobility.

Astarion, acutely aware of the eyes on them, moved with deliberate grace, as though the palace itself bent to his will. Every glance cast her way only strengthened his resolve. She was his now—part of this empire, whether she realized it yet or not. Each step was regal, his posture composed, betraying none of the urgency thrumming beneath his calm exterior. The palace was his stage, and he was its ruling actor, commanding every glance and whispered breath. His power was absolute, and yet, tonight, he sought something more. He wanted her to see it all, not just his dominion—he’d give her this world. But the final say would always be his

Through winding corridors and hidden passages, Astarion revealed the full extent of his reach. Beneath the city, his network of spies slithered through the Under City’s labyrinthine tunnels, gathering secrets only a vampire lord could possess. They passed vaults lined with glittering treasures—gold, jewels, artifacts from centuries past—proof of his wealth and influence over the nobility of Baldur’s Gate. He painted vivid portraits of their future with words laced in silk, of ruling together, their “benevolent” reign absolute. Yet, his crimson eyes sought hers often, the charm on his lips masking a deeper hope for approval.

As the evening darkened, Astarion’s touch lingered when he brushed Sima’s hair aside, his fingers grazing the curve of her neck, a deliberate tease. "The night wanes, my sweet," he purred, that velvet tone steeped in rich intent. "Shall I show you the rest of what belongs to me?"

A quiet chuckle slipped past his lips as he led her toward his private chambers, away from prying eyes and the reach of judgment. This, above all, was his sanctuary. Here, behind these walls, he could indulge the desires he had kept locked away from the world. He wanted her to see everything—the things no one else had ever been allowed to witness.

Sima’s eyes sparkled with amusement, her lips twisting into a knowing smirk. “Another bedchamber? What makes this one worth the theatrics?”

Astarion’s smile widened, wicked and familiar, his pale lips curling with rakish charm. The same smile that had seduced countless others before her, though none had ever stirred him the way she did. “Nothing… save for what unfolds here.” He whispered in lustful and dulcet murmurs.

He pushed open the door, revealing a room steeped in sin. Opulence cloaked in debauchery, indulgence disguising the darker truth—that every inch of it was designed to demand obedience. The crimson velvet bed gleamed under the dim light, framed by gold-threaded pillows. Black silk curtains wrapped the room in shadow, cutting them off from the world beyond. The walls, adorned with hedonistic murals, whispered of forbidden pleasures, and along the edges of the room hung the tools of indulgence—restraints, whips, and finely crafted toys, each piece as exquisite as it was dangerous.

Astarion’s gaze never left her as she took in the sight. The pride in his smile was unmistakable. He had always delighted in the dramatic, but this room—this sanctuary of decadence—was the purest manifestation of his desires. “I thought it was time I had a proper playroom,” he said, his voice carrying a thread of amusement, but beneath it lay something deeper, hungrier. “No more hiding in caves. This is my domain now, and nothing here is out of reach. Including you.”

Sima stepped into the room, her fingers trailing over the silk sheets, feeling the cool, luxurious fabric beneath her fingertips. She had seen many sides of him before, but this... this felt like stepping into the core of who Astarion truly was—a place where control, desire, and power fused into one. Even as she let him lead, there was a thrill in knowing she could still say no. She let out a soft laugh, her fingers brushing against the silk restraints on the bedposts. “I see you’ve expanded your collection.”

Astarion’s smirk grew, his gaze flickering over her with palpable hunger. “I have,” he purred. “No more limits. No more hiding. Only indulgence.” His eyes lingered on the violet and gold fabric of her embroidered blouse, the way it hugged her figure, laying beautifully against her rich brown skin. “Nothing I will deny myself.”

She met his gaze, her dark ringlets cascading down her back as she leaned against the bedpost, fully aware of the effect her presence had on him. She could see it in the way his breath caught, how his crimson eyes roamed over her, momentarily lost in the sight. In this moment, she held a kind of power over him, one that made her burn with satisfaction.

He moved behind her, his hands sliding over her shoulders, tracing the curve of her spine before pulling her flush against him. His breath, hot against her ear, made her shudder. "You're a vision… a masterpiece," he whispered, voice a low, dangerous growl. His crimson eyes gleamed with hunger. "The things I could do to you… they’re endless."

Sima locked eyes with him, her own gaze bold and teasing. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Astarion’s pulse quickened, a fierce, unrelenting desire surging through him. She awakened something in him, something that had lain dormant for centuries. The challenge in her eyes only stoked the fire inside him. His hands tightened on her waist as he leaned down, his lips grazing her neck. “Nothing… nothing but permission,” he whispered, his voice thick with unslaked lust.

Sima’s eyes fluttered shut, the tremor of his touch sending a pulse of heat through her, awakening something wild and untamed beneath the surface. His fingers traced the open back of her blouse, teasing her skin with each light touch. “Total permission? Is that what you want?” she asked, her voice breathless, knowing full well the answer.

Astarion’s lips hovered near her ear. 'Absolute and utter submission,' he whispered.

Astarion eased back just enough to catch her gaze, his smile darkening as a wolfish hunger flickered in his eyes. “You’ve no idea what you’ve set free,” he whispered like a dangerous caress.

Sima’s confidence never wavered. She met his gaze, her voice a daring whisper. “Show me. You have my permission.”

Astarion surged forward, as his body crashed against her and devoured her lips. His hands curled possessively around the small of her back, pulling her flush against him as his other hand tangled in her hair. The kiss was fierce, a collision of need and power, as his tongue sought hers, and together, they fell into the heat of their connection.

Sima moaned softly into his kiss, her body pressing against his, the heat of her desire burning through her. Her fingers raked across his chest, nails grazing his skin as she reveled in the feel of his taut muscles beneath her touch.

Astarion's breath hitched as he ripped the blouse away from her body, the fabric falling to the floor in a forgotten heap. He took his time undoing her slacks, savoring the moment, the anticipation building between them like a coiled spring ready to snap. She broke from his kiss, her lips trailing down his jawline, nipping playfully at his throat. Her own hands making quick work of his finery.

He growled softly, a low sound of approval, as his hands found the waistband of her pants. With one smooth motion, he slid them down her legs, his lips brushing against the curve of her hip as she arched into him, her body bending under his touch.

Astarion’s body burned and ached with a fever at her touch. Sima's hands moved across his back, her soft moans filling the air between them even as her hands found the ridges of his old scars. Her touch was fire, branding him, marking him as hers. He reveled in the feel of her beneath him, her body yielding to his as he pushed her back onto the bed.

Sima collapsed onto the silk sheets, her breath quickening in shallow bursts. Her gaze flicked to the restraints waiting for her, anticipation coiling in her gut. Red ropes, tied neatly to the four bedposts, awaited their turn. Her eyes locked with his as she lay there; her dark, mahogany skin gleaming in the dim light and her curves a delightful sight.

Her voice was a soft whisper, filled with challenge and desire, as she looked up at him. "Play with me?"

For the briefest of moments, Astarion’s crimson eyes flickered, though he quickly mastered his expression. The surge of excitement her words evoked threatened to surface, but he reined it in. This was a game, yes—but a dangerous one, and she had given herself so easily. His hand moved to trace the curve of her breasts, fingers lingering on the soft swell as he leaned down to breathe the next words out as a wanton hiss,

"Play, my darling? Oh, I intend to do far more than that tonight."

Sima moaned softly against his mouth, biting down on his lower lip as his hand latched around her breasts and his fingers expertly pinching her nipples. A mounting desire rose between them, her impatience growing as she ground her hips against his body. Would he tie her up? Blindfold her? Punish her? Her mind raced with anticipation, even as his kisses deepened, stoking the fire between them.

Astarion knew it was time to test her limits. He wanted to see just how far she’d let him push this. His hands moved with expert precision as he captured her wrists, binding them behind her back with the soft red ropes. She couldn’t escape now, her hands rendered completely useless. He stepped back, admiring his work with satisfaction before leaning in once more, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered in her ear.

"You're such a good girl, Sima. Such a beautiful, good girl, just the way I like you..."

Sima’s back arched, her dark ringlets spilling down her shoulders, framing her face as her body lay exposed—vulnerable, yet unyielding in its submission. The silk ropes around her wrists held firm, not too tight yet secure enough to remind her that escape was not an option. He fisted his hand into her hair, tugging her head back sharply, eliciting a gasp before he threw her back against the bed. Her legs were still unbound, and the only barrier between her and his lustful intent was the fragile black thong she wore.

Astarion didn’t hesitate. His hands explored her body with reverence, savoring every curve, every inch of her warm mahogany skin beneath his fingers. His lips grazed her ear, his breath a hot whisper. “You’re exquisite… I can barely imagine how divine you’ll be as a vampire. The deep brown of your skin, those perfect curls… utterly irresistible.”

The hunger in his voice was palpable, a deep, consuming desire that drove him to the edge of control. In one swift motion, he tore her thong away, leaving her utterly bare before him. Her legs were pulled back and tied to the bedposts, her wrists now secured above her head as he adjusted the ropes with deliberate care. Sima was spread open for him, a vision of raw, unrestrained desire. Astarion couldn’t help but smile, admiring the sight of her vulnerable and exposed.

There was nothing else but surrender left at this moment. She lay stretched across the bed, every stretch of soft flesh exposed in a way that made her heart race. Her wrists pulled against the ropes, testing their give. Even tied, she still had power in the way her hips arched into his touch, the way she forced him to wait.

Sima’s gaze met his, as he hovered over her, his expression dark with hunger that went far beyond mere need. He loomed over her like an artist before his masterpiece, preparing to shape her as he saw fit. She gave herself so willingly—far too easily for it to be real submission, he thought.

Astarion’s grin widened as he took in the sight of her, helpless and at his mercy, bound and ready for his pleasure. Her body was his to mold, and he reveled in it. Leaning down, he began to work her breasts with expert hands, caressing, kneading, and pinching the sensitive flesh, coaxing soft moans and whimpers from her lips. His mouth followed, tongue tracing her skin down her body, teasing her until she squirmed beneath him, utterly his.

Sima gasped as his tongue flicked between her thighs, her body arching as his hands continued their teasing play with her breasts. She glanced down the length of her body, watching him, her hands tied and helpless to stop the teasing assault. The torment of it—the way he brought her so close, only to pull away—left her breathless with frustration and want.

Astarion watched her closely, delighting in her every reaction. He reveled in the control he had over her, to make her beg for him. To him, it was all a dark performance—one he had perfected over centuries. And now, he was playing it out with the woman he desired more than any other.

With each soft moan that escaped her lips, he kissed them away, his teeth grazing her skin as mouth grew more demanding. His hands returned to her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples with more intensity, watching with satisfaction as her body shuddered beneath him. She was so sensitive, so eager for him.

Astarion growled, low and seductive, the heat in his voice meant only for her. His hands moved lower, sliding up and down her thighs, teasing her with every pass, his fingers brushing ever so close to her clit before pulling away again. The evidence of her desire was clear on her slick skin, a testament to the power he held over her.

"Look at you..." he purred, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "My perfect little slut. Filthy, aren’t you? But only ever for me."

Sima’s breath hitched as his fingers brushed her tender core, her body trembling. Caught by surprise she gasped as he hoisted her legs higher in the ropes, leaving her even more exposed. Astarion’s hand came down with a sharp slap against her ass, the sting making her body jolt, a sharp cry escaping her lips.

"Yes..." she breathed, her voice shaky with anticipation. "I like being yours."

Astarion’s eyes darkened with pleasure at her words, and he slapped her again, harder this time, watching as she groaned and hissed, stifling a moan. Power surged through him—intoxicating, undeniable—but it was her willing submission that felt like the ultimate triumph. He leaned in close and deeply commanded her, as the breath on his lips caressed her skin.

"Like being mine? Say it and mean it Sima. ‘I love being yours.’"

Her mind swam as she felt the power of his compulsion wash over her, her eyes glowing violet under the influence of his command. Her voice was soft, sultry, as she repeated the words, her tone mimicking his.

"I love being yours..."

Astarion’s hesitated a moment, taking in the look of her pure surrender. Then, as he snapped back into himself, his fangs grazed her neck as he released her from the spell, allowing her will to return. He craved her true submission, her real consent—but the echo of his whispered command still lingered in her mind, making the drip between her legs poor even more.

Sima blinked, momentarily disoriented, but as she looked up at him, tied and bound, her lips curled into a smile. She bit her lip as she watched him, blood still staining his mouth, the deep red glow of the room framing the scene in a perfect tableau of their shared depravity. He turned away, walking toward the wall of toys, a display of his intent that made her pulse quicken with excitement. She smirked as she observed him, like a curator selecting his favorite piece* “Well look who's so utterly satisfied with himself…” Her bratty tone mixed with the thrill of her desire.

Astarion grinned as he glanced back at her, his fingers trailing over the various implements hanging on the wall. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he considered his options, finally selecting a medium-sized paddle. He turned back toward her, his voice thick with amusement.

"Tell me... do you have a preference?" he asked, his voice teasing. "You've always been so good with your toys and playmates. Let me know what you want to explore. Let's have some fun, shall we?"

Sima’s eyes followed him closely, her breath hitching as he traced his fingers over the floggers and paddles. Her gaze lingered on the paddle in his hand, her body tensing with anticipation. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to ask for it.

"Please," she breathed, her voice dripping with both defiance and mocking submission. "I've been bad... I need to be spanked."

Astarion’s eyes lit up with delight at her challenge, savoring the bratty spark in her gaze. He could never resist that rebellious streak in her. With a wicked grin, he raised the paddle and brought it down with a sharp crack across her rear.

Sima’s body jerked in response, a cry escaping her lips as the pain seared through her, mingling with the intense pleasure that coursed through her veins. The sting left her trembling, her body arching toward him as her desire grew with every passing moment.

Astarion took his time, relishing each reaction, watching her with the intensity of a wolf cornering a fawn. Again and again, the paddle came down, each strike landing on fresh skin, painting her rear in a deep maroon hue, darker than the red of the ropes that bound her.

She groaned, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her hands tightened around the ropes. Her body arched with each strike, the mixture of pain and pleasure building into an unbearable tension. Every time the paddle connected with her skin, a new wave of sensation washed over her, each one more intense than the last. Her dark brown eyes fluttered shut as the dampness between her thighs grew. The sensation of his marks, left behind on Sima began an addicting ache.

Astarion was relentless, his strikes precise, his pace measured. He alternated the force and location of each hit, aiming deliberately toward the most sensitive spots—just above her clit, along her inner thighs—drawing out sharp yelps of rapture from Sima. Her body writhed beneath him, unable to escape the onslaught, her need palpable as the tension coiled tighter within her.

Her breath hitched as his hand slipped between her legs, his fingers brushing over her slick folds, teasing her mercilessly. The soft sounds of her soaked skin filled the room, a testament to the control he held over her. Every inch of her was his, and she couldn’t deny how much she craved this.

"You're such a filthy little thing," he murmured, completely wanton. "You love it when I make you beg, don't you?"

Sima whimpered, her body trembling as his fingers danced across her swollen bud, her hips bucking involuntarily toward his touch. She was so close now, the tension building into something almost unbearable, her need for release overwhelming every other thought in her mind. The torrent of feeling across her skin, left her only able to frantically nod.

Astarion’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction at her confession, his fingers sliding inside her now, curling just right to hit that hidden spot within her. He watched with dark delight as her body responded to him, her moans growing louder, her thighs quivering with every movement. His voice dropped to a growl as he spoke again, his breath hot against her ear.

"Come for me, Sima… Prove just how much you crave being mine."

Sima’s body tensed at his command, the words pushing her over the edge. Her back arched off the bed, her breath catching as her orgasm crashed over her in a wave of heat and ecstasy. She cried out his name, her body shaking as she came hard, her core tightening around his fingers, pulling him deeper into her.

Astarion watched her with wanton craving, savoring the sight of her falling apart beneath him. His own desire surged as he felt her body convulse with pleasure, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she rode out the last waves of her climax. He pulled his fingers out of her slowly, bringing them to his lips and tasting her juices with a wicked grin.

"You taste delicious," he murmured, a mix of potent lust and longing. "But don’t think we’re done, my love. The night is still young, and I’m far from satisfied."

Sima lay sprawled across the bed, her body slack in the ropes, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants. Her skin was flushed, glistening with sweat, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. But as she looked up at him, the gleam in her eyes hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger.

"Don’t waste another minute then" she whispered, her voice still tinged with defiance despite the exhaustion in her limbs. "Show me."

As Sima squirmed beneath him, her breath coming in ragged gasps, Astarion leaned over, his lips pressing softly against her neck. He trailed kisses and licks along her flushed skin, savoring the heat she exuded. His fingers slipped between her thighs, teasing her slick folds, the wetness greeting him with a surge of desire. He smirked against her skin, feeling the tremble of her body under his touch.

Her cries grew louder as his fingers found her aching bud, relentlessly teasing her as she gasped his name. Sima was oversensitive and he knew it. Her deep brown eyes locked with his crimson gaze, full of unspoken pleas. Every brush of his fingers coaxed her closer to the edge, the pressure within her building, her body trembling with the promise of release.

Sima’s hips bucked desperately against his hand, her need palpable as she sought more—harder, deeper. She was so close now, her body tightening with every stroke, her voice breaking with frustration and desire. Astarion watched her with a hunter’s focus, his own desire barely contained as he relished in her vulnerability, in the power he held over her pleasure.

"Tell me what you want, darling," he whispered, his voice a low growl, laced with dark intent. His breath was hot against her ear as his fingers continued their relentless teasing, drawing her closer to that sweet oblivion. "Let me hear it, and I’ll give you everything."

Her voice broke into a desperate whimper, her body shaking with need as she bucked harder against his fingers. "Harder..." she gasped, defiance edging her voice. "And tell me those dirty things I love."

Astarion chuckled softly, amused and aroused by her defiance. His fingers moved faster, the pressure growing more insistent as he leaned closer, his breath sending electric shocks through her. His whispers turned filthy, each word dripping with condescension and desire, feeding the fire that burned within her. He reveled in her submission, the way she squirmed beneath him, her body completely at his mercy.

"Such a good little whore," he whispered darkly, his voice thick with lust. "You love it, don’t you? Being mine... utterly helpless."

Sima groaned in response, arching off the bed as his degrading words washed over her. Her ringlets spilled over her face as she bucked harder, grinding against his hand, desperate for more. His fingers matched the frantic rhythm of her hips, bringing her closer to the edge with every stroke, keeping her teetering on the precipice of pleasure.

Astarion watched her closely, his crimson eyes gleaming with pride and hunger as her body trembled beneath him. He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them expertly to hit that hidden spot that made her gasp. His whispers continued, taunting her with promises of more until she couldn’t take it anymore.

"Is that it?" he murmured, his voice a tantalizing tease. "Is that the kind of filth you crave? I can make you feel so much more, Sima... just tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll show you everything."

Her body shook with need, her frustration evident as she begged for more. "Yes... please..." she gasped, her voice trembling. "Keep calling me names..."

Astarion smirked, loving the way she begged, the way she writhed beneath his control. His voice was a dark whisper in her ear as he continued his filthy endearments.

"Such a good little slut," he purred. "You’re mine, Sima... always mine."

The words pushed her over the edge. Her body tensed, her hips lifting off the bed as her core clenched around his fingers. Her climax crashed over her like a tidal wave, her cries filling the room as her body shuddered with the force of her release. Her head fell back against the pillow, her body trembling as she surrendered to the tremors radiating through her.

Astarion drank in the sight of her with pride and wanton greed. The sound of her moans, the way her body moved beneath him, sent a surge of satisfaction through him. He pulled his fingers from her slowly, this time bringing them to her own lips to coat them in her slick.

Sima lay slack in the ropes, her skin glistening with sweat, her breath coming in soft pants. She watched him through half-lidded eyes, her body still pulsing with the remnants of pleasure. A soft whimper escaped her as his fingers made her taste her own spent desire.

For a fleeting moment, the familiar arrogance ebbed, replaced by something deeper—something tender. His smile lingered, though softer now, a trace of genuine pleasure in his eyes. His voice dropped to a near whisper, reverent in its softness.

"Such a good girl..."

The words barely left his lips before he leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as he savored the taste. The plush drag of their mouths full of heat and longing, as if neither of them could get enough of the other.

Sima pulled against the red ropes that ensnared her. Leaning forward with her body as she ached, to hold him, but the restraints kept her bound. She whined softly as he shifted on top of her, his stiff, unspent cock sliding against her folds languidly.

Astarion ran his fingers through her wild curls, his gaze never leaving hers. In that moment, something stirred deep within him—something more than lust, more than the thrill of conquest. It was a connection, a sense of completion that he hadn’t felt in centuries. It unsettled him, but he couldn’t deny it.

He leaned in closer, teasing her entrance with the head of his cock, and a soft whimper escaped his darling’s lips as the restraints prevented her from wrapping her legs around him as she craved. Desperation edged her voice as she pressed her lips against his ear, her breath warm, thick with need.

“I want you… fill me.”

Astarion’s restraint shattered in an instant. Her words, dripping with raw longing and insatiable hunger, stripped away his usual poise. His ruby eyes blazed with an uncontainable need as he thrust into her with a single, powerful stroke. His lips crashed against hers in a bruising kiss. Each flick of his tongue a promise that he would not stop until he had consumed her completely, until her pleasure had devoured them both.

Sima groaned deeply, the ropes biting into her skin as she pulled against them, her body desperate to move with him, to wrap herself around him and pull him even deeper. When he pushed all the way to the hilt, her inner walls fluttered and her throat caught before he began thrusting at a primal pace. Each collision of their bodies burned a fervor under her skin that only grew with each stroke. Their mouths remained locked, her tongue flicking against his fangs until she tasted the sharp tang of blood on his lips. The blood only fueled the fire between them, heightening every sensation, every thrust, every kiss.

For Astarion, this was the pinnacle of everything he had ever wanted. She, who was always so strong, now lay utterly helpless, surrendered to him, completely at his mercy. His hands gripped the sheets, his jaw clenched as his lips moved feverishly from hers to her neck, down to her collarbone. Everywhere he touched her, he claimed her, his desire raw and unrelenting.

His usual cool demeanor had long since vanished, replaced by a frenzied, animalistic rhythm. He kissed her hungrily, savoring the taste of her blood mixed with the sweet scent of her skin, his fingers digging into her flesh as he drove into her harder, faster, losing himself completely in the heat of their connection. Every moan, every gasp, every roll of her hips sent him closer to the brink, her body a perfect vessel for his darkest desires.

Sima whimpered against his mouth, her body moving with his in perfect, desperate harmony. Each thrust filled her so completely, stretching her to the point where it felt like she might shatter. Her core tightened around him, her hips bucking wildly as she felt herself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building, consuming her with each passing second. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her body undulating with the frantic rhythm they had created. She bit down on his lip, hard, drawing more blood as her moans softened into breathless gasps, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer.

Astarion’s hand moved to her throat, gripping it just enough to hold her steady as he kissed her deeply. Her moans, her whimpers, the way her silken vise gripped him so tightly—it was all too much. The pleasure surged through him, driving him into a frenzied rhythm, his every thrust pushing them both closer to oblivion.

Sima’s soft, desperate voice broke through the haze, her moan vibrating against his lips. "With me? Gods... I’m close..."

Her words shattered the last vestiges of his control. Astarion’s breath hitched, his body moving faster, his thrusts harder, more frantic as he pushed even deeper into her, hitting that hidden trigger inside her with precision.

"Yes... yes... yes..." he panted, his voice raw and desperate, each thrust sending them both hurtling toward their shared release.

Sima’s body arched off the bed as she cried out Astarion’s name as she broke against her own peak. Her core tightened around him, milking him with each tight flutter and her body trembling uncontrollably beneath his. Each wave of pleasure left her gasping for breath. For a moment, it felt like she was suspended in free fall, her mind blissfully empty, consumed entirely by the pleasure he had coaxed from her. Her eyes locked onto him as he chased her over the edge.

Astarion couldn't hold back any longer. Her cunt’s raw embrace, her cries filling the air utterly broke him, and he lost all control. Astarion let out a long, deep moan as he spilled inside her. He thrust into her with desperate fervor, riding the last waves of their shared ecstasy until he was utterly spent. The scent of sex, sweat, and her perfume leaving him heady.

For a moment, he lay there, still buried deep within her, his body warm and heavy against hers. It was a feeling unlike anything he'd ever experienced—an intoxicating blend of satisfaction, love, and relief. Astarion pressed his lips to her skin, but the warmth that lingered unnerved him. It wasn’t the heat of passion—it was something deeper, a softness that made him feel exposed. He told himself it would pass, but some part of him whispered that it wouldn’t.

Sima lay beside him, her body utterly relaxed, her wrists and ankles marked red from the ropes that had held her in place. The ache in her limbs was sweet, a reminder of how completely she had surrendered to him, how much she trusted him. She turned her head toward him, feeling the softness of his damp curls brush her cheek. Her breath was still uneven, but a contented sigh escaped her lips as she let herself sink into the moment.

Astarion’s arm snaked around her, pulling her close against his chest. He could hear the gentle beat of her heart, steady and soothing, her breathing soft as it lulled him into a rare sense of calm. It was a strange feeling—one he wasn’t accustomed to, but one he found himself craving more of. He closed his eyes, his fingers tangling in her wild curls as he held her close. In this moment, everything felt perfect, as if the rest of the world no longer mattered.

Sima’s voice broke the silence, a soft murmur still thick with the remnants of pleasure. "Astarion... I want to hold you..." She wriggled her wrists, trying to free herself from the ropes that still bound her.

Astarion didn’t respond with words, not immediately. Instead, he shifted his body, pulling her closer, his leg sliding between hers as he nuzzled into her neck. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet, wasn’t ready to lose the feeling of her warmth against him. She was still bound, and a small part of him enjoyed that—knowing that she was his, even for just a little longer.

Sima sighed, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Silly thing... my wrists and ankles are going to go numb if you don’t untie me."

Astarion grinned against her skin, his voice a soft murmur filled with amusement. "I’ll untie you, my love. But not yet." He pressed his leg more firmly between hers, his body wrapped around her possessively, as if he couldn’t bear to let her slip away from him. Not after what they had just shared.

Sima laughed softly, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. "Well, fine. I suppose you’re very cute right now."

Astarion chuckled, his lips trailing soft, lingering kisses along her collarbone. His breath was warm against her skin, sending little shivers of pleasure through her. He kissed along her neck, his fingers resting lightly on her throat, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin in lazy circles. It was a gentle touch, one that belied the intensity they had just shared, but one that made her heart race all the same.

Sima moaned softly, her body relaxing into his embrace. His kisses were disarming, tender in a way she hadn’t expected, and she found herself sinking deeper into the sensation. She had always loved the way he kissed her neck, the way his lips pressed against her skin like a promise. And as he kissed lower, she let herself fall into the warmth of the moment.

Astarion could feel the way her body responded, the way she leaned into his touch, trusting him completely. It stirred something deep within him, something that felt far too close to love. He smiled against her skin, knowing exactly what she was feeling. His lips moved in gentle nibbles along her throat, his thumb still tracing circles on her neck, feeling the steady pulse of her heartbeat beneath his fingers. The warmth of her blood called to him, and he knew he couldn’t resist it any longer.

His fangs descended slowly, a low growl escaping him before he sank them into her neck.

Sima gasped, the sharp pain quickly giving way to a rush of pleasure. She moaned softly, her body quivering in his embrace as his arms tightened around her. Bound and helpless as she was, she trusted him entirely, letting herself fall into the sensation as the warmth of his bite washed over her. She could feel his need, the hunger behind the bite, but more than that, she felt the tenderness in the way he held her.

Astarion drank slowly, savoring the taste of her blood. It had been so long since he had fed from her, and now, as her blood flowed into him, he felt an overwhelming sense of connection. She was more delicious than he remembered, her essence filling him with warmth and desire. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were dark oxblood pools of pure satisfaction.

Sima lay still, her body flushed, and her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps as she recovered from the bite. She was still tied, but there was a softness in her expression, a contentment that made him smile. Gently, Astarion began to untie her wrists; his movements careful to protect this precious thread of closeness between them.

As her arms fell to the mattress, Sima sighed in relief, her body going slack. She pulled at the ties on her ankles, and when they finally came loose, she leaned her forehead against his, gazing into his eyes.

"Relax," Astarion whispered, his voice soft as he kissed her deeply, his hands cradling her face. "You’re safe with me." There was no rush, no urgency now—just the sweetness of the moment, the quiet intimacy that lingered between them. And for the first time in a long while, he tried to infuse those words with every part of himself.

Sima kissed him back, her arms wrapping around him at last, pulling him close. Her legs, still shaking slightly from the intensity of their passion, managed to wrap around his waist. She held him tightly, needing to feel every part of him, to reassure herself that this moment was real.

"Say those words again," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with need. Those words meant more to her than anything else, more even than the pleasure they had just shared.

Astarion smiled against her lips, his gaze softening as he held her. "You’re safe with me," he whispered again, his voice low, tender, and full of conviction. The words were meant to comfort her, but deep down, he wasn’t entirely sure they were true. He wanted them to be—gods, how he wanted them to be. But could he really promise her safety, when the darker parts of himself still whispered otherwise?

He could feel the weight of her trust, the significance of those words between them. She had given herself to him completely, body and soul, and now, perhaps for the first time, he realized that this was more than mere passion. This was something that bound them together in a way that even he hadn’t anticipated.

She allowed herself to melt into his kiss, a deliberate surrender of control. She wasn’t simply swept away—she was making a choice, to trust him again, to meet him halfway. When their lips parted, she rested her forehead against his, gazing into his crimson eyes with a tenderness that only deepened.

"I love you," she whispered, her fingers curling into his damp white curls as she held his face in her hands.

Astarion’s breath caught in his throat as the gravity behind her words sank in. For a moment, the words caught in his throat. He hadn’t said them in centuries—hadn’t allowed himself to. But with her, it felt... right. Even if, deep down, part of him wondered if he could ever fully mean them in the way she deserved.

"I love you as well, Sima," he said softly, his eyes opening and gazing at her as if she was the entirety of his existence. He pressed another kiss to her lips, slow and gentle and his hand caressed her cheek as if she was more precious than any stone in Evereska.

Sima’s heart thudded in her chest as she gazed into his eyes, her hands still caressing his face. Every part of her wanted to believe, to trust in this love they had discovered together. But it wasn’t without its risks, its uncertainties. She knew the chaos it might bring, the complications of their lives, but she also knew, deep in her soul, that she was ready.

With a steadying breath, Sima held his face more firmly as she made her silent decision. She leapt headfirst toward the unknown, driven by the faith she had in him, in them.

She swallowed, her breath trembling but her resolve firm as she whispered, "Yes... Astarion. Yes. I'll do it."

For the first time in his long, cursed life, Astarion’s smile wasn’t marred by seduction or arrogance. It was honest, vulnerable, and real. He cupped her face in his hands, her name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer, "Sima…"

But deep inside, beneath the warmth of her acceptance, a flicker of uncertainty remained. Could he really let go of the power he had always craved? Could he share it equally? He wanted to believe he could. He loved her, didn’t he? Yet, some darker corner of his mind whispered: You will always have the final say.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of eternity. His gaze, always so sharp, softened as his lips enveloped her as she chose him in this moment. The lingering kiss spoke of everything he couldn’t say aloud—his gratitude, his awe, his love. This was no fleeting moment of pleasure. This was forever.

Sima’s conviction solidified in the press of their lips. Her hands tightened in his white curls as if anchoring herself to this moment, to the man who had offered her the world and challenged her at every turn. There was no turning back now, and the thought of it didn’t scare her. It thrilled her. This time, it would be different, a quiet refrain in her mind.

But as Astarion held her, the old instincts whispered again—control, dominance, power. Was he truly capable of this equality she demanded? Could she be his equal without threatening his carefully constructed rule?

When their lips parted, Astarion’s eyes glistened with a quiet intensity. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, his voice soft yet resolute. "I swear to you, on everything I am, you will never fear me again. I will never hurt you, Sima, not ever. You will always be free." But even as he said the words, a subtle shadow flickered in his mind—Free... but mine. He pulled her closer, as if the force of his love could silence the doubts gnawing at him.

The words hit her with a force she hadn’t expected. Free—the word echoed in her mind. It meant more now, after all they had been through, after the trust she had placed in him. But that wasn't enough. Her decision to embrace this life, to stand at his side forever, meant they couldn’t just be lovers, or sire and bride. They had to be more. They had to be equals, bound by choice, not chains.

She pulled back slightly, her dark brown eyes blazing with a fierce clarity as she held his gaze. "Astarion," she whispered, her voice trembling with both love and hidden fears. "If I give you all of me, if I step into eternity with you… we do this together. We’re equals. Equal in every way. I won’t be your shadow, your possession. I want to be your partner, standing beside you, not beneath you." This is my line in the sand. I won’t cross it, she thought. If I let myself be anything less than his equal, I’d be betraying everything I’ve fought for, everything I am. I’ve come too far, survived too much. He has to understand that. If he doesn’t...

Astarion blinked, the weight of her words settling over him like an iron blanket. In all the centuries he had lived, no one had ever spoken to him like this—no one had ever asked for equality. They had feared him, admired him, submitted to him. But this… this was different. This was power, real power, given willingly, not taken by force. And yet... could he let go of this gnawing, ravenous need for control?

He brushed his lips over hers again, this time slower, softer, as if sealing a pact between them. When he pulled away, his voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "Equal and free, Sima. Always."

But a small voice inside reminded him: Equal, yes—but still mine. Always mine, like a sick lullaby. Could he give her freedom and keep her bound to him? The thought twisted something deep inside him, but he pushed it aside for now. "Not my shadow, not my possession. My equal. My partner. My consort."

Her heart swelled, and for a moment, she almost let herself believe it completely. But even still her traitorous heart questioned in the shadows: could Astarion really give her what she needed? Or was she asking too much of a man who had spent centuries in chains of his own making?

She cupped his face again, her fingers curling against his sharp jaw as she whispered back, "Equal and free," she repeated, sealing it with a kiss of hope. "And together, we’ll have everything. No one will stand in our way."

Astarion’s smile turned wicked, the glint of ambition sparking in his eyes, but now it was shared—it wasn’t just his hunger for power, but theirs. Together, they would be unstoppable. Together, but still in the palm of my hand...

"Everything, my love. I swear it."

They had forged their bond in blood and fire, and now they would burn the world down together, equal and free—at least, as far as he could allow.

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bellanouva9

5 months ago

Chapter 16: You Await My Command…

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue, Chapter One; Chapter Two, Chapter 3, Interlude Chapter 4 Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Interlude 2 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 , Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, flashbacks to sexual violence, discussions of sexual violence, dubious boundaries, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 117k

Warning:

Hey everyone, just a quick note before this chapter. Chapter 16 explores intense themes of power dynamics, emotional manipulation, and dubious consent. Astarion and Sima’s relationship has always explored complex territory, but this chapter marks a darker shift, and it may be triggering for some readers. I understand this content can be difficult, and I want to encourage you to take care of yourselves as you read. This scene highlights the struggles and flaws in their dynamic, but I recognize it may not be for everyone. Thank you, as always, for your continued support of this story. If you need to step away or talk about anything after reading, don’t hesitate to reach out. Your well-being is always the priority. ❤️

Status: Ongoing

Chapter 17: Oct 11 2024

Song of the Hour:

Lovely: Billie Ellish and Khalid

Entire Story Link on AO3 Spotify Playlist AO3

After the Cut!

Chapter 16: You Await My Command…

Astarion sat back in one of the plush leather chairs in his study, his posture almost regal, one leg crossed over the other, a crystal wine glass filled with dark blood resting lazily in his hand. The deep crimson liquid shimmered in the soft candlelight, casting reflections on the polished wood of his desk. He took a slow sip, savoring the metallic tang on his tongue as his thoughts circled, ever returning to Sima. She was inescapable—her presence a constant undertow that tugged at the edges of his carefully laid plans.

A sigh escaped his lips, low and filled with a quiet, almost reluctant regret.

She’s stalling, he thought, eyes narrowing slightly. How predictable.

Her insistence on “time to sort her affairs” was a transparent delay. Astarion had seen through it from the beginning—had relented, yes, but only because he’d known that, in the end, it wouldn’t matter. Time was an illusion; she was already his, whether she admitted it or not.

But she's still clinging to that mortal life of hers, he mused, his lips curling into a slight sneer. How quaint.

Time or no time, she was his, and he would never let her go. The idea of losing her was intolerable.

His thoughts wandered back to the night they shared—the intensity of their passion, the way she had writhed beneath him, surrendering to her deepest desires. He had tied her up, not just physically but emotionally, binding them both to a truth neither could deny. That night, they had confronted something raw, something primal. It was a moment where lust, control, and something far deeper had intertwined. She had finally agreed to be his, and that victory played over and over in his mind like a sweet, seductive refrain.

He rose, pacing toward the large window overlooking Baldur’s Gate, the city sprawled out beneath him like a living, breathing creature. Every flicker of light, every shadow, every whisper in the alleys—it was all his. He had built this domain, spun his web of influence, and bent nobles and spawn alike to his will.

But Sima…

She’s different.

That thought simmered beneath his carefully controlled exterior, an unwelcome irritation. She was intelligent, beautiful, and powerful, but more than that—she was dangerous. Not because she opposed him outright, but because she resisted him subtly, with her ideals and her stubborn sense of morality.

He paced the length of his study, his fingers trailing over the leather-bound tomes that lined the walls. The room was a reflection of his mind—controlled, calculated, and filled with power. The star chart that dominated one wall was a map of his ambitions, each constellation representing a piece of his carefully constructed future. And in that future, Sima would be at his side. She would be his vampire bride, powerful and eternal. Together, they would rule not only Baldur's Gate but the world beyond.

The thought of her transformation filled him with a mix of elation and dread. She would be his equal, yes—but what kind of equal? Once she became a vampire, she would never be the same. Her human vulnerabilities, the softness he sometimes glimpsed in her, would be stripped away. What would remain? Would she resent him for it? Would she still desire him the way she did now? Or would her new power create a distance between them?

What an amusing little dilemma, he mused. She will resist, of course. But resist too much? He pushed the thought aside. Whatever came, it didn’t matter. She would be his, and together, they would be unstoppable. His lips curled into a self-satisfied grin. With Sima at his side, they would be the most feared and powerful couple in Faerûn. The nobles of Baldur's Gate would kneel at their feet, and soon, the world would fall under their rule. She would be the crown jewel of his reign.

But then, as if summoned by the very conflict within him, the door to his study creaked open, breaking the silence. A vampire spawn entered, bowing deeply, his head almost touching the floor. His entire body trembled as he knelt before his master.

“My lord… there is unrest in the dormitories.”

Astarion turned, his smile vanishing, replaced by cold, detached interest. “What kind of unrest?”

The spawn swallowed, eyes glued to the floor. “The spawn… they’re speaking of ideas. Ideas of freedom.”

Astarion’s grip on his glass tightened, and he could feel the cold fury blooming within him. Freedom? The word slithered through his mind, jagged and unsettling.

“And why, pray tell, would they be speaking of such things?” His voice was a soft hiss, sharp as the edge of a blade.

“Lady Sima…” the spawn stammered. “She has been speaking with them. She… she speaks of choice, my lord. Of things… changing when she becomes a vampire lord.”

For a moment, Astarion remained still, his gaze fixed on the trembling figure at his feet. Inside, his anger coiled tighter, cold and seething beneath the surface.

So, it’s come to this.

“She’s… speaking with the others?” His tone was flat, controlled. But inside, a storm raged.

“Yes, my lord. She speaks to them even now.”

His gaze darkened, fury bubbling to the surface as the reality of her actions hit him. Sima—his Sima—was undermining him, planting dangerous ideas of autonomy in his spawn.

“Show me.”

The spawn led Astarion through the palace corridors, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpets. As they neared the dormitories, Sima’s voice drifted through the air, soft yet confident, mingling with the occasional laughter of the spawn. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the urge to burst into the room growing with every step.

"...You must see it for yourselves," Sima was saying as Astarion approached, her voice warm, almost motherly. "Your Master has given you stability, yes, but there’s more that you can be. More than just tools for power."

Astarion’s jaw tightened. She’s at it again—filling their heads with ideas she barely understands herself. His steps quickened, the flickering candlelight catching the sharp glint in his eyes as he neared the threshold.

They reached the dormitory, and Astarion stood in the shadows, watching her with barely contained fury. Sima sat by the fire, her posture relaxed, as though she were the one in control. Several young spawn leaned in, listening eagerly as she spoke.

"When I become a vampire lord," she continued, "I want you to be strong and effective, yes... but also to have the choice. To think for yourselves."

Astarion’s grip on the doorframe tightened. Choice. The word made his blood boil. She spoke of it as though it were a gift, as though it weren’t a threat to everything he had built.

Silly, naive girl, he thought, his gaze narrowing. She has no idea what she’s inviting.

Sima’s voice carried on, oblivious to the storm brewing behind her. "You’ve all served faithfully, but it’s time you had a voice in the matters of your own existence. That’s what I hope to bring—"

Enough. Astarion’s patience snapped, his fury rising with each word that passed her lips. She had crossed the line. The spawn—his spawn—would not be infected with her idealistic nonsense. It was time to put an end to this charade.

"Sima, my love," Astarion called, his voice smooth as silk, though his eyes blazed with controlled anger. He stepped into the dim light, his posture regal but tense. "I didn’t realize you were already so... involved with the spawn."

As Astarion’s voice cut through the air, Sima’s head lifted, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of his smooth, deceptively calm tone. For a moment, relief washed over her—he always had that effect, even when she knew better.

But there was something off tonight. Something darker.

She looked up at him, greeted him warmly, but as she took in his posture, his eyes, the way his fingers flexed ever so slightly by his sides, a flicker of doubt crept in.

He’s angry, she realized, her stomach tightening.

She could see it in the tension of his movements, the way his lips curled into a too-calm smile.

Sima’s head lifted, her face lighting up when she saw him. "Beloved" She greeted him warmly but still somewhat subdued. "I was just getting acquainted with them. Considering I’ll be a vampire lord soon, I thought it wise to build rapport. You agree, don’t you?"

She thinks this is innocent, doesn’t she? How charmingly misguided. Astarion’s smile remained in place, but his eyes darkened, a predatory gleam surfacing beneath the calm exterior. He approached slowly, each step measured, deliberate. "Indeed," he replied, extending his hand. "But we should discuss these... ideas... in private. There’s much we need to talk about."

Sima hesitated, the warmth in her smile faltering as she sensed the growing shift in him, a crack in the calm facade. But she nodded, taking his hand, trusting that whatever was troubling him would be resolved in time. "Of course," she said, her voice still light, though a flicker of uncertainty danced in her eyes.

Good, Astarion thought. Uncertainty suits you better than defiance. His grip tightened slightly as he led her from the room, the tension between them thickening with every step.

As they ascended the stairs toward their private chambers, the tension between them grew palpable, an invisible thread pulling tighter with each step. Sima glanced back at the spawn, who watched silently as they left, their faces a mixture of awe and fear. She had wanted to make things better for them—to give them something more than the hollow existence they endured under Astarion’s rule. But now, as she walked beside him, she wondered if she had overstepped.

The moment the door to their chambers closed behind them, Astarion’s mask of calm shattered. With a violent shove, he thrust Sima into the room, his hand clamping down on her arm with bruising force.

"Do not presume to speak to me with anything but respect," he hissed, his voice low and threatening, his lips curling into a snarl. "There is an order to things, and you—you—are answerable to me. You will listen when I command you to listen."

Sima stumbled, barely catching herself before colliding with the wall. She looked at him in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. His sudden aggression took her breath away, but her shock quickly morphed into anger. She straightened, squaring her shoulders as she glared at him. "What in the hells is wrong with you?" she snapped, her voice sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Astarion’s eyes darkened, his fury rising like a storm. He stalked toward her, his movements predatory, his voice a dangerous whisper. "What’s wrong with me?" he growled, his breath hot against her face as he towered over her. "You undermine me in front of the spawn—my spawn. You fill their heads with notions of freedom, of choice. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What you’re asking me to do?"

Sima’s breath quickened, but she refused to back down. She stood her ground, defiant, her chin raised as she met his gaze. "I did nothing wrong," she spat, her voice fierce, unwavering. "I spoke to them with compassion—something you seem to have forgotten. What? Are you angry because you can’t stand the idea of someone thinking for themselves? Is that what this is really about?"

Astarion’s lips twisted into a snarl, his eyes flashing with barely contained fury. His hand shot out, grabbing her by the waist with an iron grip and yanking her roughly against his chest. “You think this is a game?” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom, eyes narrowed as his other hand slid up her skirt, fingers digging into her thigh with punishing force. His touch was anything but tender—harsh, commanding, filled with anger that he was barely keeping at bay.

Sima gasped, the shock of his aggression slamming into her body. Her instincts screamed at her to fight back, but even as she tried to push him away, his grip was unyielding, his presence overwhelming. Her back collided with the cold, hard surface of the wall behind her, trapping her between the stone and his unforgiving hold.

"What do you think you’re doing?" she demanded, her voice trembling, not just with anger but with a faint, unspoken arousal that she loathed. She hated how her body responded to him—how, no matter how furious she was, there was always a part of her that craved the control he exerted over her.

Astarion’s lips curled into a cruel smirk, dark satisfaction glimmering in his eyes. “I’m teaching you a lesson,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, the dangerous edge to his voice making it clear this was no idle threat. “You need to understand your place, my love.”

Sima gritted her teeth, her nails biting into his arms as she struggled to break free of his hold, the fire of defiance burning in her chest. “I’m not one of your spawn,” she spat, her voice sharp and cutting despite the heat building inside her. “I don’t belong to you.”

Astarion’s smirk only widened, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Oh, but you do,” he growled, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her panties, his hand moving with deliberate, insistent pressure. He could feel her body react to his touch, the heat between them undeniable. “And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

He pressed her harder against the wall, his movements rough, calculated—designed to strip away her resistance, to punish her for daring to defy him. Sima gasped, her body trembling involuntarily under his touch. She hated the way he made her feel—the way her body betrayed her, craving the harshness of his control even as her mind rebelled. She hated that some part of her wanted this, wanted him, even now.

"You want this," Astarion whispered darkly, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke. His voice was low, dangerous, filled with the twisted pleasure he took from her conflict. "You want me to control you, to own you. Admit it."

Sima growled in defiance, her nails digging into his chest, desperate to push him away, to assert her own will. “Fuck you!” she spat, her voice thick with both rage and the undeniable heat simmering inside her. “You don’t get my submission today. Brat or not, I did nothing wrong.”

Astarion’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his smirk deepening as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her neck. “Oh, I’ve dealt with brats before, my love,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “And trust me, I always win.”

With a swift, sharp movement, he forced her legs apart with his knee, spreading her open to his touch. Her body quivered beneath him, every muscle tensing as he pushed against her. She wanted to fight him, to cling to her defiance, but her body had already started to betray her—responding to his dominance even as she willed it not to.

Sima glared at him, her voice a low, harsh whisper. “You can try all you want,” she said, her breath hot against his face. “But I am not yours to control.”

Astarion chuckled darkly, his fingers teasing the slick heat between her thighs, drawing a gasp from her lips despite her best efforts to stay silent. “Oh, but we both know that’s not true, darling,” he whispered, his voice taunting, full of cruel satisfaction. “I own you, whether you admit it or not.”

Sima’s breath hitched, her body betraying her, even as her mind screamed defiance. The pressure of his fingers, the rough precision of his touch—it was maddening, pushing her toward the edge despite every ounce of resolve she clung to. She bit down hard on her lip, desperate to stifle the moan rising in her throat, her fists clenched as she fought to maintain control.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her voice trembling, thick with a mixture of fury and unwanted arousal.

Astarion’s grin spread, slow and wicked, as he felt her body begin to yield, even if her mind resisted. His fingers never faltered, moving in an infuriating rhythm, coaxing responses from her that she couldn’t suppress. “Oh, come now, darling," he purred, his tone laced with dark amusement. "You know exactly what I’m doing. You’re just too proud to admit how much you want it.”

Her defiance only spurred him on. He pressed harder, his movements rougher, more deliberate—calculated to strip away the last of her resistance. Sima’s legs began to tremble, betraying her completely as waves of pleasure built inside her, tightening in her core like a coiled spring ready to snap. She wanted to push him away, to make him stop, but the way he touched her—the way he knew her body so intimately—made it impossible.

With a snarl of frustration, Sima glared at him, her eyes burning with fury. “You want me to give up? To tell you that you’ve won?” She leaned in, her teeth sinking into his lip hard enough to draw blood, her hands tangling in his curls as she yanked his head back, the metallic tang sharp on her tongue.

Astarion growled through the pain, but instead of recoiling, his grin only widened, blood staining his lips as he licked them clean. “Oh, my sweet Sima,” he whispered, his voice a low, wicked rasp. “You’re only making this more delightful for me.” His grip tightened on her hips as he thrust harder, a cruel gleam of satisfaction flickering in his crimson eyes. “But you and I both know how this ends. It always ends the same.”

His pace quickened, each movement precise and unrelenting, driving her closer to that edge she desperately fought to avoid. The dominance, the rawness of his touch, the power he held over her—it was overwhelming, intoxicating, and terrifying all at once. Sima hated how easily he could push her, how her body responded to him no matter how much she resisted.

Astarion leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, his voice dripping with amusement. “You can lie to yourself all you want, love," he murmured darkly, "but we both know you love this—being disciplined, being put in your place. Admit it.”

Sima’s body tensed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure built inside her, growing unbearable. She wanted to deny him, to shove him away, but her body betrayed her with every shuddering breath, every involuntary reaction to his touch. “Fuck… you…” she growled, her voice breaking as she tried, and failed, to hold back the pleasure that surged through her.

Astarion chuckled, his grin widening in satisfaction. “Not quite yet, my dear,” he whispered, his tone laced with dark promise. He could feel her nearing the brink, but he wasn’t ready to let her fall just yet. Drawing out her torment was half the pleasure. He wanted her to break—utterly and completely.

“I could make this so much worse for you,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck, his fingers slowing just enough to keep her on edge, the tension mounting in her body. “Or you could just let go... Give in. You know you want to.”

Sima’s breath was ragged, her heart pounding in her chest as the pressure inside her built to a fever pitch. The line between pleasure and pain blurred with every thrust of his fingers, every taunting word that slipped from his lips. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, her body betraying her mind as it craved release, despite her fierce determination to hold on.

Her eyes flashed with defiance, even as her body trembled beneath him. “You think you can break me, Astarion? You think you can make me submit?” Her voice was thick with venom, but beneath it was a tremor of something more—a desire she couldn’t fully deny.

Astarion’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement, his grin never faltering. “Break you?” He chuckled softly, his voice a seductive purr. “Oh, my love, I already have.” His hand moved with brutal precision, deeper, harder, forcing her hips to buck against him. “Your body tells me everything I need to know. You’ve been mine from the start.”

Sima gasped, her body betraying her completely as waves of unwanted pleasure surged through her, overwhelming every last shred of resistance she had. She could feel her core tightening, her muscles clenching uncontrollably as the pressure inside her built to an unbearable intensity. She hated him for it—for knowing her body so well, for controlling her so effortlessly—but it was already too late.

Astarion’s free hand pinned her wrists above her head as he pressed her harder against the wall, his breath ragged in her ear. “You’re so close, aren’t you?” he taunted, his voice low and dark, dripping with satisfaction. “Just give in, Sima. Let go.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling as the pleasure built to a peak, so close it was agonizing. Every movement of his fingers, every thrust, sent her spiraling further into that unbearable tension, each wave of sensation tearing down her resistance. Her knees buckled beneath her, her mind screaming at her to hold on, to resist—but her body had already lost.

“Say it.” Astarion’s voice was a low growl now, almost a purr as his fingers moved relentlessly against her. “Tell me you belong to me. Admit it—you want this. You need it.”

Sima’s entire body quivered, the pleasure ravaging her, robbing her of control. Every nerve felt alight, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps as she fought against the overwhelming tide building inside her. She hated him for this—for how easily he could strip her of reason—but her body had already surrendered, trembling beneath the onslaught of his touch.

“Fuck… you,” she spat, the words slipping through clenched teeth, her voice trembling with rage and the weight of her impending climax. Defiant to the end, even as her body betrayed her.

Astarion chuckled darkly, his grin widening as his breath ghosted hot against her ear. “You already did last night, darling,” he murmured, his fingers plunging deeper, faster, with merciless precision. “I’ve already broken you—you just haven’t accepted it yet.”

His other hand pinned her harder against the wall, his movements calculated and punishing, drawing her closer to the edge. “Go on then,” he whispered, his tone a blend of cruelty and seduction. “Fight me all you want, but we both know you’ll fall apart in my hands. You always do.”

Sima’s body trembled violently, the pleasure coiling unbearably tight, every thrust of his fingers pulling her closer to that precipice she desperately tried to resist. But it was useless—her muscles clenched, her breath hitched, and despite every effort to hold on, she was already slipping.

“You’re mine,” Astarion hissed, his voice thick with satisfaction, his fingers rougher now, pushing her to the breaking point. “Now be a good girl and show me how much.”

With a final, brutal thrust, he sent her tumbling over the edge into oblivion.

Sima’s body convulsed violently as her climax hit her like a wave, slamming into her with enough force to take her breath away. Her legs trembled, her muscles clenching tightly as her core tightened painfully around his fingers. She gasped, her head thrown back against the wall, her eyes fluttering shut as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through her, each one more powerful than the last.

Her body writhed against him, her hips bucking uncontrollably as she rode out the overwhelming sensations. Her mind screamed at her to resist, but it was too late—her body had already surrendered completely to him.

Astarion watched her fall apart, his eyes dark with satisfaction as she shuddered under his touch. His fingers were slick with her arousal, her hips moving against him in the aftermath of her climax, as if seeking more even though she had nothing left to give. She was his now—whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Yet as he stared down at her, something inside him shifted, a cold hollow sensation replacing the rush of power. For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at her trembling form, her chest heaving as she slumped against the wall. He should have felt triumphant, but instead, there was a strange emptiness gnawing at him. Slowly, he withdrew his hand, letting it fall to his side as he took a step back.

Something snapped inside him, a thread pulled too tight and finally breaking. This wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Astarion stared at her, the weight of what he had done settling on him like a shroud. The bruises forming on her hips, dark and unmistakable on her bronzed skin, stood as a testament to the force he had exerted, the control he had lost. This wasn’t supposed to be how it ended, not tonight. He had pushed too far. His fingers twitched at his side, a momentary urge to reach for her again. But the sight of those bruises—his bruises—froze him in place.

Gods, he thought, what am I doing?

"You’re hurt..." His voice, low and thick with something he rarely allowed himself to feel—guilt—sounded foreign even to his own ears.

Sima stiffened at his words. Her body trembled, still raw from the intensity of what had just passed between them, her mind reeling from both pleasure and fury. As she straightened, a sharp pain flared between her legs, causing her to wince again. She tugged her skirt down with wavering hands, the bruises on her hips throbbing as a cold, unfamiliar dread seeped into her chest.Yes, I’m hurt, she thought bitterly, though if it was a wound to her heart or more to her body, she could not tell. Her skin still burned with the remnants of their violent encounter, but it was the cold reality that truly stung.

"Yes," she spat, her voice sharp and trembling, though not with fear. "It would appear so, wouldn’t it?" Her eyes flashed with anger, her body tense, holding onto her defiance. The bruises on her hips throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the anger flaring inside her. She had always known their relationship danced on a precarious edge, but tonight, he had crossed a line.

Astarion opened his mouth to speak, but the words withered in his throat. The dynamic they shared had always thrilled him—the push, the pull, the intoxicating balance of power. But now, the control he so cherished felt like a tightening noose. He had gone too far.

As she bent to pull on the rest of her clothes, he couldn’t look away. He saw the tension in her every move—the hesitation, the pain she tried to hide. It wasn’t just physical; it was something deeper. Something broken between them.

He reached out, softer this time, his hand brushing against her arm as if to offer solace, to regain a thread of the connection they had so violently severed. "Sima..." His voice was softer, pleading. "You must understand... as your sire, it’s my duty to—"

"To what?" Sima jerked away from his touch as though his hand had burned her. Her eyes, fiery and defiant, locked onto his. "To keep me in line?" Her voice was sharp, filled with an unyielding coldness. "You are not my sire," she spat, each word a blade cutting through whatever thread of intimacy had been left between them. "Let me remind you of that."

The weight of her words fell between them like a stone, the finality of them echoing in the silence.

Astarion blinked, her rejection hitting him harder than any physical blow ever could. He had always envisioned himself as her inevitable sire—the one who would complete her, bind her to him for eternity. But now, she had thrown that back in his face, reminding him of his failure, of the incompleteness of their bond.

"I—" The words died in his throat. He had her, hadn’t he? She had always returned to him, bent to his will, even in defiance. But this time… this time felt different.

The chasm between them seemed to grow wider with each breath she took, an invisible distance that was impossible to close. She stood tall, despite the tremor in her body, her defiance burning brighter than ever. I am not one of your spawn, she thought, her earlier words echoing in her mind like a mantra. She refused to break before him, refused to be reduced to something he could control.

"You’ve done enough today, Astarion," she said, her voice steady despite the uneven rhythm of her breath. She refused to meet his gaze now, as if the sight of him was too much to bear. "Let me go."

His hand fell limply to his side, the space between them an unbreachable void. He didn’t move to stop her as she dressed in silence, each of her movements sharp, filled with a quiet, simmering rage that made his chest tighten. Let her go, his rational mind whispered. Fix this later.

But the other part of him—the part that demanded her submission, that craved her surrender—raged at the thought of her leaving, of her walking away from him.

Just before she reached the door, Sima paused, her voice trembling with barely contained fury as she turned back to him. "I don’t know what tonight was," she said, her chest rising and falling as though she could barely keep herself together. "But I can tell you one thing for certain. Nothing about what happened was acceptable."

Astarion stood frozen, her words cutting through him like a blade of ice. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he had no retort, no quick, biting remark to wield as a shield. Only the sharp, bitter taste of guilt lingered, hanging in the air as he watched her storm out and slam the door behind her.

The sound echoed through the silence that followed, leaving him alone with the weight of his actions.

How dare she reject me? The thought surged through him, bitter and defensive. After everything he had given her, after everything he had shared with her—how dare she walk away? His jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides as the familiar tide of anger rose within him. But beneath it, something darker gnawed at him, something he didn’t want to face.

The bruises. Her bruises. His marks.

They haunted him, flashing through his mind as unwelcome reminders of the boundary he had crossed. The control he had so valued had slipped, leaving behind a mess of tangled emotions that he wasn’t ready to confront.

This was supposed to be a game, he reminded himself, pacing the room, the echo of his footsteps the only sound in the suffocating quiet. A lesson. We’ve always played this way... But tonight, tonight had been different, hadn’t it? He had felt it—the shift, the dangerous line that he had crossed without realizing it until it was too late.

You are not my sire. Her words echoed in his mind, over and over again. She had spoken them with such finality, as though to remind him of what he wasn’t. What he might never be.

His breath left him in a slow, measured exhale, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of realization. I’ve broken her trust, he thought, the truth of it settling deep into his bones. I’ve pushed her away. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could bring her back.

But he would try. He had to.

There was still time—there had to be time—to fix this, to make her see that this had been a mistake, a momentary lapse. He couldn’t lose her, not when she was so close to being his—his equal, his bride, his partner in the eternity he had long envisioned.

Sima may have resisted him today, but in the end, she would be his. She had no other choice.

And neither did he.

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