Astarion x M!Reader

Seventeen

Sleep was something that vampires only needed to a limited extent. The lesser vampires slept to speed up wound healing. But for a being of your power, it was just a pleasant pastime.

You were not dreaming, all that waited behind your closed eyes was darkness. And yet. You liked to lie down in a soft bed and just rest. It was the only time you could reach for the emptiness.

Outside, branches shook in front of the window. Leaves rustled. It smelled of earth and iron. Soon it would rain. The warmth of the day penetrated the dark room and you knew that now was the time when all your darlings would take their naps before the shadows brought them back into the realm of the conscious.

Inhaling deeply, you took in the smell of dust. Sheets rustled. You had the thickest and softest blankets of all. Down fluffed it up so much that you felt like a cloud was hugging your lifeless body. Many geese had died for this bed. And it had been worth it.

You chuckled amusedly at the thought.

There was a rustling somewhere.

You thought it was the bed, but suddenly a breeze caressed your face. You didn't open your eyes. In the end, there were only a few who could make it to your bedchamber and you feared danger from none.

The cool touch of a shadow settled over you. You did not move.

The blanket at your side was pushed down as someone propped their knee on the bed and swung their other leg over you. Weight pressed astride your torso.

Then there was a soft hiss as if someone was greedily opening their mouth wide.

"You're quite nimble.", you said with a smirk, your eyes still closed.

A crack opened and the outline of a man appeared in the darkness.

Startled, Astarion jerked his head back. His eyes were dilated, shining like two drops of fresh blood in the snow. His breath caught, but you didn't let him escape, grabbed his wrists and pinned him on top of you.

His shoulders stiffened.

"I wanted...", that hesitation again, that uncertainty that didn't match the pride that sparkled in his eyes.

With a click of your tongue, you shook your head.

"My blood will burn your throat.", you had to force yourself not to call him darling again.

He sucked in a sharp breath. His weight shifted on you. He really wasn't heavy. But maybe that was simply because you could resist even the tonnes of a rock.

Swallowing hard, he averted his eyes. How ashamed he felt.

"Apologies...", it was barely more than a whisper. "But I thought... maybe if I drank some of your blood, Platinum..."

Immediately you knew what was on his mind. Your grip on his wrists loosened.

"I'm afraid your reasoning has some catches.", you scooted a little higher, now he was hovering above your lap. "I take it Cazador has taught you little about... shall we call it the laws of our nature?"

He shook his head with curled lips.

His weight shifted again. He wanted to flee. Something flashed in your eyes. The smirk on your face became more mischievous, a little bitter and yet sarcastic.

"I'd stay and listen if I were you, otherwise you'll really upset your stomach.", you warned.

He frowned. Anger rose in him. How nice to see that he still had the strength to stand up for himself. Even if not to his master.

"I've heard enough...", he growled and leaned over you as if he wanted to appear threatening.

You scrutinised him from below, his angular cheeks and long chin. Then you smiled challengingly, your eyebrows raised in a silent command to try.

Irritated, he gritted his teeth and let his hand dart forward. Long fingers wrapped around your neck. You almost had to laugh.

"Bite me, little dove.", you grumbled and lifted your leg.

A surprised squeak escaped him as your knee applied light pressure between his thighs. It was just enough to tease him with the friction of gentle movements.

Gasping, he squinted and let himself slide down your leg. Right into your lap. Your breath hitched briefly.

His weight was... badly placed.

And he knew it. Ashamed, he bowed his head to avoid your penetrating gaze.

You realised with satisfaction that the blush had shot up his face. It was less easy to make it obvious with you, but you couldn't deny that he caused an effect.

"Are you listening, now that you've disturbed my sleep?", you asked teasingly, placing a loose hand on his side. He grumbled reluctantly.

"I've heard enough lessons to last a thousand lives.", he hissed, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

Like a cat but not really, you thought and lifted your hand to wipe one of his white strands from his face. He inevitably flinched at the touch of skin on skin. Slowly, very slowly, you lowered your hand again. His fingers had clawed their way into your nightgown.

"Listen and then leave as fast as you want.", you said, face serious but without haste in your voice. "Spawns must drink the blood of their master to become full-fledged. And only the blood of those who have bitten you counts. The bite is a claim of ownership. And this is not my mark."

You put two fingers on his neck, where the pale skin was scarred by two stabs. Teeth.

There it was, you were sure. Disappointment. He was disappointed that it wasn't that easy.

"Am I not yours now?", he suddenly asked in a sugary voice.

He leant forward, pressing his abdomen harder against yours. The neckline of his shirt was so low that you could see his bare chest.

If you hadn't been so self aware, you would have thought he was trying to seduce you. You frowned.

"You're a loan.", you said, and the look on his face pained you. "You are supposed to make up for what Cazador destroyed."

And again Astarion was disappointed. The sweetness disappeared from his eyes. Instead, the despair returned.

"And... if I want a drink?", he asked, swallowing hard. "My... throat is so dry."

You got on your feet with ease. Him in your arms.

"Is it itchy?", you asked.

His feet touched the cold floor and he flinched.

"It burns. Like fire. Or oil. I don't know. It's been there for so long..."