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spacebarbarianweird · 21 hours

Text

Punishment

Synopsis: Domestic hurt\comfort becomes domestic smut because Tiriel should have listened to her vampire and not risk her life.

Tags: hurt\comfort, smut, dom!Astarion, very long prelude to the smut, a lot of butt slapping + also some complications of having an active sex life when you have a child Based on this amazing art by @mutualcombat

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The fall was painful.

An enemy, a resurrected skeleton in heavy armor, easily pushed Tiriel from the cliff. Her armor and weapon left her no place for maneuver and the barbarian fell on the thin layer of ice that was covering the black waters of a lake.

Pain pierced her body. Tiriel gasped – every breath was agonizing as her ribs were broken. She coughed and immediately realized that a bone damaged the lungs.

Stupid, she thinks. So stupid.

The ice cracks and the waters take Tiriel.

“O’su, why are you angry?” Alethaine rubs her sleepy eyes.Whether her dhampirism is to blame or the quarter of human blood in her body, the girl sleeps like a cat, for much longer than human kids her age.

Astarion doesn’t mind this quirk of hers.

When she sleeps, she can’t run up to the ceiling and fall from there. And she won’t try to escape outside, especially at night following the call only vampires and dhampirs can hear.

“I am not!” Astarion huffs putting food onto a plate. The four-year-old elf yawns and grabs a spoon in a very clumsy manner. Then she sticks it into the oatmeal and Astarion suspects Alethaine is trying to find sweet pieces of berries there.

“You are angry,” Alethaine says. “I heard you and Mum fighting yesterday.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did!” Alethaine gets anoyed and hits the table with her small hand. “You were fighting!”

Astarion crosses his arms. Well, as a half undead Alethaine has extremely acute hearing. So acute that no matter how hard her parents try, she does hear noises from their bedroom she can’t yet comprehend.

And of course, she did hear her parents yelling at each other outside the house.

“Well, we had some… disagreements.”

Tiriel was offered a job. To help a bunch of adventurers retrieve a treasure from the dungeon deep in the High Wood. And his wife wanted to go so much that she couldn’t care less about what Astarion was saying.

That the job was dangerous.

That those morons who hired her had no idea what they were getting into.

That the weather was so shitty it made Icewind Dale look like Calimshan.

And Tiriel accused Astarion of controlling her. That he was possessive, that he didn’t want her to go without him – because he was fucking jealous!

Ridiculous.

“Why?” Alethaine demands answers.

“It was a bad idea to go alone, that’s all!” Astarion says. “Your mother will spend more gold on healing potions than she will earn!”

Alethaine’s ears twitch. She stops eating and pulls away.

“I don’t like when you fight,” she says.

“I don’t like either, princess. But it’s going to be alright! Your mother will come back and everything will be good!”

“O’si said she was bored,” Alethaine adds. “When she was reading me a story, she told me she was bored at home. Mum wanted to slay a monster like in that book.”

Astarion nods. Well, another thing he sometimes forgets. Whilst he feels comfortable and nice in their house, reading books, sewing clothes, and taking care of their child, Tiriel is a fighter. She is used to the roads, sleeping in the dirt, fighting, and drinking. Domestic life is exhausting – and she doesn't even know how to occupy herself when the blizzard howls in the woods.

When Alethaine was younger, she required all of Tiriel's attention, but now Alethaine is more or less independent – and the barbarian has started feeling…

…Bored…

“Still no excuse to risk herself!” Astarion protests. “Alethaine, your mum fights as if she was a vampire. And before, I used to be there to have her back or drag her to the healer. Those… morons…. Young idiots won’t do that for her!” Astarion quickly corrects himself.

“What does “moron” mean?”

“You didn’t hear that.”

“I did!”

“It means someone stupid. Just don’t repeat it anywhere, it’s a bad word.”

“Then why did you say it?”

“Alethaine, eat your breakfast” Astarion bares his fangs as a threat.

The dhampir huffs and takes the spoon.

The next moment Astairon hears footsteps. Someone is coming to the front door.

“Vampire!” he hears the healer’s voice. “A quick word!”

Astarion opens the door. The female halfling doesn’t wear a winter jacket even though her house is many blocks away.

And there is an aura of…

Fear…

“What happened?”

And the Astarion catches a familiar scent. Way too familiar to ignore.

The healer’s sleeves are covered in Tiriel’s blood.

Tiriel feels like dying. She knows she is dying.

The dark waters dragged her under the ice trying to murder her. So stupid. Astarion warned her not to go and he was right. He has a better perception of danger than her. She should have listened.

She didn’t.

Was it some stupid pride preventing her from listening to her husband? Or just the exhausting boredom she endured at home?

Anyway, she is dying.

She is leaving her husband and daughter alone.

Alethaine will grow up barely knowing her.

Astarion … Can he survive without her? Twenty-four years is such a short time for him to heal…

Tiriel failed them both.

Then, she starts suffocating. Primal fear suppresses everything sentient about Tiriel – and it awakes the rage in her.

The ice wounds her hands as she crawls to the surface, bleeding and freezing.

And then the rage leaves her with only a fever.

Ttiriel barely remembers anything after that. She knows someone carried her somewhere.

Voices, insults.

A pair of red eyes staring at her in a dimly lit room.

A child crying.

“Is she dying?! Dad, is Mum going to die?!”

Tiriel wants to console her daughter, but she is too weak. The healing potion burns her throat, but it’s not enough to repair the damage.

“Astarion, she has frostbite. If the potions don’t help, I will have to cut her leg off.”

Tiriel is hit by a wave of panic. No, not cutting her limbs off! No, they can’t do this to her!

Pain. Fever. Thirst. Difficulty breathing. Tiriel wants to scream but she can’t. She can’t move, she can’t see anything.

Another cry. An angry voice forcing the child to go away.

Gentle hands. Cold skin.

Astarion.

Tiriel tries to open her eyes to see him but can’t. She needs to see him. She needs to make sure he’s not a hallucination. That he has come to save her.

But then, the darkness takes her and there is no pain anymore.

Astarion leans on the kitchen table. It’s over. Tiriel is getting better. She has made it. They didn't even have to cut her leg.

She is home.

It will take her months to fully heal, of course, but she isn’t dying. That's the most important thing.

Astarion takes his blood-stained shirt off, suppressing the desire to chew the soaked fabric.

“Daddy.”

He turns around and sees the dhampir. She’s been crying – damn, she is still crying – and stands in the kitchen hugging a plushie dragon.

“What is it, princess?”

“Is mum going to be alright?”

“Yes,” Astarion puts on the clean shirt, the one made of black fabric.

“Why did you yell at me?”

Astarion feels guilty. The last thing he was thinking about was how the whole situation was perceived by a four-year-old child – he just didn’t want her to be in the same room with her mutilated mother.

“I am sorry,” Astarion lifts the girl up. “Sorry for yelling”.

“Is mum really going to be all right or you just say so?” Alethaine insists.

“She is going to be all right… She just needs rest”

“Dad.”

“Hm?”

“We aren’t letting her go anywhere anymore,” Alethaine says.

Astarion chuckles. “Well, I don’t think we can prevent her from going outside, but you can express your concerns about her behavior”.

A week later Tiriel feels more or less capable of standing up. All these days, she was basically nursed by her little family – Astarion was spending all his time near her bed. Alethaine would come to check asking if she needed anything and was extremely proud of herself when Tiriel asked the girl to bring her a glass of water or medicine.

Tiriel gets up, puts on her trousers and a shirt, and goes looking for Astarion. Alethaine is fast asleep in her bed, barely visible among pillows and plushies.

Perks of not needing to breathe – Alethaine can bury herself in soft blankets and experience nothing but warmth and comfort.

And, if one day she is thrown into a frozen lake she won’t drown.

One less thing to worry about, Tiriel thinks.

Tiriel finds Astarion in the basement where they stash artifacts and gold.

“Hello, my sweet,” Astarion smiles, but Tiriel knows he is faking it. He is upset. Angry. And gods know what else.

“Hello,” Tiriel sits beside him. “I'm feeling much better.”

“Good.”

The silence is so heavy it causes discomfort. Tiriel touches his shoulder and suddenly he flinches as if this form of intimacy were out of the question.

“Are you angry?” Tiriel asks.

“Oh, thank you for asking,” Astarion closes the book and throws it at the wall. The heavy volume immediately becomes a pile of paper. “I am!”

Tiriel bites her lip. She is ashamed of herself. Of what she did.

“Why couldn't you listen to me?! Do my words mean nothing to you, Tiriel?!” Astarion's eyes glow red. “You could have died!”

“I am sorry!”

“I am very well aware of the fact I am going to overlive you. But could you not make it happen so soon?! Alethaine was crying her eyes out. Because she fucking saw you bleeding to death! She has nightmares! and I… I…” he sits on the floor grabbing the fistful of his hair. “Tiriel… I…”

The words are stuck in his mouth and Tiriel kneels in front of him. Then, she cups his cheeks and kisses the bridge of his nose. Then she proceeds to kiss his forehead and lips.

“I am sorry, Astarion. I will listen to you next time, I promise.”

“You can’t even understand how much I want to lock you somewhere,” he says.

“Astarion, we’ve been there. I know you are possessive. But love isn’t about control, unless it is a bedroom play.”

He nods and kisses her wrist.

Tiriel smiles. “How can I … pay for my disobedience?”

Astarion suspiciously looks at her. He is examining her, she realizes. Trying to understand if he can… make her pay.

Tiriel unfastens the claps of his shirt, baring his chest. Then she kisses his right nipple and teases it with her tongue.

Astarion lets out a moan but, instead of undressing Tiriel, pushes her away.

“Astarion?” she hesitates. How angry is he, actually?

“You told me you want to pay.” He sits on the bench. “Then you will.”

Tiriel giggles.

“As you wish, my lord, '' she says. “How will I do it?”

“Take off your clothes.”

“I obey,” Tiriel undresses and throws the clothes on the stone floor. Astarion studies her body – scars, fresh bruises. Tiriel nods, inviting him to continue their game.

What is he thinking about?

“Turn around,” he orders and she obeys. “Now, kneel!”

Tiril cringes feeling the harsh and cold surface with her knees. Astarion stands beside her and puts his arms on her shoulders. His grasp is strong and Tiriel admires how truly strong he is as a vampire.

Fangs pierce the nape of her neck. She gasps, but Astarion hardly takes any blood; he just licks some with his cold tongue.

“You were a terribly bad girl,” he murmurs. “Not listening to what I say!”

Tiriel smiles. Astarion is fully clothed, but she suspects he is already hard.

He pinches her nipples forcing her to moan.

“What are the odds she won't hear us?” Tiriel whispers and Astarion immediately shuts her mouth with his cold palm.

“We could have built torture chambers for people like your recent clients here and princess wouldn’t have suspected anything.”

“Hm, then we need to bring a bed here.”

“Then she will suspect. Now shut up and let me make you pay for your misdeeds!” Astarion clenches his hands around her neck and forces Tiriel to lie on the stone floor.

She feels his cold finger touching her pussy. He gently tracks along her labia, forcing her core to get wet.

Tiriel expects him to get inside, but it doesn’t happen as he keeps teasing her.

“Astarion…”

The next moment, the index finger of his left hand is in her mouth.

“Suck it!” He orders.

Tiriel wraps her lips around his finger and makes suckling movements trying to catch the same rhythm Astarion has teasing her pussy.

The heat between her legs became unbearable. She wants to beg him to at least fill her with his fingers, but instead, he abruptly lets her go.

She sits up in front of him as if she were enslaved and he was her captor and master deciding her fate. Tiriel waits, letting him savor the image.

Then he kneels in front of her. His smile is coy and his eyes are tender and Tiriel thinks the play is over – and that he is going to become his usual self in terms of sex. Maybe even much sweet and tender – compensation for all the years of rough fucking.

But then, he tugs her to his lap. His free hand tugs her half-elven ear.

And then he slaps her.

The sensation is so unexpected that Tiriel lets out a cry and then feels tears pricking her eyes. Another slap, stronger and rougher.

She elbows up a bit and feels the bump between his legs.

Then a pause. Astarion waits. Tiriel can leave. She can say she doesn't like it. That the stone floor hurts her elbows, that the whole thing is embarrassing. That she feels cold or not fully healed.

But she doesn’t say anything. Instead,she moves a bit, making it more comfortable for him to keep slapping her naked butt.

SLAP

His hand is cold and strong, and Tiriel knows it will be hard to sit.

SLAP

Tiriel concentrates on the painful pleasure, allowing herself to melt in it. Her whole world is narrowed down to the torture she inflicted upon herself.

SLAP

“Will you disobey me again?” Astarion demands.

“No, I never will! Aah!”

“What if I say it’s fucking dangerous to go alone next time?”

“I will listen!”

SLAP

“Good,” he stops. His fingers are placed on her pussy again as he gets distracted by her scent.

Tiriel squirms and moans in his arms as he keeps playing with the swell of her sex.

“Please…” Tiriel whimpers.

“What is it, bad girl?”

“I want you inside of me… please…”

But Astarion doesn't listen. His fingers play with her as if she was a musical instrument. Astarion knows all of her sensitive spots. He knows how to make her come, how to make her a mindless half-elf. He's learned her body thoroughly. In a both possessive and selfless way.

Tiriel feels her orgasm approaching. She clenches her fists and lets out a cry as she reaches her peak.

She doesn't feel cold anymore. Tiriel pants and mewls as Astarion finally lets her go.

He caresses her cheek in the most tender way possible and kisses her.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Tiriel puts her hands on the lace of his trousers, but instead of letting her continue, he gently pulls her away.

“No,” Astarion firmly says.

“Why?”

“Because you are still healing.”

“Astarion, are you fucking serious?! You’ve been slapping me!”

“Yes. I was slapping your butt not lying on top of you”.

“We can do it in a different way!”

“And it still involves some form of physical activity from you. Or me absolutely ravishing you. No. You will get better and only then we will fuck each other into oblivion.”

“And what are you going to do about this?” she pokes the bump to feel the delicious hardness below the fabric.

“I will use my hand.”

“Save it for the time when I am away,” Tiriel unlaces the trousers, freeing his cock.

“Hand or mouth?” she asks, tracing her finger along the shaft.

“Mouth… And keep…eye contact…please.”

“As you wish,'' Tiriel kisses the tip of his cock. Over the years they have been together, Tiriel learned how his body reacts to her touches.

In a moment she’s already swallowed it fully – tears flow down her cheeks. She moves her lips and tongue along the shaft, never breaking eye contact.

Astarion groans and grabs a fistful of her hair. His cock is cold and hard, but his sensitive, soft skin is quickly getting warmer in Tiriel’s mouth, and she wishes to prolong his pleasure.

But it’s so damn cold in the basement.

Suddenly, she feels being pulled away. Tiriel lets the cock go. Astarion grabs it with his free hand, makes a few stroking movements, and then the white liquid spills over her breasts.

Tiriel stands up shivering from the cold, and only now does she realize how truly intense the slapping was.

Astarion laces his trousers and quickly kisses Tiriel's lips and when she tries to put on her clothes back he wraps her shoulders in a blanket and lifts her in the air.

“Let's go to our normal bed,” he says.

“Only if you stay there with me,” Tiriel pouts.

“Of course, love, of course!”

Minutes later, Tiriel lies in Astarion’s arms – he’s insisted on wiping her breasts and pussy himself – and now she can just enjoy the comfort.

“Astarion.”

“Hm?”

“I promise to listen to your advice next time.”

“Thank you, love.”

By the time spring starts, Tiriel finally feels well enough to wield her weapon and wear her armor. Astarion knows she longs for a fight and a good adventure, and it would be too ungrateful for him to try to lock her down and guilt-trip her into always staying by his side.

But someone needs to keep an eye on their daughter and Astarion slowly makes peace with the thought that Tiriel will indeed have to go away without him from time to time.

Astarion puts his old bedroll on the stone basement floor. There was a period when this imitation of a bed was the most comfortable thing he owned. Well, there was a period when he thought getting kisses from Tiriel was merely a reward for his services, not a genuine demonstration of affection.

“No, don't go!” he hears Alethaine’s voice. “Mum! Don’t go!”

“It’s all right, kitten. I will be back in a week. I will bring you a gift from Secomber.”

“No! I want you to stay! Dad!” Astarion hears small footsteps – Alethaine is forbidden from going to the basement due to all the dangerous artefacts stashed there, so she stops on the top step. “Dad, Mum is going somewhere! Again!”

Astarion goes up and sees an absolutely angry four-year-old dhampir pointing at her mother who is preparing for a trip.

“That’s all right, she promised not to fight anything stronger than her,” Astarion picks the girl up.

“She will find things that are stronger!”

Tiriel approaches them, hugs Astarion from behind, and caresses her daughter’s cheek. “Kitten, I will be back soon, you will see. And when you grow up, you will also have someone who won’t want you to go away – but you sometimes will have to.”

“When I am as big as you, I will have a little girl,” Alethaine says. “And when she asks me to stay, I will!”

Astarion chuckles – well, he hasn’t got used to the idea of having a daughter even though she is four and the very idea of having a grandchild eventually sounds even less realistic than him regaining his mortality.

“That will be your choice,” Tiriel kisses. “What do you want me to get you?”

“I want a book about elves,” Alethaine says.

“Ok, I will take a look for something interesting.”

Alethaine pulls away, showing that she wants to go. Astarion puts her back and the girl immediately disappears into her room.

“Are you leaving in the morning?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel nods. “Something on your mind?”

“Actually yes,” Astarion takes Tiriel's hand and makes her follow him downstairs. “Besides,” he playfully pushes Tiriel on the bedroll, “Our best nights were on the road in our old tent!”

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