"You're late, again.", impossibly pale fingers drumming the rough hewn table which his meal sat cooling in silver sucers barely reflecting anything in the dark crimson like soup besides the ripples from a spoon ladden free hand swirled its dark acrid depths. Bemusment mixed irritation bated on the unsual stammers of the younger, awaiting on what possible excuse could something of slave even conjure up. Measuring glances already calcuting the next form of punishment amidst pericodic sips of his dinner. [ @illntent: from Cazador! xoxo ]
@illintent trying to wreck Astarion's day
Decidedly, Astarion felt so very, very unclean. New bruises and aches catalogued along his body from laying on his back. Letting someone else have their way with his body. Memories of a night spent hunting and wooing potential prey items back. Their spend felt still clinging to parts of his skin. The alcohol of their breath lingered where their mouths nipped and lavished him with attention. The phantom touches caressed along his flesh. Even the hairs on his scalp ached from the rough treatment; it’s always rough with sailors.
Sailors, however, are prime targets. Ashore for a fortnight and easily forgotten by their crews. Oft travelers with no connections to the city. The perfect prey to bring home for the master. His clothing askew haphazardly thrown back on. Not a pretty sight does he make half-starved and aching. Regardless of his state, he walked obediently towards the dining hall leaving the twins he captured resting in the bed chambers. Ripe and waiting for his master to feast. He doubted Cazador would be grateful. He could only hope for a single evening of respite. A rat between his teeth.
A shudder involuntary as it was coursed down his spine. Even after so many, many years just the sound of his master’s displeasure has a hold over him. His pain and well being completely reliant on the man’s capricious moods. Whether he tranced as soundly as he could or spent a night of horror in Godey’s oh, oh so loving embrace.
No mistake. He was tardy. Dinner to be delivered before the midnight hour. He knew it was past that. Eyelashes fluttered as his eyes focused on the floor. A momentary lapse to find his nerve. Every ounce, every scrap of courage summoned to bring his gaze to meet Lord Szarr’s own. “Forgive me, Master.” He should have been quicker on the seduction. Quicker to throw himself at the two and bring them home quietly.
The blood taunted in front of him that he can not drink. The hunger coiled and twisted in his gut. “I thought to bring you a treat. Two are so much harder to lure than one.” He hoped it was enough. Gods he didn’t want to spend another night screaming.
