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maisonaime · 2 months

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Give and Take

Softdom!Cassian x Healer!Reader

Premise: You get back after a long day of work and Cassian is ready to take over everything, you give him control so that you don’t lose it entirely.

Splitting this into two parts so that I don't lose my mind over it anymore. Love to all who jumped on this prompt!

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamics, smutty fluff, emotional overstimulation, self-sacrificing, poor self-care (bordering on self-harm), injury and slight gore, 18+ minors DNI

Part 1:

The last flight of stairs up to the rooms you and Cassian occupied in the River House seemed steeper than you had ever remembered, dragging yourself up the stairs was utterly Sisyphean, the last stretch in a long day that had frustrated tears finally pricking in your eyes. You were tired to your bones, fed up with being hunched over a desk, and the day was still far from done over eleven hours after it had begun. You woke and dressed when the sky was dark, and were returning hours after the braziers lining the hallways had been lit.

You had two bags hanging in the crook of one elbow, full of brewing equipment that needed to be polished with a protective tonic before being used in class tomorrow. In the same arm, you were clutching a thick stack of essays requiring grading. Tucked under your other arm was a folio of research on restorative therapies for Illyrians who had their wings clipped. Slung over your shoulder from training was your weapons belt, sheathed with two daggers and a longsword Cassian had wrought for you as a wedding gift.

The file of research slipped from your arms, scattering down all the steps you had just climbed in complete disarray. You made a small sound of anguish and finally, the tears were flowing freely. You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. You were grateful for the research you were able to do to find a way to reverse the horrors wrought on Illyrian females. You were enthusiastic about teaching your students, passing along ancient knowledge to the trainees who would one day be your peers. You itched for training with Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn; pouring intentional movement into your body after long days of obligatory motion.

Healing people, feeling your tendrils of power sweep over broken bones, seeking out the source of symptoms, touching the broken parts of people’s souls. It was the greatest gift, one that multiplied every time you held a newborn babe, watched someone run or dance on legs that had never worked before, and felt the relief of familial caregivers as you restored hearing or sight or even small amounts of lucidity to their aging parents. It was quite possibly the only gift that you valued more than your precious mate. The one who you had remade and been remade by.

You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. But there were some days when you felt the burden of worlds bearing down on you. Days when failed healings left you shattered. Days when there was simply too much to do and not enough hours to do it.

“What’s all this sweetheart.” Cassian appeared at the top of the stairs, his darkened gaze forcing you to rethink your current predicament.

Despite his intimidating size and title, the Lord of Bloodshed was as gentle a lover as you had ever known. He had honed his resolve over the centuries, along with all his other skills. Even in the most feral moments between the two of you, lost entirely to the bond in skin and teeth and brutish groans, he would never lose himself. He could balance himself over you for hours with just the head of his cock pressing into your center, and could sit perfectly still while stuffed down your pretty little throat.

What he couldn’t do was abide by disobedience. And disobedience to Cassian was self-neglect. Disobedience was forgetting to eat, not getting enough sleep. Disobedience was piling too much onto your plate. Disobedience was trying to lug over one-hundred pounds of shit up the stairs after you had left before dawn and were returning long after dark. And disobedience would earn you punishment.

—

Ever since you had helped Azriel rehabilitate his shredded wings after Hybern wrought his havoc, you had remained in close connection with the High Lord’s Inner Circle. Your attentive and tranquil care healed both Azriel’s wings and the lingering horror that wracked his soul in the following weeks as he tried to move on from those paralyzing moments of agony. You treated his flesh and soul with equal gentleness, cementing your regard as a healer with the capacity to treat vulnerability with as much tenderness as you treated wounds and sickness.

When Cassian lay broken and bleeding, of course, it was you who was summoned to the tent. He was like every other patient before in your ability and desire to help him. But he was also like no other patient before because he was your mate. You could still feel his screaming cleaving the air and reverberating through your jaw, dulling all senses to anything but him. His brothers had to hold him down with tears in their eyes; Feyre lost her stomach; Mor just sat in the corner silently shaking. You were cursed to remember every ounce of hopelessness in his eyes as he scrambled away from your hands, refusing any of your help or assessment for fear of what you might find.

You found femur bone shattered like glass, tearing into the muscle and tendon of his massive thigh. You found snapped cartilage, torn muscle, and severe hemorrhaging that nearly cut off blood supply to his entire left wing; the damage so bad it would have resulted in field amputation had you not been there. You found the husk of a man who had been so sure he was going to die without being able to save his family, without even being able to say goodbye.

You burned yourself out with the raw power that flooded from you as you were confronted with the primal need to save him. You gave yourself entirely to the will of the goddess that had blessed your hands. At one point Rhys had to blanket your mind in darkness so that you wouldn’t drain that well of power entirely.

When finally, the damage left could only be healed by time, you had collapsed over him and refused to move. Unable to. Gentle, weak arms had dragged you ungracefully to a warm chest, to a beating heart. The only thing you could hear through the thundering haze of your overwrought senses.

“Don’t you ever do that again, for anyone. Not even me sweetheart.”

And then it was Cassian’s turn to heal you. To watch over your trembling body as you recovered from the depletion of your powers. He fed and bathed you. Stretched and massaged the muscles that felt as though they had been filleted by lightning. Braided your hair to keep it from knotting during the long hours you slept.

He poured himself into you in a way you had never had before. In a way you had only ever provided to others, never received yourself. In a way you hadn’t ever known you wanted so badly until you were sobbing hoarsely into his arms, years of self-sacrifice pouring out of you.

It didn’t stop there. Only when you had settled into living together did either of you realize the extent to which overextending yourself had become a way of life. The first time you came home past midnight, Cass was in a panic thinking you had been hurt or taken. When you stumbled through the door on legs bent with exhaustion and informed him that you had eaten exactly three crackers and a handful of berries all day, he just stared at you for a long time.

“How do you expect to save everyone if you destroy yourself in the process? This level of self-sacrifice isn’t noble, it’s irresponsible. Now, get on your fucking knees.” Your head snapped to him, pinning him with a disbelieving scoff. But he was dead serious.

In a flash he had your hair gathered in a stern but gentle fist, and you had your mouth very, very full. He fucked your mouth with a fervor, his fingers finding the corners so he could pop your jaw open further and push himself even deeper down your throat.

He came with a hiss, freeing a hand from your ruined mouth to pound in a fist against the unyielding stone wall.

Then he scooped you up and laid you in bed, pouring water with lemon and honeyed tea down your throat. Leaving your side briefly, only to return with a veritable feast of foods specifically selected to strengthen your body and magic. His care was almost overwhelming, but you found yourself surrendering to his vigil over you.

—

“Put it down” he said, pure authority radiating from him.

“Put what down?” you feigned.

“All of it, sweetheart. And don’t make me ask again. I’d hate to have to take you down to Az’s workroom. He put up such a fuss last time, even after I cleaned everything in front of him.” There was no room for disobedience in his tone, even if the remark had you chuckling.

You struggled to unburden yourself, unsure of how to extend your arms and set down one item without imperiling another. You met Cassian’s gaze with pleading eyes that quickly turned fiery at his smugness. You drew yourself up slowly, eyes narrowing…

And dropped everything from your hands, letting the first bag of glassware slide off your arms and crash to the ground – even if the sound of tinkering glass made something in you twist and cringe.

“Don’t be a fucking brat, you know it’ll only make things worse.” he snapped, lips pulling back in a feral grin as he raked his gaze over your body, your leather-bound dips and curves displayed to him unobstructed.

The belt you set down gently, minding your beautiful blade. In the middle of the night after your mating ceremony, in the haze of your frenzy, Cassian had marched you down to the deepest chambers of the Court of Nightmares, where the mountain burned nearly as hot as your bond. You had watched with lust-glazed eyes as he hammered out a blade and fused it to the hilt he had already carved and polished—smooth, rounded obsidian imbued with the cavernous powers of the Mountains.

He fucked you hard into the stone floor and then soared into the night sky with you and the weapon, cooling skin and steel alike. And when you finally touched ground again, he wasted no time showing you exactly why he chose that particular shape for the handle.

A snap of his fingers had the scattered papers piled neatly beside it. Then you gingerly set down the second bag of glassware, cringing as you considered how your eager disobedience would reflect back in Cassian’s treatment.

“Good.” he crooned. “Now go bathe and wait for me in bed.”

Cass abided by your whims for the most part, always eager to take care of you but never pressuring you to submit. He could always tell when you needed to give away control. When you needed to be told what and when to eat, how to dress, when to speak, and when to be silent. When to “get on your fucking knees” and when to “lay down darling, that’s it, now hush my love and let me work.” And he would give it to you every time without tire, for the rest of his days.

As you passed him to make towards your suite, he sidestepped into your path and halted you with a hand to your shoulder, the palm of his other hand cupping your face. He looked down at you with gentle eyes. You leaned into his touch instinctively, eager to shove away the pressures of your autonomy, even if just for the next few hours.

“I counted five things that you placed over your own needs today. Your patients, your students, your research, your training, your healing. Then you had to go and double it by bratting off and making a mess of your things.” He glanced around, unimpressed at your display of resistance.

“It’ll take me time to fix and polish the glassware and reorganize your papers. So you’ll wait. You’ll be doing a lot of that tonight. It only makes sense, I think, that you take ten hard edges before we think about next steps.” His voice was hard, determined, even as his hands were so so soft.

Your eyes widened, head shaking even as his words had your blood thrumming with desire.

“Yes, sweetheart. Yes, you will. Maybe this time you’ll finally learn your lesson about what happens when we deny ourselves what we need.”

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