His Treasured Spawn (Astarion x Reader)

All Good Things

Astarion holds you close, his crimson eyes locked onto yours. His thumb gently brushes away a stray tear that escaped your eye. His voice is filled with genuine concern as he speaks, "I don't like to see you cry, when I'm not the cause."

His tone shifts, and your master's voice grows more serious. "I could have lost you." he says softly, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions.

Your playful spirit rekindles as you reply, "But you didn't." You offer him a teasing smile, then add with a hint of submission, "I'm yours, Master."

Astarion's lips curl into a satisfied smile as he leans in closer, his voice low and authoritative. "Indeed, you are," he murmurs, capturing your lips in a lingering kiss that leaves no doubt about your place at his side.

But then he shifts back to a playful tone, pulling away from the kiss with a smirk. "However," he begins, his fingers tracing a pattern on your cheek, "I must say, my dear, it's rather unfair that on the day of my victory, you were off talking to a god." His tone feigns wounded pride, though the twinkle in his eye betrays his amusement. "This day should be dedicated entirely to celebrating my greatness, don't you agree?'"

He continues, "It's not right for a spawn to upstage its master like that."

You playfully lower your gaze, feigning contrition, "I'm very sorry, Master. You are absolutely right, and I deserve to be punished for it."

Astarion chuckles, clearly enjoying the banter. "Oh, you will be, my dear. But for now, let's not dwell on it. Today is still my day of triumph, after all." He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you possessively, and you both share a moment of contentment in each other's embrace.

After a while he takes a step back, his eyes lingering on you as he carefully removes your garments. His voice carries a subtle command as he remarks, "You won't be needing these any time soon." Your body responds, lust filling your mind.

With a graceful gesture, he offers you his arm, his touch gentle yet compelling. "Come, pet," he urges, guiding you to another room in the residence.

The room is opulent, with a sense of grandeur that befits a vampire lord. A lavish, king-sized bed with deep crimson sheets dominates one side of the room. Tall bookshelves filled with ancient tomes line the walls, and an imposing desk occupies a corner. The room, like yours, is devoid of windows, creating an atmosphere of seclusion and intimacy.

Astarion leads you to the front of the bed, and with a sensuous yet commanding tone, he instructs, "On your knees, darling."

As you obediently kneel, Astarion moves around you. "I've chosen this room for myself," Astarion begins, his voice taking on a contemplative tone. "Now that my grand adventure has concluded, it's time to settle in and chart the course of my future."

As he speaks, he strides towards the massive desk, opening a drawer and retrieving an object. You attempt to steal a glance, but your head is swiftly moved by his invisible force, compelling you to face the bed once more.

With an undercurrent of anticipation in his voice, Astarion returns to your side. "I have a special gift for you," he murmurs, his presence growing closer. He takes his time, savoring the moment, before you feel a cold, unyielding sensation encircling your neck, the collar's embrace slow and deliberate. The sensations send shivers down your spine.

As you reach up to feel the collar, your fingers glide over its smooth, ornate surface. It's exquisitely crafted, its delicate design belying its underlying strength. The collar's slender width leaves your neck accessible, a tantalizing detail that doesn't escape your notice.

Astarion steps in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intense, possessive gaze. His voice carries a note of reverence as he speaks directly to you, "You are my treasured first spawn. And with this collar, you look even more beautiful, my dear." His words drip with adoration and ownership as he admires the way it adorns you.

"Thank you, Master", you voice your gratitude, your mind swirling with countless deviant thoughts. Astarion, ever attuned to your desires, smirks and remarks, "Yes, my dear, let's indulge in some delightful pleasures, and after that, we shall embark on the grand journey of conquering this whole fucking world." He laughs, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he delicately lifts you up by your collar and throws you onto the soft mattress with ease.

He enters the bed to lean over you, his voice dripping with temptation, "I want to see just how much pleasure you can endure before you beg me to stop. But don't make the mistake of thinking I'll be as easily convinced as the god you pleaded with earlier."

As you succumb to your desires, the comforting notion echoes in your thoughts, a timeless adage: "All good things must come to an end." But for you and Astarion, that proved to be untrue. Eternity lay ahead, and you intended to embrace every moment of it.