[ With his noble blood, Wyll does have expensive taste in wine. A fine choice by Iorveth. Astarion follows close behind, flopping down on the bed in the middle of all of Iorveth's ill-gotten possessions. He picks up one of the books, rifling through it quickly before unceremoniously tossing it aside. It lands on the soft bed with a thump. ]
There aren't even any dirty parts in this one.
[ It's all about, horror of horrors, chaste courtly love. How is he supposed to read this? Wyll is truly disturbed. ]
Mm. That's all right. We can make our own debauchery.
[ He shoves Iorveth down against the fluffy mass of pillows--affectionately--and curls up beside him, reveling in the radiating warmth from Iorveth's body. Honestly, it does feel like debauchery. There's nothing more hedonistically indulgent than pressing himself into the crook of Iorveth's body like that needy cat in the tuxedo. ]
no subject
There aren't even any dirty parts in this one.
[ It's all about, horror of horrors, chaste courtly love. How is he supposed to read this? Wyll is truly disturbed. ]
Mm. That's all right. We can make our own debauchery.
[ He shoves Iorveth down against the fluffy mass of pillows--affectionately--and curls up beside him, reveling in the radiating warmth from Iorveth's body. Honestly, it does feel like debauchery. There's nothing more hedonistically indulgent than pressing himself into the crook of Iorveth's body like that needy cat in the tuxedo. ]