[ Gods, Iorveth's got it down bad. He can't bear to see Astarion shrink in any context, and Astarion's subsequent relief when Iorveth acquiesces only makes Iorveth want to spoil him more. Whenever he sees any glimpse of that beautiful heart that he wanted to preserve against Cazador's profane rite, Iorveth can feel his own clench.
He moves when beckoned, keeping up with the playful compliance but bypassing the (admittedly) alluring spot between Astarion's legs to scoot further up for a kiss. A tacit acceptance of the sentiment behind "good boy", though he would've broken bone and teeth if those words had come out of anyone else's mouth. ]
Astarion, [ he murmurs between a second and a third kiss, the contact more heated every time their mouths meet. En'ca minne, he breathes after he nips Astarion's lower lip, and translates: ] Beloved.
[ One hand travels downwards, down the ridged plane of Astarion's stomach and under the waistband of his pants, palming and looking for signs of hardness. Iorveth sighs, his breath shuddering with barely-suppressed need. ]
Let me. [ More harmless begging, just as a treat. Iorveth hisses it again, let me, subservient in words only as he bites another mark against Astarion's neck, littering signs of all his pent-up want all over pale skin. He wants everyone to know how much Astarion is desired, specifically by him. ]
no subject
He moves when beckoned, keeping up with the playful compliance but bypassing the (admittedly) alluring spot between Astarion's legs to scoot further up for a kiss. A tacit acceptance of the sentiment behind "good boy", though he would've broken bone and teeth if those words had come out of anyone else's mouth. ]
Astarion, [ he murmurs between a second and a third kiss, the contact more heated every time their mouths meet. En'ca minne, he breathes after he nips Astarion's lower lip, and translates: ] Beloved.
[ One hand travels downwards, down the ridged plane of Astarion's stomach and under the waistband of his pants, palming and looking for signs of hardness. Iorveth sighs, his breath shuddering with barely-suppressed need. ]
Let me. [ More harmless begging, just as a treat. Iorveth hisses it again, let me, subservient in words only as he bites another mark against Astarion's neck, littering signs of all his pent-up want all over pale skin. He wants everyone to know how much Astarion is desired, specifically by him. ]