[ A wild animal, tame just for him. Astarion preens at his victory, pleased by Iorveth's malleability. What doesn't please him, though, is the tension in Iorveth's broad shoulders and long neck. That simply won't do. He runs his thumb down the side of Iorveth's neck, tracing the trajectory of his tattoo. ]
Darling, I want you in every conceivable way.
[ How could he ever choose just one? He uncorks the vial and coats his fingers with enough ointment to thoroughly slick them down, then thinks again and empties even more out until they're slippery and shiny. It doesn't seem the sort of substance meant for this purpose, but he hopes it'll dull any burn — a little. He couldn't bear to truly hurt him, but privately, he likes the idea of Iorveth being sore tomorrow. ]
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Darling, I want you in every conceivable way.
[ How could he ever choose just one? He uncorks the vial and coats his fingers with enough ointment to thoroughly slick them down, then thinks again and empties even more out until they're slippery and shiny. It doesn't seem the sort of substance meant for this purpose, but he hopes it'll dull any burn — a little. He couldn't bear to truly hurt him, but privately, he likes the idea of Iorveth being sore tomorrow. ]
But I'd like to see that beautiful face of yours.