[ Astarion is fairly certain he did want to be courted, once upon a time. To be swept off his feet by some noble or another, then whisked away to a castle where he'd spend all of his days wearing velvet and ordering servants around. He stopped fantasizing about that when he stopped thinking he was the sort of person that good things happened to. And now—
Well, Iorveth doesn't exactly seem the courting type, and that's all right. Hells, Astarion isn't even sure what passes for courtship rituals among his people. Exchanging sticks instead of rings, he thinks (a bit uncharitably). Oh, well. Perhaps it's time he eschewed old traditions. It isn't like 'till death do we part' applies to him anyway.
He nuzzles Iorveth's throat, feeling his pulse beat steadily beneath his skin, smelling the warm, woody scent of his skin. His teeth drag over that sweet-smelling flesh, searching out a puncture point out of pure animal instinct rather than anything intellectual. Once he's found it, he bites down gently, blood filling his mouth slowly but surely. It's as intoxicating as always, but made all the sweeter by the circumstances under which it's given, yet another way Iorveth offers himself up. His tongue laps almost lazily over Iorveth's skin, strokes long and languid. By the time he pulls away, there's a faint redness left on his lips. ]
I could never sate myself on you, [ he says with a sigh, dropping his head against Iorveth's collarbone. It's terribly true. ]
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Well, Iorveth doesn't exactly seem the courting type, and that's all right. Hells, Astarion isn't even sure what passes for courtship rituals among his people. Exchanging sticks instead of rings, he thinks (a bit uncharitably). Oh, well. Perhaps it's time he eschewed old traditions. It isn't like 'till death do we part' applies to him anyway.
He nuzzles Iorveth's throat, feeling his pulse beat steadily beneath his skin, smelling the warm, woody scent of his skin. His teeth drag over that sweet-smelling flesh, searching out a puncture point out of pure animal instinct rather than anything intellectual. Once he's found it, he bites down gently, blood filling his mouth slowly but surely. It's as intoxicating as always, but made all the sweeter by the circumstances under which it's given, yet another way Iorveth offers himself up. His tongue laps almost lazily over Iorveth's skin, strokes long and languid. By the time he pulls away, there's a faint redness left on his lips. ]
I could never sate myself on you, [ he says with a sigh, dropping his head against Iorveth's collarbone. It's terribly true. ]