[ It's theater, but it's theater in a way that Iorveth can accept now. Astarion, acting the part of the annoyed cat who doesn't want to be held, and Iorveth, the terrible, awful, no-good elf who keeps trying to pick him up regardless. The sort of playacting that Iorveth can only tolerate now that he sees Astarion more clearly.
Fine, he thinks. The stupid (affectionate) cape flutters to the floor, released from its clasp; Iorveth, wine still heavy on his tongue, takes the tip of Astarion's ear between his teeth for an idle nibble. ]
We'll see. [ Running an index up Astarion's back, tracing his spine all the way to his nape. ] By the time I'm through with you, you may be too boneless and sweet to do anything but stay limp in my arms.
[ Waging war in a bathhouse suite. He uses his teeth to undo the gold cuff sitting neatly on Astarion's cartilage (with apologies to Dolores for the disrespect to her antique accessory), and lets it fall off alongside his cape. ]
no subject
Fine, he thinks. The stupid (affectionate) cape flutters to the floor, released from its clasp; Iorveth, wine still heavy on his tongue, takes the tip of Astarion's ear between his teeth for an idle nibble. ]
We'll see. [ Running an index up Astarion's back, tracing his spine all the way to his nape. ] By the time I'm through with you, you may be too boneless and sweet to do anything but stay limp in my arms.
[ Waging war in a bathhouse suite. He uses his teeth to undo the gold cuff sitting neatly on Astarion's cartilage (with apologies to Dolores for the disrespect to her antique accessory), and lets it fall off alongside his cape. ]