[ Gods, that smile. Iorveth is quickly finding out that drunk dehydration combined with bloodloss is a physically incompatible combination, but it's so difficult to care when Astarion beams at him like that, when he presses their mouths together and says something altogether so absurdly sweet.
He lifts one heavy arm and tangles his fingers in soft hair, playing with the soft strands at Astarion's nape. ]
You must be drunk, to say something like that.
[ His tone is light, reciprocating the playfulness. The world is spinning on too many axes, but Iorveth manages to lean in and find Astarion's lips, kissing the last of his own blood off of smiling lips and trying, with some success, not to slide down against the bookshelf and collapse into a pleased puddle by Astarion's feet.
Still more footsteps pass, with one female voice ringing too clearly through the door: "Elminster's Library...? What kind of fun do people usually get up to in there, I wonder?" ]
We should go, [ Iorveth murmurs sluggishly. ] ...In a minute. [ Still swaying, relying entirely on the bookshelf and Astarion's torso to keep him upright. The voices conversing in front of their door are saying something about a tour, but he really couldn't care less; he nuzzles into Astarion's neck, breathing through his nose to find his balance. ]
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He lifts one heavy arm and tangles his fingers in soft hair, playing with the soft strands at Astarion's nape. ]
You must be drunk, to say something like that.
[ His tone is light, reciprocating the playfulness. The world is spinning on too many axes, but Iorveth manages to lean in and find Astarion's lips, kissing the last of his own blood off of smiling lips and trying, with some success, not to slide down against the bookshelf and collapse into a pleased puddle by Astarion's feet.
Still more footsteps pass, with one female voice ringing too clearly through the door: "Elminster's Library...? What kind of fun do people usually get up to in there, I wonder?" ]
We should go, [ Iorveth murmurs sluggishly. ] ...In a minute. [ Still swaying, relying entirely on the bookshelf and Astarion's torso to keep him upright. The voices conversing in front of their door are saying something about a tour, but he really couldn't care less; he nuzzles into Astarion's neck, breathing through his nose to find his balance. ]