[ Iorveth always speaks as if he knows everything; it had rankled him back then when Iorveth had insisted that Astarion would hate him if he'd taken him up on his offer, and it still vexes a little bit now. Who is Iorveth to say that he felt no desire? Sure, he didn't, but it's really rather annoying to be called out on it. Leave it to Iorveth not to mince words.
Speaking of annoyance, Iorveth is taking too long with his clothes, so Astarion takes matters into his own hands—quite literally—by undoing the clasps of his jacket. The movements are quick, deft flourishes of his fingers, by feel alone. ]
Well, I want you now.
[ It's no fault of Iorveth's that he hadn't wanted him then. It had been ages since he'd felt desire at all, his libido so dormant it was practically covered in cobwebs. Iorveth is the first person he's actually wanted to be touched by in centuries.
Playful, he raises his eyebrows. ] Shall I show you how much?
no subject
Speaking of annoyance, Iorveth is taking too long with his clothes, so Astarion takes matters into his own hands—quite literally—by undoing the clasps of his jacket. The movements are quick, deft flourishes of his fingers, by feel alone. ]
Well, I want you now.
[ It's no fault of Iorveth's that he hadn't wanted him then. It had been ages since he'd felt desire at all, his libido so dormant it was practically covered in cobwebs. Iorveth is the first person he's actually wanted to be touched by in centuries.
Playful, he raises his eyebrows. ] Shall I show you how much?