[ The return of the godsdammed polite space. Astarion's slink onto the couch (chaise???) is distinctly reminiscent of a cat who wants attention but is also ready to slip away at a moment's notice; Iorveth imagines a curled tail swinging lazily behind him, smug and contemplative, soft triangular ears pricked and attentive.
Another sigh. Insane, that he thinks the bad behavior is cute. Mirrored thinking: gods, Iorveth hopes that Astarion never stops being the most infuriating person ever. ]
Do you ever get tired of being so beautiful, [ is another grouse, as Iorveth finds the right grip around his length, the right amount of friction that makes his pulse flutter without pitching him too close to a frenzy. He keeps his eye on Astarion, watching him as he brings himself to full attention. Hungry, but keeping himself in check. ]
Tell me how to make me want you less.
[ A tease. Completely unserious, given what he's doing with his hand on his cock, given the pleasantly flushed state he's floating in. ]
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Another sigh. Insane, that he thinks the bad behavior is cute. Mirrored thinking: gods, Iorveth hopes that Astarion never stops being the most infuriating person ever. ]
Do you ever get tired of being so beautiful, [ is another grouse, as Iorveth finds the right grip around his length, the right amount of friction that makes his pulse flutter without pitching him too close to a frenzy. He keeps his eye on Astarion, watching him as he brings himself to full attention. Hungry, but keeping himself in check. ]
Tell me how to make me want you less.
[ A tease. Completely unserious, given what he's doing with his hand on his cock, given the pleasantly flushed state he's floating in. ]