[ "Good boy" doesn't quite do anything for him, but strangely, "I'll allow it" does. Held in place by Astarion's hand, Iorveth tips his chin to rest it more comfortably in the nestle of that lukewarm palm. Pridefulness for pridefulness: the glint in Iorveth's eye says that he would have bitten any other hand that came near his face. ]
And? Will you allow me to do more than just touch?
[ His warm palm snakes down Astarion's spine, past the raised patterns on his skin, over the smooth curve of his rear. It's a luxury to trace it, to idly press his fingers into soft skin and knead it with obvious interest; he can't be faulted for thinking that Astarion has a very cute ass. ]
Or you might withhold. You'd enjoy driving me mad. [ Switching hands to rub his oil-wet thumb around Astarion's rim, testing him with careful circles before relenting. ] You could deny me tonight, and watch me burn for you all day tomorrow. I'd think about nothing else.
no subject
And? Will you allow me to do more than just touch?
[ His warm palm snakes down Astarion's spine, past the raised patterns on his skin, over the smooth curve of his rear. It's a luxury to trace it, to idly press his fingers into soft skin and knead it with obvious interest; he can't be faulted for thinking that Astarion has a very cute ass. ]
Or you might withhold. You'd enjoy driving me mad. [ Switching hands to rub his oil-wet thumb around Astarion's rim, testing him with careful circles before relenting. ] You could deny me tonight, and watch me burn for you all day tomorrow. I'd think about nothing else.