[ Iorveth closes his eye for a moment, concentrating on feeling the tension bleed, bit by bit, from Astarion's body. A difficult thing to miss, really: what's more unbelievable to Iorveth is that no one noticed enough in Astarion's past to stop, but that's not something he'll give thought to in the moment. Now, he focuses on that sweet burrowing against his neck, that careful green-light to keep going.
Ugh. Sometimes, Iorveth wants to make Astarion the promise of anything. His beautiful vampire, a symbol of endurance and hard-won freedom. No one in this world has ever deserved care the way Astarion does. ]
If you wish it, [ he murmurs into soft curls, and renews his efforts to slowly stretch Astarion in patient increments. Reinforcing who has control here (Astarion), and working to oblige; his lips find Astarion's ear, his temple, and presses warm kisses to whatever he can find to ease the eventual addition of his ring finger alongside his middle, taking care not to move too quickly or too unexpectedly in a direction that he knows will be uncomfortable.
The important thing, now, is finding an angle that Astarion likes. Iorveth takes his time with it, intending to add a bit of stimulus that isn't just the awkward feeling of being filled; for all his talk of fucking Astarion into oblivion, he doesn't expect this experience to be mind-blowing. The most he'll ask for is "not awful", with an added bonus of making Astarion realize how coveted he really is.
I like you, he sigh-laughs in his language, a whisper against Astarion's jaw. An inside joke by now; the words are far too innocent to be using in this context. ]
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Ugh. Sometimes, Iorveth wants to make Astarion the promise of anything. His beautiful vampire, a symbol of endurance and hard-won freedom. No one in this world has ever deserved care the way Astarion does. ]
If you wish it, [ he murmurs into soft curls, and renews his efforts to slowly stretch Astarion in patient increments. Reinforcing who has control here (Astarion), and working to oblige; his lips find Astarion's ear, his temple, and presses warm kisses to whatever he can find to ease the eventual addition of his ring finger alongside his middle, taking care not to move too quickly or too unexpectedly in a direction that he knows will be uncomfortable.
The important thing, now, is finding an angle that Astarion likes. Iorveth takes his time with it, intending to add a bit of stimulus that isn't just the awkward feeling of being filled; for all his talk of fucking Astarion into oblivion, he doesn't expect this experience to be mind-blowing. The most he'll ask for is "not awful", with an added bonus of making Astarion realize how coveted he really is.
I like you, he sigh-laughs in his language, a whisper against Astarion's jaw. An inside joke by now; the words are far too innocent to be using in this context. ]