[ It's a little bit humiliating how right Iorveth was when he said he'd make Astarion boneless. Every part of him feels slack, the muscles of his thighs burning with the exertion of being on top. He doesn't move, though, leaning his head against Iorveth's, stroking that smooth, dark hair as warmth radiates through him. He's overwhelmed, of course, and still trembling a little because of it, but in a decidedly good way. A wave of affection washes over him so heavily that he feels he might drown in it; he's never loved Iorveth as much as he does right now. ]
I needed that.
[ Every time with Iorveth feels like the erasure of one more bad memory, shame and disgust replaced with the feeling of being wanted, cherished. ]
Thank you.
[ An objectively ridiculous thing to say, and he has the sense, at least, to feel embarrassed about thanking Iorveth for the fuck. ]
no subject
I needed that.
[ Every time with Iorveth feels like the erasure of one more bad memory, shame and disgust replaced with the feeling of being wanted, cherished. ]
Thank you.
[ An objectively ridiculous thing to say, and he has the sense, at least, to feel embarrassed about thanking Iorveth for the fuck. ]