[ Iorveth shifts on the chaise, leaning against what passes for its backrest to lean, slack and satisfied, with Astarion still sitting on his knees. There's a sluggish nudge against the hand stroking his hair, relishing the feeling of having someone be gentle with him, of all things.
"Thank you for the sex" should be more funny than it actually is. He remembers all those ghoulish faces they found in the basement of Cazador's tasteless mansion, and thinking about Astarion on his back for all of them occasionally makes Iorveth regret not killing at least some of the worst offenders.
So: ] A flattering assessment. [ To think he fulfilled any part of Astarion's needs. A soft kiss to the peak of Astarion's shoulder, and Iorveth reaches for a clean towel to wipe some of the mess they've made. ] I've grown to want your needs.
[ His smile is soft, slow-growing. ] Will you be able to walk?
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"Thank you for the sex" should be more funny than it actually is. He remembers all those ghoulish faces they found in the basement of Cazador's tasteless mansion, and thinking about Astarion on his back for all of them occasionally makes Iorveth regret not killing at least some of the worst offenders.
So: ] A flattering assessment. [ To think he fulfilled any part of Astarion's needs. A soft kiss to the peak of Astarion's shoulder, and Iorveth reaches for a clean towel to wipe some of the mess they've made. ] I've grown to want your needs.
[ His smile is soft, slow-growing. ] Will you be able to walk?