essea: (38.)
ɪᴏʀᴠᴇᴛʜ. ([personal profile] essea) wrote 2025-02-06 03:56 am (UTC)

[ Psychological warfare with his dick in Astarion's hand. It's all very ridiculous. Iorveth tries to recall what the point of all this was- something about atoning for putting Astarion through temporary hell, wanting Astarion to feel more in control- but his brain feels a little fried, and honestly, the actual point is just to be close to Astarion in whatever way possible.

That said, the sound of the mess he's making on Astarion's palm is almost as unbearable as not being able to touch him or kiss him. Iorveth has heard of people being content to just sit back and let someone else get them off, but can't wrap his mind around what the possible appeal of that could even be.

Another shift, an insistent attempt to bump foreheads that winds up looking like he's tossing and turning on his pillow. Iorveth makes a half-strangled sound, frustrated, and tries again.
]

I can't come if I can't kiss you. [ A near-growl, his throat bobbing with the effort. ] Fuck, if you haven't actually ruined me.

[ Sex is sport, but Iorveth doubts sleeping with anyone else will even come close to the feeling he gets just being pressed against Astarion. He shifts (squirms) again, one knee bending as his hips turn towards Astarion's hand. ]

Please. Your mouth.

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