[ Iorveth said not to kiss him even if he asked, but Astarion is only a man. There's quite possibly nothing in the world that could excite him more than the sound of Iorveth saying please while squirming on a pillow, so he crawls atop Iorveth again, pressing one palm to his linked wrists again while the other keeps up its steady work between his legs. It feels wet, sounds obscenely wet. He's never felt so powerful as he does now, knowing that he has this effect on Iorveth.
Brushing their noses together, he says, ] You're so very good.
[ He isn't sure if this sort of praise affects Iorveth at all, but it's genuine and needs to be said regardless. Iorveth is good. He tolerates Astarion's neuroses, encourages his idiosyncrasies. He lets Astarion feel in control after feeling entirely out of control. Sometimes, Astarion is afraid that he'll wake up in the kennels and find that Iorveth was just a vivid dream. ]
You're perfect. [ Praise again, but genuine again. He brushes his lips against Iorveth's, light and gentle, just a whisper of a touch. ]
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Brushing their noses together, he says, ] You're so very good.
[ He isn't sure if this sort of praise affects Iorveth at all, but it's genuine and needs to be said regardless. Iorveth is good. He tolerates Astarion's neuroses, encourages his idiosyncrasies. He lets Astarion feel in control after feeling entirely out of control. Sometimes, Astarion is afraid that he'll wake up in the kennels and find that Iorveth was just a vivid dream. ]
You're perfect. [ Praise again, but genuine again. He brushes his lips against Iorveth's, light and gentle, just a whisper of a touch. ]