[ Gods, if Iorveth was insane before this blowup, he's really beyond saving now. No part of him wants to own Astarion, but the thought of their fates intertwining like this is equal parts worrying and thrilling, the kind of ill-advised attachment that Iorveth will not give up now, ever.
He strokes Astarion's cheek again, slow and reverent, relishing that brief touch of lips against lips without pressing further, a little dizzy after the violent swing in mood. There are still questions on his mind, small thorns that may need plucking in the future ("you said you're awful, you aren't")― later. He wants to remember all of this first: that sweet touch, the terrifying confession. ]
Come to bed with me, [ he murmurs, sifting fingers through Astarion's hair. ] ...I'd intended to go out during the day, but I've changed my mind.
[ Now he just wants to stay and hold Astarion for a long while, and maybe brush his hair after they nap, and feel bad about making him feel bad. Like trying to pet a cat after one's stepped on its tail: "I'm sorry, I won't do that again."
One last soft touch, tracing the point of Astarion's ear, and Iorveth steps back. ]
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He strokes Astarion's cheek again, slow and reverent, relishing that brief touch of lips against lips without pressing further, a little dizzy after the violent swing in mood. There are still questions on his mind, small thorns that may need plucking in the future ("you said you're awful, you aren't")― later. He wants to remember all of this first: that sweet touch, the terrifying confession. ]
Come to bed with me, [ he murmurs, sifting fingers through Astarion's hair. ] ...I'd intended to go out during the day, but I've changed my mind.
[ Now he just wants to stay and hold Astarion for a long while, and maybe brush his hair after they nap, and feel bad about making him feel bad. Like trying to pet a cat after one's stepped on its tail: "I'm sorry, I won't do that again."
One last soft touch, tracing the point of Astarion's ear, and Iorveth steps back. ]