[ 'I'll go where you go.' Iorveth is being so very sweet that Astarion really doesn't want to go; he'd rather stay here, pressing Iorveth into the mattress and kissing all over his face until he can't think straight. He supposes there is some merit to what Tara has to say, though: Gale will be looking into his affairs all day, and he's been remarkably helpful already. Sitting at the breakfast table is probably the least Astarion can do to repay him.
So, with considerable effort, he shifts off of Iorveth and onto his back, immediately scowling at the loss of Iorveth's warmth against his skin. ]
Fine. I'd hate to deprive Gale of his opportunity to play host.
no subject
So, with considerable effort, he shifts off of Iorveth and onto his back, immediately scowling at the loss of Iorveth's warmth against his skin. ]
Fine. I'd hate to deprive Gale of his opportunity to play host.