[ Cute cat. Iorveth briefly wonders how Astarion had to negotiate his encounters under Cazador's thumb, and imagines that he had to spend all of them on his back for fear of anyone touching the "poem" carved into his skin; a distressing thought.
Letting the mattress creak under their combined weight, Iorveth smooths up the uneven plane of Astarion's back again, feeling the way the Infernal script juts and circles across the breadth of him, how it drips like blood towards the bottom of said circle.
Iorveth receives Astarion's affection with a light shiver and a low sigh, content. He sits in that feeling for a moment, finding "I'll keep you warm" as funny as it's meant to be, before venturing: ]
―Has anyone ever kissed your back?
[ Casually, without judgment. If Astarion's reaction is to balk at even the idea of it, Iorveth will back off. ]
no subject
Letting the mattress creak under their combined weight, Iorveth smooths up the uneven plane of Astarion's back again, feeling the way the Infernal script juts and circles across the breadth of him, how it drips like blood towards the bottom of said circle.
Iorveth receives Astarion's affection with a light shiver and a low sigh, content. He sits in that feeling for a moment, finding "I'll keep you warm" as funny as it's meant to be, before venturing: ]
―Has anyone ever kissed your back?
[ Casually, without judgment. If Astarion's reaction is to balk at even the idea of it, Iorveth will back off. ]