essea: (58.)
ɪᴏʀᴠᴇᴛʜ. ([personal profile] essea) wrote 2025-03-07 04:55 am (UTC)

[ A low sound, considering. ]

I've never fallen off anything.

[ Keeping it light, joking (dryly) about wood elf balance. It's a warning of sorts, a "fine, I'm moving"; bedsprings creak, and Iorveth edges himself back onto the mattress, shimmying on freshly-laundered sheets (thank you Gale) to drape over Astarion's back, most of his weight braced on the elbows framing Astarion's body. His thighs bracket the outside of Astarion's knees loosely, giving him enough space to wriggle out if he wants to.

Another low sound, this time more appreciative than anything else.
]

A nice view.

[ He arches, nosing down Astarion's back before licking a long stripe up over his scars. Freak. ]

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