[ There are little tells that speak to Astarion's initial nerves: the burying, the gripping, the slow unfurling of tension. Signs that sex is still something that may always come with a caveat. Iorveth lets Astarion ride that wave for a few seconds, pressing his lips to Astarion's hair, his jaw, his temple, until he hears that sweet affirmation that he knows is more hard-earned than anything else. ]
And you have me.
[ Reciprocal, equal. Not exactly about ownership, but about devotion. It's all semantics, though, and Iorveth cares more about touching than talking. Putting his own bareness, finally, to good use. His hand traces that tantalizing line from waist to hip, dipping down under the waistband of Astarion's pants and traveling to the curve of his rear. Not particularly romantic to go straight for the ass, but Iorveth is a red-blooded male, sue him－ he can respect Astarion intellectually and also think he's stupidly hot.
Plus, the point of this exercise, he thinks, is to be a little feral. He rakes blunted nails gently, gently along smooth skin, and squeezes. ]
How much of my "wild lust" [ echoing Astarion's words from earlier in the night, ] do you want?
no subject
And you have me.
[ Reciprocal, equal. Not exactly about ownership, but about devotion. It's all semantics, though, and Iorveth cares more about touching than talking. Putting his own bareness, finally, to good use. His hand traces that tantalizing line from waist to hip, dipping down under the waistband of Astarion's pants and traveling to the curve of his rear. Not particularly romantic to go straight for the ass, but Iorveth is a red-blooded male, sue him－ he can respect Astarion intellectually and also think he's stupidly hot.
Plus, the point of this exercise, he thinks, is to be a little feral. He rakes blunted nails gently, gently along smooth skin, and squeezes. ]
How much of my "wild lust" [ echoing Astarion's words from earlier in the night, ] do you want?