[ Gods, he doesn't need to be asked twice. Having Iorveth so close to him, blood rushing, heart pounding, with just a hint of blood in his mouth and nothing more is agony. The most pleasurable agony he's ever been in, to be sure, but still agony.
Besides, he can't deny that he feels a little bit of nerves. Not nearly as strongly as he did when he did this with random strangers at Cazador's behest, but it still feels very vulnerable and very intimate, two things he has historically been bad at being. He likes the idea of filling his mind with Iorveth's touch and Iorveth's blood so that even his worries are drowned out; liquid courage, albeit a different kind of liquid than one might typically use.
So, he does as told, hand raising to cradle Iorveth's head against him as he angles his head and sinks his fangs into Iorveth's throat, careful even now to avoid his tattoo, no matter how appealing the idea of biting all the way down it is. A brief moment of pressure, then sharp pain, and then Iorveth's skin is pierced, warm blood running onto Astarion's tongue, into his mouth. He suckles, licks, gulps, fingers stroking Iorveth's hair reverently. Food is just food when it's some pig on the street, but with Iorveth, it's different. It doesn't feel like a snack, it feels like an offering. ]
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Besides, he can't deny that he feels a little bit of nerves. Not nearly as strongly as he did when he did this with random strangers at Cazador's behest, but it still feels very vulnerable and very intimate, two things he has historically been bad at being. He likes the idea of filling his mind with Iorveth's touch and Iorveth's blood so that even his worries are drowned out; liquid courage, albeit a different kind of liquid than one might typically use.
So, he does as told, hand raising to cradle Iorveth's head against him as he angles his head and sinks his fangs into Iorveth's throat, careful even now to avoid his tattoo, no matter how appealing the idea of biting all the way down it is. A brief moment of pressure, then sharp pain, and then Iorveth's skin is pierced, warm blood running onto Astarion's tongue, into his mouth. He suckles, licks, gulps, fingers stroking Iorveth's hair reverently. Food is just food when it's some pig on the street, but with Iorveth, it's different. It doesn't feel like a snack, it feels like an offering. ]