[ The already-blurred line between biting and fucking gets even fuzzier: the freak part of Iorveth's brain now associates the rush of fangs breaking skin with messy, sweat-slick intimacy, which is a problem for Future Iorveth. Present Iorveth rides out that initial rush of pain-vertigo and waits for Astarion to relax into the feeding to breach him, nuzzling up against all that soft hair as he works the first digit inside.
Altruism leaves entirely― Iorveth feels unbelievably greedy. Some sort of hereto unknown and untapped version of cute aggression, perhaps. He wants to occupy as much of Astarion as he can, to sew him onto the bedsheets with his weight and affection until there's no space for Astarion to doubt that he's loved, coveted, wanted. It's probably far too much to ask, but Iorveth, again, trusts Astarion to push back if anything verges on overwhelming or unpleasantly domineering.
Running hot, Iorveth's breath shudders between his teeth as he works another finger into that still-tight space. Astarion feels pleasantly lukewarm now, from the sex or the blood or both, and Iorveth's heart does a stupid little flip at how much he does, in fact, care for the man he's currently rutting against like a wild animal. He's been ruined for anyone or anything else, and the problem is that he doesn't have a problem with that at all.
A few more beat like this, shifting and bucking against Astarion while he makes friction, and he hums a light warning against Astarion's ear. Save a little blood for his dick. ]
no subject
Altruism leaves entirely― Iorveth feels unbelievably greedy. Some sort of hereto unknown and untapped version of cute aggression, perhaps. He wants to occupy as much of Astarion as he can, to sew him onto the bedsheets with his weight and affection until there's no space for Astarion to doubt that he's loved, coveted, wanted. It's probably far too much to ask, but Iorveth, again, trusts Astarion to push back if anything verges on overwhelming or unpleasantly domineering.
Running hot, Iorveth's breath shudders between his teeth as he works another finger into that still-tight space. Astarion feels pleasantly lukewarm now, from the sex or the blood or both, and Iorveth's heart does a stupid little flip at how much he does, in fact, care for the man he's currently rutting against like a wild animal. He's been ruined for anyone or anything else, and the problem is that he doesn't have a problem with that at all.
A few more beat like this, shifting and bucking against Astarion while he makes friction, and he hums a light warning against Astarion's ear. Save a little blood for his dick. ]