[ Cute, Iorveth thinks. (Deranged.) His neck hurts from where the fangs withdraw, the puncture wounds still seeping blood; Iorveth is only aware of the pain on a surface level, too caught up in the feral desire to lean in and kiss the red from Astarion's lips, which he does.
It doesn't taste good to him, obviously, but there's a thrill in knowing that it's satisfying to Astarion. Another hum with their lips locked, and Iorveth pulls back after an affectionate graze of teeth to soft skin. ]
Music to my ears.
[ He loves it when Astarion wants things― it makes Iorveth want to spoil him more, which is definitely unhealthy. More oil gets applied to fingers, and more digits work to relax Astarion open enough so that it wont hurt when Iorveth pushes inside him; there's just a hint of impatience beneath the careful ministrations, but it's easily eclipsed by Iorveth's preternatural stubbornness. He'd rather have his remaining eye shot out than make Astarion feel badly during sex.
That said: ] I can't help myself, either. [ A roll of his hips, his erection sliding along Astarion's. ] Do you feel ready enough?
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It doesn't taste good to him, obviously, but there's a thrill in knowing that it's satisfying to Astarion. Another hum with their lips locked, and Iorveth pulls back after an affectionate graze of teeth to soft skin. ]
Music to my ears.
[ He loves it when Astarion wants things― it makes Iorveth want to spoil him more, which is definitely unhealthy. More oil gets applied to fingers, and more digits work to relax Astarion open enough so that it wont hurt when Iorveth pushes inside him; there's just a hint of impatience beneath the careful ministrations, but it's easily eclipsed by Iorveth's preternatural stubbornness. He'd rather have his remaining eye shot out than make Astarion feel badly during sex.
That said: ] I can't help myself, either. [ A roll of his hips, his erection sliding along Astarion's. ] Do you feel ready enough?