[ To have been a fly on the wall while Astarion was studying for law exams. Iorveth's still slightly sex-fuzzy brain floats to the mental image of a bespectacled Astarion sitting by a window surrounded by thick, leather-bound tomes, which, bizarrely, just makes him want to kiss Astarion again.
So he does. Lips to lips, breath to unnecessary breath. In Iorveth's mind, Astarion earned that spot for himself (delusional). ]
You'll have to put up with me correcting you.
[ He finally replies, once he settles back onto his pillow and relaxes into being sideways on the mattress. A beat to think of a sentence in his dialect that sounds close enough to the Elven language for Astarion to decipher, and he offers: ]
"What my love wants, my love gets."
[ What Astarion said to him before, now in Aen Seidhe. ]
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So he does. Lips to lips, breath to unnecessary breath. In Iorveth's mind, Astarion earned that spot for himself (delusional). ]
You'll have to put up with me correcting you.
[ He finally replies, once he settles back onto his pillow and relaxes into being sideways on the mattress. A beat to think of a sentence in his dialect that sounds close enough to the Elven language for Astarion to decipher, and he offers: ]
"What my love wants, my love gets."
[ What Astarion said to him before, now in Aen Seidhe. ]