[ Most people would find this unnerving, but Astarion has absolutely no idea what's normal in a relationship, and as far as he's concerned, this is the most romantic thing he could possibly imagine. His marks on Iorveth's skin, in his shape, permanently. His heart doesn't beat, but he could swear that he feels it do a cartwheel in his chest.
There is one thing that he doesn't find romantic, though: ]
I detest when you call yourself that.
[ Ugly. As if a little maiming could ever truly mar his lovely features. Astarion finds him attractive partly because he thinks the sun shines out of his unfortunately un-tramp-stamped ass, but he also finds him hot because he's, well, hot. So what if he's missing an eye? One look from him can still make Astarion's legs turn to jelly. ]
You're beautiful. And yes, I mean that in the most shallow of senses.
[ In case Iorveth thinks it's only about his insides being beautiful — which they are, obviously. ]
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There is one thing that he doesn't find romantic, though: ]
I detest when you call yourself that.
[ Ugly. As if a little maiming could ever truly mar his lovely features. Astarion finds him attractive partly because he thinks the sun shines out of his unfortunately un-tramp-stamped ass, but he also finds him hot because he's, well, hot. So what if he's missing an eye? One look from him can still make Astarion's legs turn to jelly. ]
You're beautiful. And yes, I mean that in the most shallow of senses.
[ In case Iorveth thinks it's only about his insides being beautiful — which they are, obviously. ]