[ His heart skips a beat at the mental image of Astarion in moments of solo intimacy, not just because he would be very pretty doing it, but because of the claim that he allocated any sort of brainpower to thinking of Iorveth while it happened. It makes Iorveth a little warmer under Astarion's literal thumb, his face angling to meet the touch. ]
...Then we'll find a needle and ink.
[ Ugh. Iorveth can't help it― he's infatuated. ]
I've never wished to be appealing to anyone but you.
[ A kind-of admission. Iorveth likes to be tidy, clean, but he's never been vain in the sense that he wanted to be desirable to others; grooming was and still is a matter of personal pride, later subsumed by a bitter desire to say fuck-you to the humans who would rather see him dirt-caked and pitiful.
He would, however, like for Astarion to enjoy looking at him, so. His arms wrap around Astarion's middle, and he nestles his face into Astarion's hair. ]
no subject
...Then we'll find a needle and ink.
[ Ugh. Iorveth can't help it― he's infatuated. ]
I've never wished to be appealing to anyone but you.
[ A kind-of admission. Iorveth likes to be tidy, clean, but he's never been vain in the sense that he wanted to be desirable to others; grooming was and still is a matter of personal pride, later subsumed by a bitter desire to say fuck-you to the humans who would rather see him dirt-caked and pitiful.
He would, however, like for Astarion to enjoy looking at him, so. His arms wrap around Astarion's middle, and he nestles his face into Astarion's hair. ]