[ How is it that Iorveth can irritate Astarion so much in one moment, then melt him the next? Poetry is unnecessary. No one has ever said such sweet things to him but Iorveth—at least, not anyone who meant it—and being the recipient of them makes the tips of his ears flush red in pleasure. ]
Oh, but I like when you embarrass yourself.
[ Very much.
Astarion presses closer, soaking up as much of Iorveth's body heat as he can manage. His chilly fingers loosen Iorveth's collar and worm their way under the fabric, sliding across his chest until he feels the steady thump, thump of Iorveth's beating heart. He splays his fingers out, palm pressed against Iorveth's sternum. ]
Mm, yes, [ he purrs as his eyes slip closed, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. ] All mine.
no subject
Oh, but I like when you embarrass yourself.
[ Very much.
Astarion presses closer, soaking up as much of Iorveth's body heat as he can manage. His chilly fingers loosen Iorveth's collar and worm their way under the fabric, sliding across his chest until he feels the steady thump, thump of Iorveth's beating heart. He splays his fingers out, palm pressed against Iorveth's sternum. ]
Mm, yes, [ he purrs as his eyes slip closed, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. ] All mine.