[ Iorveth thinks himself ugly, but the mere sound of his laugh is probably the most beautiful thing Astarion has ever heard. He wishes he could listen to it on demand, bottled up in some sort of arcane contraption. Something to ask Gale about — although not with too much specificity, because he'd be horrifically embarrassed were Gale to realize that he wants to capture Iorveth's laugh.
His arms release Iorveth from their confining hold, one hand reaching up to stroke the area where Iorveth's tattoo starts, following its trail down his neck and collarbone and then back up again. At least, it's supposed to be stroking the tattoo; Astarion can't see it very well, so much of it is by memory. ]
'Let' me, hm?
[ He's sure he can think of a few heinous things to do to Iorveth, but he doesn't only want to be let to do them. ]
no subject
His arms release Iorveth from their confining hold, one hand reaching up to stroke the area where Iorveth's tattoo starts, following its trail down his neck and collarbone and then back up again. At least, it's supposed to be stroking the tattoo; Astarion can't see it very well, so much of it is by memory. ]
'Let' me, hm?
[ He's sure he can think of a few heinous things to do to Iorveth, but he doesn't only want to be let to do them. ]
But what would you like me to do to you?