essea: (58.)
ɪᴏʀᴠᴇᴛʜ. ([personal profile] essea) wrote 2025-04-26 02:36 am (UTC)

[ Making a mess already, dripping water all over nice tiles and clean floorboards. Iorveth is bullied towards the bedroom before he can even attempt to dry Astarion off a little, berated for his stupidity all the while. ]

I'd gathered that much.

[ A huff, amused despite the needling. Clearly, Astarion doesn't want mindfulness when it comes to affection― Iorveth will make a note of that. ]

Fine, then. I'll make sure only to stop when you hiss.

[ The entirety of Toril will suffer for it, but the world can fucking deal. Shoved back into their very violet bedroom, Iorveth makes a detour towards their pack and rummages inside it for both the tattoo quill and the vial of oil, keeping the former handy for if and when Astarion decides he wants to do a bit of doodling on Iorveth's skin; the vial is a more immediate necessity, and it gets tossed onto a stack of soft-looking pillows (wine, to match the sheets).

This time, Iorveth is the one to flop backwards onto the mattress first. Limp-limbed, tan skin (less tan than a few tendays ago, when they'd left Baldur's Gate; Iorveth hasn't seen the sun since then) warm and flushed from the bath.
]

Post a comment in response:

If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting