[ Iorveth looks terrifyingly inviting sprawled out on the sheets, soft and defenseless. Astarion slithers up beside him in an instant, pressing himself into the space that Iorveth's body creates. He's a big fan of his personal space, except when it comes to Iorveth. Then he's a fan of Iorveth's personal space.
Iorveth just doesn't feel like another person the way that other people do. Other people are scary, untrustworthy things, and being around them gives Astarion a constant low-level sense of anxiety and dread. Not Iorveth. 'My better half', he'd called Astarion, and while the 'better' part certainly isn't true, he does sometimes feel as if Iorveth is his other half in an almost literal way. A physical part of him that would hurt to be separated from. ]
Your time, [ he says, brushing hair out of Iorveth's face. ] Your love. [ A remarkably twee boop to Iorveth's nose, although he'd deny it ever happened if asked. ] Your kisses. What more could I ask for?
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Iorveth just doesn't feel like another person the way that other people do. Other people are scary, untrustworthy things, and being around them gives Astarion a constant low-level sense of anxiety and dread. Not Iorveth. 'My better half', he'd called Astarion, and while the 'better' part certainly isn't true, he does sometimes feel as if Iorveth is his other half in an almost literal way. A physical part of him that would hurt to be separated from. ]
Your time, [ he says, brushing hair out of Iorveth's face. ] Your love. [ A remarkably twee boop to Iorveth's nose, although he'd deny it ever happened if asked. ] Your kisses. What more could I ask for?