[ They've got the order of things all wrong, and awkwardly stumbling over questions and declarations that have only been half-made. Typical. There's nothing slick or smooth about what they're doing, but Iorveth doesn't care― this seems to be the way of things with them, fumbling blind around the things they want, wanting them fervently anyway.
His thumbs smooth against either side of Astarion's red face, enamored by the flush and how it manifests on ivory-pale skin; he really is the most beautiful man Iorveth has ever met. It feels like a physical ache to let go of him when all Iorveth wants to do is tug him into his chest. ]
I don't care how it's done. [ Blunt as usual, but equally warm and affectionate, anticipation and hope smoothing the edges of his candor. ] I want you.
[ And everything that that entails, wedding robes and all (gods, he still can't believe it). A far cry from when he'd been curled next to Astarion in bed, debating the pros and cons of saying a single word ('stay'); Iorveth, with his legs swung over the side of their stupid purple bed, has never been more sure than he is now about needing someone in his life.
It's a dangerous place to be. Vulnerable, foolhardy. Astarion is his only fatal weakness now, and will become so a thousandfold if he formally goes through with this, but that's a risk he'll happily take. For the millionth time, he doesn't love easy. ]
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His thumbs smooth against either side of Astarion's red face, enamored by the flush and how it manifests on ivory-pale skin; he really is the most beautiful man Iorveth has ever met. It feels like a physical ache to let go of him when all Iorveth wants to do is tug him into his chest. ]
I don't care how it's done. [ Blunt as usual, but equally warm and affectionate, anticipation and hope smoothing the edges of his candor. ] I want you.
[ And everything that that entails, wedding robes and all (gods, he still can't believe it). A far cry from when he'd been curled next to Astarion in bed, debating the pros and cons of saying a single word ('stay'); Iorveth, with his legs swung over the side of their stupid purple bed, has never been more sure than he is now about needing someone in his life.
It's a dangerous place to be. Vulnerable, foolhardy. Astarion is his only fatal weakness now, and will become so a thousandfold if he formally goes through with this, but that's a risk he'll happily take. For the millionth time, he doesn't love easy. ]