[ Astarion feels Iorveth heat up before he sees it, a lovely darkening of his tanned skin. Iorveth is usually so decisive when he speaks, and he's never heard him dance around his words this much. He sounds, perhaps, like he might be excited by the prospect. It's so fucking cute. It makes Astarion want to wrap his arms around him and squeeze until he pops, or maybe rip his clothes off in the middle of the city and have his way with him.
A happy medium: Astarion reaches out to grab Iorveth by the collar, tugging him in until their lips meet and holding him there while he presses all of his love and affection into one kiss. When he draws back, he keeps his fingers loosely wound into the fabric of Iorveth's shirt, hesitant to let go.
His mouth twitches with an insuppressible smile. ]
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A happy medium: Astarion reaches out to grab Iorveth by the collar, tugging him in until their lips meet and holding him there while he presses all of his love and affection into one kiss. When he draws back, he keeps his fingers loosely wound into the fabric of Iorveth's shirt, hesitant to let go.
His mouth twitches with an insuppressible smile. ]
"What my love wants, my love gets."