[ The Woodland Fox, the most wanted elf in the Northern Forests, a nuisance to most and a terror to others, is felled instantly by the vaguest hint of a whine in his lover's voice while they kiss. He knows it, too－ he can feel how he's emotionally brought to his fucking knees just from that verbal pout, and Astarion should be able to feel it physically from how Iorveth shivers while their lips are still locked.
It's ridiculous. Decades of pouring himself into his duty as a freedom fighter, decades of tucking his face under a bandana and forgetting how to smile, and now this. Astarion has shifted his entire narrative by demanding that first kiss, and now Iorveth can't stop.
Finally, after another layered kiss (the half-orc looks over his shoulder and looks genuinely surprised that the two are still at it): ]
Gods, you really are unreasonably perfect.
[ It's a full-bodied ache to have to peel away, with Iorveth grudgingly consigning himself to the role of the more reasonable of the two (very debatable). He flicks under Astarion's chin with his free hand, a little breathless and a little flushed. ]
―Come. I'll eat quickly.
[ Guiding him to the nearest tavern, which luckily happens to be a cozy establishment with only a smattering of sleepy-looking guests who give the two elves little mind when they stumble in. Iorveth finds them a table pressed against the wall in the corner, fingers still laced, unwilling to be the first one to let go this time around. ]
no subject
It's ridiculous. Decades of pouring himself into his duty as a freedom fighter, decades of tucking his face under a bandana and forgetting how to smile, and now this. Astarion has shifted his entire narrative by demanding that first kiss, and now Iorveth can't stop.
Finally, after another layered kiss (the half-orc looks over his shoulder and looks genuinely surprised that the two are still at it): ]
Gods, you really are unreasonably perfect.
[ It's a full-bodied ache to have to peel away, with Iorveth grudgingly consigning himself to the role of the more reasonable of the two (very debatable). He flicks under Astarion's chin with his free hand, a little breathless and a little flushed. ]
―Come. I'll eat quickly.
[ Guiding him to the nearest tavern, which luckily happens to be a cozy establishment with only a smattering of sleepy-looking guests who give the two elves little mind when they stumble in. Iorveth finds them a table pressed against the wall in the corner, fingers still laced, unwilling to be the first one to let go this time around. ]