essea: (54.)
ɪᴏʀᴠᴇᴛʜ. ([personal profile] essea) wrote 2025-07-06 12:47 pm (UTC)

[ Before, when Iorveth was still trying to figure out if Astarion wanted any of this at all, this might have been enough for him to back off a bit. Wary of Astarion not being honest with him, wary of Astarion gritting his teeth and bearing it.

Now, he just adjusts. Without pulling away, he slides back up and nests next to Astarion on the opposite side of that injured leg. (Gods, he really wants to kill that stupid hag.)
]

You say so as if going slow isn't a luxury. [ Tipping Astarion's face up from soft pillows before he can bury himself in it, Iorveth presses their mouths together. They can make out a little more as a treat, and, for Iorveth, as an affirmation of affection: as he's said many times, he doesn't kiss anyone he doesn't love.

His hand slides down past the waistband of Astarion's loose pants again, smoothing down along his hip, sneaking down to the soft skin of his inner thigh. More exploratory than lecherous, craving contact just for the sake of it. He hums, starting to feel a little fuzzy from breathlessness, and goes up for air.
]

Astarion. [ Craning up, dotting another kiss to his temple. ] ...My betrothed. With you, 'slow' is ideal.

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