[ Iorveth's touch is the sweetest, gentlest, most comforting that he knows, but Astarion still has next to no 'mild discomfort tolerance'. He winces again at the feeling of Iorveth's fingers against his bruised skin, although the press of Iorveth's lips to his certainly helps ease the soreness. Iorveth's kisses turn his brain off, so that there's nothing in this world that exists except his mouth. He chases that mouth, pecking him affectionately before allowing Iorveth to pull back. ]
Oh, will you?
[ There's nothing too unreasonable for Iorveth to ask of him, he thinks. Hells, Iorveth told him to give up ascension, and he did. He's been a lost cause since the very beginning of this relationship. ]
What will you ask me? [ Voice lowered, conspiratorial: ] To wear green?
no subject
Oh, will you?
[ There's nothing too unreasonable for Iorveth to ask of him, he thinks. Hells, Iorveth told him to give up ascension, and he did. He's been a lost cause since the very beginning of this relationship. ]
What will you ask me? [ Voice lowered, conspiratorial: ] To wear green?
[ Horrible. It's not in his palette!! ]