[ A biting problem that Iorveth seems to be in no rush to fix, so Astarion nips at his fingers affectionately. It feels good to get to be a vampire around him, no sanding down the points of his fangs or repressing his hunger. It's what Cazador made him, yes, but it's what he is, too. Mortal hungers are a hazy, distant memory; vampiric ones are very much in the present. ]
There's no one else I want to sink my teeth into.
[ Admittedly, the smell of blood—anyone's blood—does whet his appetite, but feeding is different and far better with Iorveth than it is with some random thug pulled off the street and drained to death. The blood he can take is less, but it's a headier drug because it's Iorveth giving it, having once declared that he would never let Astarion near his neck. Others are plain and flavorless sustenance, but Iorveth is caviar. ]
Apparently, you like it, too. [ If he sounds smug about this, it's because he's smug. When he touches the waistband of Iorveth's trousers, though, it's light, uncharacteristically undemanding. He knows what it's like to be strongarmed into intimacy. ] If you ask nicely, maybe I'll take care of that for you.
[ Somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind, he considers that he doesn't actually know if anyone is still around or if they've all cleared out for the day. In all of the blood-drunk lightheadedness, though, he's stopped prioritizing things like 'propriety' and 'not traumatizing one's roommates'. ]
no subject
There's no one else I want to sink my teeth into.
[ Admittedly, the smell of blood—anyone's blood—does whet his appetite, but feeding is different and far better with Iorveth than it is with some random thug pulled off the street and drained to death. The blood he can take is less, but it's a headier drug because it's Iorveth giving it, having once declared that he would never let Astarion near his neck. Others are plain and flavorless sustenance, but Iorveth is caviar. ]
Apparently, you like it, too. [ If he sounds smug about this, it's because he's smug. When he touches the waistband of Iorveth's trousers, though, it's light, uncharacteristically undemanding. He knows what it's like to be strongarmed into intimacy. ] If you ask nicely, maybe I'll take care of that for you.
[ Somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind, he considers that he doesn't actually know if anyone is still around or if they've all cleared out for the day. In all of the blood-drunk lightheadedness, though, he's stopped prioritizing things like 'propriety' and 'not traumatizing one's roommates'. ]