[ Just being near Astarion sets his nerves alight at this point: Iorveth isn't sure if he wants to ruin this exercise by asking to be touched, actually, or if he wants Astarion to continue to just watch so that he understands that Iorveth can get off merely to the thought of him, that there's nothing wrong with him.
Either way, he has no problem with shedding his trousers when prompted. His eye opens again, fixing its arousal-dull focus on the actual Astarion in front of him. Imagination doesn't compare to the real thing; being seen by those round, red eyes does something to Iorveth that he has no idea how to articulate. His cock is aching by the time he shimmies out of his pants, flushed and freed, almost touching his stomach with how hard it is. Obscene, probably, framed by his tattoos, an indelicate thing nestled near delicate ink. ]
Astarion, [ is as close to a whine as Iorveth will allow of himself, a soft sigh in his partner's name. Nudging his nose against Astarion's, tacitly seeking permission for a kiss (is that against the terms of this ridiculous game? whatever). Pressed so close, it might be difficult for Astarion to see how Iorveth thumbs against the tip of himself and smears his skin with pre, giving him more slide when he touches himself properly again; then again, maybe Astarion can hear it. Not just the slick sound of Iorveth's palm, but the soft huff of his breathing in time to the movement of his hand. ]
no subject
Either way, he has no problem with shedding his trousers when prompted. His eye opens again, fixing its arousal-dull focus on the actual Astarion in front of him. Imagination doesn't compare to the real thing; being seen by those round, red eyes does something to Iorveth that he has no idea how to articulate. His cock is aching by the time he shimmies out of his pants, flushed and freed, almost touching his stomach with how hard it is. Obscene, probably, framed by his tattoos, an indelicate thing nestled near delicate ink. ]
Astarion, [ is as close to a whine as Iorveth will allow of himself, a soft sigh in his partner's name. Nudging his nose against Astarion's, tacitly seeking permission for a kiss (is that against the terms of this ridiculous game? whatever). Pressed so close, it might be difficult for Astarion to see how Iorveth thumbs against the tip of himself and smears his skin with pre, giving him more slide when he touches himself properly again; then again, maybe Astarion can hear it. Not just the slick sound of Iorveth's palm, but the soft huff of his breathing in time to the movement of his hand. ]