[ Iorveth gets a handjob, Astarion gets a hair-brushing. A fair trade, all things considered. He needs a good hair-brushing regardless; he hadn't thought of it in the moment, but he finds himself suddenly horrified at the prospect of Gale's simulacrum transmitting the image of Astarion with bedhead to its maker. From his trance to all of that rolling around, he looks horrifyingly untamed.
Eager to have his hair look respectable, he leans his head toward Iorveth, offering him easier access. He can't recall the last time someone brushed his hair for him. Not after Cazador turned him, and probably not often before that, too. He must have been a child the last time someone did such a small but significant thing for him. ]
Or I could just ask you how torrid our sex life is.
no subject
Eager to have his hair look respectable, he leans his head toward Iorveth, offering him easier access. He can't recall the last time someone brushed his hair for him. Not after Cazador turned him, and probably not often before that, too. He must have been a child the last time someone did such a small but significant thing for him. ]
Or I could just ask you how torrid our sex life is.
[ The answer is like, soooo torrid, of course. ]