corporeity: (015)
𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑠 ([personal profile] corporeity) wrote 2024-12-26 04:05 am (UTC)

[ He looses a huff of air, half-lost in Astarion’s shoulder. The acknowledgment of his inadequacy, however passive, smarts. Shame heats his cheeks.

Reluctantly, he tips back, attention fixed on their linked hands, the sweep of Astarion’s thumb over his thudding pulse — the trickle of blood that skids around his wrist. ]


Oh, am I? [ aiming for dry and landing somewhere breathless, ugh. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Astarion was eyeing up his wound like a choice cut, but he reminds himself of the inherent rot in his veins. Besides, he already offered Astarion his blood, in a particularly low moment. He needn’t embarrass himself further. ]

I don’t suppose you’ve a health potion on your person. [ His free hand slides over Astarion’s chest, ostensibly searching for the give of a pocket in his armour. And swiftly getting sidetracked by the thought of slipping under his layers and feeling his cool skin. ] I fear those mushrooms were… of a lascivious kind.

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