[ When he had an entire day to press his fingers to fresh puncture marks and wonder if it felt as entrancing for others. Granted, they might have felt a tick more fear, in alternate circumstances.
For once, Astarion seems riveted by his lecture, following his words to the corresponding soft, vulnerable places on his body. It strikes him again just how visceral this encounter is, compared to everything he had with Mystra. ]
Itβs only a hop beyond general anatomical knowledge. [ He quirks a questioning brow as Astarion starts to lead him β following until he backs into the hard stone. Oh. Thatβs a surprise. Not an unwelcome one, if the way his heart stops and starts is any indication. ]
Oh β [ Only half as surprising as Astarion daring to lift his not insignificant weight. Gale helps with a push, once he gets his palms flat on the ledge for leverage. Flushed from chest to cheek, utterly bare in a way he hadnβt anticipated, his expression cracks open. A little thrill straightens his spine, even so β proud of Astarion identifying and seeing through a desire.
His own curiosity and obvious interest in the proceedings outmatch his self-consciousness. The latter persists in small ways: How he cards a hand back through his hair, mussing it; the slight tension in his thigh, under Astarionβs spring-warmed hand. ]
You may. [ breathless, ] Do try not to kill us in the process.
[ No excitement, he says, and this is what he gets. ]
no subject
[ When he had an entire day to press his fingers to fresh puncture marks and wonder if it felt as entrancing for others. Granted, they might have felt a tick more fear, in alternate circumstances.
For once, Astarion seems riveted by his lecture, following his words to the corresponding soft, vulnerable places on his body. It strikes him again just how visceral this encounter is, compared to everything he had with Mystra. ]
Itβs only a hop beyond general anatomical knowledge. [ He quirks a questioning brow as Astarion starts to lead him β following until he backs into the hard stone. Oh. Thatβs a surprise. Not an unwelcome one, if the way his heart stops and starts is any indication. ]
Oh β [ Only half as surprising as Astarion daring to lift his not insignificant weight. Gale helps with a push, once he gets his palms flat on the ledge for leverage. Flushed from chest to cheek, utterly bare in a way he hadnβt anticipated, his expression cracks open. A little thrill straightens his spine, even so β proud of Astarion identifying and seeing through a desire.
His own curiosity and obvious interest in the proceedings outmatch his self-consciousness. The latter persists in small ways: How he cards a hand back through his hair, mussing it; the slight tension in his thigh, under Astarionβs spring-warmed hand. ]
You may. [ breathless, ] Do try not to kill us in the process.
[ No excitement, he says, and this is what he gets. ]