[ No one has ever praised him like this. Not once, in life or death - not with any meaning behind it, not in a way that mattered. No one who praised him for his performance ever knew his name, and the man who owned him only ever bruised and bled him and ground his body into graveyard dirt for his efforts.
With the flood of warm, potent blood coursing through him, it's almost too much, almost cracks Astarion open: does pull another noise from him, a keening one as Gale presses him closer.
He wants to be good, he wants to be perfect. He wants to be more than he's ever had the chance to be, is so hungry for it in this moment.
Astarion doesn't need to breathe, but he still pulls off of Gale after another long drink with a gasp, his eyes dark and pupils blown, mouth wet with blood that drips down his chin and into the clear spring. Unhooking Gale's leg from his shoulder, he pulls himself out of the water, hands and knees bracketing Gale's hips and thighs before a hand finds his jaw, his face, surging up to meet him, breathlessly: ]
no subject
With the flood of warm, potent blood coursing through him, it's almost too much, almost cracks Astarion open: does pull another noise from him, a keening one as Gale presses him closer.
He wants to be good, he wants to be perfect. He wants to be more than he's ever had the chance to be, is so hungry for it in this moment.
Astarion doesn't need to breathe, but he still pulls off of Gale after another long drink with a gasp, his eyes dark and pupils blown, mouth wet with blood that drips down his chin and into the clear spring. Unhooking Gale's leg from his shoulder, he pulls himself out of the water, hands and knees bracketing Gale's hips and thighs before a hand finds his jaw, his face, surging up to meet him, breathlessly: ]
Please kiss me.