corporeity: (Default)
π‘”π‘Žπ‘™π‘’ π‘‘π‘’π‘˜π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘–π‘œπ‘  ([personal profile] corporeity) wrote 2023-12-18 10:41 pm (UTC)

this is the new reality this is how it has always been

[ All white-hot need coiled low in his gut, licking up his insides, Gale has meagre resistance on tap. A temporary hesitation, prolonged by a forcibly discerning look between his prize and Astarion’s nimble fingers. Quick enough to snatch them away, if it amuses (and he seems to find Gale awfully amusing, these days).

With far less grace, he drops to his knees opposite Astarion. His single-minded focus subsumes the creak of his bones. ]


Certainly. [ A faraway echo. His world has narrowed to a single point, the thing he’s needed for days, hollow and aching. Before he realises, he finds his arm extended, fingertips grazing the metal. Oh, that will do just fine. ]

I’m not inclined to play with my food. [ Implying that Astarion is, obviously. Gale very much wants to ask if Astarion means it, if this can truly be given and destroyed, without having to, well, ask. ] Are you done toying with yours?

[ With him. ]

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