[ More than anything. There's a selfish, greedy part of Astarion that wants to bind Gale to those words, hold them tight when the moment of truth comes. Even with Gale here, touching him, it's near-impossible to believe he can have this; whatever waits for them at Moonrise is too close, and the night threatens to slip through his fingers.
Gale's kiss warms the skin over Astarion's unbeating heart, his words knocking something else loose in him -- a fortress crumbling, and Astarion hadn't known how heavy its walls were until now.
They've been too raw tonight for any of Astarion's easy quips to roll off his tongue in response to Gale's confession, lines about how good he is with his hands, his irresistible touch. He watches Gale quietly a moment, instead; finds his hand to thread their fingers at his hip, the other tangled in his hair. ]
I thought this part of me was dead. [ Mirrors of each other. Voice soft, awed. ] I've never --
This should be so easy, when I've done it a million times before. But you've made it new.
no subject
Gale's kiss warms the skin over Astarion's unbeating heart, his words knocking something else loose in him -- a fortress crumbling, and Astarion hadn't known how heavy its walls were until now.
They've been too raw tonight for any of Astarion's easy quips to roll off his tongue in response to Gale's confession, lines about how good he is with his hands, his irresistible touch. He watches Gale quietly a moment, instead; finds his hand to thread their fingers at his hip, the other tangled in his hair. ]
I thought this part of me was dead. [ Mirrors of each other. Voice soft, awed. ] I've never --
This should be so easy, when I've done it a million times before. But you've made it new.