[ Astarion's cock twitches with the kiss to his ear, a helpless sound escaping him. He's sensitive there, which Gale clearly knows -- not just intellectually, but because he pays attention. Because, impossibly, he cares what feels good to Astarion.
And Astarion has had tastes of the Weave: in Gale's blood, in this bed they're sharing now. He wonders what this would be like, without the weight of his body, the fingerprints of all the people he's ever buried burned into his skin. Without Cazador carved into him.
Would it feel like freedom, to be with Gale in that way? His mind's wandering doesn't get far, with Gale's hand curling around his cock, touching with more finesse than he's given himself credit for. Astarion winds an arm behind him, fingers finding Gale's hair and tugging lightly as he rolls his hips into the slick heat of Gale's hand. ]
You're so good to me. [ With his own soft disbelief, his breath hitching as Gale's thumb grazes the head of his cock just so, his head tipping back. ] I don't -- know what I did to deserve it. [ To deserve you. ]
no subject
And Astarion has had tastes of the Weave: in Gale's blood, in this bed they're sharing now. He wonders what this would be like, without the weight of his body, the fingerprints of all the people he's ever buried burned into his skin. Without Cazador carved into him.
Would it feel like freedom, to be with Gale in that way? His mind's wandering doesn't get far, with Gale's hand curling around his cock, touching with more finesse than he's given himself credit for. Astarion winds an arm behind him, fingers finding Gale's hair and tugging lightly as he rolls his hips into the slick heat of Gale's hand. ]
You're so good to me. [ With his own soft disbelief, his breath hitching as Gale's thumb grazes the head of his cock just so, his head tipping back. ] I don't -- know what I did to deserve it. [ To deserve you. ]