[ Astarion likes that flirtatious concession more than he wants to admit, because nothing in this life has ever been his; not claimed nor conquered, and certainly not willingly given.
A desperate part of him wants to conquer, because then Gale will have to listen when Astarion tells him to stay. ]
Well, clearly it's mine through morning. [ His posture softening into the curve of Gale's body, limbs twining around him as he rests his head on Gale's chest, listens to the beat of his heart. Astarion may not need sleep, but it's easy enough to consider it in Gale's arms and his bed, that space-between where they can pretend neither of them will have to wake and be heroes, of all things. ]
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A desperate part of him wants to conquer, because then Gale will have to listen when Astarion tells him to stay. ]
Well, clearly it's mine through morning. [ His posture softening into the curve of Gale's body, limbs twining around him as he rests his head on Gale's chest, listens to the beat of his heart. Astarion may not need sleep, but it's easy enough to consider it in Gale's arms and his bed, that space-between where they can pretend neither of them will have to wake and be heroes, of all things. ]