[ There's still water in Astarion's lungs as his vision suddenly shifts to an expanse of rippling twilight, the taste of honey-sweet rosewater thick on his tongue. Astarion is such a practiced liar, he's wondered if Gale was fabricating this relationship with his goddess, and he feels blinded by the truth of it, the weight of her -- terrible to Astarion, all-encompassing in her power, but that doesn't drown out the feeling of devotion and the pleasure at her praise.
Astarion is unmoved by being wanted, an object of desire to another, but to feel desire -- the blooming pleasure of being good for someone, of yielding, of being worthy overwhelms him more than the physical, even as his back arches beneath Gale in a helpless mirror of it, an aborted moan leaving his lips just as Gale drags him under.
He could drown. The thought is detached as the sharp twist at his scalp starts to numb, his lungs filling with water again. To need air is so strange, his vision going black at the edges, returning to the stars of the astral.
And then he's yanked unceremoniously back out, chest spasming as he tries to expel water from his lungs again, throat raw, like daggers are slicing inside him with every attempt at breath. ]
Oh, Gale. [ A rasping sigh, his breath catching staccato at the edge of it. His pupils are blown, wet bangs almost translucent as they cling to his skin, head lolling in Gale's grip as his vision swims. He hitches a seizing, delirious laugh, a hand clumsily finding purchase in Gale's tunic. ] I didn't think you had it in you.
[ The violence, he means, but he can't -- or won't -- offer that clarification. ]
no subject
Astarion is unmoved by being wanted, an object of desire to another, but to feel desire -- the blooming pleasure of being good for someone, of yielding, of being worthy overwhelms him more than the physical, even as his back arches beneath Gale in a helpless mirror of it, an aborted moan leaving his lips just as Gale drags him under.
He could drown. The thought is detached as the sharp twist at his scalp starts to numb, his lungs filling with water again. To need air is so strange, his vision going black at the edges, returning to the stars of the astral.
And then he's yanked unceremoniously back out, chest spasming as he tries to expel water from his lungs again, throat raw, like daggers are slicing inside him with every attempt at breath. ]
Oh, Gale. [ A rasping sigh, his breath catching staccato at the edge of it. His pupils are blown, wet bangs almost translucent as they cling to his skin, head lolling in Gale's grip as his vision swims. He hitches a seizing, delirious laugh, a hand clumsily finding purchase in Gale's tunic. ] I didn't think you had it in you.
[ The violence, he means, but he can't -- or won't -- offer that clarification. ]