[ Maybe it's the lack of oxygen to his brain, but Astarion almost likes Gale like this -- furious, acting on violent impulse. He's flushed with that fury, and maybe something else, and the inky tendrils that curl down Gale's throat seem to strain against his ruddy skin.
He catches that soft sound, Gale's hand -- cooler now, from the chill of the water and early morning air -- sliding over bare skin. Astarion's going to have to cut his pants off, once he gets out of the water. He feels drunker than he did before, somehow, between Gale's lightning magic and the water in his lungs, dizzy and blurred despite the fresh blood strengthening his body.
Astarion meets Gale's gaze, tongue flicking to wet his lower lip and being met with the grit of sand, taste of the river. Another rough breath of a laugh, his fingers gripping Gale's tunic tighter before he releases with a little push to his chest, attempting to right himself. ]
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He catches that soft sound, Gale's hand -- cooler now, from the chill of the water and early morning air -- sliding over bare skin. Astarion's going to have to cut his pants off, once he gets out of the water. He feels drunker than he did before, somehow, between Gale's lightning magic and the water in his lungs, dizzy and blurred despite the fresh blood strengthening his body.
Astarion meets Gale's gaze, tongue flicking to wet his lower lip and being met with the grit of sand, taste of the river. Another rough breath of a laugh, his fingers gripping Gale's tunic tighter before he releases with a little push to his chest, attempting to right himself. ]
We should do this again sometime.