corporeity: (Default)
𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑠 ([personal profile] corporeity) wrote 2024-03-07 08:50 am (UTC)

[ Astarion’s grip slackens, and Gale realises, suddenly, that he doesn’t want him to let go. He isn’t warm the way he was that wretched night, but he’s close, alive by some definition. Gale hadn’t had this — had anything — in so long. Maybe it’s the wine saturating his blood. ]

Mm. [ One shoulder lifts in a noncommittal shrug. None know the extent of his pain, and it wouldn’t serve him to change that impression. ]

[ Hearing Astarion’s next words, he tips his head forward, intent. Horror and concern play across his expressive face, helpless at the thought of the scenario presented. ]

Of course. [ Acknowledgement of the surprising confession. A vulnerability gifted in exchange for his? Surely not, but what else could it be? Gale shifts his wrist in Astarion’s loose grip. Rather than pull away, he presses their palms together and tangles their fingers, not quite holding. Testing, as one would the fit of a glove. His gaze flickers there, a curious entanglement, then up to Astarion’s mouth. ]

I suppose I am offering, if you think you can stomach the taste.

[ His tongue swipes across his lower lip, considering. Perhaps all the wine he’s had will soften its sting. ]

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