[ For the first time, Gale is aware enough to realise Astarion is good at this, intentional where Gale is instinctual. His breath stutters in Astarion’s mouth, adjusting to angles (and teeth) much sharper than he’s accustomed to before he gets the hang of it, pressing back harder in answer.
He slips an arm around Astarion’s waist to wind him tighter, hand fitting into the divot of his back. Astarion wins a soft sound, for kissing him somewhere new. ]
Nothing below the belt, as they say. [ Trying for humorous as he noses into Astarion’s hair, without the air in his lungs to back it up. His other hand catches on Astarion’s collar, rubbing the worn fabric between his thumb and forefinger. Stuck, for a moment, in consideration over whether it would be ill-advised to undo the laces of his shirt. ]
[ With a sudden air of seriousness, ] I won’t risk you, if I feel any instability. [ lighter, then. ] So you can do as you like, fangs and all. [ seeing as Astarion seems inclined to using his teeth, if nothing else. ]
no subject
He slips an arm around Astarion’s waist to wind him tighter, hand fitting into the divot of his back. Astarion wins a soft sound, for kissing him somewhere new. ]
Nothing below the belt, as they say. [ Trying for humorous as he noses into Astarion’s hair, without the air in his lungs to back it up. His other hand catches on Astarion’s collar, rubbing the worn fabric between his thumb and forefinger. Stuck, for a moment, in consideration over whether it would be ill-advised to undo the laces of his shirt. ]
[ With a sudden air of seriousness, ] I won’t risk you, if I feel any instability. [ lighter, then. ] So you can do as you like, fangs and all. [ seeing as Astarion seems inclined to using his teeth, if nothing else. ]