![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A good start!
If you'd like to work upwards from 'usually' - or use a longbow, come to that. I might be able to help.
...do you know how to make them? The bow, or the arrows, or both.
I could put them together from their constituent parts, but from scratch? No, I've never had to.
[She'll work on it. They have a library now. ]
I'd like that. Yes.
Are you okay? Are you in your room?
Astarion opens the door just a crack at first - he's lightly concerned about being murdered by some friend of Una's! - but then he sees who it is, smiles and opens up fully.
"Hello, darling. I was just thinking about you."
Things were said, after all, and 'fucking until the darkness works it way out of his brain' feels like a perfect idea.
Astarion makes a soft, pleased noise against his lips and pushes the door closed before wrapping both arms around him. He feels good, and it's so easy; he's good at this. There's nothing about this kind of physicality which doesn't come to him effortlessly.
He wants to kiss him. He wants to feel him light up in his arms.
He's so glad he controls his own need to breathe.
Astarion, of course, doesn't need to breathe either - he usually does, because it unsettles people when he doesn't, but it's largely just aesthetic. Right now, all he wants to do is kiss and be kissed until everything else falls away. He just wants it all to become as irrelevant and unimportant as-
He just wants John.
"Take me to bed," he murmurs, practically saying the words into John's mouth, they're still so close.
Fuck it, his-
Can he? He should. He wants to-
His-
His.
He'll put all that effort to putting Astarion onto the bed smoothly and kissing him into it like it's the only way to breathe in a vacuum.
This is exactly what he needs right now. Not to think or talk, just feel.
There's light, and heat, and the soft give of the mattress under him, and he's not alone.
John is warm and vital against the cool of his own body, kissing him and kissing him; he's reaching up to get him out of his clothes as if he's offended by the fact of him wearing them.
There's nothing supernatural about his hands going to his own clothing to help Astarion with what he's doing there, or with how he yanks it off and tosses it... wherever. But once it's gone, his hands are getting back in Astarion's hair and getting a handful of his ass to keep kissing him.
"Tell me how you want me," he whispers, between desperate kisses, while he's working his way out of his own clothes as well as John's. "I want to know what I can do for you, darling."
And as nice as it is when John seems not to have a preference, when he just wants to be with him in whatever configuration, sometimes Astarion can't help but crave a little more specificity.
Things are fine. She's a cat. They aren't complicated.
[is this really all you wanted buddy??]
She's a cat, Gale. I think your experience with your tressym has given you unreasonable expectations.
[if anyone so much as looked at her funny he would tear them in half]
Please, darling, it was uncertainty at most.
Anyway, yes, she's fine. She's getting very...large.
Don't be obtuse, Gale, I know cats grow. She's getting very large for a cat.
Page 27 of 139
- «
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- 116
- 117
- 118
- 119
- 120
- 121
- 122
- 123
- 124
- 125
- 126
- 127
- 128
- 129
- 130
- 131
- 132
- 133
- 134
- 135
- 136
- 137
- 138
- 139
- »
Page 27 of 139