"If it makes no odds to you, I'd rather you did," Astarion murmurs. "I do
so like to hear you."
He moves the blade to his chest, the press still feather-light, but
crueller now - twisting, the tip of the blade sliding under the skin as
much as through it.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-05-04 10:40 pm (UTC)"If it makes no odds to you, I'd rather you did," Astarion murmurs. "I do so like to hear you."
He moves the blade to his chest, the press still feather-light, but crueller now - twisting, the tip of the blade sliding under the skin as much as through it.