Jedao beams up at him, utterly relaxed, utterly content, a messy bloody puddle of a person. Being touched now is exactly what he would have wanted. He makes a soft hum of happiness; if he were a cat he would be purring.
His eyes do drift down to Astarion's very strained pants, lazy and shameless, less smug than simply pleased, then glide back up to his face.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-05-10 08:41 pm (UTC)His eyes do drift down to Astarion's very strained pants, lazy and shameless, less smug than simply pleased, then glide back up to his face.