Jedao makes a sound that starts off as a soft cry and turns into throaty, helpless moan; he quivers all over. He can feel a hot blush crawling down his face and throat; Astarion can see it on the back of his neck, and maybe even on his ears.
He feels - he doesn't even know the words for how he feels, exposed and praised and squeezed like he's just a pretty thing for Astarion to enjoy, the cool relief of his hand and the hot sting of his sore flesh all singing together. It feels like prickling is running all over his skin, even where he hasn't been caned, and excruciating delicate wonderful awareness of every inch of his body, self-consciousness without shame, embarrassment and enthusiasm and raw thrill.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-01-18 07:55 pm (UTC)He feels - he doesn't even know the words for how he feels, exposed and
praised and squeezed like he's just a pretty thing for Astarion to enjoy, the cool relief of his hand and the hot sting of his sore flesh all singing together. It feels like prickling is running all over his skin, even where he hasn't been caned, and excruciating delicate wonderful awareness of every inch of his body, self-consciousness without shame, embarrassment and enthusiasm and raw thrill.