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[thirsted]

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ASTARION

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[thirsted]

[ The kiss is sweet. Astarion needn't search for another word for it, doesn't think of anything else in the moment but Gale, the thorny mass that has wound itself around any conception of intimacy in his head dissipating for a singular beat as he allows himself to want, to be wanted. He feels dizzy, almost, sensation overriding the myriad calculations that have characterized most intimate moments before this as he tilts his head into Gale's hand, meets his eyes with affection clear in his own. ]

Naughty.

[ Just as breathless, carried on a laugh. ]

I ought to have made you wait.

[ But there's no real heat or intention behind his words, just a gentle sort of teasing. It feels, almost, like stretching out the tiny shred of certainty he feels like so much dough over a larger plate — letting it fill him up, closing up the gaps so there's no room for anything else right now, even if fear or doubt set their claws in him later. Right now, there's just this.

This, as in the kiss Astarion presses to Gale's lips in return, confidence begetting more of the giddy same as his fingers curl in Gale's sleeve. He's almost shy when he pulls back, as though taken aback by his own desire. ]

Nothing more until midnight! [ Though he wavers on the spot, uncertain if he really wants to pull away. ] For the sake of tradition.

[corporeity]

[ Astarion gifts him so much, culminating in that second, unexpected kiss. Offered freely, no influence but Gale himself to account for. Gale doesn’t let him go, isn’t sure he could, thinking, madly, what fool would ever wish to be anywhere but here? What matter the heavens, with earthly delights so bright? ]

Wow.

[ wholly captivated, despite that note of surprise, leaning forward like he’s awfully tempted to kiss Astarion again and again and again until they haven’t the faintest idea who is kissing who. Too much, too fast, possibly born of the same instinct that carried him around a darkened bend to an eerie glow. To have or to please — reigned in, to the barest press forehead-to-forehead, nose-to-nose before he lifts his head to a sociable distance. ]

Until midnight.

[ Echoed like a reminder to himself. Hopeful as a pup by the door, head tipped to one side. Gale lets his hand fall away from Astarion’s face, skimming down his arm to re-entwine their fingers. ]

It’ll be worth the wait.