[Oh, god, did he? Forget the petty squabble, Leto has to pause to think about this.]
no
i think
wait
no
andraste is the maker's bride— yes, because varric [Anders, actually,] once wondered on the wisdom of shoving a god's bride between one's thighs each morning
it was meant to honor her
[How to wear Andraste-Based Crotch Armor in a Maker-honoring way, etc etc.]
you know I would look all the more dashing with your face pushed down flush and hot where it belongs.
But then you'd need to rest and get better to reach that particular outcome instead of stubbornly ruining the rest of my wardrobe alongside anything that isn't that
tight
feverish
coughing, sore, tired, had-best-be-drinking the honeyed tea I left behind for it, throat.
[See, the problem with being both sick and stuck in a teenage body is that his initial instinct is, in fact, to be a little brat about it. So it takes a moment (and a very large ink blot) before he manages to write out a reply.]
"it's even better and more delicious than it used to be", does that soo is that better?
you've learned to add honey. it is an improvement. i like the sweetness. take the compliment as it was intended.
i make no apologies for being attracted to you - and there is a difference between wanting something and begging for it
wanting it is my craving your touch even after a full 24 hours, and getting rewarded for it with cockwarming
begging for it is what you did a full week ago, when i was cooking lunch and you slithered out of your coffin to tempt me into bending over the counter, muttering threats against my friends all the while because you hadn't seen me in one full day
you dressed it up in pretty language, but it was begging all the same
by your own sweaty little admission I refute that insinuation on the grounds that I was making threats. Fanged. Livid threats. Promising to devour those little beasts you call friends for keeping you from me far longer than they should have.
And if it's technicalities you want to wade in on then let me be the first to 'recount' that all of the above was only barely audible over the noise of your panting and gasping for more beside the lunch you never consumed, thus proving you couldn't get enough to fill your only relevant appetite at that particular point in time.
what emotion fueled you, then, if not desperation? to the point where you could do nothing but pin me to the counter and snarl and seethe at everyone who dared keep me away . . . since you're defining so much, tell me: what was that, if not desperate hunger?
but that's not the point I was making don't you dare change the subject and think you're clever!
A predator stalks prey. P R E Y. thematically? prey whines. it begs. it whimpers. it gasps in the dying throes of ecstasy with its nails dug in and its mouth open, panting sweet nothings in Tevene.
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[One dragging line of ink marks his altered train of thought.]
Did he put her face there because that's his only taken lover? You know
Chantry
everything
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no
i think
wait
no
andraste is the maker's bride— yes, because varric [Anders, actually,] once wondered on the wisdom of shoving a god's bride between one's thighs each morning
it was meant to honor her
[How to wear Andraste-Based Crotch Armor in a Maker-honoring way, etc etc.]
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Was it.
Was. It.
w a s. i t.
[Baby. Baby. Baby. B A B Y.
LOOK HIM IN THE NONEXISTENT BOOK EYES. AND TELL HIM. THAT IT WAS MEANT TO HONOR HER.]
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MEANT to honor her, you notice i wrote
I didn't wear the damn thing
nor do i claim to believe it
what, don't you wish for a set of your own? you'd look so dashing
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Why not?
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because i would never be seen in public with you again
because i think you would rather die than wear something so unfashionable
because you would walk around sporting an erection 24/7 and that would kill even you
just ask me to settle between your thighs for a full day and call it even
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you know I would look all the more dashing with your face pushed down flush and hot where it belongs.
But then you'd need to rest and get better to reach that particular outcome instead of stubbornly ruining the rest of my wardrobe alongside anything that isn't that
tight
feverish
coughing, sore, tired, had-best-be-drinking the honeyed tea I left behind for it, throat.
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i can rest and ruin your wardrobe all at once
i'll bet i could still rest and get you off, too. you're fond enough of letting me sit on your cock for hours at a time.
[. . .]
you're too tempting for someone who won't let me put even my hands on you
you might well make up for it by telling me more about what you'll let me do when i'm rested
and yes i drank it
you've grown better at making it, it was good
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I'm choosing to take that compliment as a constant due to the fact that I distinctly remember you saying, and I quote
"this is delicious"
the first time I made it for you.
[Did Leto actually ever say that?]
and do be careful: what you say next will decide whether or not I elaborate more on what I'll permit you to do once you're all hale and whole
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"it's even better and more delicious than it used to be",
does that soois that better?you've learned to add honey. it is an improvement. i like the sweetness. take the compliment as it was intended.
what you'll permit me?
[Ah, brattiness can't always be fully quelled.]
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A two centuries old brat.]
what
I'll
permit
you
apologies, was I unclear?
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needy thing, don't act as if you won't— or need i remind you that it was you, not i, that was so insatiable he fucked me for a full 24 hours once?
besides: you do not PERMIT me to do anything
i don't know why you think you'll start now
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b e g g i n g?
excuse me for being the bearer of overwhelming truths but I have never once begged for it from you.
[LIES, Astarion. ]
and need I also remind you love of my bloody little life that it was you who was still sighing for it after those twenty four hours?
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wanting it is my craving your touch even after a full 24 hours, and getting rewarded for it with cockwarming
begging for it is what you did a full week ago, when i was cooking lunch and you slithered out of your coffin to tempt me into bending over the counter, muttering threats against my friends all the while because you hadn't seen me in one full day
you dressed it up in pretty language, but it was begging all the same
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Oh....that's cheating.]
I thought being ill was meant to addle all your senses
common and memory included
how in the__ how in the name of Andraste's fitted sheathe did you even remember how any of that went?
Five minutes ago you couldn't spell montressor!
[Oh, Astarion, you should know this one. It's so easy.
You both run on spite.]
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i notice you aren't denying it
shall i recount all the ways in which you whined for me, or will you?
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And if it's technicalities you want to wade in on then let me be the first to 'recount' that all of the above was only barely audible over the noise of your panting and gasping for more beside the lunch you never consumed, thus proving you couldn't get enough to fill your only relevant appetite at that particular point in time.
And another thing, since you feel well enough to go combing over all my mannerisms for the sake of your defense: I do not, and never once, have slithered from my coffin!!
countdown to astarion shouting TAKE THAT!! during sex
what emotion fueled you, then, if not desperation? to the point where you could do nothing but pin me to the counter and snarl and seethe at everyone who dared keep me away . . . since you're defining so much, tell me: what was that, if not desperate hunger?
and you're right. it wasn't slithering.
more like stalking, predator that you are.
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i will not even mention "thus proving".
are you my kadan or a hightown lawyer?
O B J E C T I O N!!!!!!!!!!!
technically.
but that's not the point I was making don't you dare change the subject and think you're clever!
A predator stalks prey. P R E Y. thematically? prey whines. it begs. it whimpers. it gasps in the dying throes of ecstasy with its nails dug in and its mouth open, panting sweet nothings in Tevene.
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what do you mean both
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I was a magistrate by trade before my death, and an adept one at that
[Editor's note: he does not actually know if he was good at it or not.]
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have you always known??
what the hell doREALLY?
you??
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WHAT DO YOU MEAN
'REALLY? YOU??'
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sneaks this into your arms
IT'S PERFECT
YOURE. ONE. TO. TALK. POINTS TO THIS!!!!!!!!!!11111
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