[A little nod of understanding, less agreeing and more simply acknowledging that version of the story. Begging is given a brief quirk of his eyebrow, but bitten gets both raised up. A little glance to the now-covered spot, as all the while his hands keep up that steady stroke.]
Not in a way you enjoyed, then.
[A little wry, but not at Astarion's expense. He's a bit more comfortable with the idea of their son and sex (though there is a part of him that hopes they haven't quite gotten there just yet— not while part of his mind still eternally thinks of Astarion as that chubby toddler who once routinely clambered into their bed).]
Surely he didn't bite you from the start. Was he being overly ambitious, or just exceedingly clumsy?
[Oh. Oh, he turns a little red, then. Belated in his realization that there is actually another reason for biting someone whilst wrought up, unlike the way they've set their teeth onto each other in the past (a lesson he's learned and known about already, it's just— gods, it's different when it's them, isn't it? Something they're now capable of. Something they could do.)
He remembers fevered weight across his hips. Round his wrists, pinning him down.
But then he remembers furiously pinched, dark brows glowering down at him beneath dust-caked rafters, and his own do the same now.]
Neither! He kept insisting he was better than I was. That I was jealous he was more experienced just because he kissed that vapid idiot Elise!!
[That explains the rather biased exclamation that had echoed around the entirety of the Moulin Rouge. But oh, that derision . . . he lets the statement linger in the air for a few seconds, and then, gently:]
It's a foolish thing for him to say. Even if you were, it certainly wouldn't be of Elise of all creatures. [Sorry, Elise.] And experience doesn't necessarily make anyone better— growing up here, he should know that. There's plenty of whores who stay third-string for a reason.
[The brush moves higher, his head tipped low. But then, as golden eyes peer up through dark lashes, he adds gently:]
But . . . one might wonder whether or not you felt a bit of jealousy that someone else got to kiss him first.
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illithidnapped) wrote2025-05-31 06:45 pm
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Not in a way you enjoyed, then.
[A little wry, but not at Astarion's expense. He's a bit more comfortable with the idea of their son and sex (though there is a part of him that hopes they haven't quite gotten there just yet— not while part of his mind still eternally thinks of Astarion as that chubby toddler who once routinely clambered into their bed).]
Surely he didn't bite you from the start. Was he being overly ambitious, or just exceedingly clumsy?
no subject
[Oh. Oh, he turns a little red, then. Belated in his realization that there is actually another reason for biting someone whilst wrought up, unlike the way they've set their teeth onto each other in the past (a lesson he's learned and known about already, it's just— gods, it's different when it's them, isn't it? Something they're now capable of. Something they could do.)
He remembers fevered weight across his hips. Round his wrists, pinning him down.
But then he remembers furiously pinched, dark brows glowering down at him beneath dust-caked rafters, and his own do the same now.]
Neither! He kept insisting he was better than I was. That I was jealous he was more experienced just because he kissed that vapid idiot Elise!!
[Elise!!!]
Can you believe that— jealous of a fucking whore.
no subject
[That explains the rather biased exclamation that had echoed around the entirety of the Moulin Rouge. But oh, that derision . . . he lets the statement linger in the air for a few seconds, and then, gently:]
It's a foolish thing for him to say. Even if you were, it certainly wouldn't be of Elise of all creatures. [Sorry, Elise.] And experience doesn't necessarily make anyone better— growing up here, he should know that. There's plenty of whores who stay third-string for a reason.
[The brush moves higher, his head tipped low. But then, as golden eyes peer up through dark lashes, he adds gently:]
But . . . one might wonder whether or not you felt a bit of jealousy that someone else got to kiss him first.