[Sweetheart, some part of his mind sings. Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart, and he is too familiar with the performers to think it isn’t blatant imitation of the way they talk, but still. He is that, isn’t he? Alongside a thousand other pet names they might or might not ever use, but that belong only to them.
(Oh, possessive, fool hearts that they both are; it’s just that Fenris hides it better.)
His hand gropes blindly for the suddenly vanished ledger book, some part of him vaguely aware he should have that on him— but then Astarion’s fingers are gliding against his chest, cool through thin fabric, and suddenly he isn’t thinking of the book at all.]
Because I think you just want me to yourself. I think, [and he leans in, one broad hand slowly palming up Astarion’s thigh,] you’re bored. I think you wish for me to shirk all my responsibilities just so that I might save you from having to suffer from a second of doing anything you don’t. I think you’re dying for me to take you backstage, lay you down, pin you to the floor, and—
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illithidnapped) wrote2025-05-31 06:45 pm
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[Sweetheart, some part of his mind sings. Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart, and he is too familiar with the performers to think it isn’t blatant imitation of the way they talk, but still. He is that, isn’t he? Alongside a thousand other pet names they might or might not ever use, but that belong only to them.
(Oh, possessive, fool hearts that they both are; it’s just that Fenris hides it better.)
His hand gropes blindly for the suddenly vanished ledger book, some part of him vaguely aware he should have that on him— but then Astarion’s fingers are gliding against his chest, cool through thin fabric, and suddenly he isn’t thinking of the book at all.]
Because I think you just want me to yourself. I think, [and he leans in, one broad hand slowly palming up Astarion’s thigh,] you’re bored. I think you wish for me to shirk all my responsibilities just so that I might save you from having to suffer from a second of doing anything you don’t. I think you’re dying for me to take you backstage, lay you down, pin you to the floor, and—