[ The heartbeat quickened underneath those fingertips, the casual touch. How could Astarion say that there was nothing casual about the feeding nor was the touch that was the post-cursor to it, how the vampire artfully slipped fingers into the open collar (button those tiddies up, whorezard.) where he could feel the result of such touches.
For a moment, he felt like he was going to embarrass himself by begging for a proper cuddle, he had not had one of those in a while. Instead he merely flushed a pink that complimented his already ruddy complexation and pinpointed to the fact that he possesed so much blood still within him. ]
I suppose that feeding is a matter of grave seriousness, I promise that I shall take my role seriously.
[ Astarion would feed against him and Gale would blatantly allow it, would lounge back and make himself a bed if Astarion desired it. This was dangerous, such dangerous thoughts. Better still to just promise himself that he would make the best juice-pack ever for Astarion, and hope that his usefulness was not entirely outlived. ]
no subject
For a moment, he felt like he was going to embarrass himself by begging for a proper cuddle, he had not had one of those in a while. Instead he merely flushed a pink that complimented his already ruddy complexation and pinpointed to the fact that he possesed so much blood still within him. ]
I suppose that feeding is a matter of grave seriousness, I promise that I shall take my role seriously.
[ Astarion would feed against him and Gale would blatantly allow it, would lounge back and make himself a bed if Astarion desired it. This was dangerous, such dangerous thoughts. Better still to just promise himself that he would make the best juice-pack ever for Astarion, and hope that his usefulness was not entirely outlived. ]