[It's truly a shame Alucard's never taken him up on his offerings, because it would have given him a little experience on how one works around fangs (and been very lovely even despite his inexperience, to boot.) Alas, he is not the one Alucard has his eyes on -- and granted, Jaskier is hardly thinking of much else when he has such lovely company as he does.
Oooh. He shivers. Gooseflesh appears where those lips trails across Jaskier's skin. Astarion truly has the voice for low, sensual whispers. Perhaps not the name for it in turn -- too many syllables to draw them out. Hardly a point against him, though. It's unique, to be sure.
The scars, he finds as he explores, are much more expansive than he'd first thought. Perhaps, in time, there shall be a story to them. But there is a care to him now that hadn't been there before, when he brazenly asked Geralt for the story of his... and crafted one himself if he wasn't satisfied.]
Haven't I already? [His want is universal: in the movement of his hands, lips on lips, or an exploratory tongue. Still, never shall he reject the invitation to be bolder. So he draws himself down and pulls Astarion with him, kicking boots off between his legs to tumble across the grass. He takes hold of Astarion's hands, drawing them to his waist -- then lower. But he does pause, lifting one hand back to trace a knuckle over his pale chin.] There's hardly need to think so hard about it.
no subject
Oooh. He shivers. Gooseflesh appears where those lips trails across Jaskier's skin. Astarion truly has the voice for low, sensual whispers. Perhaps not the name for it in turn -- too many syllables to draw them out. Hardly a point against him, though. It's unique, to be sure.
The scars, he finds as he explores, are much more expansive than he'd first thought. Perhaps, in time, there shall be a story to them. But there is a care to him now that hadn't been there before, when he brazenly asked Geralt for the story of his... and crafted one himself if he wasn't satisfied.]
Haven't I already? [His want is universal: in the movement of his hands, lips on lips, or an exploratory tongue. Still, never shall he reject the invitation to be bolder. So he draws himself down and pulls Astarion with him, kicking boots off between his legs to tumble across the grass. He takes hold of Astarion's hands, drawing them to his waist -- then lower. But he does pause, lifting one hand back to trace a knuckle over his pale chin.] There's hardly need to think so hard about it.
[It's all fun to him.]