[ Oh, he would hardly call Astarion boring. He knows so much and yet so little about the vampire, and no matter how lengthy the time spent in his company, he finds himself always desiring to come back for more. He wants to know this man so badly, to piece together all of the fragmented pieces of what makes him… him. To that end, he thinks sitting in silence is just as meaningful as the time they spend talking or tumbling into bed together.
The moment of quiet lasts longer than he thinks it might, but it is broken all too soon, before Winter can really grasp the feeling that winds its way through him like a lazy coil of smoke. Astarion is once again looking at him, with a look that is no doubt purposefully designed to rekindle that spark of desire. It does its job, and Winter’s lips curve into a smirk. ]
Mm, how could I argue with that?
[ So saying, he slides a hand to the back of Astarion’s neck and tugs him down for a kiss. He’ll not say no to getting lost in each other tonight, not after it all almost went horribly wrong earlier. He’ll cherish this, in whatever form it takes. ]
[And so lost in each other they’ll become. Astarion always finds it so easy to do so, wrapped in comfort and pleasure alike. Winter almost makes it easy to feel safe in his presence — a sentiment that lingers even as lust eventually takes over fully, and they properly while the night away via the distraction of each other’s bodies.
The wee hours of the morning will come all too quickly.]
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The moment of quiet lasts longer than he thinks it might, but it is broken all too soon, before Winter can really grasp the feeling that winds its way through him like a lazy coil of smoke. Astarion is once again looking at him, with a look that is no doubt purposefully designed to rekindle that spark of desire. It does its job, and Winter’s lips curve into a smirk. ]
Mm, how could I argue with that?
[ So saying, he slides a hand to the back of Astarion’s neck and tugs him down for a kiss. He’ll not say no to getting lost in each other tonight, not after it all almost went horribly wrong earlier. He’ll cherish this, in whatever form it takes. ]
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The wee hours of the morning will come all too quickly.]