[ Winter straightens to let Astarion work. There really are some perks to bringing a rogue to bed, not least of which are those dexterous fingers, divesting him of his trousers in record time. He gives a little sigh of relief, free from the constricting fabric, and after a bit of shuffling around, he kicks the offending garments off the side of the bed. No need for those now.
For the moment, he stays where he is, letting the vampireβs eyes rove over him, letting his hands wander where they please.
Though the latter proves to be a mistake (a wonderful mistake), as Astarion opts to tease, the motion of his hand along his length agonizingly slow. ]
Gods damn it, Astarion. [ His voice is low, strained. ] I guess I invited this, didnβt I?
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For the moment, he stays where he is, letting the vampireβs eyes rove over him, letting his hands wander where they please.
Though the latter proves to be a mistake (a wonderful mistake), as Astarion opts to tease, the motion of his hand along his length agonizingly slow. ]
Gods damn it, Astarion. [ His voice is low, strained. ] I guess I invited this, didnβt I?