[That third finger is almost too much. Gale pulls against Astarion, his hand digging into the vampire's spine, the orb shining brightly between them - it illuminates the sweat slicking his skin, beads glittering like amethysts in the purple light. He forces another breath down his throat with a gasp, but between the pressure from Astarion and the bubbling in his own gut, it's pushed out before it can provide him with any relief. He takes in a quick breath, short and desperate, just to answer:]
That you would share this- intimacy—
[He swears under his breath, uttering a profanity he would never say in polite company as he feels himself squeeze against Astarion's fingers. After that, he stills, as though afraid he might unravel completely should he move.]
no subject
That you would share this- intimacy—
[He swears under his breath, uttering a profanity he would never say in polite company as he feels himself squeeze against Astarion's fingers. After that, he stills, as though afraid he might unravel completely should he move.]