[Never in Astarion's many years did he ever think that someone would be driven to joyous laughter by the simple act of him feeding. But Gale's laugh warms him nearly as much as the blood spilling across his tongue. It means everything to him, that Gale can have this, that they both care share this. That Astarion can truly taste his lover for the first time, that Gale won't continue to think less of himself for the taint in his blood. He gives in and lets an answering moan pull from his throat as he continues to drink, a faint flush returning to his skin, his touch warming oh so slightly as his body restores itself.
He could drink from Gale forever and never be full, could never have enough of the taste that is so uniquely him. He drinks deep and greedily, one hand running down Gale's arm to find his hand, gripping it tight. He'll give Gale every reassurance that he needs that it's worked, that he is truly delicious.]
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He could drink from Gale forever and never be full, could never have enough of the taste that is so uniquely him. He drinks deep and greedily, one hand running down Gale's arm to find his hand, gripping it tight. He'll give Gale every reassurance that he needs that it's worked, that he is truly delicious.]