Six minutes to go from overcrowded, overheated nightclub to basking in the cool air of the parking lot as he hunts for an elusive chirp, and from there, the backseat of Astarion's car, where he nudges his charge in with a low laugh before following himself. It's far from perfect— not the spaciousness of Astarion's bed nor the ease of access of a nearby wall— but the windows are tinted and the doors are locked, and drunk as they both are, it's as private as they can manage.
But the mood has shifted between one moment and the next, Fenris finds. Not his ravenous desire for the man currently wriggling between his thighs (so pretty pinned down across leather seats, his shirt rucked up and his curls mussed), but something in the way he looks at him. Not as prey ready to be taken, a little rabbit eager to be caught, but rather, something softer. Something more intimate, and perhaps that suits, given the day.
It means that when Fenris finally crawls over him and catches him in a kiss, it isn't the devouring thing he'd promised back in the club. It isn't fierce and dominant, though it is deep: an intimate kiss, and one meant to be savored. Hello, my love, as breathless as it is fond, as he tips his head and kisses him without shame. Hello, I love you, and they haven't said the words yet. They might never say them. But perhaps some part of it comes through anyway.]
Take off your shirt.
[A gentle command issued as he draws back, but a command nonetheless, and he'll wait as long as he needs to for Astarion to obey. Then it's back down: his hands bracing on either side of his chest as he ducks his head down, lips brushing sweetly against the side of his throat.]
You're beautiful.
[Soft. Sweet. Easily given, for this is only the start. His mouth moves down slowly, kissing bare skin and lean lines, the words spoken against sweat-glossed skin.]
Clever. [Another reverent kiss, this time laid by his collarbone.] And loyal. [A brief nuzzle against his chest, his palm stroking over one pectoral as he slowly moves down.]
You make it easy to forget the world, and my place in it.
[I love you, I love you, and he doesn't know when that began. He doesn't know when he started to feel something deeper than appreciation and fondness. It's so dangerous, so unnerving, and yet he cannot deny it, not when every thundering pulse of his heart sings it out. I love you, not blindly, not foolishly, but honestly. I love you in spite of all the warning signs, I love you even when you're at your worst, I love seeing you at your best, I love being with you, and he doesn't know what to do with all of that, save express it now with every adoring kiss and fervent touch. His hands look so broad around the span of narrow hips, his thumbs flitting over the jutting line of bone as he inches lower.]
You give me a sense of belonging as I have never known it. Dignity and autonomy as had been denied to me all my life. You are a wonder, stellula, and someday, I think, you will see it as I do. Not because of your wealth, or your standing. Not because of what society has given you on a silver platter.
But because of who you are in spite of it. Who are you are in the dark, as only I know.
[Tomorrow, maybe, he'll regret this. He'll fluster at his own honesty and despise himself for making himself so weak. This isn't what they do, this isn't how they work, and maybe tomorrow they'll silently agree to never bring it up again. But here, now, drunk and a little overwhelmed, he cannot help the way his heart aches to be heard.]
no subject
Six minutes to go from overcrowded, overheated nightclub to basking in the cool air of the parking lot as he hunts for an elusive chirp, and from there, the backseat of Astarion's car, where he nudges his charge in with a low laugh before following himself. It's far from perfect— not the spaciousness of Astarion's bed nor the ease of access of a nearby wall— but the windows are tinted and the doors are locked, and drunk as they both are, it's as private as they can manage.
But the mood has shifted between one moment and the next, Fenris finds. Not his ravenous desire for the man currently wriggling between his thighs (so pretty pinned down across leather seats, his shirt rucked up and his curls mussed), but something in the way he looks at him. Not as prey ready to be taken, a little rabbit eager to be caught, but rather, something softer. Something more intimate, and perhaps that suits, given the day.
It means that when Fenris finally crawls over him and catches him in a kiss, it isn't the devouring thing he'd promised back in the club. It isn't fierce and dominant, though it is deep: an intimate kiss, and one meant to be savored. Hello, my love, as breathless as it is fond, as he tips his head and kisses him without shame. Hello, I love you, and they haven't said the words yet. They might never say them. But perhaps some part of it comes through anyway.]
Take off your shirt.
[A gentle command issued as he draws back, but a command nonetheless, and he'll wait as long as he needs to for Astarion to obey. Then it's back down: his hands bracing on either side of his chest as he ducks his head down, lips brushing sweetly against the side of his throat.]
You're beautiful.
[Soft. Sweet. Easily given, for this is only the start. His mouth moves down slowly, kissing bare skin and lean lines, the words spoken against sweat-glossed skin.]
Clever. [Another reverent kiss, this time laid by his collarbone.] And loyal. [A brief nuzzle against his chest, his palm stroking over one pectoral as he slowly moves down.]
You make it easy to forget the world, and my place in it.
[I love you, I love you, and he doesn't know when that began. He doesn't know when he started to feel something deeper than appreciation and fondness. It's so dangerous, so unnerving, and yet he cannot deny it, not when every thundering pulse of his heart sings it out. I love you, not blindly, not foolishly, but honestly. I love you in spite of all the warning signs, I love you even when you're at your worst, I love seeing you at your best, I love being with you, and he doesn't know what to do with all of that, save express it now with every adoring kiss and fervent touch. His hands look so broad around the span of narrow hips, his thumbs flitting over the jutting line of bone as he inches lower.]
You give me a sense of belonging as I have never known it. Dignity and autonomy as had been denied to me all my life. You are a wonder, stellula, and someday, I think, you will see it as I do. Not because of your wealth, or your standing. Not because of what society has given you on a silver platter.
But because of who you are in spite of it. Who are you are in the dark, as only I know.
[Tomorrow, maybe, he'll regret this. He'll fluster at his own honesty and despise himself for making himself so weak. This isn't what they do, this isn't how they work, and maybe tomorrow they'll silently agree to never bring it up again. But here, now, drunk and a little overwhelmed, he cannot help the way his heart aches to be heard.]