[ He can take it slow. He hasn't had reason to take it slow, but he can. It's strange that he has to concentrate on it rather than fall into the flow he's so used to. How easy it is to feel the rhythm and start to fall into himself, into the corners of his mind he's carved out to escape a world where there are hands on him.
But no, not this time. This time...he wants to know.
Gods, there's a bit of nervousness in his veins that Astarion hadn't expected. This is what he wanted, isn't it? To have sex on his own terms with someone he's chosen, someone whose company he's come to enjoy outside of the bedroom. Gale is nothing to be afraid of other than the orb of immense power in his chest. But Gale's hands, Gale's lips...no, those are—
—...unknowns, but not threats. Not demanding or pulling. Not commanding. The way that Gale carts his fingers through his hair and doesn't take hold. Laughs against his lips.
Astarion doesn't realize he's closed is eyes until the other man speaks. He's glad, at least, that he can perform even when he's taking notice of things he hadn't considered before. Even small parts of him were already pulling back behind the veil, into that room where he can drown out sound and smell and touch.
Astarion swallows, masking it with an easy smile of his own. ]
I know, but it is nice to hear.
[ ...Isn't it?
Yes. He supposes people have told him something like that before. But it never really mattered because they never really mattered.
There's got to be a middle ground somewhere...to use his experience in giving pleasure in a way that suits them both and be present for it.
He's glad that Gale is taking some initiative in lounging back, if at least because it gives Astarion the moment to center himself that he didn't know he needed. He concentrates on the feel of Gale's lips, the light brush of facial hair against his own mouth and chin. How if he angles his head he can almost rub his nose in it if he wanted. A part of him does want to. ]
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1/2 yeah we're two-parting it
But no, not this time. This time...he wants to know.
Gods, there's a bit of nervousness in his veins that Astarion hadn't expected. This is what he wanted, isn't it? To have sex on his own terms with someone he's chosen, someone whose company he's come to enjoy outside of the bedroom. Gale is nothing to be afraid of other than the orb of immense power in his chest. But Gale's hands, Gale's lips...no, those are—
—...unknowns, but not threats. Not demanding or pulling. Not commanding. The way that Gale carts his fingers through his hair and doesn't take hold. Laughs against his lips.
Astarion doesn't realize he's closed is eyes until the other man speaks. He's glad, at least, that he can perform even when he's taking notice of things he hadn't considered before. Even small parts of him were already pulling back behind the veil, into that room where he can drown out sound and smell and touch.
Astarion swallows, masking it with an easy smile of his own. ]
I know, but it is nice to hear.
[ ...Isn't it?
Yes. He supposes people have told him something like that before. But it never really mattered because they never really mattered.
There's got to be a middle ground somewhere...to use his experience in giving pleasure in a way that suits them both and be present for it.
He's glad that Gale is taking some initiative in lounging back, if at least because it gives Astarion the moment to center himself that he didn't know he needed. He concentrates on the feel of Gale's lips, the light brush of facial hair against his own mouth and chin. How if he angles his head he can almost rub his nose in it if he wanted. A part of him does want to. ]