[Before Taryon can reach the second button, he interrupted by a quiet call for his lips. His undressing himself will have to wait; Astarion is priority. These lips that expertly worked around his finger are slow and gentle here - a juxtaposition that goes so well with the rest of him: gentle and kind deep down despite his sensual tastes. Both are lovely. Both are wonderful.
Taryon affectionally nuzzles into Astarion's cheek when he feels hands work his shirt. There are points where he believes he feels the tips of his fingers on his chest, mere samplings of what he hopes will come. Can Astarion work his dextrous hands on him like he works a dagger? His body warms up softly. Their heads pressed together as if they were cuddling before a sleep, and there, slowly, two hands exposing himself to the air.]
May I...? [Taryon finds the hem of Astarion's shirt, pulling it out of his trousers, and works the bottom button. From up here, it's difficult to take a peek at Astarion's level of enjoyment, but he methodically works up his shirt, and with each undone connection, he rakes his fingers upward.]
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Taryon affectionally nuzzles into Astarion's cheek when he feels hands work his shirt. There are points where he believes he feels the tips of his fingers on his chest, mere samplings of what he hopes will come. Can Astarion work his dextrous hands on him like he works a dagger? His body warms up softly. Their heads pressed together as if they were cuddling before a sleep, and there, slowly, two hands exposing himself to the air.]
May I...? [Taryon finds the hem of Astarion's shirt, pulling it out of his trousers, and works the bottom button. From up here, it's difficult to take a peek at Astarion's level of enjoyment, but he methodically works up his shirt, and with each undone connection, he rakes his fingers upward.]