[The air is punched out of Taryon's lungs in a loud and not-at-all pleaseant noise, but thankfully his fall is broken by another's body. Not so pleaseantly, Astarion's hand in his hair tugs painfully, and his game controller clatters onto the floor. The time continues ticking towards zero on the screen.
He carefully raises his face, seeing that it will be impossible to pull himself out of Astarion's fingers, and rests his chin on Astarion's chest. That coy smile is met with a valiant effort to maintain a neutral expression.] Does this count as me winning the match?
[He carefully untangles his fingers from his hair, brushing it back behind Taryon's ear.]
I don't see how it doesn't. You have me well and truly pinned.
[He snickers at the face Taryon is making. He can't tell if he's hiding a triumphant look or an annoyed look, but whatever it is trying to disguise it gives the man a silly upturn of his mustache.]
[If Taryon wasn't bitter about the game, he would take a few seconds to think twice about the positions they've found themselves in. Instead, he sees pinning Astarion to the floor as its own success. With his hair no longer at risk of being pulled out, Taryon pushes himself off of Astarion and onto his knees.]
Let's try a different game. Are you interested in racing?
[Sure, Mario Kart Racing is the perfect thing to focus on.]
[He's taken back by how quick Taryon gets up off him, and he props himself up on his elbows, trying not to seem too disappointed he no longer had his body against his.]
I was thinking, perhaps, we could take a break from video games...?
Hm? [A disappointed expression from Astarion? Ah, Tary gets it. Going to another competitive genre would only further upset it.] Sorry. I wasn't really upset about it. It's all in good fun!
[The match ends, the timer having run out, but Taryon has stopped caring about that and shuts off the screen. The room becomes quiet.] What were you thinking?
[He needs a moment to figure out what's going on. He's not a wise man.
But he realizes now.] Oh. [It's the flirty tone he's used to, but genuinely directed at him. The bed. Cuddling. He hopes it's just cuddling.]
You...want to go to bed now? Wait, no, that sounds stupid. Sure. We can go rest. [He rotates his wrist, and he takes Astarion's in his hand to pull him up. The elf is shorter than Taryon, so he thankfully doesn't look directly into his eyes when he stands.
He turns away to wipe the space where they sat and wrestled atop the blanket.]
[He stands easily, nodding in thanks for the assistance before letting go to straighten and dust off his clothing. A quiet grin on his face as Taryon gets flustered.]
We don't have to sleep. It would be nice to just be together? And talk.
[Was what he was asking for weird? He supposes if someone had asked Astarion this he would be confused, too, so maybe it was.
He waits for Taryon to finish fussing with the bed, but can't help but to add:]
If that's not too strange of a thing to do, that is.
[Talking is good. Talking with a dear friend is a beautiful thing, and talking with someone who wants to kiss him elevates it into a thrilling experience. Their first night together, in the love hotel that feels like it happened months ago, was nice, through a bit strange. They didn't cuddle as so much bask in each other's presence, and Taryon spent much of the night reviewing the earlier events and navigating his deeper feelings about Astarion.
Now that this relationship is official (as so much as "officially dating" can be a thing), sharing a bed takes on another meaning, even when excluding the expectation of sex.
He pats the bed and pulls the blanket aside.] Oh, no, I actually would love to talk. It's what any couple should do.
[He says with as much confidence as Taryon with as little certainty in the matter in reality. He smiles, perking up, at his agreement, relieved he hadn't made another misstep.
Slipping smoothly under the blanket, he settles down onto his side, leaving room for Taryon of course, but propped up on an elbow as he waits for him to join him.]
[Ah, there he is, laying in the manner typically seen in salacious illustrations. Taryon pauses a tad too long to be be unnoticeable, but he eventually slides onto his side of the bed.]
Doty, turn off the lights and close the blinds.
Tary.
[The automaton walks to the lightswitch, and with a flick, the room is too dark for a human to see anything. Taryon pulls the blanket over himself and lays himself on his side facing Astarion.
...He has no clue where to look, nor what he should say.]
[The thing is, Astarion isn't trying to be salacious, and it doesn't even cross his mind that that was how he could be perceived. He was merely waiting, happy, however as he hesitates Astarion's smile falters, confused. Was Taryon just nervous? That was typical, right, Astarion had experienced that on hunts, too. Astarion was only overthinking it since this was different...
The darkness sets a different mood almost immediately, more quiet and intimate, and Astarion likes it. It's familiar. However, Taryon is definitely nervous, so he reaches out across what inches are left between them to touch one of Taryon's hands, his fingertips dancing lightly over his knuckles. Playful. Don't worry, he hope the touch says.
With the darkness, he speaks lowly, as if there was a companion's tent nearby and you had to be hushed.]
I wanted to learn more about you. You've told me things here or there, of course, but I wish to know you more.
[These fingers feel warmer than usual. Is it because he was thighly gripping the game controller? Does he warm up at certain times? Is Taryon only imagining it?
It's a gentle touch, completely unlike Astarion's more possessive behavior, and Taryon scoots his hand closer to Astarion. In the dark, he can't see where he will touch him, which is all part of the fun; this is ain invitation to continue.
He sighs, and with the exhale of air also leaves the loud boldness in his voice. Taryon speaks in an equally gentle and low tone.] I could say a lot about myself. A whole book's worth. [But would Astarion really want to know the story of his life? He'd already seen one of his lowest moments.]
[Just that little movement, his hand coming closer, is thrilling. The light touch turns into a gentle rub, going up a finger, down a knuckle, to his wrist, then making his way back up to repeat the process.]
I don't have the patience to wait for you to finish your book, darling. Plus, those always are heavily edited. The publishing house always wants you to exaggerate. I want the raw truth.
[A humorous tone in his voice. He knows Taryon is prone to that all on his own already.]
Why don't you tell me, hmm, your best childhood memory.
Hah. [Perhaps he should mention that he already exaggerates his exploits when dictating them to Doty. Astarion is well aware about it, but it feels right to confirm it outright.
Later, though.] Well...I suppose it was when Doty and I dressed up as characters and walked through the Cyrengreen forest, pretending that we were explorers. Those were some of my best days.
[Utterly adorable, but utterly sad. Taryon's stories has hinted clearly, if that's an adverb you can use with the word "hint", that he had a lonely childhood, and this this was just more proof.]
Hm, I'm enjoying the thought of a little you with a tremendous a moustache. Traipsing around in your rich boy small pants swinging sticks around with your robot.
What? No! He's a metal machine. Fabric would get caught in all of this joints and either break him or he's tear apart every pair od pants.
[He must take this joke of an idea seriously.]
As difficult as it is to imagine, there was a time when my face was smooth. [He's struck by the urge to stroke Astarion's cheek was saying this, but in the dark, he can only guess by the location of his voice. His fingers crash into Astarion's chin, which then recover to pat a spot just under his jaw.
I'm telling you, I won't fall asleep. [But it's his boyfriend asking, and he has a good idea.] Twenty minutes, and then it's lights out.
[He angles himself away from Astarion to order the darkness: Doty! Open the blinds for now.
[Doty's footsteps are loud enough that even Taryon can tell where he is as he marches to the window and pulls the blinds open. Electric lights flood the once-dark room, illuminating the sharp edges of the furniture and adding a shine to his eyes. Tary drops back onto his side, and the outline of Astarion's face becomes visible. There's a curl of hair that he can make out.]
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He carefully raises his face, seeing that it will be impossible to pull himself out of Astarion's fingers, and rests his chin on Astarion's chest. That coy smile is met with a valiant effort to maintain a neutral expression.] Does this count as me winning the match?
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I don't see how it doesn't. You have me well and truly pinned.
[He snickers at the face Taryon is making. He can't tell if he's hiding a triumphant look or an annoyed look, but whatever it is trying to disguise it gives the man a silly upturn of his mustache.]
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Let's try a different game. Are you interested in racing?
[Sure, Mario Kart Racing is the perfect thing to focus on.]
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[He's taken back by how quick Taryon gets up off him, and he props himself up on his elbows, trying not to seem too disappointed he no longer had his body against his.]
I was thinking, perhaps, we could take a break from video games...?
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[The match ends, the timer having run out, but Taryon has stopped caring about that and shuts off the screen. The room becomes quiet.] What were you thinking?
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He waves a hand dismissively.]
No, no, it's not that. It's getting late...
[He reaches out, touching Taryon's wrist with a gentle hand.]
Would you like to return to bed and have a cuddle?
[His voice has an odd duality, both flirtateous but shy. Torn between persona and genuinity.]
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But he realizes now.] Oh. [It's the flirty tone he's used to, but genuinely directed at him. The bed. Cuddling. He hopes it's just cuddling.]
You...want to go to bed now? Wait, no, that sounds stupid. Sure. We can go rest. [He rotates his wrist, and he takes Astarion's in his hand to pull him up. The elf is shorter than Taryon, so he thankfully doesn't look directly into his eyes when he stands.
He turns away to wipe the space where they sat and wrestled atop the blanket.]
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We don't have to sleep. It would be nice to just be together? And talk.
[Was what he was asking for weird? He supposes if someone had asked Astarion this he would be confused, too, so maybe it was.
He waits for Taryon to finish fussing with the bed, but can't help but to add:]
If that's not too strange of a thing to do, that is.
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Now that this relationship is official (as so much as "officially dating" can be a thing), sharing a bed takes on another meaning, even when excluding the expectation of sex.
He pats the bed and pulls the blanket aside.] Oh, no, I actually would love to talk. It's what any couple should do.
[He assumes.]
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[He says with as much confidence as Taryon with as little certainty in the matter in reality. He smiles, perking up, at his agreement, relieved he hadn't made another misstep.
Slipping smoothly under the blanket, he settles down onto his side, leaving room for Taryon of course, but propped up on an elbow as he waits for him to join him.]
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Doty, turn off the lights and close the blinds.
Tary.
[The automaton walks to the lightswitch, and with a flick, the room is too dark for a human to see anything. Taryon pulls the blanket over himself and lays himself on his side facing Astarion.
...He has no clue where to look, nor what he should say.]
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The darkness sets a different mood almost immediately, more quiet and intimate, and Astarion likes it. It's familiar. However, Taryon is definitely nervous, so he reaches out across what inches are left between them to touch one of Taryon's hands, his fingertips dancing lightly over his knuckles. Playful. Don't worry, he hope the touch says.
With the darkness, he speaks lowly, as if there was a companion's tent nearby and you had to be hushed.]
I wanted to learn more about you. You've told me things here or there, of course, but I wish to know you more.
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It's a gentle touch, completely unlike Astarion's more possessive behavior, and Taryon scoots his hand closer to Astarion. In the dark, he can't see where he will touch him, which is all part of the fun; this is ain invitation to continue.
He sighs, and with the exhale of air also leaves the loud boldness in his voice. Taryon speaks in an equally gentle and low tone.] I could say a lot about myself. A whole book's worth. [But would Astarion really want to know the story of his life? He'd already seen one of his lowest moments.]
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I don't have the patience to wait for you to finish your book, darling. Plus, those always are heavily edited. The publishing house always wants you to exaggerate. I want the raw truth.
[A humorous tone in his voice. He knows Taryon is prone to that all on his own already.]
Why don't you tell me, hmm, your best childhood memory.
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Later, though.] Well...I suppose it was when Doty and I dressed up as characters and walked through the Cyrengreen forest, pretending that we were explorers. Those were some of my best days.
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Hm, I'm enjoying the thought of a little you with a tremendous a moustache. Traipsing around in your rich boy small pants swinging sticks around with your robot.
[He gasps softly, an idea striking him.]
Did Doty also wear small pants?
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[He must take this joke of an idea seriously.]
As difficult as it is to imagine, there was a time when my face was smooth. [He's struck by the urge to stroke Astarion's cheek was saying this, but in the dark, he can only guess by the location of his voice. His fingers crash into Astarion's chin, which then recover to pat a spot just under his jaw.
Good enough.] Like yours.
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[He jolts as Taryon accidentally taps his chin, confused until he realizes he just can't see. He asks, leaning into the touch.]
Darling, should we crack open the blinds enough so you can see me?
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Then how will I sleep peacefully all night? I can't rest without a sleep mask if there's light out.
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[Playful.]
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You're not in a good mood?
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[An embarrassing fun fact about Tary.]
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Can you not tell Doty to shut them again once you're asleep? Or in 20 minutes?
[Look at Astarion, coming up with a smart idea.]
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I'm telling you, I won't fall asleep. [But it's his boyfriend asking, and he has a good idea.] Twenty minutes, and then it's lights out.
[He angles himself away from Astarion to order the darkness: Doty! Open the blinds for now.
[Doty's footsteps are loud enough that even Taryon can tell where he is as he marches to the window and pulls the blinds open. Electric lights flood the once-dark room, illuminating the sharp edges of the furniture and adding a shine to his eyes. Tary drops back onto his side, and the outline of Astarion's face becomes visible. There's a curl of hair that he can make out.]
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