“i daresay i will be completely content experience those lips of yours in any form you deem me worthy enough to experience.”
he’s blushing, but he’s making eye—contact, emboldened by the shameless display of affection. +
"Of all the sordid fantasies you could've cooked up, you're daydreaming about a little kiss on the head?"
He huffs with playful amusement, backpedaling from the sentimentality before it swallows him whole.
stretch onto his dirt—streaked face.
“i must say,” he starts, jabbing the other in the ribs with an elbow. “that was far better than any dream i was close to conjuring, astarion.”
he’d been dozing off from the warmth of the fire and the food in his belly, too comfortable to overthink, just this once.
but the returned kiss … that’s enough to startle the wizard, to make his spine straighten and a huge grin +
... Dammit.
What kind of spell was that? Why does he have this odd feeling in his chest?
He doesn't even think about returning the gesture, he just does it. As if it were the simplest thing in the world.
What the hells is this wizard doing to him...
exhausted, but insisting he’s well enough to check up on the camp’s wards.
really, he’s fine, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. he’s fine, he’s — just tripped over his own robes.
𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑝.