[ The tenderness is still something strange and unusual for Astarion, still something he is painfully adjusting to - but he wants more of this. He finds himself longing for the soft touches, the smiles, the way that he could reach out and stroke his hands over skin without the need for it to lead to something more. Being able to ask for it is a whole different matter entirely, however, and he doesn't feel as though he quite has the confidence for that level of vulnerability.
Things are progressing, however, and he is getting better. More comfortable. Settled. He can believe that there is something more to this, something real, and he doesn't want to let it go.
Smiling, he tilts his head, watching for a long moment. ]
Consider it a date, then, darling.
[ The tension has bled out of him, leaving him comfortable and settled, and he can simply allow himself to feel this. He can let himself take the comfort, the contentment, all of it - because it is permitted, with no hidden agenda. Astarion is starting to realise he doesn't need to read between the lines of this relationship: they care about one another, and there is no motive beyond caring.
When the hands move away, he tilts his head, pausing when he hears his name. ]
no subject
Things are progressing, however, and he is getting better. More comfortable. Settled. He can believe that there is something more to this, something real, and he doesn't want to let it go.
Smiling, he tilts his head, watching for a long moment. ]
Consider it a date, then, darling.
[ The tension has bled out of him, leaving him comfortable and settled, and he can simply allow himself to feel this. He can let himself take the comfort, the contentment, all of it - because it is permitted, with no hidden agenda. Astarion is starting to realise he doesn't need to read between the lines of this relationship: they care about one another, and there is no motive beyond caring.
When the hands move away, he tilts his head, pausing when he hears his name. ]
Yes, darling?