She'll be there with you, with her love, waiting only for you
Summary : Astarion winced as Eulalie cleaned his injured cheekbone.
"Sorry," she muttered under her breath. "Can you—" She lightly brushed his chin with her fingertip, encouraging him to hold his head high. "Thank you."
(Or in which Astarion (clumsily) steal a necklace.)
Tags : Act 2 - Soft Astarion - Fluff
(English isn't my first language, please be kind. ♥)
Astarion winced as Eulalie cleaned his injured cheekbone.
"Sorry," she muttered under her breath. "Can you—" She lightly brushed his chin with her fingertip, encouraging him to hold his head high. "Thank you."
Unwittingly, his eyelids fluttered at her lingering touch. It's been a while ; since he had confessed genuinely feeling something for her, since he had admitted not knowing how to handle this –them–, and probably needing some time to apprehend this whole new notion of caring for someone, she dutifully had been careful not to overstep the line he had drawn. He didn't fully understand why, how, she had been so easily comprehensive — didn't she, now, have the right to demand something from him ?
Humming a tune he didn't know, Eulalie started to clean his cut lip. She stuck her tongue out, to concentrate, and Astarion couldn't help but stare at her, thinking she was the cutest tiefling he had ever met.
"Just a little more aaaand—" She applied a fresh compress on his left cheek, relieving the stinging sensation. "— there you go. Well, it would have been much better if Shadowheart had done it, but it doesn't seem too bad."
"Don't sell yourself short, my dear. I feel wonderful."
"Shut up," she giggled, a sweet melody that gave him a lopsided grin.
She let her fingers linger over his face, tracing faintly his jawbone, as if she was afraid he would reject her. He mused, not for the first time, that he did not deserve this kindness, even less her; he leaned against her hand, regardless, because he might die if she pulled back — him, overdramatic ? Certainly not.
Astarion sighed slightly.
"Always," she smiled. "Next time, be careful when you see a sparkling, but weird chest. You know how these are always trapped."
"Worth it," he mumbled, eying her necklace set with black agates. "It suits you well."
"I feel wonderful," she mimicked, and he barked a laugh, something he didn't remember doing so naturally before her. "No, seriously, I love it."
She stroked a little longer his cheek with her thumb, the shadow of a grin on her lips, before starting to remove her hand; Astarion grasped her wrist. Holding her stare, he dropped a peck on her palm; with parted her lips and a hitched breath, she lowered her gaze to his mouth. For a brief moment, he thought she would close the gap between them, but Eulalie remained still.
"We—" She cleared her throat. "We should head back before dark. The others must—"
He swallowed the rest of the sentence with a sudden kiss. She suppressed a shriek of surprised, eyes-widened, before quickly melt against him. While she placed her palms on either side of his face, being careful not to touch his injuries, she felt fangs grazing her lower lip; a soft moan escaped her. Astarion pulled away too soon, but not far, his nose brushing hers. He could see a faint blush on her cheeks and something, a pleasant warmth, spread in him.
"Was it ok ?" he asked in a low voice.
"More than ok," she whispered. She leaned in once more, their lips barely touching. "Can I kiss you again, please ?"
The delightful warmth came back, fiercely. She asked. She always asked, never presumed, even though he had just kissed her, because she valued his thoughts, because he mattered; it was still something he needed to work on, but he began to like it — being his own person. And she had said please, sweet polite little thing.
Astarion ran a thumb along her jaw, teasing her gently.
"Of course, love. I'm all yours."
She beamed at him, putting the sun to shame.
