Jedao gazes back up at him, beaming sofly, obviously fucked a little bit stupid. He wonders idly if he's supposed to say anything, if he should try to scrounge some words from under the couch like lost cat toys.
"Like bein' down here," he murmurs eventually, voice low and rough in his well-used throat.
He hums happily, then tilts forward a little, closing his eyes and resting his cheek against Astarion's thigh for just a moment. He thinks there was something else he was supposed to do - but if it was important, Astarion will remind him.
It's not important, really - just filthy words he'd used to help push him
over the edge. Right now, he's much more content to pet Jedao's hair and
enjoy the way he drifts. It looks...nice? Relaxing in a way that his
dissociated states aren't.
He's not sure if he'd be capable of such a thing himself.
"Okay," Jedao agrees warmly, with the stupid-easy smile again, letting himself sink back down a little in his own mind, even as he sits back on his heels, waiting for Astarion to lead him to wherever it is they're going to move.
There's no sofa in here, not even an armchair big enough for them both to
curl up in, so - the bed it is. Astarion slides back onto the mattress and
beckons Jedao forward, to walk or crawl or do whatever he needs to do in
order to join him.
It takes him a couple seconds to decide, but eventually he gets to his feet; crawling feels a little too much of a performance when he hasn't been ordered to do it, and therefore something he'd have to think about, so he doesn't. He does swipe his pants from the floor, because unlike the sweater, they're made of largely self-cleaning nanites. He scoots onto the bed next to Astarion, and slides his other hand under one of Astarion's calves, gesturing vaguely with the crumpled fabric to indicate cleaning him with it.
Jedao's hazy smile crinkles into a brighter grin, like an easy breeze whipping the clouds of his peacefulness into frothy, curlicued tops, without any threat of dispersing them. He ducks his head down and drops a few soft kisses on Astarion's knee, wiping up most of his own come with neat, steady swipes of his pants-turned rags.
He does lick up a few stray drops, but more for the pleasure of tasting Astarion's skin again than anything else. He suspects, in some distant corner of his mind, that if he actually licked up all of it, it would have to be either disgusting or extremely hot, and he doesn't really want to - cause the fuss of getting hard again, when Astarion already got him off so nicely.
A few more light, lazy kisses, and then he scoots around to attend to the other leg as well.
"Nothing wrong with a little mutual indulgence," Astarion
murmurs, fingertips tracing light circles on his scalp. "Next time I shall
be putting my hands all over you."
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"Like bein' down here," he murmurs eventually, voice low and rough in his well-used throat.
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"I can tell," Astarion murmurs. "Shush now, pretty thing, you don't have to talk if you'd rather not."
He can tell how outside himself he seems, how challenging it is to make the words come.
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It's not important, really - just filthy words he'd used to help push him over the edge. Right now, he's much more content to pet Jedao's hair and enjoy the way he drifts. It looks...nice? Relaxing in a way that his dissociated states aren't.
He's not sure if he'd be capable of such a thing himself.
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"Should I be - making you just stand here?"
He's not worried, exactly, still soft and warm at the edges, but he has enough wherewithal to at least consider it.
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"Darling, you aren't making me do anything," Astarion murmurs. "But let's sit, hmm?"
Less for his own comfort, more to keep Jedao in this contented haze that he can vicariously enjoy.
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There's no sofa in here, not even an armchair big enough for them both to curl up in, so - the bed it is. Astarion slides back onto the mattress and beckons Jedao forward, to walk or crawl or do whatever he needs to do in order to join him.
"Come here, pet."
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"May I?"
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"You may," Astarion says blithely, muscles flexing slightly under Jedao's hand. "Thank you."
It does feel rather nice to be serviced in this way, as well.
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He does lick up a few stray drops, but more for the pleasure of tasting Astarion's skin again than anything else. He suspects, in some distant corner of his mind, that if he actually licked up all of it, it would have to be either disgusting or extremely hot, and he doesn't really want to - cause the fuss of getting hard again, when Astarion already got him off so nicely.
A few more light, lazy kisses, and then he scoots around to attend to the other leg as well.
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Astarion permits this, watching Jedao as he works, eventually reaching down to pet his hair again as he finishes up.
"Thank you, darling. You're terribly good to me."
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"No, you," he counters, feeling very silly for saying it, but not in a bad way.
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"Nothing wrong with a little mutual indulgence," Astarion murmurs, fingertips tracing light circles on his scalp. "Next time I shall be putting my hands all over you."
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"Love your hands," he murmurs. "Anytime."