the late afternoon (the ghost in your room) (слэш)

Casmir is strangely quiet above him. Astarion hums quietly, lips pressing a kiss against his abdomen.
“Was that good, darling?” He teases, though there’s a genuine question in his tone as he smiles into the man’s skin, feeling both warm and content.
There’s a sticky heat on the back of Astarion’s neck, curving down his nape, and as he breathes he realizes that Casmir still hasn’t said a word. He looks up curiously to find Casmir’s hand suspended in air, his claws stained red.
 
(Or, Casmir gets distracted and scratches Astarion a little too hard. He doesn’t take it well.)