out of wine and flowers (слэш)

It’s always gentle, a tender thing that he savors the taste of, warm lips and the hint of a smile and Astarion marvels sometimes at the way he doesn’t want to shy away from it. Sometimes, he wants to dig in.
And speaking of savoring, he figures that even without sex there’s quite enough intimacy between them already, what with him crawling over Tav most nights to find his neck and leave the worst sort of love bite; a delightful little joke if he does say so himself, round of applause, et cetera.
Or, musings on monstrosity and moments of comfort in two very sad lives.