Somewhat Clear

deerna
somewhatclear

Rating: SAFE
Fandom: baldur's gate
Relationship: astarion/staeve
Tags: fluff, post-canon, kissing
Wordcount: 334
Notes: inspired to this work by MAF. Staeve belongs to MAF, he just lets me play with him.

Summary:

Excerpt:

Staeve hummed. His hands caressed from Astarion’s shoulders to the sides of his neck, tracing bones and tendons. He smoothed his hair back, flattening his curls against his skull, and pressed another kiss between his eyebrows.

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A touch of warm lips on his forehead startled him awake.

Astarion blinked the trance away. Light irises stark against darkness, warm. A smile radiating amusement even upside-down, soft. A silky curtain of dark hair tickling his face. Safe.

“Good evening,” he croaked, his neck relaxing back against the chair’s headrest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Staeve’s cheek dimpled at the side of his mouth. “Clearly.” He glanced up. “Tell me you didn’t fall asleep in front of the open blinds.”

Astarion followed his gaze to the window, blinds slightly open. The sky above Baldur’s Gate was blue and deep like velvet, only a suggestion of purple near the rooftops, the lights from the nightlife starting to brighten the distant streets.

He remembered waking up, walking to the window, just to take a peek outside. The clouds threaded with gold and oranges and reds, the sun already hidden away behind the buildings, all the more tempting—a vague tenderness in his bones, layering on top of the usual aches. He swore he’d sat down only for a minute, closed his eyes only for a minute…

“Of course not,” Astarion reassured him out loud. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Staeve hummed. His hands caressed from Astarion’s shoulders to the sides of his neck, tracing bones and tendons. He smoothed his hair back, flattening his curls against his skull, and pressed another kiss between his eyebrows.

“I know,” he murmured. “You’re too good to me.”

Astarion closed his eyes, throat tightening with unspeakable emotion. When he opened them again, the way Staeve was looking down at him threatened to make it spill over.

“I really am not,” he replied, more lightly than it warranted. He sat up and twisted around so he could face Staeve head on, so he could reach out and hold his chin between his fingers, so he could stroke that fond smile with his thumb. “But thank you for the vote of confidence.”

The evening tasted sweet against Staeve’s lips.