Work Text:
The music changes to something slower, and they easily transition into a waltz, Astarion’s left hand immediately finding Wyll’s shoulder blade and trying to ignore the shift of firm muscle under his hand.
Wyll’s left hand rests gently over Astarion’s right, and his free hand deftly clasps Astarion’s left, held outstretched but not uncomfortably so. They settle into a leisurely box step, and Wyll smiles big and open beneath his mask.
It does feel good. Natural.