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Summary
Kairos bares his neck, displaying the expanse of his throat. “You don’t owe me,” he murmurs, as he beckons Astarion forward. “You told me it was a gift that first time, didn’t you? Gifts aren’t repaid.”
“Hm.” Astarion trails a light touch up Kairos’ throat, forcing him to angle his head back further. “In children’s books, perhaps. You’re rather naive, with fangs at your throat.”
“You’re not very scary,” Kairos responds, and Astarion bites him.
Astarion waits for it to get worse. Strangely, it never does.
Series
- Part 1 of a manner of irresistible desperation