Ramazith's Tower. A masterful mess of red and gold fabrics, ornately carved woods. Floor to high, high ceiling windows offering superlative views over the city - Upper and Lower. These days it was Rolan's tower, and at night - when Astarion visited - those same apertures were speckled with stars and city lights. The wizard was making the place very his - a fire blazing in the over-sized hearth while he swanned around in a sultry, silky little dressing gown. Draped off the shoulders and open to cross-marked abs, a large glass of something deep amber and expensive in his hands. "Do Cal and Lia know that you're such a little slut when they're not around?" Astarion asked. The sway of Rolan's hips and the godsdamned tail slit were much too much to leave unremarked. "What a wizard does in his tower is nobody's business but his own," Rolan boasted, but he smiled. "Besides, it doesn't matter much what they think when I know that you love it…"
Re-reading "We're ours now, and no-one else's" and getting delightfully up in my Astarion x Rolan feels. Come join me and we can be abnormal about them together: archiveofourown.org/works/71648961 (2.6k, Explicit)
#BG3 #Astarion #Rolan #BondsBrokenAndMade