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Okay hear me out whenever Satoru isn’t wearing his sunglasses/ blindfold indoors, he keeps his eyelids closed. He didn’t need to open them anyway, not while he could already see everything. But then you would step into the room. He would’ve already sensed you coming, sensed you presence, and he turns around just in time with your entrance, eyelids peeling open to reveal those mesmerising blue orbs.
The seconds between each blink drag on and on, almost as if he was scared you’d dissipate into thin air if he looked away. He wanted to engrave you into his mind, memorise everything about you (not that he didn’t already memorise it) but he just wanted it carved deeper into his brain, so that even after he closes his eyelids again, he’d see you there.
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He didn't remember hugs.
Now, passionate embraces in the heat of the night—those Astarion had plenty of. Touches and squeezes during the flirty banter, limbs intertwined under the table, hands casually teasing the private parts in a promise to do more once they get to the room, or on the way there.
Any and all physical contact that people made during sex, Astarion had everything.
Hugs were different.
He saw them sometimes, from the corner of his eye. Rarely, since he wasn't frequenting the establishments that promoted this sort of pure interactions amongst its visitors. Sometimes he scoffed and laughed at fools cuddling together amidst the bodies rolling in the drunken swill. Jeered at them for being much too softhearted for being regulars of such sordid places.
Envied—though he was hardly comfortable putting the idea into thoughts.
It didn't stop him from wondering how that felt all the same.
Tav's hot hands cradled his back, lightly patting and stroking it. Her sigh ruffled his hair, tickling his skin, as Astarion froze, not moving, nothing in his head.
Tav chuckled and squeezed him closer, lightly rocking from side to side.
Astarion hesitated, but ultimately gave in, hugging her back.
It felt…nice.
Warm.
Not completely comfortable, since he was standing on his knees to bring himself to the same height, but Astarion strangely found this mild inconvenience reassuring, because otherwise it would've been much too perfect for him to bear the feeling. Having at least a teaspoon of nuisance in this honeypot made it easier to swallow. He still had the difficulty swallowing it, as they lumped together into a swollen knot. His hands shook—indiscernibly so, but Astarion was aware of the most minuscule tremors in his own body.
A part of him wanted to turn this into something more sensual, sexual, simple. Safe and known. If not that, than at least into a joke, to diffuse the suddenly heavy atmosphere.
He tried to, but couldn't speak properly through a lump in his throat.
He hugged Tav closer, breathing in her scent, and warmth, and life.
"Nice, isn't it?" she chuckled, patting his back.
Her cheek pressed against his ear, soft and squishy, perfectly biteable. Yet he ignored the itch in his teeth, and hugged her closer still, a sudden shudder running through his body—why, he couldn't tell.
"Good," Astarion agreed, his voice muffled and quiet, barely audible.
He had to wonder no more.
He didn't remember hugs.
He wanted to remember this.
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