#i had another passage i was considering for skin about cyrus testing his new lack of bleeding in some. less than healthy ways.

[thedragonagelesbian]

Find the word

thank you @the-eldritch-it-gay for the generous open invitation to do this challenge with the words hurt, soft, sleep, fire, and skin

Hurt

What a picture-perfect set-up Astarion had had, so close he could already taste the sweat on Cyrus’ body, all he had had to do was finish the first job and move on to the next. Let his hands wander, find what made that lethargic pulse skitter, what made that freckled skin blush and bruise. Cyrus would’ve let him. After that little display with the priest of Loviatar, listening to him roar to be hurt harder, Astarion had never been more sure of that.

Soft

“Eat the berry, ivaebhin.”

Cyrus’ Elvish was an underdeveloped muscle even in his more lucid moments, but the melody of the word in Halsin’s baritone was so charming that he crushed the goodberry without further protest. Its firm skin yielded to the soft flesh beneath in a squirt of thick, syrupy sweetness, like honey, leading Cyrus to wonder if the flavor was specific to Halsin’s tastes. It dripped warm and slow down his throat, underneath his sternum, and into his stomach, where it took root, flowering and unfurling and filling.

Sleep

Cyrus was just about to trance. It always came easier in Karlach’s arms— the hum of the infernal engine against his chest, cocooned in its warmth and the sturdiness of her arms, catching the faint traces of her talking to herself in her sleep on the edges of his not-quite-unconsciousness. It should’ve come particularly easy that night, with his emotions already burnt out of him. The heavy absence behind his eyes and his sternum demanded respite, and though Cyrus often fought against what his body thought was best for him, he was pretty sure he needed to listen to it tonight.

Fire

“And what about Halsin?” Shadowheart asked.

Cyrus glanced over at the other elf, who was studying the sigils that would have once again bound the Nightsong with that deep consternation that had been plaguing him since arriving in Baldur’s Gate. He had weathered the encounter best of all, cloaked in the semblance of the very same elementals that Lorroakan had set upon them. “What about him?”

“I mean he has a big heart, massive arms, and can set himself on fire. Kind of ticks all your boxes, doesn’t he?”

Skin

Cyrus listed, tempted, so terribly tempted, to lean forward. To rest his head on Karlach's shoulder and breathe in the slight acrid sweetness of her body, skin and ducts and all. Everything turned to vapor with her. He could just let the day disappear, weightless and immaterial and…

Aaaaand i'm gonna do a similar 'if you see this & want to do it, consider yourself tagged by me!!' for the words............ scar, stain, cold, dear, and heart.