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Summary
Astarion is hungry and Tav wants to take care of him. Astarion finds this suspicious.
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Still impossible it could be true, impossible it wasn’t some sort of convoluted trap he was too blind to see, Astarion gave one more protest, words weak and voice wavering. “You don’t mean that.”
As if he took it as a challenge, Tav stepped up to meet it, into Astarion’s space, his hand falling to Astarion’s hip as he guided him backwards a step, then another, until his back hit the tree and Tav had caged him in. From his hip, Tav moved his hand to cup Astarion’s neck, thumb running along his jaw as he leaned in, crossing far too many of Astarion’s boundaries, but he had frozen.
For having convinced himself he was a predator, a monster, Astarion felt preyed upon.
“If you’re hungry,” Tav murmured, head lowered so his mouth was within inches of Astarion’s, “you should eat.”