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Summary
Gale was so preoccupied that he didn’t think to ask why Astarion had stopped using her thigh, her neck.
Not that he couldn’t lead Tav into temptation by the arm.
Astarion shifted on the bed and laced his fingers through hers from below, bending her hand back until the veins in her wrist stood out, stark and green-blue. His thumb brushed absently over her palm as he lowered his head to that thin and sensitive skin, lined his fangs up deliberately with the existing puncture scars.
Like he wanted his mark on her, too.
Series
- Part 2 of punch, drunk
