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She’s unconsciously rolling on the balls of her feet, clearly restraining herself waiting for his request. He’s tempted to draw this out, to see how far he can push the limits of her patience, but tonight is not the time.
“I’m not his.”
A quiet exhale - had she been afraid of what he would say? An interminable pause as he watches her chest rise and fall, quicker now in spite of her ironclad control.
“I’m yours.”
A groan, this time, and his pulse races with pleasure as she steps back into the cradle of his legs, bare knees against his breeches. She places a hand on either side of his face, tipping him backwards, then waits.
“I need you to take him from me. Please.”
Astarion is tired of looking at the poorly healed bite mark, and wants Tav to take it away.