His back straightens as Astarion presses in behind him, arms sliding around as lips brush over his neck. His eyes nearly close for the trailing kisses and Fenris shifts back to ensure their bodies are fully pressed together.

"Oh, just for me? How callous I've been." Surely Astarion can hear the roll of his eyes as much as the amusement in his voice. Another subtle shift, weight pressed back into the pale elf as lips are replaced by tongue and teeth. Even if sharp points don't break skin, the pressure calls to memory deeper bites.

"How would you like to celebrate, then? I've been so careless as to not plan anything."

Fenris takes another drink from the bottle, once again swept up in the luxurious taste of it. No hint of sour vinegar of old or just bad wine. This is the sort of thing he served at tables once upon a time.