“I was counting on it, actually.” Astarion breathes, only barely managing to stifle the sharpest start of a throaty groan when his companion rocks back against him. Hells, it’s maddening in its own right: how much he wants what he’s being oh so deliberately kept from.

“Or...are you afraid of getting caught?”

Simple bait, offering the marked elf beneath him a challenge of all things— but he does enjoy rousing him from embers over even the smallest of nipping comments.

“We could always feign at fighting again: I’m sure you’ve thought about it since the our last little tussle.”

And this time— this time his bite is far sharper, puncturing bare skin rather than lyrium lines, matching the way he grinds his own hips harshly forward.

A subtle spark of adrenaline.

“And if not that, perhaps I ought to put you to the window. Let our new neighbors find themselves serenaded.”