Fenris tightens his jaw to keep the sound that rises in his throat from escaping as Astarion's teeth sink into him. It has the desired effect: a rush of adrenaline to join the already potent arousal. He makes himself take another heavy drink from the bottle, not quite draining it but between them it's nearly down to the dregs.

It's the threat to put him out the window that gets a sharp elbow toward Astarion's side - hardly a real rebuke, it grazes rather than landing straight on. Of course he's thought of that fight. How could he not, even when they sleep beside each other? It's so easy to want more.

"You are absolutely not bending me over the window," he insists, breathy but firm in that. Anywhere else in the bloody room he'll accept. He lets the bottle dangle from his fingers and when it drops, it doesn't drop far. The thick bottom of the bottle hits the floor with only a little wobble and that leaves Fenris's hand free to reach back, tangling in Astarion's pale hair as he gives a more insistent push of his hips.

"You can celebrate anywhere else."