Fenris laughs, the sound surprising even himself. He wasn't prepared to be wanted so, and it is a heady joy. This feeling... it's new and not new, a mix of reality and something skimming just below the surface. He knows the feeling, a memory of poor tidings, and he does his best to slap it away. He wants that joy, and focusing on it is easier than it once was. Astarion is to blame, he assumes. Astarion, bringing him to light in dark places.

Kissing at his neck, Fenris murmurs, "you'll have to try a little harder than that."

Yet, carefully, gently, Fenris enters Astarion, sighing with the pleasure of it. He hasn't enough cleverness, at that moment, to voice the joke in his mind: well, he's made himself rather easy.