[Don't worry, Winter. That is exactly what he meant, and if there was any doubt, Astarion gives a little hum of approval as their lips meet, the curve of his smile not quite lessening. More than enough encouragement to continue.
Like this, they share in the taste of his blood. And though he doubts it tastes like anything more than warm copper to him—where it’s nothing but sweet delight for a vampire—it’s still an exchange that excites him.
He lets the kiss linger, even deepens it so Winter can be sure to taste the tang on his lips fully. It’s his turn for a hand to wander into that mane of black hair, fingers resting against the back of his head as though to offer support for his playful vigor.
no subject
Like this, they share in the taste of his blood. And though he doubts it tastes like anything more than warm copper to him—where it’s nothing but sweet delight for a vampire—it’s still an exchange that excites him.
He lets the kiss linger, even deepens it so Winter can be sure to taste the tang on his lips fully. It’s his turn for a hand to wander into that mane of black hair, fingers resting against the back of his head as though to offer support for his playful vigor.
This counts as "cleaning up", right.]