[Exhaustion buries itself bone-deep in his frame, too. The idea of sincerely taking this farther than just kissing flits around in his brain like a sparrow, but ultimately, perhaps it's an encounter better saved for when they wouldn't be complete heaps of useless nothingness when they were done.

So. The kiss is a lengthy one, a slow and languid affair, but eventually, Winter has to pull away, and Astarion doesn't chase after him tonight.]

Mm. I hope that means thoughts of me will be too busy crowding your mind for you to sleep tonight.

[He eases back, but brings a hand out to graze his fingers across the brusing on Winter's neck, so distinct against pale skin.]

Well, it's fine. You should try to sleep, anyway. You look awful. [Thanks, Astarion.] Consider this... to be continued, for now.