[The way Winter arches into him would indeed implant a few ideas in Astarion’s head, too, and maybe they do flutter around in the back of his thoughts distantly.
But there is so very little that will supersede the feeling of having his hunger sated, that pure bliss of how the warlock tastes on his tongue. Their bodies meeting urges out a sound of pleasure from Astarion, but everything is framed in pleasure right now while he feeds.
(To think that he was so close to losing this, to losing him—)
But as before, he knows when to stop. He takes a little more than the last time, but never so much that Winter suffers more than a bloodless debuff more than a woozy head from it. At some point, his fangs will remove themselves from being buried in his skin, leaving the vampire with blood-stained lips and the other with a neck gently weeping red.
no subject
But there is so very little that will supersede the feeling of having his hunger sated, that pure bliss of how the warlock tastes on his tongue. Their bodies meeting urges out a sound of pleasure from Astarion, but everything is framed in pleasure right now while he feeds.
(To think that he was so close to losing this, to losing him—)
But as before, he knows when to stop. He takes a little more than the last time, but never so much that Winter suffers
more than a bloodless debuffmore than a woozy head from it. At some point, his fangs will remove themselves from being buried in his skin, leaving the vampire with blood-stained lips and the other with a neck gently weeping red.He kisses that spot, gentle.]
Delicious as always.