[ With access so freely given, Winter's tongue curls past those wicked fangs to drink deep of the taste of the vampire's mouth. It's a taste he's rapidly coming to enjoy, with or without the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. His own fingers slide into snow-colored tresses as they kiss, fingertips pressing against Astarion's scalp. His other arm stays looped around his middle for now.
He shifts under the other man, encouraging that touch at his hip, that touch that makes a little wave of anticipation roll through him. When they break for Astarion to speak, the warlock's lips find the corner of his mouth, the line of his jaw. He chuckles softly, breath huffing against the vampire's skin. ]
And deny you the chance to find them for yourself? Perish the thought.
[ Another small laugh, this one accompanied by the soft scrape of teeth. ]
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He shifts under the other man, encouraging that touch at his hip, that touch that makes a little wave of anticipation roll through him. When they break for Astarion to speak, the warlock's lips find the corner of his mouth, the line of his jaw. He chuckles softly, breath huffing against the vampire's skin. ]
And deny you the chance to find them for yourself? Perish the thought.
[ Another small laugh, this one accompanied by the soft scrape of teeth. ]
You found one already, anyway.