[ Not to worry, Astarion. Xenk only needs a single hand to heal himself, and this is something he can do. With the hand holding the coin, he presses close to his chest, a warm, golden light springing forth from his hands to heal him as the drain becomes noticeable.
It hardly is, though. The heat from Astarion's lips and the pull of his fangs, in his hold, is enough to draw the breath from him in the very best of ways. It is absolute pleasure, coating his insides with warmth that ebb and flow up his neck, towards Astarion. Every point of contact from them feels that much warmer, with Fenris' touch forming an almost closed circuit of contact between the three of them, feeding the desire and need that was presently fueled by the bite.
Yet Xenk would be happy simply like this. Surrounded by his lovers, held and supported. He thinks perhaps he has not experienced true joy before, for nothing in his long life has ever felt so good. Even the light of Tyr pales in comparison to this. ]
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It hardly is, though. The heat from Astarion's lips and the pull of his fangs, in his hold, is enough to draw the breath from him in the very best of ways. It is absolute pleasure, coating his insides with warmth that ebb and flow up his neck, towards Astarion. Every point of contact from them feels that much warmer, with Fenris' touch forming an almost closed circuit of contact between the three of them, feeding the desire and need that was presently fueled by the bite.
Yet Xenk would be happy simply like this. Surrounded by his lovers, held and supported. He thinks perhaps he has not experienced true joy before, for nothing in his long life has ever felt so good. Even the light of Tyr pales in comparison to this. ]