They shared a chaotic yet intoxicating night. Astarion's technique was superb—not to imply that Ethemon was lacking in any way; he was, after all, a normal adult male, and even if his brain had been severely scrambled earlier, his instincts remained intact.
Yet Ethemon had naively assumed that since he was somehow driving this particular endeavor, he wouldn't lag too far behind Astarion. But when Ethemon kissed Astarion's neck and reached the peak, alongside the sheer pleasure came a lingering irritation at Astarion's masterclass in performance.
Astarion was like a virtuoso specializing in this exact craft, utterly commanding every rhythm and cadence of the intimacy. Ethemon nipped playfully at a patch of skin, feeling that a trace of possessiveness deep in his bones was acting up.
Chapter 49