Rolan is all warmth and lean muscle, nestled against her. But also cartilage and ridges, the jut of his hip; just a bit bony. Basil decided decisively then that she liked every inch of him, that they complimented each other perfectly. His arm hooked around her and pulled her close, leaving nothing to the imagination, including his continued arousal. Ah, happy to learn that the second round was on the table still.
The pillows were soft beneath the weight of her head and the rumpled silk of the covers invited them to lounge. If there was anything that could make the moment more perfect, Basil could not think of it. Although, Rolan kissing her throat and trailing those clever lips down to her shoulders was certainty a good idea. If his goal was to seduce her to further activity then he was already succeeding. Not that she needed much convincing. Her legs bent, heels pressing up against the mattress and turning her hip subtly into him. Basil hummed in ascent, eyes closing to savor the feeling of his lips against hers. In a life time she would hold these memories most dear and they would be a consolation on the coldest nights in the twilight of age. Hopefully, there would be a lifetime worth of memories to keep burning in the hearth of her heart. The warmth of him, the feel of him, the gentle slide of his mouth against the line of her collarbone. If only he could leave imprints on her, leaving her forever marked and changed. Write these feelings down onto the pages of a book so that they would always be accessible as merely cracking up a familiar, well worn tome. Her fragile, fallible memory, would have to suffice.
And yet, for all his tenderness, there was the points of his claws catching on her skin. She shuddered and shook, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder blades. And his teeth, gods his teeth. That had been a revelation for her too. One that Astarion keenly coaxed out of her, as a predator would swipe prey out of its warren. An honesty that Rolan could now revel in and appreciate, hearing her low moan, head tilting back. Gods his teeth were different, just as sharp but not the two piercing fangs of Astarion's vampiric bite, but instead the sharp maw of daggers. Like a cat gnawing at her, all pointed tips and yet playful restraint. She loved this too. There was no point in comparison; Basil was not one to see merit or demerit in her lovers. She only enjoyed having all the more to love and cherish. Gods, he was teasing her too. The restraint needed not to demand he bite down.
"You have seen me in battle," Basil protested. Her arm slung behind her head and she reached up to play with a strand of hair. "I am not so delicate as I appear."
No, she's killed devils, the chosen of the dead three, werewolves, vaporized a vampire lord; Basil no longer denied her own ability. That wasn't a concern right now. She laughed as he adjusted, 'devilish handsomeness,' Basil would have to remember that one later. But she sighed softly, his forehead to her, opening her legs to let him settle between them.
"I appreciate much about you," she whispered. Nodding her consent, murmuring 'yes', encouraging by hooking her calf around his waist to pull him closer. "Your loyalty to your kin, your incredible intelligence, creativity, resolve," a soft gasp, feeling the weight of his cock press against her, "skill in spell casting, ah, Rolan, the gold in your eyes... your strength and -- and resilience."
She could not think, could not speak as he slid into her. Lips parted in open gasp; Rolan stretched her, there was always that slight discomfort, the fluttering of her breath. Urging herself to relax even as instinct had her clench. Until he settled inside her, almost hilted, so warm and close, she grabbed at his shoulders. Filled suddenly with the feeling that this was good and right, the pain eased into a pleasant burn.
"My wizard," Basil murmured, and turned her head to kiss his jaw. "I love you."