God, the noises they both make - the way Jacob, less stoic than he once was perhaps but still readily described as such, falls apart. She stays where she is for the moment, close, a hand left draped and idly tracing on both of their skin: Jacob's flushed and warm, Astarion's cool and dry.

She'll move around in a moment, give Jacob something to fuck into, make them both feel good; for now, she enjoys the show from her front row seat.