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This is Rosita. I'll hit you back when I can.

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She touches those scars with her light fingers and he shivers, biting back a soft moan. Jacob pushes himself back up, pressing a kiss to Astarion's temple, murmuring an agreement.

He's already got a hand under them, so it's no effort to start to peel off the layers, leaning in to steal a kiss from her, too, every now and again.

"Alright, lay down," he tells her softly, though he isn't eager to get her off his lap.

And she isn't eager to go, although she does. She's not shy about helping to strip her shirts off, her bra following suit to reveal a modest pair of breasts. She's somewhere between the two of them, a mess of scar tissue at the back of her ribs, a hole punched neatly in the front of one shoulder, other nicks and cuts here or there in addition to the pronounced one on her cheek, but none of that matters.

She lays back, tugging the tissue paper flower out of her hair and dropping it atop where her clothes land, but then she's all in on the pair in front of her, over her a bit now. "Lucky me," she purrs, and leans up to kiss Astarion's shoulder, slides her arm around the back of Jacob's neck to keep him close.

"Lucky us," Astarion agrees, and leans down to kiss his throat. He can feel her pulse under his lips, hear both their hearts beating, but he does nothing about it. Instead, he keeps working his cool lips over warm skin, kissing open-mouthed at her shoulder, her collarbone, the swell of her breast.

"Gods, you're beautiful."

He lets Astarion explore her, lets him marvel at her, while Jacob lies down beside her, tracing the lines of ribs and muscles with his fingers. Occasionally, he trails his hand to Astarion's shoulders, around his back, even as he focuses most of his attention on kissing her mouth.

It's slow and lovely and there's no reason to rush this part. He wants them to have the chance to be familiar as he has with them. They're both so goddamn beautiful to him.

"Lucky us," he agrees. "And his tongue does more than complain and insult, you know."

Rosita loves sex, loves the pleasure of it, but this - the gentle, reverent treatment, the attention - this is heady and she shivers pleasantly around the unevenness of her breath.

"I'm more than open to the possibilities," she manages, voice rough, skin already flushed in the wake of that thorough kiss; her fingernails pull lightly across the low of Astarion's back, not even close to catching, but enjoying the plane of sleek muscle there. She's a bit at their mercy at the moment, but she slips a hand below the waist of Jacob's pants, too, hooking around his hip to anchor the way her hips try to roll against first one and then the other.

"Good," Astarion murmurs, and slides down lower, carefully divesting Rosita of her pants and underwear.

He kisses her stomach, her inner thighs, moving in between her legs by slow inches. He can smell her skin, her growing arousal, and there's a matching pulse of it he feels in his own body.

Jacob pulls back enough to let Astarion work, though Rosita's hand on him keeps him from going too far. The drink, the sight of both of them, it makes him dizzy.

"Goddamn," he murmurs and he doesn't actually know what's affecting him more. He doesn't care. His mouth finds the rise of her breast and he presses his hips against her side.

She's been conditioned by the last few years to be quiet and it's what she tends to default to now, but even so she doesn't bother stifling the low moan Astarion's efforts draw out of her; she helps shimmy out of the rest of her clothes, and lets her knees fall open shamelessly, eagerly for him while her fingers tangle in his hair.

"Don't go away," she murmurs to Jacob between kisses to any part of his skin she can reach, back arched to encourage him where he is. "God, you're both such good teases -"

"Well, now. That's not my intention at all," Astarion chuckles, but he's as good as his word, in this instance: he licks a slow, flat stripe right up between her thighs, tasting her wetness from the source.

His lips close around her clitoris and he puts himself to the task of working his tongue tirelessly over it, circling the little bud over and over, applying the barest bit of suction. He's not as experienced with women, but he's still had entire human lifetimes to work this all out.

"I ain't going anywhere," he assures her. "All I want is right fucking here."

Astarion makes a beautiful sight there between her legs, after all. It's a sight Jacob intends on enjoying.

His brings his lips to hers, letting his hands take over teasing and tracing along her breasts, to her stomach, anything to bring back that quiet moan.

There is plenty of slick there to give evidence of how interested she is in being exactly where she is, in them doing exactly what they're doing; she shudders and lets her fingers nearly fist in the ends of his hair, but does not push or pull him. God knows he's doing just fine on his own.

The kiss with Jacob swallows down exactly the sounds he was trying to illicit, and she pants into the crook of his neck when they break, ragged.

"Keep going like that and I won't make it to being fucked," she half praises, half warns because: "And I really want to at least one of you to fuck me."

"You don't think you can come twice?" Astarion wonders, pulling away just far enough to be heard before getting back to it. He slides his parted lips down from her clit to her cunt, his tongue sliding shallowly inside her. He likes the sensation of her hands in his hair, likes feeling the tension in her fingers as he pleases her.

"I don't think you gotta worry about not being fucked," Jacob adds. His jeans are tight, his whole body aching for more than desperate kisses and touches. He's patient, though. They have time. So much time.

He sits up, surveying the scene there, his hand joining hers in Astarion's hair.

"I can," she answers. She will, she knows. "I just want you - mm -"

She lets it stand when Astarion starts doing that: she wants them. Her nails crook into Jacob's skin as he moves, and her hips cant up for Astarion, wanting instinctively to ride that feeling and giving him a better angle, better access.

"Oh god, yes."

Astarion hums his satisfaction and smiles. He continues to fuck her with his tongue in a random pattern of deep and shallow presses, sometimes doing barely more than lapping over her entrance and sometimes pushing in like he wants to lose himself completely. One hand splays over the crease of her hip, thumb lightly pressing over her clit so that the rocking of her hips will give her that little more friction.

His own hips move, a little restless, against the bed; he's still dressed from the waist down and his erection is an almost painful pressure under his leathers.

She wants him close so he stays close, but he hurriedly unbuttons his jeans, trying to give himself some sort of relief.

But once his jeans are looser, he puts his mouth and tongue back on her, sucking a red spot along her shoulder.

She still trends towards staying quieter, but there's no shortage of encouragement and encouraging feedback for all of that: she relaxes enough that the way her hips roll to follow the pressure becomes reflexive instead of cautious, and she's plenty reactive. She moans shamelessly, the pitch shifting higher and into hissed oh gods and yesyesyes when he's able to press deeper or when she catches her clit just right on his hand, deeper and throatier when his mouth on her is a pleasant, electrifying build.

She can't reach much of Astarion like this, but the moment she realizes what Jacob has done and he's back against her she licks a broad, messy stripe down her palm and reaches for him to help. She's distracted at best, though, because despite how hungry she is for more, for actual penetration - and she is, make no mistake - Astarion is good at this and the way she's rocking against him is very close to crossing the line into bucking when she gasps, "Astarion -" to warn him how close she is, how very short the distance to the edge is for her.

It feels - good, uniquely good, to give and take pleasure entirely and only because he wants to. Maybe it always will - maybe servitude has ingrained in him forever that the simple matter of enthusiastic consent will feel like a pleasant novelty. But this is more than that. It's because it's Rosita and Jacob that he's here with, and that he...cares, about them.

And right now, he cares very much about making good on the threat of a precipice in Rosita's voice. His hand and mouth switch places, two fingers pressing deftly into her and curling inward as he sucks and licks hungrily at her clit.

He hadn't intended on that, but he certainly isn't going to push her away. He groans against her skin at the touch, simultaneously encouraging her with a kiss or a touch.

"Come on, Ro," he whispers in her ear, voice low and desperate. "Come on, you're so fucking good..." Nonsense words, just words, just sounds, as he tries not to rock against her hand.

That gets a gasp from her, and she kips up partially to an elbow on sheer reaction before she drops back down again, one leg hooking across Astarion's back on autopilot. She hasn't had this kind of focus on her in enough time that she'll think later that she might have come from that alone: lavished attention, and a nickname in her ear while she forgets what she's even doing with her hands.

She doesn't stand a chance - "Oh, God -!" - and she lets go of Jacob only to pull them together so she can bury the desperate keen of pleasure into the crook of his neck as she fucks herself on Astarion's fingers and tongue, lets him fuck her in turn through her orgasm.

Astarion moans, a completely instinctive sound, and he thrusts down against the mattress for the small relief of the friction it brings. Even then he's not stopping, fucking her relentlessly through her climax, stopping only when he suspects that going further might be uncomfortable.

Even when he does stop, he moves very little, kissing at her inner thighs and feeling her muscles tremble under his hands.

He curls an arm around her, holding her through the rush of it. "Fucking hell," he mutters, his fingers curling into her back. He'll hold her as long as she wants, biting back a groan of his own. The warm weight of her against him, his own skin just as flushed, just ignites him more.

And tremble they do even as the blinding pleasure peaks and troughs; her breathing comes shallow and fast and her body jumps with little aftersparks, and she's just about to ask him to stop when he does it on his own.

Of course he does. She kisses Jacob's skin in front of her mouth, his shoulder, his chest, his neck, before dropping her head back.

"That was a good fucking start," she pants, reaching down to pull Astarion up to where she can reach him, where she can kiss him while she soaks in her own afterglow even as she knows the two men are still ramping up.

Astarion smiles and crawls up her body, kissing Rosita's mouth with her wetness lingering on his lips and tongue. He reaches down with one hand to fumble open the lace holding his trousers closed, eager for a little relief. His other hand reaches out blindly to touch Jacob's arm and side, sliding over whatever skin he can reach.

Her mouth on him is the sweetest torture, at least until she pulls away. They kiss and Jacob immediately buries his face along the elf's shoulders and neck, glad for the opportunity to be close. His blood runs hot and every touch just builds him up, and small kisses turn to bites, to groans.

"Come here," he mutters to him, eager for his chance to taste her on his tongue.