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But then she busies herself looking for another stone, but she looks across at him once she has another.
"I thought you didn't put much stock in the breaches."
"As did I," Astarion says. "But it seems I'm not so dead that I can't change my thinking."
She presses her lips together, thinking.
"That's a shitty thing to have in your head, Astarion. Especially since it wasn't even you, or something you did."
"Yes. It is."
And the darker thoughts are still bubbling under. There's the voice that says: Why shouldn't he have done it? Why would he have to suffer and bleed and cry and beg for years, then finally seize all the power he could ever want and show his inferiors - what? Restraint? Kindness? Fucking why? He's a rotten sickness of a person whether he's having fun or not, so why not indulge?
He wants to imagine he'd feel less sick and hollow now if he'd controlled himself then. But he doesn't know. He can't know.
"...I'm trying. To think about other things. I've just volunteered to learn how to cook, haven't I?"
She drifts a bit closer, within range of being touched but not close enough to threaten it.
"That's an important point, you know. You didn't do anything. There's so much potential in everyone for such shitty things - you and I both know that - but you haven't."
"I know. I know."
It's not easy to internalise. But he's...aware.
"Anyway." He laughs, putting a hand lightly on her shoulder. Taking her hand was fine, earlier. "That's quite enough of that, don't you think? We're not here to listen to me whining about things I didn't even do."
"Do you think I'm whining when I talk about things that are hard for me? Or Jacob?"
"Absolutely not," he says immediately, and then gives her a sidelong glance. "Though you do it much less than me, and 'whining' is a matter of duration as much as it is content."
"If a herd of walkers rose up out of this water and you were too distracted or upset to do anything to save yourself, that would be whining. But that's not the case." She shrugs with her free shoulder.
"We can still be done if you want, but I need you to know it's not because I don't want to hear what's going on in your head."
"...I'd like to keep walking for a while," he says quietly. "I - don't have anything more to say about...that. Though I know you'd be open to hearing it."
She turns it, kissing the back of it in lieu of something more intimate, and then lets go.
"And just to be clear, I won at stone skipping."
Astarion laughs and leans in to kiss her cheek.
"Cheerfully conceded, darling, if only because there are no prizes."
"I'm glad you're here, Astarion. Let's see what's down the beach."
"I'm glad you're here with me, Rosita," he says solemnly, and takes her hand to continue walking through the shallows.
Astarion smiles, warm and a little sly, then reaches for Rosita - drawing her closer.
"Putting on a show for you? I think we can manage that," he murmurs, then leans into a slow, deep kiss as he runs his hands down her sides.
So it's easy to switch course once Astarion reaches for her - "C'mere, gorgeous - the VIP seats are full." - kneeling on Jacob's other side for the time being anyway so they have to lean over him; so she has to swing one leg over his, straddle his thigh to be pulled in and return that kiss.
She slides her hand up into his hair, carding them through before letting her palm settle against the side of his neck, thumb smoothing along the line of his jaw and fingers hooked loosely around the back to hold them together while her other slides up under his shirt.
He doesn't try to stop them or guide them at all; that's half the fun for him. He does rest his other hand on her thigh, gently stroking his thumb along her pants.
Astarion slides back more securely onto the bed, then slides both hands under Rosita's thighs to draw her fully onto his lap. Her hand feels warm against cool skin and he shivers for it, a soft sound exhaled against her lips.
He has to dislodge her hands for a few moments, time enough to slide off her shirt and then his own, but then he's drawing her back in close to kiss her like there's nothing else he has to do for hours.
She settles herself right where she is, shifting her hips side to side to settle before she rolls them in a slow, deliberate grind as a tease for all three of them.
"You let us know if you change your mind, won't you, Jacob?" she purrs, but her attention is all on dragging her mouth down Astarion's neck to his chest.
He laughs and it's soft and deep, husky with fully realized want. They're a beautiful pair and he appreciates the way fabric and muscle move together.
"I don't intend on keeping my hands to myself the whole time." Just enough to embrace the emotions of having them here together.
"Good, I've come to rather like your hands," Astarion murmurs, but he sounds just as distracted as he is - his gaze inevitably falling to Rosita as he watches the path she's taking, feels the brush of her warm lips against bare skin. His hands drop to the mattress as he leans back, giving her the full stretch of his chest and throat to explore as she pleases. Arousal pools at his core, heavy and sweet.
And though they're still separated by fabric, she lets the slow, deepening grind of her hips where her thighs bracket Astarion's stay rhythmic as the tide, stoking her own arousal on a slow burn.
She looks almost angelic and he knows that she is deliberately theatrical for their sake. That doesn't diminish anything for him.
He sits up, sliding his hand along her shirt. "Let's get this off you." He can watch and help.
Astarion glances Jacob's way, biting his lip at the sight of him touching himself. He's hard himself, but under the warm weight of Rosita's body and the deliberate grind of her hips, he sees no reason to do anything for himself. There's a faint pink blush rising accross his chest, a little deeper at the points where Rosita's teeth made contact.
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