Jaskier would like the myths of ancient Greece, Nadine thinks. All full of seduction and epic romances and dashing heroes. And gods with mortal appetites and failings. She'll have to tell him some, when they aren't busy.

Right now she's not sure she can manage that many words in coherent order. Not when he's touching her like this, looking at her like that. Not when the vines holding her are shifting along her skin as they move, petals brushing against her as they unfold, all of it adding to the sensations. They're just extensions of Jaskier, a part of him in a way. Maybe that's why it isn't strange.

"Oh, I have no doubts about your abilities to perform." Or the pleasure inherent therein. He's never left her anywhere near unsatisfied in bed. It's never once felt like he was only putting in minimal effort, even when they were tired and worn out but in the mood anyway.

And tonight is certainly no different. She squirms in delight as he sets to it, tugging at the vines around her as she moves. It's such a novel thing, to feel them holding her and supporting her as her shoulders lift off the bed and they take a part of her weight.