He should hope not. Not after this many months with them sharing a bed. Jaskier's response is only a mere hum that he's not entirely sure she can even hear. Which is not the important part.

Lucky for him that the vines keep her from squirming a bit too much, which allows all of the focus to go on his tongue, the sounds he makes from between her legs, and his fingertips trailing up the undersides of her naked thighs, not skirting her scar or the newest tattoo (a pretty splash of ink that's made him consider one himself. For fun.)

The vines, now firmly established, have taken on a mind of their own, much as his sandpiper, as his falcon. And it's beautiful the way they move, understanding what she needs, what he wants. A little tighter around her wrists, but slithering down behind her shoulders, moving through her hair.

Jaskier lifts his mouth for a breath, licking his lips. "No complaints so far, I hope."