The hand on the back of the couch curls into the cushions as he keeps his composure in check, barely, but in check nonetheless. For so much of his life that has been the goal. To keep those comments of his being 'intense' —sometimes complimentary, other times not— to a minimum. Especially on dates, where an abundance of passion can be seen as over eagerness. If there is anyone he is keen not to disappoint, it's Yennefer.

All of this goes out the window, however, the moment she nips his lip. He all but lunges at her. Instead of gripping the couch, he holds her waist, pushing against her to encourage her back against the cushions while his other hand dares pull her thigh closer, coaxing her to lie down so he can be on top of her. Or at least to come closer. To let him kiss deeper, harder, more.

He wants to touch. To press body against body. To have his hands feel out every curve. To taste the salt of her neck as deeply as the wine on her tongue. He will take any direction she has, but in this moment he's lost to his own desire, following one sensation into another.