[Astarion pulls away to answer. He looks up to meet Gale's gaze, taking a moment for the words to sink in. Is he comfortable? His tongue darts out over his lips, chasing the heat from Gale's skin. There's no twist in his stomach, no bile at the back of his throat. He gives a nod, his thumbs running against Gale's sides.]
no subject
I am. For now.
Should I need to halt this, you would accept it?