[Those nails push a sigh from Gale, one that stutters against his ribs on the way out as though the very air in his lungs were raked through; his neck arches as he leans into Astarion's hand, as though demanding to be marked further.]

You will have to [ah] decide what life you'll lead with me. We can share the library, but what other hhhhhobbies will you indulge in now that you have your freedom?