There's no need for that. [It's easy and automatic, because there's truly no need for apologies, not when Sebastian is responding to a request to meet in a park in the middle of the night. Not when he has to curl his hands into fists and press them against his thighs to keep himself still while the other man hesitates to sit.

His lips purse, and he drags his eyes to the trees around him.

It lends a certain genuine surprise to the guffaw, at the question. And there's a certain honesty in Astarion's response.]

Yes and no. [Not that he's about to spell out that the park is decidedly not in the yes category. Still, his gaze swivels back to Sebastian, lingers on the other man's face, before he slowly pivots on the bench, pulling one leg up to fold between them, a hand curled around his ankle. The other arm drapes over the back of the bench.]

Do you have a preference? [Not even a tick later, almost on top of the question.] For where I bite you, I mean. I usually prefer the neck. It's faster. But I understand if you'd rather I picked somewhere less intimate.

[Did that sound manic? He lids his eyes, chin tipping up in thought, and then impulsively adds the much more suggestive.] Or more intimate.