[The push was almost enough, and with the words that accompanied with it, it stirred Astarion from the rapture of the feed. Right, yes, of course. He drew away from his neck, slowly, but not without a soft, almost apologetic drag of his tongue along the two wounds that he'd left there. They would heal quickly, and he was only a vampire spawn, so there was no danger of Gale being turned. It was not in his power.

He leaned back far enough to seek out the wizard's eyes.]

It's normal, to feel a little light headed. But do remember to breathe, darling.

[A tilt of his head as he slowly licked his lips, to catch the last few drops of blood. A finger lifted to smudge a small trail that had slipped from the corner of his lips, quite happily licking the blood. Delicious.]

Is this where I tell you how vile your blood was? [While he literally is licking his fingers clean. It's a blatant lie and he laughs, lighter and cheerier than Gale had likely seen him before. Actually feeding had that effect.] As much as I hate to disappoint though, I can't make that claim. You tasted like smoke and something like whiskey and power. And Gale, somehow, as if that's a flavor of its own.