Allowing a person to truly see you, to catch on to your ways and whims is dangerous business for a sorceress. Jaskier in his haze of passion already can see that yes, she is an actress. Not ever to be bothered with decorum or manners and always wearing her heart on her sleeve does not free her from feeling remorse, or wanting acceptance. The years have show it is better to hide that. Her pride is real. Yennefer has the immortality that the ascension provides and with it a mind committed to success she earns. Success is measured not with applause. Accolades are acceptable.

She wants to be admired. Her reflection in his beautiful eyes is not the draw, it's his gaze. The heat, the want. It's hers and hers only. There is power in that. Her hands firmly grasp at both of Jaskier's knees. "Yes, dearheart. Yes." Her knees spread and she guides her body to bend over him, their anatomy is different and some shifting and wiggling is required. Her cock prods his. The sultry severity of her expression crackles as a giggle comes up in her throat.

"How good you are," Yennefer props her weight on one arm and reaches down, deliberately tracing Jaskier's cock with her impressive black piece before guiding it where it needs to be. "No wonder the Continent whispers about you." Laid back over the pillows glossed with sweat and flushed in shades of red and pink. The first motion is careful, not to say slow. She had seen how far he got on his own.