They had been freely sharing everything this night, hadn't they? Showing little injuries, sharing little stories, any small thought or worry spoken. Yennefer helped him dry his tears. She doesn't wish to cause more of them. Not for Jaskier or herself. Geralt's mutant nature must be what makes it so difficult to banish him from thoughts or hearts. Worst yet that she is betraying this fellowship even considering him a party. No, she can't speak of that.

"I like the thrill of being hung and admired. It's like becoming a garden swing." She lets her eyes return downward until resting on his face. Sly, bard. "Would you and your ropes be so strong as to hold me down?"

This second question is a greater surprise. Instead of retreating, her brow furrows thoughtfully. Yes, that is deeply personal. Her knee jerk reaction is to leave the tub, leave the room. She is still a prideful, angry sorceress. Though she is also used to walking a path on her own, untethered, unattached. And this won't be information shared with a person that will squander its value. They're naked to one another and she finds in her heart that she does not want to shrink from Jaskier twice. Her eyes stare into his.

"The act has been...as a performance. No service or distribution of power." As a habit she has not allowed anyone to step up to the plate to take care of her. It has been a command or an order, Jaskier and a few other lovers act intuitively, navigating the points of pleasure on a woman's body. That is not what he is asking. "I seldom get to go to another place or know what it is like to be cared for. I struggle and dominate enough as it is."