Whatever Asher's mood, Nathaniel flows easily with it. A leaf on the river's surface. When he feels as if he's suffocating, Nathaniel pulls back enough to gasp in several breaths, his head light with arousal, lack of oxygen, and blood loss. He stares into Asher's eyes, and then licks slowly at Asher's lower lip, tempting him with breath and tongue.

"Good evening," he murmurs, a slight upward curve to his lips.