"Well - that's a shame." His breath hitches as she shifts in his embrace; he's aware with a renewed vigor of the way his prick's nestled against her ass, how obvious it'll be if he gets hard. (How much he suspects she'd enjoy that.) He'd hardly have to move at all in order to kiss her, and he doubts she'd mind if he did. He doesn't kiss her. "I think you merit some honor, Vex'ahlia."

They're in a public place, however ill-traveled right now, which makes the desire to kiss her inconvenient...but he can't possibly think that she's going to lead him up to her room at the inn, in front of every member of her party, he realizes. Here might be the plan, and he might have been naive for thinking otherwise.

On the other hand, she might be banking on the possibility that everyone else will be in a drunken stupor by the time they return. (He can't quite fathom the idea that she wouldn't mind being seen with him in a delicate context.) It seems safest not to assume, and to let her decide just where things go from here. He's been reliant on her generosity thus far, to no real harm; she can continue to call the shots.

Percy doesn't pull away, but he doesn't breach the last breath of space between them, either, tempting though her full lips and soft expression are. He watches her steadily, leaving the decision open for her.