[ Astarion smiles, looking every bit as pleased as Hyacinth. He scoots their chairs closer once more, hand snaking up under the hem of Iorveth's silky-smooth shirt and splaying out over the warm skin of his back. He leans his temple against Iorveth's shoulder, close enough to him that he can inhale the scent of Iorveth's skin. Warm, woody, comforting. He'd bottle it if he could. ]

If that's what you want, I couldn't bear to deny you.

[ Well, maybe a little. Fondling Iorveth's prick would only make him want to remove some clothes, and he'd rather not get undressed in front of the whole tavern. ]

I only thought you didn't want to act like a 'love-drunk fool'.

[ A sigh. He's as hungry for Iorveth's affection as he is for blood, and he won't be able to have either in public if that's the case. Vexing. ]