[ Very interesting. He loves Iorveth more than anyone in this wretched world and can't bear to think of him hurt, but the idea of Iorveth—who'd once said he'd slash Astarion's throat before letting even his teeth near that lovely neck—allowing him to hold a blade against his skin is more exciting than it has any right to be. Unintentionally, he digs his blunted nails into Iorveth's back a little harder; he realizes after a moment and smooths his chilly palm over the spot. ]

Ugh, don't make me want you here, [ he echoes, playful. ] I'm not in the habit of denying myself life's pleasures, and I don't want to start now.

[ He can have a freaky terrorist boyfriend, as a treat. ]