[ Though he tries hard to suppress it, Astarion can barely conceal his delight at being carried into the water, every scoff and roll of his eyes undercut by the grin on his face. Iorveth might have the muscled back of an archer, but that doesn't mean he's accustomed to lugging around a full-grown vampire in his arms; it must be difficult for him, even crossing this small distance, but he did it to make Astarion happy.

It works. Astarion pulls him down alongside him to kiss him, insistent and pleased, like the only way he can rid himself of the overwhelming affection he feels is to press it into Iorveth's mouth. That doesn't work. He still feels just as fond when he's done. ]

Turn around. I'll wash that hair.

[ His damp hands find Iorveth's shoulders, shoving gently. ]

I never thought myself the type to enjoy this sort of thing. [ Domesticity. Doing something for another person, just because. ] But I find that I like having something worth caring for.

[ Having someone to tend to. To consider. To do an act of service for not because he has to, but because he wants to. ]