[ Astarion closes his eyes, basking in the gentle touch. He loves when Iorveth is full of murderous rage, but he loves more when Iorveth is loose and relaxed, when his touch is so soft that it's difficult to believe he could ever have hurt anyone in his life. Safe, warm, comforting. If he could, he'd live inside this moment forever and never have to deal with the drawbacks of vampirism or bigoted Commandants.

He can't, though, so he opens his eyes again. ]

I can chat with them while you rest. I'm sure they'd welcome a friendly face that isn't asking them for a sensual flogging.