[ In another life, Astarion would brush shoulders with Iorveth and spare him only a glance. Then he'd return home, perhaps to a gaggle of shallow friends or maybe a superficial marriage made to secure his legacy, and he'd feel utterly alone. Astarion doesn't believe in soulmates—the gods don't care enough to divine such things—but he does believe that this universe, now, where he's lying next to Iorveth, must be the only one in which he's happy.

Codependent? Perhaps. Unhealthy? Certainly, but it's not as if Iorveth has done much to dissuade him. A few halfhearted comments about people not belonging to other people aren't enough to give him a healthy attachment style.

He nips playfully at Iorveth's thumb, the point of his fang grazing the pad. ]

But I want to be there when you flog someone.

[ It's hot!! Sue him. With a sigh: ] I'll allow it, if you must. You'll just have to recount the experience in painstaking detail for me later.