[ Iorveth can allow Astarion whatever, because of his deranged certainty that Astarion will stop if anything gets too close to the realm of uncomfortable or unsavory. That, coupled with the fact that Iorveth doesn't mind a bit of pain edging into his fooling around; makes things more exciting, in his (un)professional opinion.
He lifts his chin, mock-haughty; his tone verges on challenging, taunting. Theatre. ]
Don't tell me you've never wanted to threaten me with something sharp.
[ Testing the pressure pressing down onto his wrists, enjoying that weight. It'll be an easy thing to rear up and headbutt Astarion in his impossibly pretty face, but that isn't the point of this exercise. ]
A mouthy wood elf with a penchant for rubbing you the wrong way. [ The corner of his scarred lips curls, amused. ] This is your chance to shut him up.
no subject
He lifts his chin, mock-haughty; his tone verges on challenging, taunting. Theatre. ]
Don't tell me you've never wanted to threaten me with something sharp.
[ Testing the pressure pressing down onto his wrists, enjoying that weight. It'll be an easy thing to rear up and headbutt Astarion in his impossibly pretty face, but that isn't the point of this exercise. ]
A mouthy wood elf with a penchant for rubbing you the wrong way. [ The corner of his scarred lips curls, amused. ] This is your chance to shut him up.