[ The scraping feels nice. Going with the cat associations, like being kneaded gently by paws with only slightly-retracted claws; there's always the promise that Astarion could fight back if displeased, and Iorveth loves that about him. A freak. ]

I could, [ he says, about altruism, ] but you would huff and brood and be unhappy, and if I pulled away now and left you to be independent, you would think I didn't love you.

Which I do, [ sounds just a little annoyed. Mostly at himself for being so besotted, as Astarion called it. ] To a frankly absurd degree.

[ Which is why he's staying right where he is, thank you very much. ]

Tell me you want to start rationing days where we sleep apart, and I will. But unless you propose it, love, I won't.