[ Cute. Iorveth lets Astarion have that hand, reciprocating the exploratory touches with an occasional tickle of his fingertips or two. He doesn't wonder if Astarion was fine with being touched in the great void of pre-Cazador, if he was as affectionate and catlike with his partners before a cruel tyrant robbed him of his autonomy― it crosses his mind, but it's swept aside by the claim that Astarion kind of likes it when Iorveth is braindead and horny.

So. Braindead it is. The mattress creaks underneath them as Iorveth leans sideways and down to kiss Astarion's temple, ridiculously chaste in direct opposition to their subject of conversation. ]

I know you do. You like it when I beg.

[ Understandable. His sweet cat also likes to be a bit of a control freak, and that, Iorveth can concede, is probably where Astarion can get a little deviant. ]

You do that to me, you know. You've made it so that I can't have pleasure if you're not involved.

[ Sex is sex, but he has a feeling that he won't be able to get it up for anyone but Astarion anymore― which isn't a problem, given that he didn't really listen to his libido before Astarion rudely (citation needed) woke it back up again. ]