[ Being relegated to a lanky, elf-shaped teddy bear feels better than it has any right to, so Iorveth doesn't protest. No one has ever really taken the time to be sweet on him the way Astarion is, and likely because Iorveth has never advertised that he wants anyone to; he didn't even know that he liked it before he took the uncalculated risk of sharing a bed with Astarion.

He shifts, nuzzles, kisses. Lips to the rise of Astarion's throat, savoring the way it bobs when he speaks. He believes it when he's told that he makes his most important person happy, but it still feels impossible, every time. ]

Happier, then.

[ A hum, as he slides in the circle of Astarion's arms to pull back from where he'd been tucked in, wanting to see that pretty face more properly. ]

I'd not have you believe I'd regret anything that has to do with you. [ Pressing the point, as he leans in briefly to brush noses. ] Besides. I've said this before, but do you think I could bear it if something were to happen to you in my absence?

[ Stupid cat. It would break Iorveth, and he should know that. ]