[ Astarion is into that sort of thing. Of course he is; Iorveth's hands are one of his favorite parts of him, and the sight of his fingers brushing against his erection makes heat pool in his stomach, 'stiff' becoming more accurate by the second.

All of that aside, he reaches out to remove Iorveth's hand, replacing it with his own free one. ]

Sweetheart, [ he says, the endearment full of warmth as he moves his featherlight touch up and down, ] I know this may be a difficult concept for you—

[ Gently, as he'd promised, he pushes a fingertip inside, a shallow breaching at first. 'Out of practice', Iorveth had said, and so he deserves to be prepared tenderly, softly. He feels warm and tight, and Astarion savors the feeling for a protracted moment before exploring deeper, both hands matching that slow, unhurried pace. ]

But I want you to lie back and do nothing but feel pleasure.

[ A very difficult concept. Iorveth was not built to be a pillow princess. ]