I could clamor, but you wouldn't like it.

[ Regarding productivity. If given permission, Iorveth would get dressed and hop out the window and start asking around about Mrel Alkam or anyone that the citizens of Athkatla would like to get rid of; the only thing keeping him from his usual unhinged quest to Get Shit Done is Astarion and all the ways in which he continues to feel like a person and a place that Iorveth wants to be close to. He wasn't being facetious about cutting his own trancing time to scout around during the day, but Astarion has already made his stance on that clear, and so Iorveth won't push it.

Instead, he sits in this moment. Pleasantly tired, ruined by all this affection. His eye cracks open, and he reaches to sift Astarion's mussed bangs away from his face. ]

Too full of you right now to scheme, I think. Hard to think of anything after being so well and thoroughly taken apart.

[ If Astarion hasn't noticed, Iorveth hasn't been vertical for a single second after sex. ]

Presently, I'm only good for being bitten and being marked. Do with me as you will.