[ Astarion only needs to be, but Iorveth feels a frisson of thrill at the idea that someone like Astarion could even want to be his. Improbable, impossible. In Iorveth's love-addled, delusional mind, he's still fighting against the world to keep Astarion by his side.

A little shiver, and Iorveth kisses the tip of the thumb tracing his scarred lip. Speaking of ripping clothes off and not being romantic, though: ]

Mm. [ A hum of affirmation, and a warm sigh. ] I want your pretty cock in my mouth, but the world continues to conspire against us.

[ Crass, but honest. Astarion really isn't helping Iorveth's oral fixation by casually allowing him to put his mouth everywhere; another sigh, and he noses against a lukewarm palm. ]

What should we do with the tiefling, after we finish our business here?