[ Despite the slight misgivings Iorveth may have about the state of his feelings for Astarion (unhealthy), the warning alarms quiet once he sees the breadth of that full-faced smile. Uncalculated, showing all of his teeth. Of all the expressions that Astarion has in his arsenal (a lot), it's that grin that makes Iorveth melt. The sort of sincerity he'd always been needling for, even when he'd only wanted it out of principle and not out of any feeling of conscious attraction.

A warm sigh, and he returns Astarion's kiss with one of his own. ]

―Torture, that I have to mind your leg. [ Carefully pressing a hand to the crest of Astarion's knee, indicating that he does, in fact, remember that it's still very delicate. ] If not for the halfling's warning, I'd be making love to every inch of you right now.

[ Astarion wants Iorveth to turn his brain off after having it thoroughly bonked by a bloodthirsty hag, but they also can't canoodle. Horrible. Their lives are so hard. ]

Gods, I was prepared to go back to Athkatla if this cloak wasn't the one.