[ Good things about the cloak: it lets Astarion walk freely in daylight. Bad things about the cloak: Astarion fucking dies if he takes it off. That really means canoodling outside is out of the picture, because Iorveth suspects that Astarion would rather die before he gets intimate in nothing but the ugliest piece of fabric ever produced on this plane of existence. (Dragomir must have been the most unfashionable vampire ever, before his timely demise.)

A hum of acknowledgment, and Iorveth hooks his fingers around the cloak strings... only to secure them more properly, so that nothing slips. The opposite of sexy undressing, because it would traumatize Iorveth if fooling around ended with Astarion being a pile of ash on Gale's patio. It would probably also traumatize, you know, the literal children playing nearby. ]

Like what? [ Mean elf rears his ugly head. Not looking to make Astarion uncomfortable, ever, but also happy to make him squirm just a little. He'll know when to back off, but for now: ] Like how striking you are in daylight? How I wish to see how you flush when there's no darkness to hide you?

[ No innuendo. Iorveth is the worst. He bites under Astarion's jaw again, nibbling at him with affectionate fervor. ] ―I'll stop if you admit I love you more.

[ The worst!!!!!!!! ]