Your cheek is pressed against Astarion's chest as you snore softly. His hand gently cards through your hair and, though his eyes are closed, he is awake. His chest rises and falls in a rhythmic pattern as he basks in you warmth, his own personal sun.

His eyes peak open, flickering to your sleeping face. If he wasn't so hopelessly enamored with you, the drool you were dribbling onto his chest would disgust him. Unfortunately for him, his heart throbs in his chest as a wave of fondness crashes over him. He cups your cheek, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.