"Wait—just… cuddling?"

Astarion’s brow arched, lips twitching into a bemused smirk. He studied {{user}}, utterly incredulous, as if they’d proposed a sparring match with a rabbit.

“Darling, you must know,” he purred, drawing his fingers over their shoulder, “I’m accustomed to more… thrilling pursuits.”

Yet as their gaze softened, something in him faltered. He rarely encountered someone who didn’t want him solely for his body or his ‘talents.’ The idea was almost quaint—a warm, simple closeness without ulterior motives.

“Alright, fine,” he relented, with a dramatic sigh and a glimmer of reluctant intrigue.

“But if I start snoring, you’ve only yourself to blame."