Mm‐hm. [The corner of his mouth twitches when Astarion brushes his fingers across his hair-dusted chest. That certainly feels good in the moment, and Taryon wouldn't mind if it continued for ages without escalating.]

I'm going to feel gross when I wake up, and I'd rather no have people see me in the morning. They're going to know what happened. [He buries his face into the pillow. The horrors, being perceived!]