[Cute? What do you mean cute? He's being rakishly dashing. Probably.

Jolts of excitement run across his nerves, Winter's touch always doing things to him, and Astarion's own wretched heart beats a little faster in his chest. His shirt pulls against his skin as it bunches up in the warlock's touch, but it just causes his smile to brush against his skin even more sharply as he trails his mouth down. Down to where the jawline transitions properly into the slope of his neck.

No bite just yet, but the sharp-edged tease of one; fangs whispering against the other's flesh as he speaks.]

Perfectly clever and wonderfully criminal in just the right amounts. Hm... knows well how to use that tongue of his.