The sound that escapes Astarion's lips, unbidden, is almost a growl.

"Hells, darling." A slash across his shoulders. "You told me to keep talking, and I will, but -"

A stroke down his spine, positively delicate - he knows the consequences of hitting too hard there.

"-It's damn near impossible when all I want to do is shut up and listen to you."

A line scored horizontally across his back, so close to drawing blood.