[Though that bite to his lip and the resulting tang of his own blood on his tongue cause his cock to practically throb in reply, a fresh wave of embarrassment hits Gale as Astarion calls him on his avoidance; his own hazel eyes pull themselves from Astarion's gaze, land on his smile, then return to his eyes less than a second later as he searches for confirmation, though of what, he's not entirely sure. That this really is what Astarion wants, not just him falling into a role to please him? That this is ultimately all right? That his lover doesn't think worse of him for fantasies Gale finds entirely unbecoming?
What he finds in Astarion's eyes is understanding, something he should have known would be there all along. Perhaps he knows Gale is hesitant but doesn't know why, or maybe he does and simply doesn't care, allowing himself to explore what they both want sexually in the safety of one another. Hells, maybe this part of the play is entirely earnest, and he wants this as much as Gale does, and Gale was a fool to ever doubt him. He pushes a sigh out of his chest, frustrated with his own insecurity.
He has to know. He keeps his voice low, practically a whisper, as though the illusion would break were it to hear his concerns after all the buildup.]
You wouldn't think less of me if that was what I wanted? To be hurt, punished by the very hand that loves me?
[When all is said and done, Astarion would still treat him like an equal, after all. That's more than he's been afforded in the past.]
no subject
What he finds in Astarion's eyes is understanding, something he should have known would be there all along. Perhaps he knows Gale is hesitant but doesn't know why, or maybe he does and simply doesn't care, allowing himself to explore what they both want sexually in the safety of one another. Hells, maybe this part of the play is entirely earnest, and he wants this as much as Gale does, and Gale was a fool to ever doubt him. He pushes a sigh out of his chest, frustrated with his own insecurity.
He has to know. He keeps his voice low, practically a whisper, as though the illusion would break were it to hear his concerns after all the buildup.]
You wouldn't think less of me if that was what I wanted? To be hurt, punished by the very hand that loves me?
[When all is said and done, Astarion would still treat him like an equal, after all. That's more than he's been afforded in the past.]