[Astarion leans back easily, moving his hands to tangle in Gale's damp hair. The illusory grass tickles at his back, the conjured sunlight warm against their skin, backlighting Gale's ardent expression in a way that's poetic in its beauty. He's almost tempted to draw attention to it, to see if he can darken the flush on his lover's cheeks, but Gale's touch has his mind elsewhere.

Indulgent, Astarion arches his back to press his own erection against Gale's with a low moan. His grip tightens to tug at the wizard's hair, guiding his lips up the line of Astarion's outstretched neck to his jaw. His voice is breathless and wanting, a harmony in reply to Gale's own words.]

All night, hm? And just where did the night begin, my pet? How long have I held your mind captive with the thought of showing me the pleasure that sweet cock of yours can bring?