[Astarion blinks, like the thought only just now occurred to him that he could have tried to run. Which is odd, because escape has usually been his first recourse. But this time, Gale was more important. Gale was the first thing he thought of.
He glances away, the tips of his ears faintly pink.]
It's as you said, isn't it? It wouldn't have done any good. And I wouldn't abandon you.
I'd argue that you should have, but... I'm glad you didn't.
[Even in the soft glow from his chest, Gale can see how Astarion's ears get the slightest bit of color; his heart swells at the sight, suddenly taken by emotion. He places a hand on Astarion's cheek, mirroring that on his own.]
[Gale feels the words on his lips, brought there by fear and gratitude all mingled into one. What if he dies tomorrow? What if he doesn't make it through the rest of the night? That nightmare felt so real, the pain more tangible than it's been in some time—
And yet, Astarion remained. He thought it might be the end, and stayed. That means more to Gale than he can express.
But he's certainly going to try.]
I... I love you. I know it's sudden, and fast, and not at all how I expected it to go, but... I do. And I want you to know, in case the worst should come to pass.
[It certainly is sudden. Yet despite how much it startles Astarion to hear it, it isn't out of place. It feels earned, feels right. Even though it puts his heart in his throat, even though it sets his mind racing.
He doesn't break Gale's gaze as much as he might want to, but when he answers his voice is soft, nearly afraid.]
You...you are full of surprises. Gods, I've never...I've used those words so many times, on hapless fools, pretty things. They've all but lost their meaning, but when you say them, I believe it. I know it to be true.
I don't think I could sleep anymore tonight even if I wanted to. Certainly not until I've- [a beat as he figures out how to put it.] Resupplied. We'll find something in town tomorrow. We'll have to.
[He leans into Astarion's touch; the illumination from his chest has softened into a dim glow, but he still feels wound up, his neck tight.]
[Gale nods. Yes, they certainly do know a wizard with an impressively supplied tower now, don't they? Thank goodness they took time out of their day to deal with Lorroakan and help Rolan, or they might be might be in some trouble. Their gold pouches certainly would be.
He grabs his shirt and lets Astarion pull him up, reluctant to let go of his hand.]
I might normally decline such an invitation, but I desperately need the distraction - and your company. Lead us. I'm with you.
[Astarion does need to let go of Gale long enough to help him back into his shirt, since they can't exactly go walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate in a state of complete undress. But one's that's taken care of, he's gently pulling the wizard along after him through the Lower City.
Without any threats of insurrection or murder at the top of mind, the prying eyes of the Steel Watch and the Flaming Fists are thankfully less alert on this night. It doesn't hurt that Astarion seems very familiar with the proper back streets and alleyways necessary to move quickly and quietly across the entire expanse of the city. Eventually, they find themselves nearly at the Gate's westernmost point, in front of a classical Chessentan style building, all tiles and carefully crafted mosaics, that advertises itself as The Hissing Stones.
Astarion leads them inside, slipping a few gold pieces to the clerk at the front desk in exchange for a pair of silk robes and a key. They're both directed to a changing room and instructed to leave all clothing and weapons behind in the locked chest found within. Astarion strips without a second thought, sliding comfortably into his robe before turning back to Gale.]
I trust you don't mind that I took the liberty to ask for a hot bath. I thought it might be preferable, all things considered.
[Though he has plenty of time to walk off the tension and uncertainty brought about by his harrowing nightmare, Gale still finds his mind wandering as they make their way through the streets. He's grateful they darted into the alleyways immediately, avoiding the main roads - he was sure he'd feel nauseous if they stepped anywhere near the Stormshore Tabernacle. However, it's hard to stay anxious when on a brisk trek through the Lower City in the cool air of the night.
His eyes started on the Fists and the Watch, peeled for any sign of danger, but as they journey further into the walls of Baldur's Gate, Gale finds himself... enjoying it. The way they dart from the shadows to avoid the eyes of the night patrols, the thrill that comes from a close call - there's something undeniably romantic about sneaking hand-in-hand through the streets in the early hours of the morning, well before the dawn. It feels like something out of a book, the sort of fairy tales Wyll would enjoy, though Gale never quite pictured himself having the experience.
Alone together in the bathhouse, Gale has hardly started disrobing, getting to work once he realizes Astarion is already out of his clothes. Off his shirt goes for hopefully the last time tonight.]
Absolutely preferable. Saves me the trouble - and the magic.
No more magic tonight, dearest. At least none of the arcane sort.
[It's not until this moment, when there's finally a chance to catch his breath, to take in his surroundings, that the strange deja vu of the situation strikes Astarion fully. While the Stones weren't the sort of place he frequented, like any other place in the city, they're known to him through his dalliances and hunting at the behest of Cazador. Sometimes prey would need to be loosened up before he could lure them further into the city, back to his master's lair. He rarely hunted so far afield, so the memories are hazier.
Having Gale here with him is different. There's no worry about whether or not he'll be successful before dawn touches the sky. No need to contemplate escaping into the sewers to avoid the sunlight if he overstayed his welcome. The realization strikes him as he takes in the pale skin of the wizard before him, the faint glow of the orb in his chest. Whatever unconscious desire for Gale it was that guided him here, it was at least in part driven by a need to reclaim the space, to make it his own. No longer a hunting grounds, but fertile ground for something new to grow.
A warmth suffuses through his chest at the thought, his smile softening as he waits for Gale to prepare himself. Tonight, they'll make a new memory for these walls to hold, a better one.]
[Gale slides out of the rest of his clothes, putting on his robe after his shirt so he has some modesty when removing his pants and undergarments - it's not done on purpose so much as out of habit. The room itself is inviting, the soft glow of the lights and the nearby steam leaving the area awash in a warm haze.
It's not nearly so warm as the smile on Astarion's face, though. It catches Gale's eye, and he can't help but grin in return.]
[Astarion links his arm around Gale's, resting a hand on his forearm as he leads them both through the building to a small tucked away room that he opens with the key he was given. Inside is a small, square bath, steam rising from the surface. Tiled steps lead down into the water with a ledge that runs the perimeter of the bath, clearly meant to be used for sitting. A bench and table sit to the side, the latter holding a tray of various oils, soaps, and the like.
Astarion takes in a deep breath of the hazy air before he turns to Gale.]
What do you think?
[He doesn't wait for a reply before circling behind Gale, putting both hands to his shoulders, pushing the robe down over his flushed skin.]
[As he's taking in the room itself, Gale feels the robe slip from his shoulders; his ears burn from the anticipation. It's nothing Astarion hasn't seen before, he reminds himself - nothing he hadn't intended to see earlier in the evening, before Gale so thoroughly killed the mood.
... and there's nothing he won't see eventually. He likes that thought.]
I'm not sure what I imagined when you suggested a bathhouse, but it was nothing this lavish.
[He half-turns, giving Astarion a smile.]
But I should have suspected. You are a man of refined taste, after all.
[He leans down, dropping a kiss to the crook of Gale's neck where it meets the line of his shoulder, just below one of the blossoming bruises that he left there earlier tonight.]
Yourself included.
[He continues to trail kisses across Gale's skin, his hands smoothing over his arms as he pushes the hem of the robe until it cascades gently to the floor. There's a heat in him, a desire. He loves this man, he's loved by him. Astarion wants nothing more than to show Gale just how much the wizard means to him.]
[The robe falls, and Gale feels an almost unexpected calm wash over him as Astarion continues to explore his skin, pressing kisses into his shoulder; his neck arches away to give him room. In that moment, there is no Mystra, no crown, no gods or goddesses - it's just the two of them in a universe of their own, one of their making. He feels safe there, steadier than he's felt in years, the earlier ordeal with the orb nearly forgotten.
He turns to fully face the man allowing him to feel that way, letting his own hands slide beneath his robe - they come to rest on Astarion's hips, where they give a gentle tug to pull him closer.]
And so you have me - all of me. My body, my mind, my heart. There are no masters or gods here. They belong only to you.
[Astarion steps in without hesitation. He gives a careful roll of his shoulders, letting the robe fall down about his waist, pooling over Gale's hands. His hands find Gale's face, framing it gently, his gaze softened as he meets Gale's eyes.]
And I intend on loving all of you. Body, mind, heart. I want to make you sing with pleasure, dearest.
[Dearest. Gods, that pet name alone makes his heart sing.
He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Astarion's lips. Despite the desire welling in his chest, it's a soft, restrained embrace, followed by a second: both are colored by an irrepressible grin. Astarion is practically bare before him, but Gale can hardly take his eyes off his face, his crimson eyes, the soft curls of his hair, the way his skin creases unevenly as he smiles.]
You are a sight, Astarion. You truly are.
[He lets Astarion's robe fall the rest of the way, clasping his hand to lead him to the bath.]
[Astarion surely makes a unique sight in the steam of the bathhouse, his cheeks flushed darker than usual, his normally perfectly styled hair damp and sticking to his skin. But he still doesn't miss a beat. He kicks his robe off and away with a flourish before following Gale down into the bath. The ledges set into the sides of the pool are the perfect height so that he can sink down into the warm water to sit, his body submerged up to his chest. Just as soon as he sits, he turns to spread his hand up Gale's arm until he cups the back of the wizard's neck, drawing him into a warm and wanting kiss.]
[Gale lets Astarion pull him in, utterly entranced. The heat from the water seeps deep into his muscles, relaxing him, but it's the warmth from his chest and the cool touch at the back of his neck that leaves him wanting more. He folds one leg under him while the other hangs off the side of the ledge, settling as close as he can without outright climbing onto Astarion's lap - though the temptation is absolutely there.
He deepens the kiss, fighting his earlier hunger as it comes clawing back, eager for more; his hand beneath the water finds Astarion's thigh crawls up it, his fingers getting halfway before they slide higher.
Seemingly stricken with second thoughts, he pulls away just long enough to mutter:]
Tell me if I need to stop. Promise you'll tell me.
[Gale's touch thrills him so much more than he expected. He wasn't sure how it would be, having Gale express interest in him. Yet Gale's touches have been so rare, so fleeting, that it means more to Astarion than simple lust and desire. It's a true and honest want. He reaches for Gale's hip without a thought, giving a gentle squeeze before tugging lightly, drawing Gale even closer. When Gale pulls away, Astarion chases his lips, murmuring against them in a heated whisper.]
I promise. But don't you dare stop until then.
[He leans in to emphasize the point with another kiss, matching the hunger he felt in Gale before.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[He cups Gale's cheek in his hand, meeting his gaze.]
We can't know what she'll say until we see her.
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[Gale meets Astarion's gaze; his lip quivers, his brow tightening.]
Not that it'd have done you any good, but... you didn't run.
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He glances away, the tips of his ears faintly pink.]
It's as you said, isn't it? It wouldn't have done any good. And I wouldn't abandon you.
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[Even in the soft glow from his chest, Gale can see how Astarion's ears get the slightest bit of color; his heart swells at the sight, suddenly taken by emotion. He places a hand on Astarion's cheek, mirroring that on his own.]
Astarion.
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Gale, dearest?
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And yet, Astarion remained. He thought it might be the end, and stayed. That means more to Gale than he can express.
But he's certainly going to try.]
I... I love you. I know it's sudden, and fast, and not at all how I expected it to go, but... I do. And I want you to know, in case the worst should come to pass.
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He doesn't break Gale's gaze as much as he might want to, but when he answers his voice is soft, nearly afraid.]
You...you are full of surprises. Gods, I've never...I've used those words so many times, on hapless fools, pretty things. They've all but lost their meaning, but when you say them, I believe it. I know it to be true.
And I feel the same. I do. I love you.
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I'm not sure what terrified me more: pouring my heart out to you just now, or the thought that I might explode before I got the chance.
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[He brushes his thumb over Gale's cheek, against some of the faint traces of dirt that have fallen from his hair.]
Look at the mess you've made of yourself, though. I can't in good conscience let you go back to your rest like this.
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[He leans into Astarion's touch; the illumination from his chest has softened into a dim glow, but he still feels wound up, his neck tight.]
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[Astarion moves to stand, taking Gale's hand to pull him up as well.]
But until then, I happen to know of a bathhouse that specializes in discretion.
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He grabs his shirt and lets Astarion pull him up, reluctant to let go of his hand.]
I might normally decline such an invitation, but I desperately need the distraction - and your company. Lead us. I'm with you.
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[Astarion does need to let go of Gale long enough to help him back into his shirt, since they can't exactly go walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate in a state of complete undress. But one's that's taken care of, he's gently pulling the wizard along after him through the Lower City.
Without any threats of insurrection or murder at the top of mind, the prying eyes of the Steel Watch and the Flaming Fists are thankfully less alert on this night. It doesn't hurt that Astarion seems very familiar with the proper back streets and alleyways necessary to move quickly and quietly across the entire expanse of the city. Eventually, they find themselves nearly at the Gate's westernmost point, in front of a classical Chessentan style building, all tiles and carefully crafted mosaics, that advertises itself as The Hissing Stones.
Astarion leads them inside, slipping a few gold pieces to the clerk at the front desk in exchange for a pair of silk robes and a key. They're both directed to a changing room and instructed to leave all clothing and weapons behind in the locked chest found within. Astarion strips without a second thought, sliding comfortably into his robe before turning back to Gale.]
I trust you don't mind that I took the liberty to ask for a hot bath. I thought it might be preferable, all things considered.
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His eyes started on the Fists and the Watch, peeled for any sign of danger, but as they journey further into the walls of Baldur's Gate, Gale finds himself... enjoying it. The way they dart from the shadows to avoid the eyes of the night patrols, the thrill that comes from a close call - there's something undeniably romantic about sneaking hand-in-hand through the streets in the early hours of the morning, well before the dawn. It feels like something out of a book, the sort of fairy tales Wyll would enjoy, though Gale never quite pictured himself having the experience.
Alone together in the bathhouse, Gale has hardly started disrobing, getting to work once he realizes Astarion is already out of his clothes. Off his shirt goes for hopefully the last time tonight.]
Absolutely preferable. Saves me the trouble - and the magic.
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[It's not until this moment, when there's finally a chance to catch his breath, to take in his surroundings, that the strange deja vu of the situation strikes Astarion fully. While the Stones weren't the sort of place he frequented, like any other place in the city, they're known to him through his dalliances and hunting at the behest of Cazador. Sometimes prey would need to be loosened up before he could lure them further into the city, back to his master's lair. He rarely hunted so far afield, so the memories are hazier.
Having Gale here with him is different. There's no worry about whether or not he'll be successful before dawn touches the sky. No need to contemplate escaping into the sewers to avoid the sunlight if he overstayed his welcome. The realization strikes him as he takes in the pale skin of the wizard before him, the faint glow of the orb in his chest. Whatever unconscious desire for Gale it was that guided him here, it was at least in part driven by a need to reclaim the space, to make it his own. No longer a hunting grounds, but fertile ground for something new to grow.
A warmth suffuses through his chest at the thought, his smile softening as he waits for Gale to prepare himself. Tonight, they'll make a new memory for these walls to hold, a better one.]
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It's not nearly so warm as the smile on Astarion's face, though. It catches Gale's eye, and he can't help but grin in return.]
After you.
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[Astarion links his arm around Gale's, resting a hand on his forearm as he leads them both through the building to a small tucked away room that he opens with the key he was given. Inside is a small, square bath, steam rising from the surface. Tiled steps lead down into the water with a ledge that runs the perimeter of the bath, clearly meant to be used for sitting. A bench and table sit to the side, the latter holding a tray of various oils, soaps, and the like.
Astarion takes in a deep breath of the hazy air before he turns to Gale.]
What do you think?
[He doesn't wait for a reply before circling behind Gale, putting both hands to his shoulders, pushing the robe down over his flushed skin.]
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... and there's nothing he won't see eventually. He likes that thought.]
I'm not sure what I imagined when you suggested a bathhouse, but it was nothing this lavish.
[He half-turns, giving Astarion a smile.]
But I should have suspected. You are a man of refined taste, after all.
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[He leans down, dropping a kiss to the crook of Gale's neck where it meets the line of his shoulder, just below one of the blossoming bruises that he left there earlier tonight.]
Yourself included.
[He continues to trail kisses across Gale's skin, his hands smoothing over his arms as he pushes the hem of the robe until it cascades gently to the floor. There's a heat in him, a desire. He loves this man, he's loved by him. Astarion wants nothing more than to show Gale just how much the wizard means to him.]
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He turns to fully face the man allowing him to feel that way, letting his own hands slide beneath his robe - they come to rest on Astarion's hips, where they give a gentle tug to pull him closer.]
And so you have me - all of me. My body, my mind, my heart. There are no masters or gods here. They belong only to you.
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And I intend on loving all of you. Body, mind, heart. I want to make you sing with pleasure, dearest.
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He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Astarion's lips. Despite the desire welling in his chest, it's a soft, restrained embrace, followed by a second: both are colored by an irrepressible grin. Astarion is practically bare before him, but Gale can hardly take his eyes off his face, his crimson eyes, the soft curls of his hair, the way his skin creases unevenly as he smiles.]
You are a sight, Astarion. You truly are.
[He lets Astarion's robe fall the rest of the way, clasping his hand to lead him to the bath.]
Let's make ourselves comfortable, shall we?
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[Astarion surely makes a unique sight in the steam of the bathhouse, his cheeks flushed darker than usual, his normally perfectly styled hair damp and sticking to his skin. But he still doesn't miss a beat. He kicks his robe off and away with a flourish before following Gale down into the bath. The ledges set into the sides of the pool are the perfect height so that he can sink down into the warm water to sit, his body submerged up to his chest. Just as soon as he sits, he turns to spread his hand up Gale's arm until he cups the back of the wizard's neck, drawing him into a warm and wanting kiss.]
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He deepens the kiss, fighting his earlier hunger as it comes clawing back, eager for more; his hand beneath the water finds Astarion's thigh crawls up it, his fingers getting halfway before they slide higher.
Seemingly stricken with second thoughts, he pulls away just long enough to mutter:]
Tell me if I need to stop. Promise you'll tell me.
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I promise. But don't you dare stop until then.
[He leans in to emphasize the point with another kiss, matching the hunger he felt in Gale before.]
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