[The press of Gale's forehead to his is what finally brings a sense of calm to Astarion. He can't quite say why, but it isn't a question that needs an answer. Only that his love of this man is a bastion to him, a place where he can find safety in more ways than one. He sags back into the heated water, rubbing his thumb across the back of Gale's hand.]
I would like that, yes. I can return the favor as well. You know how I love to care for your hair.
[Gale lets Astarion settle. the fire cooling in his chest. There will be time for anger later, he's sure of it.]
Then let's look our best. We have a goddess and your vampiric kin to meet tomorrow.
[He releases Astarion's hand briefly to go grab the tray of oils, not staying out too long. He sets it by the side of the basin, glad to return to its warm waters and the man awaiting him there.]
We will be so dashing that none would dare refuse us.
[He takes the moment when Gale slips away to recline indulgently against the side of the bath. His eyes follow Gale with an appreciative smile, one that belies the fact that he knows full well how modest Gale is when it comes to his naked body. But here he can appreciate his wizard in his entirety. He can take in all that Gale has to offer, knowing that it is his, knowing that he has been trusted with it.
When Gale returns to the waters, Astarion reaches to brush a hand through his hair, fingers trailing along the line of his jaw.]
Though it will be hard to improve upon how beautiful you already are.
[It's unfortunate that Gale seems preoccupied with the tray, as he might have enjoyed knowing Astarion was watching him, taking in his bare form. It's true that Gale tends to be shy when it comes to his body, knowing he's handsome, but never feeling like he quite measures up to his partner. When he's courted a literal goddess and now a vampire known for his incredible looks and charm, it's hard not to feel a little inadequate. But that body well and truly is Astarion's and Astarion's alone to see, to have - and in that regard, he's happy to provide, sharing himself in intimate moments reserved for only the two of them.]
I'm sure were there to be anyone who could improve my looks, it would be you.
[He takes his seat on the ledge and picks up one of the bottles of oil, giving it a tentative sniff. A sweet smell, not quite what he'd expect for Astarion. He tries another, and finds it has a more earthen aroma.
He gestures for Astarion to come closer, to lean against him.]
[Astarion easily moves over to lean against him, sniffing at the bottles and draping an arm across Gale's shoulders. He can at least be comfortable with this sort of intimacy.]
A little bit of both would be best. Too much of either and I'll smell like a corpse.
A fairer smelling corpse than I'll leave, by any measure. That's assuming there's anything left of me but Netherese dust.
[He says that lightly, jokingly. He's not intending on exploding, if he can help it. He starts with the sweeter smell, pouring the oil into his hand before smoothing it into Astarion's hair, starting with his temples. While not as practiced as the vampire, he's a quick study, using his nails to work it into his scalp.]
You look quite different with your hair like this, you know.
[Oh, that's very nice. Astarion lets his eyes fall closed, leaning into Gale's touch. He's about to call Gale out for his self-sacrificial talk, but the comment on his hair gives him pause. He half-opens his eyes, looking up at Gale, searching his face for something.]
[A laugh escapes him - how easy it is to forget sometimes that Astarion doesn't have a reflection.]
It's not bad, I promise you. Just different. Those coifed curls that would've made you the finest sheep in the city hang quite a bit lower now, the water weighing them down.
[He keeps massaging, his hands moving along the back of Astarion's head, his fingers working through those curls. His smile remains.]
You can tell when it's like this that your hair's longer that you might think. It'd cover your eyes easily were you to let it.
[He brushes Astarion's bangs back, working the oil into the top of his scalp.]
[How does Gale manage to be so charming exactly when Astarion needs him to be? Not knowing what he looks like, especially in such an unfamiliar circumstance, sits uneasily with him, but seeing Gale's smile, hearing his laugh strangely puts him at ease. The press of Gale's fingers against his head, having him return the favor certainly doesn't hurt either.
When he answers, it's nearly a purr, his voice low and relaxed.]
I can't have that, can I? With my eyes covered, I wouldn't be able to look at you.
[Despite the discomfort he was feeling - physically and figuratively - after Astarion's sudden breakdown, Gale is at ease already, unable to keep from grinning as Astarion relaxes before him. Every time his heart beats, color eking onto his ears and cheeks, he's reminded of just how taken he is with this man.
All the more reason to get the crown - to protect him, to keep him safe, to give him the world. He deserves that. Gale smiles brighter at the thought, grabbing the next bottle. He uses less of the second scent, wanting to balance the first.]
I don't know if you recall the color they used to be, but they're a gorgeous red now. Not bright and unnatural like those of a demon, but a deep ruby. [He starts at Astarion's hairline this time, his brown eyes soft as they admire Astarion's eyes.] A rich burgundy, like the finest wine. I could drink them in for eternity.
[Whoops, there he goes getting poetic again. He can't help it.]
[He wouldn't be Gale if he wasn't overly poetic about this sort of thing, but at this moment it's exactly what Astarion wants. He rests his hand at the nape of Gale's neck, fingers idly playing with his hair.]
[Gale gets just a bit more oil, working it along Astarion's temples; his pace has slowed as he studies Astarion's face, his gaze somewhere between rote examination and unadulterated reverence.]
Your eyebrows are a slightly different color from your hair. Grey, as opposed to the shining silver of your locks. The way it looks in the light, either the sun or the moon - it's mesmerizing, a setting for the jewels that are your eyes.
[He drags his fingers out; the curls cling to his digits, falling back into shape along the sides of Astarion's face.]
You get this one crease below them when you truly smile. Right here.
[He drags his thumb just under Astarion's left eye, leaving a slight smudge of oil there.]
[It's hard not to let his eyes slip closed with how good Gale's touch feels. But he's still hanging on the wizard's every word. His hair, at least, remains unchanged from his death. But it's still something he hasn't seen in centuries. To hear it described with Gale's loving lyricism is a treat, a true sign of his affection.
Though his face does twist into a faint scowl at the last part.]
What do you mean a crease? It's not a wrinkled, is it?
[He reaches up, touching his fingertips to the damp spot Gale left, trying to feel for the crease he speaks of.]
It's only there when you smile, Astarion! Not that cloying, false smile you used to give me, but the genuine, authentic ones. The ones that touch your eyes and draw me in. The ones that I'm not sure many others have seen.
[Astarion may object to that wrinkle, but Gale utterly treasures it. His hands have stopped working; he seems to realize it belatedly and pulls away, rinsing his hands off in the water.]
Well, at least you're the only one to have seen it. I'll just have to keep it that way.
[Said with the sort of vanity that implies he wouldn't want anyone else knowing about it. But the corner of his lips does quirk up into a faint echo of that smile.]
[He grins in return; with his hands free of oil, he's content to trace Astarion's jawline with his fingers for a moment before he collects the wide-brimmed cup from the tray, dipping it into the water around them to give his hair a rinse.]
You can't tell me you've never truly smiled for anyone else. That nothing any of our companions has said to you sparked even a hint of mirth.
[Astarion closes his eyes to make the rinse easier, tilting into Gale's gentle touch against his jaw. To think that not more than a tenday ago the wizard was so shy and retreating when it came to his touch.]
Now, are we talking about a smile of amusement or my gaze full of love and adoration? Because while our companions are often well deserving of the former, I think we both know the latter belongs to you alone.
[He's teasing just a little, but the sentiment is genuine.]
[Time moves quickly when emotions run high and one thinks each day might be his last; that goes doubly for a man with a bomb eating a hole in his chest. Gale gives Astarion's hair one rinse, then another, carefully pouring the warm water around his face and through his hair. He drags his fingers across Astarion's scalp, making sure the water gets all the way through.
He might be enjoying it just a little himself, as well.]
Well, that crease I so favor will be kept just between us, then. Our secret.
I think I quite like the sound of having a few secrets to share with you. It gives us a air of intrigue, don't you think?
[Astarion is immensely enjoying himself, thank you. He cracks one eye open once it's clear that Gale's just indulging himself, reaching to run his thumb across Gale's cheek, just beneath his left eye.]
[Though the scar glows softly on his chest, the illumination hasn't quite reached the lines leading to his eye - yet as Astarion's finger crosses them, the barest light flits through them, as though encouraged by his touch. Even bearing the orb and without the favor of his goddess, this man is utterly made of magic; it courses through him at all times, more tied to him in body and soul than even he realizes.]
I'm inclined to agree. Secrets just for the two of us, and no one else. Ours alone.
[Astarion chases that light down Gale's neck to his chest with his fingertips. He's only in touch with the Weave by way of his elven ancestry, but he can still feel the power running beneath Gale's skin. A faint vibration under his touch, a warmth different from the warmth of flesh and blood. It's very appealing in its own way. He presses his palm against the glow of the orb, just to feel it.]
[Gale's skin tingles as Astarion traces the lines down his chest, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end despite the heat of the bath. The orb pulses under his pale palm; it stays in rhythm with Gale's heartbeat, for now.]
A secret then, just for you. To make up for my knowledge of your singular wrinkle.
[His fingers linger at the edge of Astarion's jaw.]
Before we met Elminster on the road, before I was given Mystra's charm to keep the orb sated... I couldn't have had this, no matter how badly I wanted it. Any undue stress, aggravation, or even excitement would put me in a state like you saw earlier tonight. I had to keep my composure, lest I risk catastrophic destabilization.
[His eyes tighten with private remorse.]
I stayed far from cities and people not merely because I was a danger to them, but because they were, in turn, a danger to me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I would like that, yes. I can return the favor as well. You know how I love to care for your hair.
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Then let's look our best. We have a goddess and your vampiric kin to meet tomorrow.
[He releases Astarion's hand briefly to go grab the tray of oils, not staying out too long. He sets it by the side of the basin, glad to return to its warm waters and the man awaiting him there.]
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[He takes the moment when Gale slips away to recline indulgently against the side of the bath. His eyes follow Gale with an appreciative smile, one that belies the fact that he knows full well how modest Gale is when it comes to his naked body. But here he can appreciate his wizard in his entirety. He can take in all that Gale has to offer, knowing that it is his, knowing that he has been trusted with it.
When Gale returns to the waters, Astarion reaches to brush a hand through his hair, fingers trailing along the line of his jaw.]
Though it will be hard to improve upon how beautiful you already are.
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I'm sure were there to be anyone who could improve my looks, it would be you.
[He takes his seat on the ledge and picks up one of the bottles of oil, giving it a tentative sniff. A sweet smell, not quite what he'd expect for Astarion. He tries another, and finds it has a more earthen aroma.
He gestures for Astarion to come closer, to lean against him.]
I don't suppose you have a preference, do you?
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A little bit of both would be best. Too much of either and I'll smell like a corpse.
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A fairer smelling corpse than I'll leave, by any measure. That's assuming there's anything left of me but Netherese dust.
[He says that lightly, jokingly. He's not intending on exploding, if he can help it. He starts with the sweeter smell, pouring the oil into his hand before smoothing it into Astarion's hair, starting with his temples. While not as practiced as the vampire, he's a quick study, using his nails to work it into his scalp.]
You look quite different with your hair like this, you know.
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What does it look like?
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Wha— oh.
[A laugh escapes him - how easy it is to forget sometimes that Astarion doesn't have a reflection.]
It's not bad, I promise you. Just different. Those coifed curls that would've made you the finest sheep in the city hang quite a bit lower now, the water weighing them down.
[He keeps massaging, his hands moving along the back of Astarion's head, his fingers working through those curls. His smile remains.]
You can tell when it's like this that your hair's longer that you might think. It'd cover your eyes easily were you to let it.
[He brushes Astarion's bangs back, working the oil into the top of his scalp.]
I'd rather it didn't, if I'm honest.
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When he answers, it's nearly a purr, his voice low and relaxed.]
I can't have that, can I? With my eyes covered, I wouldn't be able to look at you.
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All the more reason to get the crown - to protect him, to keep him safe, to give him the world. He deserves that. Gale smiles brighter at the thought, grabbing the next bottle. He uses less of the second scent, wanting to balance the first.]
I don't know if you recall the color they used to be, but they're a gorgeous red now. Not bright and unnatural like those of a demon, but a deep ruby. [He starts at Astarion's hairline this time, his brown eyes soft as they admire Astarion's eyes.] A rich burgundy, like the finest wine. I could drink them in for eternity.
[Whoops, there he goes getting poetic again. He can't help it.]
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Tell me more, dearest. What do you see?
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Your eyebrows are a slightly different color from your hair. Grey, as opposed to the shining silver of your locks. The way it looks in the light, either the sun or the moon - it's mesmerizing, a setting for the jewels that are your eyes.
[He drags his fingers out; the curls cling to his digits, falling back into shape along the sides of Astarion's face.]
You get this one crease below them when you truly smile. Right here.
[He drags his thumb just under Astarion's left eye, leaving a slight smudge of oil there.]
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Though his face does twist into a faint scowl at the last part.]
What do you mean a crease? It's not a wrinkled, is it?
[He reaches up, touching his fingertips to the damp spot Gale left, trying to feel for the crease he speaks of.]
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[Astarion may object to that wrinkle, but Gale utterly treasures it. His hands have stopped working; he seems to realize it belatedly and pulls away, rinsing his hands off in the water.]
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[Said with the sort of vanity that implies he wouldn't want anyone else knowing about it. But the corner of his lips does quirk up into a faint echo of that smile.]
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You can't tell me you've never truly smiled for anyone else. That nothing any of our companions has said to you sparked even a hint of mirth.
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Now, are we talking about a smile of amusement or my gaze full of love and adoration? Because while our companions are often well deserving of the former, I think we both know the latter belongs to you alone.
[He's teasing just a little, but the sentiment is genuine.]
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He might be enjoying it just a little himself, as well.]
Well, that crease I so favor will be kept just between us, then. Our secret.
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[Astarion is immensely enjoying himself, thank you. He cracks one eye open once it's clear that Gale's just indulging himself, reaching to run his thumb across Gale's cheek, just beneath his left eye.]
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I'm inclined to agree. Secrets just for the two of us, and no one else. Ours alone.
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Ours, yes.
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A secret then, just for you. To make up for my knowledge of your singular wrinkle.
[His fingers linger at the edge of Astarion's jaw.]
Before we met Elminster on the road, before I was given Mystra's charm to keep the orb sated... I couldn't have had this, no matter how badly I wanted it. Any undue stress, aggravation, or even excitement would put me in a state like you saw earlier tonight. I had to keep my composure, lest I risk catastrophic destabilization.
[His eyes tighten with private remorse.]
I stayed far from cities and people not merely because I was a danger to them, but because they were, in turn, a danger to me.
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[Astarion turns, pressing a kiss to Gale's fingertips.]
I suppose I do have one thing to thank her for then.
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I'll send her your regards tomorrow, should she notice the color you put upon my neck.
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