mystracal | 🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

[He meets Astarion's eyes with a look of adoration, contentment; a smile eases onto him once more, drawing creases down his face, his beard hiding the slightest dimple on one side. When he speaks, he whispers:]

Anything for you.

[Back to Astarion's lips he goes, the kiss he places there greedier than the others as hunger rises within him, the orb on his chest starting to glow. His hand beneath Astarion's shirt continues to slide upward, tracing the hills and valleys of his abdomen as he goes - and though his other hand still keeps him propped up, a third, conjured hand weaves its way through Astarion's hair, teasing the back of his neck.]

[Cantrips in the bedroom, as it? Astarion can't help but grin against Gale's lips as he returns the kiss. He can feel himself rousing with the wizard's attention. His body twists and arches to chase the heat of Gale's touch. He wants more.]

[And more he'll get. Gale feels that arousal and adjusts his leg between Astarion's thighs accordingly, pressing it against the vampire's crotch and allowing friction to do the rest for now. He calls the barest amount of magic to his hands, a spark of energy that's just enough to tingle when pressed to the skin; though Astarion may love Gale without his magic, he does enjoy using it to create a more... electrifying experience in the bedroom.

He'll be keeping that pun to himself, though. He doesn't want to kill the mood (again), not when he's stealing ravenous kisses from his lover, feeling the ache of carnal yearning for himself.]

[Oh, that is new. It's so completely unlike anything Astarion's ever experienced, a startling frisson of pleasure dancing over his skin. He can't help but gasp at the sensation, a heady groan slipping from his throat as his fingers tangle in Gale's hair, deepening their kiss. His hips roll into the pressure of Gale's leg, eager and encouraging.]

[As that groan and gasp pass into Gale through their lips, he can't help but smile widely, brightly before being drawn back in. He wants Astarion to feel all he can offer outside the Weave, what tantalizing new experiences they could have should they bond through it like the deities they deserve to be.

And yet, he can't say he isn't enjoying just being grounded to the mortal realm, to the sensations his physical body has to offer - and be given in turn. Astarion is the first person he's been with since Mystra; he's forgotten what it's like to be loved, cherished in such a way. And he knows Astarion's history. He deserves better, and Gale is determined to give it to him, however he can.

His hand beneath Astarion's shirt presses to his chest, massaging the muscles there, fingers dancing briefly across his nipple. He keeps his thigh steady, letting Astarion roll against it - and he finds himself doing the same to Astarion's thigh between his own legs, heat building in his abdomen.]

[Even the briefest touch of Gale's fingers across Astarion's nipple is enough to startle a moan from him. He turns hungry in the kiss, pulling Gale to him like he means to devour him. It feels desperate, inelegant, but in the moment it's perfect. He knows he'll need to remove his shirt at some point in time, but he doesn't want to tear himself from Gale just yet.]

[Gale also finds himself reluctant to change anything, so enthralled by the heat between them, by that startled moan and the thrum of the orb in his chest. His tongue explores Astarion's mouth as though it would sate the lust that's overtaking him. When Gale thinks of his lover - of his ruby eyes hot and angry with primal, unbridled rage on his behalf - he's not sure anything can.

He finally has to pull away, his breath hitching as he murmurs Astarion's name, whispered between them as though it were a secret. Though one conjured hand remains in Astarion's hair, raking his scalp, another appears to grab his ass and give it a squeeze, then a third to run along the side of his hip, encouraging him to continue rocking against Gale's thigh; each hand is imbued with the same tingling magic as their creator, and seem to share in his wanton desire.]

[The addition of two more hands startles Astarion. He feels adrenaline surge through his veins for the space of a heartbeat, a weight settling in his throat that he quickly swallows away. His fingers dig in at the side of Gale's head as he quickly searches out Gale's eyes.]

Dearest—just your touch is enough.

[Astarion draws Gale's attention easily enough; his eyes are a tad unfocused, his breath punctuating his words.]

Sorry. I suppose I, um. [Embarrassment flashes across him.] I got carried away.

[He closes his eyes and concentrates, and the conjured hands dissipate; it's almost as if he has to focus to get rid of them rather than the other way around.]

There we go, just us. [He meets Astarion's gaze again, uncertainty on his lips.] Are you...?

[To answer, Astarion leans in, catching Gale's lips in a kiss. It's perhaps less heated than the one they shared before, but just as wanting.]

I didn't say stop.

Of course.

[He takes that first kiss as an answer and replies with a gentle one of his own, letting it linger. When they part, he presses his forehead to Astarion's, wanting the vampire to bask in his warmth, searching for ways for them to be ever-closer. His hand - his hand - goes back to roaming along Astarion's chest, tracing the contours of his abdomen before reaching the waist of his trousers.

And that's where he's careful, almost tentative; he slides his fingers along the garment teasingly, waiting for his partner to tell him to proceed.]

[Astarion reaches down, putting his hand over Gale's, leading it down to press over the swell of his erection as he rolls his hips into the contact. He gives a soft groan, his fingers flexing against Gale's wrist.]

Please, darling.

[Gale's smile returns, one bearing all the signs of a man utterly smitten: it touches his eyes, colors his entire expression, seeps into his very bones the moment it crosses him. His hand fondles that swell, caressing it, rolling it underneath his palm as he rocks in tandem against Astarion's thigh, encouraging his own erection before even removing their clothes. Astarion's body is perfect - far more so than his own, softer one - but Gale doesn't need it in sight to find him irresistible.

He makes his way down Astarion's neck once more; however, he's slow in his journey this time, pressing both tantalizing kisses and salacious confessions into his jawline, down his throat, to his shoulder. He pulls the neck of that fine shirt to rest unevenly, giving him more access to the vampire's collarbones.

He pulls away just long enough for words.]

Loath as I am to part from you, I believe it's time to remove that shirt. And maybe some other things.

We are overdressed, my dear.

[Astarion looks up at him, his lips bruised and flushed from their kissing. He doesn't need to breathe, but he draws in a breath regardless, trapped by Gale's gaze, the utter adoration in his eyes, before he shifts, dragging his shirt off with practiced ease.]

[As Astarion pulls off his shirt, Gale slips out of his shoes and kicks them off. He'd remove more, but that would require them to untangle their legs, and he's not sure he wants to be parted for that long. He can hardly contain himself as it is, especially with Astarion's bare chest waiting, his expression making Gale's heart flutter with delight.

His tongue darts between his lips, that hunger in him rising again, the mark on his chest brightly illuminated by desire. For a moment, all he can do is breathe and look upon Astarion in awe.]

I'm sure you've been told this countless times, but you really are unspeakably handsome.

Not often enough. And not so often from your lips.

[Astarion loves that look, it settles him, warming. Once his shirt is discarded, he reaches up to trace the glowing lines of the orb in Gale's chest.]

You are a sight yourself. The way you look at me. How I can see myself in your eyes.

[The orb pulses beneath Astarion's touch in time with Gale's heartbeat as though they were one and the same, the orb as much a part of him as he is of it. He leans forward over Astarion, his eyes locked on his lover, his hair framing his face as his chestnut locks fall all around it.]

And what do you see when you see yourself in my eyes?

[He pauses, brushing his knuckles over Gale's cheek, his touch trailing down along the line of his jaw.]

I see adoration. I see the tenderness in your heart. I see your love.

I feel all of that for you, and more.

[Gale's hazel eyes are nearly lost in the darkness, but Astarion can no doubt see them well enough to he he speaks the truth. His smile tugs at the corners of his mouth; it remains as he returns to Astarion's neck, grazing slowly down his throat, whispering into his skin.]

My devotion for you runs deeper than for any other being, any god or goddess. With you, I forget them. I don't need them.

[He takes his time to occasionally drag his teeth or leave a hot, bruising kiss along Astarion's chest. The way the color flourishes on him is enticing, intense.]

[Astarion gives a contented sigh in response. He keeps one hand cradling the back of Gale's head, while the other slides down over his side, resting at his hip. The heat, the attention Gale lavishes upon him is intoxicating. Without any pretense, knowing there's no expectation, nothing that comes beyond this aside from the adoration that he already has.]

Make me your world. Show me I'm all that you see.

With pleasure, my love.

[He leaves another mark along Astarion's chest, kisses his sternum, slides his hand along the vampires ribs; his fingers dig into the muscles and skin he finds there. Leaving tender nips and soft embraces as he travels across Astarion's torso, Gale seeks to memorize his every contour through his lips. As his hand slides around his back, Gale feels the scars there, his fingertips running along them - it gives him an idea.

Working his way back up to Astarion's neck, he pulls away just enough to leave room between them, his hand at Astarion's side giving him a gentle tug, as though encouraging him to turn over.]

Turn for me. Let me see your scars.

[There's a little resistance to that thought, tension threading through Astarion's shoulders, his grip tightening at Gale's hip. He trusts Gale, but even though he's borne them for two hundred years, the scars are something he prefers to not think on or acknowledge. Their connection to Cazador's ritual has hardly changed that. They're both a mark of shame and ownership as well as a potential tool to seize power and freedom.]

What—what are you thinking?

[That resistance is hard to miss, but Gale remains reassuring, offering his lover a gentle smile.]

I intend to put my lips all over them. Maybe leave a few marks of my own. I want to love every inch of you, Astarion.

[Astarion swallows as he considers it, his gaze studying Gale's expression. Reclaiming the scars has its appeal, but the thought of turning his back to Gale, pressing himself to the ground, exposed and vulenerable—he shakes his head, a short, quick movement, tearing his eyes away.]

No—not there. Not yet.

[Gale does a better job of keeping the disappointment from his face this time, reminding himself that it's not that Astarion doesn't trust him; those scars, his past, and the meaning behind them are a complicated, tangled mess, one Astarion will one day have to work his way through. All Gale can do is be there for him as he does, protecting him, making sure he feels safe enough to do so. He'd do anything to accomplish that.

He nods, more to himself than Astarion, before cupping the vampire's cheek in his hand, mirroring the gesture Astarion so often uses on him.]

Tell me where I should go, then. You decide.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject