🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

[mystracal]

tfln | invitations | and there was only one bed | undermountain alurlyath | what could be | blood bond | the price of freedom
it wore his face | dinner with morena dekarios | rediscovery

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[sangwhine]

[Astarion lifts his hips just a little more to aid Gale in slipping his pants down and closer to off. The hand at Gale's ass gives a soft squeeze, he'll want these off too before long. It takes a moment, perhaps a beat too long, before he responds when Gale speaks. He turns, nosing against Gale's hair, his voice a low and sultry purr.]

It's more than all right, darling. Go on. Touch me.

[mystracal]

[That squeeze makes him gasp, that roll lodging the air in his throat. Gale is red in the face, sweat glistening on his skin, the orb humming with undeniable arousal that speaks volumes of how he's feeling below the belt...

And yet, he stops. He didn't like that pause, the practice tone of the purr in his ear. Yes, it's Astarion, but it's not the Astarion he wants. Rather than the man he loves, the one who roared in rage and lashed out at his siblings with a fire that could rival the sun, he sounds too close to who he was when he was initially trying to seduce Gale, all honeyed words with no true feeling behind them.

Gale leans back to sit on his heels, his hand coming to rest on Astarion's knee.]

We should stop.

[sangwhine]

[Astarion blinks, momentarily dumbfounded by the change in Gale's demeanor. His eyes still have the same hazy, faraway look to them as he puts his hand over Gale's, fingers drawing up and along his arm.]

We don't have to stop, my dear. You want this, don't you? I know I've kept you waiting.

[mystracal]

Astarion, look at me.

[His nose wrinkles as he bites back an unspoken emotion, keeping his tone even, soft, sincere as he searches Astarion's eyes.]

I know I have an unfortunately documented history of impatience, but... I'm not the only one in this relationship. We should want this. Not just me.

[sangwhine]

["We," there's the word. Between Gale's words and the arresting quality of his gaze, Astarion finds himself drawn in, drawn back. He blinks, his eyes coming into focus, and it's only through sheer force of will that he keeps the feeling of disgust and self-loathing from his face as he takes in the sincerity, the concern in Gale's eyes.

He lets his hand fall away from Gale's arm, suddenly feeling overexposed with his shirt off, his pants already worked part of the way down his hips. His lips draw to a thin line as his mind races, trying to fish words out of a blur of static and raw hurt.

When he finds them, they're quiet, less a whisper and more a soft murmur, meant for Gale's ears only.]

You could have taken what you wanted. I—would have allowed it.

[mystracal]

[Gale sighs quietly; there's a short-lived moment of relief that washes over him as he sees the Astarion he loves return, only to be replaced with sober remorse.]

I know.

[He keeps his hand on Astarion's knee, wanting that contact between them, no matter how minimal. His volume matches Astarion's, as though the whole camp would hear them.]

But do you think I would want that? To take when you have had so much taken from you already without a single thought given to how you felt? To what you wanted?

[sangwhine]

No—I know you wouldn't. You don't. You're different.

[He lets his head fall back onto the pillows, looking up to the canvas ceiling of his tent, as if it holds answers, or maybe some sort of escape.]

If we never have this, never have sex, never share a night of passion. You would still love me, all the same.

[It isn't a question, more a statement of something he knows to be true. But the way he says it still rings of a deep, festering hurt.]

[mystracal]

[Though grateful for the accuracy of Astarion's assessment, Gale can't help the ache he feels on the vampire's behalf. The others may tease the wizard about his awkward flirtations from time to time, but when he gives his heart to another, he does not intend to take it back. Yes, even if they never have a single night of passion - of making love like mortals, of ravishing one another until their bodies ache with ecstasy and exhaustion - Gale will still love Astarion wholeheartedly. He's not sure he could do otherwise.

But Gale has seen how worthless Astarion feels in his inability to perform for the one person he wants to perform for. He can relate to that, to having his entire value as a person tied up in a single skill. People only wanted Astarion for his body, and as for Gale...]

And you would love me even if I had not a drop of magic at my command. You have my heart, Astarion, for as long as you'll have me.

[He extracts himself from between his lover's legs, turning to lie on his back beside Astarion so he, too, can stare at the ceiling. It offers him no more answers than it did his partner.]

[sangwhine]

[It's at least more comfortable for Astarion without Gale between his legs. He shifts where he lies, re-adjusting his pants and reaching for his discarded shirt. He feels pathetic, broken, and perhaps beyond repair considering how many times he's cut himself on the jagged edges left by Cazador. Yet acknowledging the fact only leaves him hollow, as if he has no choice but to accept that this will be his future.]

I don't know if it's quite the same comparison, considering most don't have an expectation for cantrips in the bedroom in a loving relationship.

[mystracal]

[Gale leaves his shirt off for now, not even sure where it's gone at this point. It still has blood on it, anyway.]

Perhaps not, but magic is the only reason anyone has ever considered me in the first place.

[That goes for Mystra and those who came before - it's one of the perils of being a prodigy.]

And my heart alone would not be enough for most. You, too, are different.

[sangwhine]

[Astarion sits up as he slips his shirt back on, looking down at Gale without making eye contact for a moment before he reaches out to gently take Gale's hand in his.]

I am grateful. That you want this. That you've shown me patience.

[mystracal]

[Gale gives Astarion's hand a squeeze, sitting up to join him. Oh, there's his still-bloody shirt. He pulls it into his lap, his eyes settling on the neck. Now that the adrenaline is cooling, he feels that lingering pain in his neck coming back.]

You won't be rid of me that easily. There are always other ways we can enjoy one another company, even rather intimately.

[sangwhine]

I hope that you're not referring only to all the times I've bathed you.

[Astarion squeezes back. The banter is familiar, carrying with it the usual words of Astarion's quips, even if the tone falls somewhat flat.]

[mystracal]

[If nothing else, the familiarity of the banter helps ease Gale's heart a bit, enough for him to smile.]

Yes, and more. You're welcome to cook with me any time, Astarion. We could read together, wrapped in one another's arms. Go walking hand in hand, taking in sights just for the two of us. We could even have a proper date one night if it wouldn't bore you too much - once we've taken care of the Netherbrain, of course.

[sangwhine]

[A genuine smile creeps across Astarion's face at the suggestions. He finally looks back over to Gale with a soft fondness in his gaze.]

I suppose that I could properly court you. Show you all that the nighttime of Baldur's Gate has to offer. And you can show me how Waterdeep measures up to it.

[mystracal]

[Gale meets Astarion's gaze.]

I promise to show you the best time the City of Splendors has to offer.

[He pulls Astarion's hand to his lips, giving it a kiss. Astarion might have to dress Gale for such a date, lest the City of Splendors be wasted on him, as usual. And on the topic of dress—]

I suppose I should fetch a clean shirt.

[That's if he can will himself away from Astarion for long enough. He feels better about it than he did earlier, at least.]

[sangwhine]

You can wear one of mine. At least for now.

[Astarion likewise doesn't enjoy the thought of Gale leaving him. He pushes himself up to go to the chest where he keeps his clothes, pulling out a plain, cream colored linen shirt with some embroidery along the collar and sleeves.]

[mystracal]

[A fond smile crosses him as he eyes the shirt.]

And here I thought I wasn't to borrow your clothes anymore.

[sangwhine]

I think that circumstances have quite changed since then, don't you?

[He gives Gale a very fond smile in return, looking him over.]

[mystracal]

[Don't look at him like that, Astarion. It makes him blush. He sets his ruined shirt aside, wiping his hands on it just in case some not-yet-dried blood got on him.]

They most certainly have. Would we even have this had I not borrowed your shirts without asking?

[sangwhine]

Don't think that I didn't have my eye on you already. But the shirts and undergarments certainly helped things along.

[He settles back in to sit next to Gale, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind his ear.]

[mystracal]

[Gale lets Astarion fix his hair before he pulls the shirt on, careful about his neck. Bruises are starting to flourish across it, new ones building upon those Astarion had left there already.]

How do I look?

[sangwhine]

[That's why Astarion grabbed him a shirt with a higher collar. No need to show off his bruises anymore, and Astarion would prefer to not be constantly reminded of his family's attack. He reaches for the ties on the collar, helping to fasten it and smooth the fabric against Gale's neck.]

Perfect.

[mystracal]

[He watches Astarion's hands as he works the ties, his eyes flicking upward as he reaches the top.]

I'm not sure it cuts quite the image on me as it does on you, but I trust your judgment.

[His brow knits.]

Though I suppose you haven't seen yourself in this one, have you?

[sangwhine]

[Astarion rests his hands against Gale's shoulders, giving him a look that seems to say "you should know better, Gale" before gesturing a little to himself.]

I know what I look like in it from what I can see. But no, I've never seen the full effect.

Honestly, I don't know what my face looks like. I've forgotten it entirely.