🔮 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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[mystracal]

I wouldn't say they've been fruitless at all. We've been finding together the boundaries of our comfort, of our needs. Still, I... would like that. Very much so.

[He leans into Astarion's hands, basking in how those pale fingers brush against his beard, grateful for every affectionate touch as though it were the first he's had in years.]

You know the rules. The one rule, really.

[sangwhine]

I know it very well, yes.

[He gives Gale a gentle push to his shoulders, urging him to lie down.]

But until then, I expect your full participation.

[mystracal]

[Pillows appear behind Gale atop Astarion's bedroll with barely a thought's effort, almost catching him as he sits among them, then reclines; the towel around his waist splits at the opening on the side, one thigh completely bare as it drapes between his legs.]

And you shall have it.

[He reaches a hand forward, inviting Astarion toward him.]

[sangwhine]

[Astarion is already moving before the hand extends to him. He crouches down, crawling over Gale to slot a knee between his legs as he presses him down into the pillows with another kiss.]

[mystracal]

[Gale brings a hand around Astarion's side, brushing his knuckles against the vampire's ribs before finding its way down his thigh; the other slides around Astarion's neck, giving him just enough purchase to lean into the kiss. He's careful not to lean too far, given that knee between his legs - he lets Astarion set the pace, eager to match.]

[sangwhine]

[Astarion will happily set the pace for both of them. He puts his hand to the exposed skin of Gale's thigh, sliding it higher, pushing the towel open without yet pulling it away. His intent, though, is on the kiss. His lips angle against Gale's to deepen it, eager to taste him.]

[mystracal]

[And Gale is enjoying that kiss very much, if the quiet moan that escapes him is any indication; it's brief, soft enough to practically be a whisper, but plenty loud in his own ears. He opens his lips, letting his tongue explore as he breathes him in.

The towel does little to hide how the attention makes Gale feel; his hand presses harder on Astarion's neck, pulling him closer as he nips his lover's lower lip.]

[sangwhine]

[It's plenty loud to Astarion as well, who can feel it through the touch of their lips. He's encouraged by it, drawn in, kissing Gale like he wants to devour him.

He pulls at the towel, dragging it away to bare Gale to him completely. Yet he's careful to keep distance between their hips, at least for the moment, his touch returning to Gale's hip, against the line of his thigh.]

[mystracal]

[Though he feels the brush of the towel against his hardening length as the fabric slips away, Gale can hardly focus on anything but how deeply, passionately Astarion is kissing him - and how desperate he is to answer in kind. He parts for a breath, but barely gets one before he returns to Astarion's lips, his own flush with color.

He gets another chance as Astarion touches the line of his thigh, his cool skin sending a gentle shudder through Gale, like a chilly breeze in the evening air. The smile it remains as he retreats to Astarion's mouth, still hungry for his embrace. His hand on Astarion's thigh slides up his back to the middle, his touch tentative, but encouraging.]

[sangwhine]

[Ah, yes, Gale does need to breathe. Astarion breaks the kiss after a few more moments, nuzzling softly against Gale's cheek as he nips at the corner of his lips. He draws in a ragged breath himself so he can give a low groan against the heat of Gale's skin.]

Gods, you are wonderful.

[He puts both hands to the soft skin of Gale's stomach, sliding them up until he's palming against the flesh of his chest. He shifts his knee forward, teasing it against the line of Gale's erection.]

[mystracal]

[Gods, that groan does things to him. Gale would love to describe such 'things,' assigning positive attributes to the sensations and reactions he's experiencing throughout his body while describing in full detail how they make him feel emotionally, but between the lovesick haze, the increasing thunder from his heart, and that knee brushing against his arousal, he can barely string words together. He certainly tries, though.]

Astarion—

[Just the name will have to do; he closes his lips, stifling another moan that attempts to escape, cutting it short. As Astarion's hands press against his soft chest, Gale feels the hairs there stand on end, the scar of the orb aglow in the space between them. He tries words a second time:]

No one has... ever made me feel like this. Like you do.

[sangwhine]

Mmh, the pleasures of the flesh are a wonder, aren't they?

[He turns to kiss along the line of Gale's jaw, tracing it up to where it meets his neck. He runs his tongue against the movement of his pulse, reveling in the way it flutters beneath the skin. Knowing he has this effect on Gale is a thrill, that he's the only one who can see the way he flushes, hear the moans drawn from his lips.

One hand trails down from his chest, his fingertips finding the head of Gale's cock to play against it, teasing.]

[mystracal]

[Having arched his neck to offer as much of it to Astarion as possible, the vampire can no doubt feel the way Gale's throat trembles as he sucks in a longer breath; he's managing to keep relatively quiet for now, but his hand on Astarion's back curls against his pale skin, nails raking along those ritual scars. The wizard's hips move of their own accord: they twitch, rocking gently toward Astarion's hand, aching for more of his touch.

Gale nods belatedly, as though that question needed an answer; he's sure Astarion can see how he feels.]

If I may... I want- more of you.

[sangwhine]

[Astarion gives a breath against Gale's throat, panting at the touch of his nails to the scars. He drags his teeth along the skin, his fangs just barely scraping the surface. Since Gale is asking so nicely, though... He drops his hand lower, letting his palm circle around Gale's length, just holding him.]

And what of me do you want?

[mystracal]

[Until that moment, Gale had only flirted with the idea of how tantalizing Astarion's fangs would be on his neck in the throes of passion; he licks his lips, deciding the scratch of those pointed teeth along his skin will have to be enough for now. Nothing might kill the mood faster than a mouth full of foul blood. It is, however, something he can see the appeal in under the right circumstances - for himself just as much as Astarion.

He pulls in another breath, his chest rising as his hips quiver against Astarion's hand.]

I want all of you.

[The quivering gives way to an easy swaying, Gale's breath steadier.]

All that you will give me - all you will share with me.

[His other hand graces Astarion's cheek in a tender gesture; Gale wants Astarion to feel comfortable, loved, and assured his feelings will not change, no matter what comes of their night.]

I want to feel you against me. [Crimson burns under his eyes, but he doesn't sound shy about his next request:] In me.

[sangwhine]

[No, Astarion certainly does not want a mouthful of bile in the middle of this. But it is a thought to file away for later, should they free Gale from the orb, or if they can find some sort of alchemical solution for the taste of his blood. Being unable to taste his blood also doesn't stop Astarion from turning to the hand at his cheek and swiping his tongue against Gale's wrist to taste sweat, or from drawing that skin between his teeth in a bruising kiss.]

I want to take you. To feel you around me. Gods, but you are such an enticing creature. The sounds you make, my dearest.

[He emphasizes those words with a lazy stroke to Gale's length before dropping his hand down, cradling his balls in hand before probing his fingertips lower to seek the tight hole of Gale's entrance]

[mystracal]

The sounds I'm trying not to-

[Gale doesn't even get that full statement out before a breathy whine catches in his throat. His leg bends, his knee on the outside rising to give Astarion more room; the other leg, still straddled by the vampire, trembles beneath him in growing anticipation. He swallows hard, trying to clear the knot.]

Sounds I'm trying to control.

[sangwhine]

Don't. Let me hear them.

[He presses Gale's hand to his cheek, cradling it there while the hand between Gale's legs finds its target, sweeping a light circle around that tight ring of muscle.]

The others know, your goddess knows. The whole of Toril should know.

[mystracal]

[Gale presses himself into Astarion's hands, both that at his cheek and further down, a shiver running down his spine. Embarrassing as his vocalizations may be (no matter how much their companions already know about their relationship), Gale has to admit that the thought of Astarion wanting the others to know has always had a certain charm to it - like he's proud he has staked his claim on the wizard, and wants everyone to hear the noise so they know just how much pleasure he lavishes upon him.

And oh, does Astarion lavish when he has half a mind to. Gale nods in reply, pressing another hungering kiss to Astarion's lips, a barely restrained rumble building in his chest.]

[sangwhine]

[Astarion bears down on him with the kiss, returning it with equal hunger and fervor. He can feel that rumble and it urges him on, makes him want more. His finger pushes in, just slightly. He knows that he doesn't have anything to ease the entry just yet, but he wants to see how Gale reacts, what it draws from him.]

[mystracal]

[That rumble comes out as a groan, one that reverberates through Gale's mouth directly to Astarion's lips; half-born of discomfort and half-born of desire, it makes his fingers curl, his nails clawing Astarion's skin at his back, his other hand gripping his shoulder. He finally has to pull away from his lover's kiss, his teeth grinding together.]

Gods, forgive me, it's- [he swallows with a quick gasp to settle himself] -been some time.

[sangwhine]

[Astarion stills a moment, his eyes searching Gale's face at the bite of nails into his back. He pulls a breath, brushing Gale's hair from his face as he withdraws his fingers.]

Dearest. It's all right.

[mystracal]

[Gale shakes his head, offering Astarion a lopsided smile.]

I'm all right, just- tense, I suppose. Ill-practiced.

[He meets Astarion's eyes, his tongue darting between his lips; they feel so dry.]

Don't stop on my account.

[sangwhine]

[Astarion nods, drawing his thumb across Gale's lips.]

I can make it easier for you.

[He sits up, just enough so he can find one of his bottles of oil before returning to Gale.]

[mystracal]

[Glad he doesn't have to wait long, Gale reaches to touch Astarion's face, to keep looking into those crimson eyes that so arrest him; some would consider them the eyes of a monster, but for Gale, they are compassionate, caring.]

I'm sure I could have conjured something, if I had half a mind to.

[He pulls in another deep breath, wanting to get lost in the smell of Astarion's skin, in the passion between them, in the heat radiating off his own face.]

Let's get back to it, shall we?