mystracal | 🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

[Ah, well. Astarion's not one to care too much about that. He cups Gale's cheek in his hand, brushing over it with his thumb.]

I suppose then we know where we'll be shopping tomorrow. Once you've rested.

[He kisses Gale's forehead again, then his lips.]

[Gale leans into that kiss, then takes another for himself. His blood might still be foul, but his lips taste and smell like the sweet, mulled wine he's been sipping on all night, using it as fuel for his inspiration.]

You really should go eat. Even if it's not from me.

Unless I take from Halsin, I think that the rest of our companions have retired for the night.

[He gives Gale another kiss, before brushing a hand through his hair.]

Perhaps we should follow their examples?

[He closes his eyes, acquiescing to that hand in his hair. He could be up all night at this if it weren't for that inviting touch.]

I suppose we should. But I insist you drink tomorrow. Cazador may be gone, but you still need your strength.

[He fiddles with the lapels of Astarion's vest.]

I want you taken care of, my love.

Dearest, I would say that I've been quite well taken care of today.

[He continues to run his fingers through Gale's hair, knowing full well how much that soothes him.]

And all because you took care of your old master - in a manner of speaking.

[He leans into Astarion's fingers, his smile wide. He gestures with his free hand, but with his lack of focus, it takes a second before he manages to conjure a cushioned chaise lounge into existence.]

In a manner of speaking, yes.

[Honestly, Astarion's just finding it more and more endearing when Gale's not quite with it enough to perform magic. He curls his hand against the nape of Gale's neck before leaning in to kiss him properly.]

[He might be just this side of drunk, but Gale is still able to return that kiss with fervor, a quiet rumble from the back of his throat pushing out of him as he gives that vest a tug. He wants to lie down; he wants Astarion to keep threading his fingers through his hair; he wants his lover to be able to drink from him, wants to provide all he could need.

He wants a lot of things, but most pertinent seems to be getting Astarion to that seat so the two of them can keep locking lips.]

[Getting to the chaise is absolutely Astarion's priority. He moves with the tug, putting his hands to Gale's waist to maneuver them over and press Gale down and onto the chaise. He doesn't break the kiss for more than a moment between it all, crawling over Gale to bracket his body against the cushions.]

[There's half a second where Gale's wine-addled mind considers trying to maneuver himself to press Astarion into the cushions, but by the time he thinks of it, Astarion is already crawling over him and Gale is stealing his umpteenth kiss, his hands sliding up from the vest to Astarion's neck, then further to cup his cheeks.

As he fights to stifle a groan that's making its way out of him, he nips Astarion's lower lip in the process, and parts just long enough to murmur an apology.]

[Astarion hardly gives more than a murmur in response before he's kissing Gale again, sliding a knee between his legs. He slips his vest from his shoulders to toss it away. This isn't quite the same as helping Gale get some rest but it's close enough. His hand finds Gale's hair again to thread through it, holding him in the kiss.]

[Gale is torn between leaning into the hand in his hair or the kiss, but Astarion makes the choice easy as he holds him in place, their mouths pressed against one another, tongues entangling. Gale loops a leg over Astarion's calf, encouraging that knee between his legs to press into him; meanwhile, his hands wander to Astarion's chest, feeling his musculature through his fine shirt, sliding the fabric against his pale skin.

If nothing else, Gale is likely to rest very well when he finally does get to sleep. He wants to stay in that kiss forever, enjoying the feeling of Astarion so near.]

[Astarion will gladly stay close to Gale as long as he'd like. And give Gale more of him to touch. He pulls back, drawing his shirt off so it can join the vest somewhere else in Gale's tent. He looks down to Gale, appreciating the flush of his cheeks, the way his hair splays across the cushions below them both.]

My love, you are intoxicating.

[Gale smiles up at him, his grin lopsided, that earring of his tangled in his hair as color spreads across his ears and down to his neck and shoulders.]

I could say the same for you.

[He pulls at his own borrowed shirt, untucking the bottom from his equally borrowed pants. He barely manages to remove the former garment before his hands reach for Astarion again, the shirt joining the vest on the ground as he leans against the back of the chair and pulls his lover toward him, begging to feel his skin.]

I had wine the color of your eyes tonight, but its sweetness could not compare to you.

Oh, I'm all sweetness now, am I?

[Astarion gives a soft laugh, leaning down to press himself to Gale again. His lips and teeth find the side of Gale's throat, nipping at him. He's careful of his fangs to not draw blood, but sharp enough to leave a mark. Meanwhile his hands are back a Gale's sides, his chest, soaking up the flushed heat of his body.]

And here I thought I'd worn you down earlier...

[Sweetness with just a pinch of spice; that nip gets a surprised ah! out of Gale, one exhaled on a breath. It's Gale's turn to weave his fingers through Astarion's hair, one hand encouraging him to stay close while the other trails down the side of his abdomen, nails tracing the curves of his lithe muscles as they slip toward the small of his back.]

I suppose the party reinvigorated me. Having a good meal, seeing everyone so lively—

[He pulls in a breath, rubbing himself against Astarion's knee.]

Seeing you celebrating, mirthful, free - I can't help but want more of that. More of you. I don't know how long I'll manage, but... I can't help myself.

[It's heady to know he has that kind of effect on Gale, and to feel the heat of his desire pressed to Astarion's leg for the second time in one night. He gives an amused purr at the back of his throat, bearing down harder to give Gale a little more friction.]

Insatiable, aren't we?

[He considers Gale a moment, as well as his own state of undress, before pulling his leg away only to replace it a moment later with the heel of his hand. He drags his touch firmly up the fabric of his pants before reaching for their ties, drawing them open.]

I could be convinced to indulge you.

[A needy whine pushes itself out of his throat as Astarion's leg presses into him; that stifled cry grows in volume as Astarion toys with him, his palm sending shivers through Gale's arousal and up his spine. He can't help himself: wizards are often insatiable, always wanting more.

Gale looks up at him, his eyes bleary and skin flush from the alcohol in his system.]

And what would it take to convince you? [He pulls in a breath, swallowing it.] What can I offer he who already has my heart?

Say please, darling.

[Yet even as he asks, Astarion is slipping his hand down into Gale's pants, loosely palming the heat of his length. His fingertips tease against him, just playing with him for now.]

I'd love to hear you beg.

Please.

[That earlier breath wasn't enough; he bites his lip, his breath picking up, his lips so dry.]

Please, Astarion.

And what do you want of me, love?

[He closes his hand around Gale's heat, stroking him slowly.]

[Gale closes his eyes, leaning into the cushion behind him. His breath punctuates his thoughts, keeping them short.]

I want you- to keep doing that. Touching me. But kiss me while you do. Kiss me until I can't breathe.

[Another whine rattles from him; he bites his lip harder.]

I might wake the whole camp otherwise.

Ah, we can't have that now, can we?

[He leans down, closing his lips over Gale's to kiss him. Despite his seeming restraint, he's hungry and full of want in the kiss, devouring Gale as soon as his lips are on him. All the while, he starts to stroke over Gale in earnest, eagerly trying to get him off.]

[A quiet moan escapes on an exhale as Gale deepens the kiss: it's impassioned as he tastes Astarion on his tongue, the cool of the vampire's lips soothing against the heat of his own. He holds onto Astarion's waist, his fingers digging into his skin as he begs for more purchase, his hips thrusting against his lover's grip.

Between the attention he's getting and the alcohol smoothing over any confidence issues he might normally have, he's finding it difficult to stay quiet. Each stroke of Astarion's hand pushes him closer to his limit, but he keeps his lips on Astarion's, letting their contact muffle a lustful groan.]

[Oh, Astarion likes this side of Gale. It's a pity they can't be too loud for fear of waking the rest of their party, because he would love to hear Gale get truly loud and undone. But he'll just need to file that away for another time. Right now, he can smother Gale's moans in their kiss, keeping their lips locked together. His hand tangles in Gale's hair at the nape of his neck, keeping him held, not letting him escape the kiss.

All the while, he keeps pumping his hand along Gale's length, giving him a tight fist to fuck into. The drive to bring him off, to give Gale the pleasure he seeks for the second time tonight is intoxicating, Astarion wants more of it.]

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