[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.
[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.]
[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.]
[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?
[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.]
[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.]
[They stay together by way of hungering kisses as Gale rocks into Astarion's hand, more desperate, wanton cries breathed against his fangs and tongue; he rocks steadily, faster, his legs trembling, hands scraping against pale skin as seconds pass into minutes. He feels heat in his abdomen, burning all the way from his face, sparks of magic running down his spine.
Under normal circumstances, Gale might consider this to be a rather salacious endeavor, especially compared to their earlier intimacy: the two of them having an impromptu hand-fucking on a conjured couch after a very eventful day isn't exactly the height of romance. However, he can't help himself when he's safe in the company of Astarion: a man who wants him as he is, cherishes him, ravishes him. He may never be a god, but Astarion would want him all the same, even in his imperfect, flawed, currently poisonous body.
And if that isn't romantic, then Gale should reconsider his definition of the word.
The rhythm becomes uneven, uncontrolled until he can no longer contain himself. As Gale pulls back to take a breath, his body tenses - he bites his lip as he climaxes, stars dotting his vision, manifesting themselves around the tent via wild, instinctive magic. He rides that euphoria down, his hips jerking weakly as he catches his breath.]
By Mystra, I didn't... know I had that in me.
[He shivers, the onset of exhaustion quicker this time. Chances are high Wyll is taking the morning's cooking duties, as well.]
[Honestly it's a pleasant surprise that Gale had the stamina for a second round. Equally pleasant is the sight of him well-sated, sweat slicked, and covered in the evidence of his own pleasure beneath Astarion. Astarion may have seen a similar sight countless times before, but this is different. The adoration in Gale's eyes, the warmth of Gale's hands upon him reminds him that this is the man who loves him, who freed him. When Gale looks at him, he doesn't see just an object of desire, he truly sees Astarion for who he is. For the man he can be.
Astarion feels momentarily overwhelmed, truly warmed by the comfort of Gale's body close to his. He finds Gale's hand with his, drawing it up to kiss his palm, trailing his lips down to his wrist. He looks down to Gale, giving him a lidded gaze with a playful smile as he hears Gale's words.]
Now now, dear. Let's not have her name spoken here.
[Gale can't help but chuckle at the remark, having never thought about his momentary exclamation.]
You're right. [He pulls in a shuddering breath, Astarion's lips cool on his sweltering skin as the light of the orb fades.] I wouldn't want her to come between us, even in spoken word.
[That quick, second round took out whatever fervor the alcohol had given him; at least he won't be up doing alchemy all night. He leans back heavily, his eyes on Astarion, gaze adoring, almost worshipful.]
[Gods, Gale undoes him with that look. He can't look away, doesn't want to look away. Astarion leans down over him, kissing him soundly and lingering.]
Always, as long as you'll have me.
[He brushes Gale's hair from his face, kissing his brow.]
No, I can't say that I'm overly fond of them either.
[Astarion moves to lie down properly, his arms around Gale to draw Gale's back to his chest. He'll claim his spot as big spoon once again. Though he's somewhat ginger with his moments, mindful of his own flagging arousal.
He knows he could seek his own release, that Gale would be all too happy to please him, but there's a part of him that doesn't want to disturb this moment, that just wants to hold Gale in his arms for as long as he can.
He drops a kiss to Gale's skin just behind his ear, lowering his voice to an intimate whisper.]
I haven't even had a chance to see your tower yet. To experience the wonders of all that Waterdeep has to offer. To introduce myself to your mother and tell her of how her son's fear of impressing her brought us together.
[Gale's smile widens as he sets his arms across Astarion's around him. Though dimly aware he's a mess, he can't find it in him to care too much as he revels in the coolness of Astarion's skin, his breath against the back of his ear, and the tranquility that comes from being held by the man for whom he cares the most.]
She'll be delighted to hear she had a hand in this, however indirect. You can tell her what a scoundrel I am, taking your shirts without permission.
[Despite being exhausted and sweaty, he feels wanted, grounded in his physical body - he certainly never felt that way with Mystra. Making love to her was abstract, intangible - euphoric in its own way, but with methods that often left him feeling like he'd never be enough for her, never be enough to satisfy her as a mere mortal.
Now, he's almost glad he turned out to be such a failure in that regard. Were he still enamored with her, he wouldn't have Astarion, wouldn't know what this felt like. As he relaxes, he cannot picture wanting anyone else.
He sighs quietly, content.] Once all this is over, I just need to deal with the orb and hope my life hasn't been cut too short on account of its effects.
[Astarion gives a hum in response, moving to rest his hand over Gale's chest, over the orb.]
If we're to return the crown to your goddess, I see no reason why she wouldn't manage the matter of this orb for you. If not, I think that I might have words with her.
[From the tone of his voice, Gale can easily tell that Astarion is very ready to throw down with a goddess if it means sparing Gale from the difficulty that the orb poses. His hand curls possessively, his nose pressing against the nape of Gale's neck.]
There's spells enough to restore your vitality, aren't there? Your friend Elminster's been around for centuries. There's no reason the same can't be true for you.
[Astarion's tone tells Gale all he needs to know about his feelings on Mystra and the words she'll have coming should she not remove the orb; however, the thought of Astarion fighting her - or even threatening her to any point where she feels she should defend herself - instills fear in his stomach, something akin to the night his siblings showed up to capture him. She'd strike him down in an instant; then he'd be left with the orb and a broken heart.
He leans into Astarion behind him. While Gale cherishes that protectiveness, he can't help but know what the ultimate outcome would be, and want to spare Astarion that. They're supposed to live for eternity, after all, not die to the gods after all is said and done with the Elder Brain.]
Elminster never had a corrupted Weave inhabiting his body. It's a miracle I'm here at all. Besides that, he's a Chosen. Her Chosen. She keeps him alive and was happy to send me to my death.
[He sighs again; it's wistful this time, melancholic.]
She knew what was in me all along. She thought I wanted to overthrow her. She couldn't conceive of a world where I would have done something so foolish because I was in love.
[Astarion's never one to be afraid of authority figures, even when it might be a wiser idea in terms of self-preservation to do so. Still, his arm curls protectively around Gale, reinforcing their closeness, reminding his lover that he's here and he will do everything in his power to protect Gale. He presses another kiss to the juncture of Gale's neck and his shoulder, as if staking his claim.]
She didn't understand and she made no effort to understand. Your love wasn't something she cherished. It was something she thought you owed her, because she was your goddess.
[He gives a huff against Gale's skin, his fingertips stroking slowly through the fine hair on his chest.]
Enough of that though. You've helped me free myself from Cazador. I'll help you free yourself from this orb so you can put Mystra from your mind for good.
[Astarion is right, no matter how much the truth of it stings. Mystra was mortal once, as many deities were, but somewhere along the way, she lost the capacity for love, forgot how empowering and wonderful it can be, a true gift in an often bleak world. That might be his fate were he to pursue godhood; however, all he wants now is to give the crown to his former flame, to rid the world of it and the orb simultaneously. He just hopes she won't be so bitter as to ignore his plight a second time. This is the same goddess who - rather than help him after his years of servitude and devotion, not even attempting to comprehend that his mistake was on account of hubris and romantic dreams rather than malice - sent his dear friend Elminster with the news that she wanted him to obliterate himself for a chance at redemption in her eyes. To say she's above pettiness would be charitable, at best.
If nothing else, he has the fantastic memory of her eyeing the mark on his neck. It was a brief glance, and her expression said little, but the fact she noticed gave Gale a smile all the same. He rather does like the idea of having little marks that tell those around him that he is claimed - that someone chose him above all others.]
I know you will. I felt myself saddled with it on account of my own mistakes for so long. That feeling remains, but to know she knew what it was this whole time - that she called me selfish for not detonating myself when I had no idea it was the Karsite Weave within me...
[He trails off, his hand on Astarion's arm squeezing it tighter.]
I'll never fully be rid of her, not while I command the Weave, but I will be glad to be free of her influence. Of this chain she holds on me, a leash I never knew was there.
[Astarion takes Gale's hand in his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing in a tight pulse. He's realizing that the one disadvantage of spooning is that he can't shift Gale's attentions more directly. It's somewhat more difficult to distract someone who isn't looking at you. But he does have a thought...
He draws his free hand up, tracing his fingertips along the column of Gale's throat as he drops a playful whisper in his ear.]
I'd prefer to be the one holding your leash, if it's all the same.
[That honeyed tone and the hand along his throat is unexpected, but not unwelcome. They draw to mind a very specific memory: dandelions in his mouth, sore ribs, and a rope around his once-again-human neck pulled playfully to draw him closer.
Tired as he might be, the way his skin burns at that very thought as he arcs his neck is absolutely tangible.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
[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...
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.
no subject
[That earlier breath wasn't enough; he bites his lip, his breath picking up, his lips so dry.]
Please, Astarion.
no subject
[He closes his hand around Gale's heat, stroking him slowly.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
Under normal circumstances, Gale might consider this to be a rather salacious endeavor, especially compared to their earlier intimacy: the two of them having an impromptu hand-fucking on a conjured couch after a very eventful day isn't exactly the height of romance. However, he can't help himself when he's safe in the company of Astarion: a man who wants him as he is, cherishes him, ravishes him. He may never be a god, but Astarion would want him all the same, even in his imperfect, flawed, currently poisonous body.
And if that isn't romantic, then Gale should reconsider his definition of the word.
The rhythm becomes uneven, uncontrolled until he can no longer contain himself. As Gale pulls back to take a breath, his body tenses - he bites his lip as he climaxes, stars dotting his vision, manifesting themselves around the tent via wild, instinctive magic. He rides that euphoria down, his hips jerking weakly as he catches his breath.]
By Mystra, I didn't... know I had that in me.
[He shivers, the onset of exhaustion quicker this time. Chances are high Wyll is taking the morning's cooking duties, as well.]
no subject
Astarion feels momentarily overwhelmed, truly warmed by the comfort of Gale's body close to his. He finds Gale's hand with his, drawing it up to kiss his palm, trailing his lips down to his wrist. He looks down to Gale, giving him a lidded gaze with a playful smile as he hears Gale's words.]
Now now, dear. Let's not have her name spoken here.
no subject
You're right. [He pulls in a shuddering breath, Astarion's lips cool on his sweltering skin as the light of the orb fades.] I wouldn't want her to come between us, even in spoken word.
[That quick, second round took out whatever fervor the alcohol had given him; at least he won't be up doing alchemy all night. He leans back heavily, his eyes on Astarion, gaze adoring, almost worshipful.]
Won't you stay with me?
[He knows the answer; he just wants to hear it.]
no subject
Always, as long as you'll have me.
[He brushes Gale's hair from his face, kissing his brow.]
For the rest of our days, love.
no subject
Well now we have to live through this. I refuse to have a giant brain cut short our time together. I can't say I'm fond of such tragedies.
[He closes his eyes, relaxing, wanting nothing more in that moment than to doze in the arms of his lover.]
no subject
[Astarion moves to lie down properly, his arms around Gale to draw Gale's back to his chest. He'll claim his spot as big spoon once again. Though he's somewhat ginger with his moments, mindful of his own flagging arousal.
He knows he could seek his own release, that Gale would be all too happy to please him, but there's a part of him that doesn't want to disturb this moment, that just wants to hold Gale in his arms for as long as he can.
He drops a kiss to Gale's skin just behind his ear, lowering his voice to an intimate whisper.]
I haven't even had a chance to see your tower yet. To experience the wonders of all that Waterdeep has to offer. To introduce myself to your mother and tell her of how her son's fear of impressing her brought us together.
no subject
She'll be delighted to hear she had a hand in this, however indirect. You can tell her what a scoundrel I am, taking your shirts without permission.
[Despite being exhausted and sweaty, he feels wanted, grounded in his physical body - he certainly never felt that way with Mystra. Making love to her was abstract, intangible - euphoric in its own way, but with methods that often left him feeling like he'd never be enough for her, never be enough to satisfy her as a mere mortal.
Now, he's almost glad he turned out to be such a failure in that regard. Were he still enamored with her, he wouldn't have Astarion, wouldn't know what this felt like. As he relaxes, he cannot picture wanting anyone else.
He sighs quietly, content.] Once all this is over, I just need to deal with the orb and hope my life hasn't been cut too short on account of its effects.
no subject
If we're to return the crown to your goddess, I see no reason why she wouldn't manage the matter of this orb for you. If not, I think that I might have words with her.
[From the tone of his voice, Gale can easily tell that Astarion is very ready to throw down with a goddess if it means sparing Gale from the difficulty that the orb poses. His hand curls possessively, his nose pressing against the nape of Gale's neck.]
There's spells enough to restore your vitality, aren't there? Your friend Elminster's been around for centuries. There's no reason the same can't be true for you.
no subject
He leans into Astarion behind him. While Gale cherishes that protectiveness, he can't help but know what the ultimate outcome would be, and want to spare Astarion that. They're supposed to live for eternity, after all, not die to the gods after all is said and done with the Elder Brain.]
Elminster never had a corrupted Weave inhabiting his body. It's a miracle I'm here at all. Besides that, he's a Chosen. Her Chosen. She keeps him alive and was happy to send me to my death.
[He sighs again; it's wistful this time, melancholic.]
She knew what was in me all along. She thought I wanted to overthrow her. She couldn't conceive of a world where I would have done something so foolish because I was in love.
no subject
She didn't understand and she made no effort to understand. Your love wasn't something she cherished. It was something she thought you owed her, because she was your goddess.
[He gives a huff against Gale's skin, his fingertips stroking slowly through the fine hair on his chest.]
Enough of that though. You've helped me free myself from Cazador. I'll help you free yourself from this orb so you can put Mystra from your mind for good.
no subject
If nothing else, he has the fantastic memory of her eyeing the mark on his neck. It was a brief glance, and her expression said little, but the fact she noticed gave Gale a smile all the same. He rather does like the idea of having little marks that tell those around him that he is claimed - that someone chose him above all others.]
I know you will. I felt myself saddled with it on account of my own mistakes for so long. That feeling remains, but to know she knew what it was this whole time - that she called me selfish for not detonating myself when I had no idea it was the Karsite Weave within me...
[He trails off, his hand on Astarion's arm squeezing it tighter.]
I'll never fully be rid of her, not while I command the Weave, but I will be glad to be free of her influence. Of this chain she holds on me, a leash I never knew was there.
no subject
He draws his free hand up, tracing his fingertips along the column of Gale's throat as he drops a playful whisper in his ear.]
I'd prefer to be the one holding your leash, if it's all the same.
no subject
Tired as he might be, the way his skin burns at that very thought as he arcs his neck is absolutely tangible.]
I wouldn't want to make Shale jealous.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)