[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.]
[Gale's almost glad Astarion can't see the way he bites his lip, the gears in his head turning. He spent so much of his efforts in previous relationships pleasing his partners and catering to their whims, feeling like he wouldn't be a worthy partner if he didn't; he focused, fixated on their satisfaction, deriving most of his own pleasure from knowing he was capable of providing them with such intimate ecstasy.
Unfortunately, it often wasn't enough, and that has left him with a wounded heart and a lot of uncertainty regarding just what he likes when it comes to the bedroom. While he'd consider himself an adventurous lover, he hasn't done much exploring on his own, particularly outside of what pleasures he can provide for his partner with his mastery of magic.
Astarion is different. With him, Gale doesn't worry about his worth, doesn't think for a moment Astarion would rather find someone more capable of satisfying him - certainly not with his history, with how he needs to heal from his own wounds and centuries of abuse. He's not here in Gale's tent, sharing his heart on account of what the wizard can do for him. They're discovering their own brand of intimacy together, finding their boundaries with all the agency they have been denied for so long.
And that is a thought Gale likes. He gives Astarion's hand a squeeze, basking in the thought of his devotion reciprocated.]
If you'll keep me in mind when you see a rope from now on... I would like that.
[Their shared intimacy is very important to Astarion. It's also something of a novelty to think of himself being the one who holds the leash, in a manner of speaking. More often than not his efforts in seduction, in entertaining Cazador's guests put him in a more submissive position, appealing to their wants and needs. He's always been hungry for power as a result, and while ascension is off the table, there's other ways to feel in power, in control.
He gives a smile, squeezing Gale's hand in response, pressing their joined hands over the wizard's heart.]
You'll be the first thing that comes to mind.
But I think perhaps we've had enough melancholy and innuendo for the night, hm? I don't want to keep you from your rest, dearest.
I'll be here with you until you sleep and then when you wake again, my love.
[He drops a kiss to the nape of Gale's neck, the hand at his chest rubbing soft, slow circles over his heart. The touch, the warmth of Gale is a comfort to him. He won't admit it out loud, but the times they've spent the night together, feeling the beat of Gale's heart and the heat of his body has helped to soothe him in his own trance. He closes his eyes, letting himself draw his focus to the gentle pulse of Gale's skin beneath his fingertips, the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.]
[Gale drifts off soon enough, his breath slow, his pulse steady as he murmurs. The topic tonight is a meandering one: it starts with wine, something to pair with a good meal for when introducing your family to your significant other - perhaps a boyfriend. He personally thinks that a sweet wine works well with his mother's signature pork roast; however, that discussion is quickly abandoned as he starts talking about said boyfriend.
And there's a lot to be said about him. Amid the quiet, half-intelligible chatter are remarks on his crimson eyes, his silver hair, the way he smells. That last one trails into a sickeningly saccharine explanation of flowers, as explained in Volo's Guide to Flora Familia, Volume 3. Apparently, he associates Astarion with something called a blueshine for a number of reasons: the rarity of the flower, the way the white petals curl like his hair, and that the blossoms glow an almost silver in the moonlight - or under the influence of magic. Though often decorative, they were mainly treasured by wizards and alchemists, who would give them to one another as a sign of their desire.
As he falls deeper into sleep, Gale doesn't elaborate further, but he likely doesn't have to when the answer is painfully obvious.]
[No, no additional elaboration is really needed. Astarion is an attentive listener at the start, but as the topic switches from wines to Astarion himself it's like Gale has wrapped a gentle hand around his heart.
His mind provides him something of an image of the flower in question, the memory blurred and indistinct, tinged with dim moonlight and the backdrop of a wide and sweeping city among the trees. It's maybe a passage from a book he read, a piece of art he glimpsed in his many years out in the city, but something about it feels more real than that. And for Gale to stir it within him...
He tightens his hold on Gale for a moment, his breath shallow, his forehead pressed to Gale's back. He whispers a response to Gale's ramblings, quiet and fervent.]
You truly are more precious than any flower could ever be. You are the rarest of blooms. I love you. I love you, Gale Dekarios. There's no flower in all of Toril that could capture the beauty of your heart.
[Sleeping so soundly - perhaps the best he's slept in days - there's no telling if Gale hears Astarion's confession; however, his hand tightens on Astarion's arm, his body all the warmer from his sweet dreams. He doesn't stir the rest of the night, content, smitten, safe.
He's still largely conked out the next morning as their leader calls for Astarion, noting he's neither meditating in his tent, nor lingering on the outskirts of camp watching the sunrise or cleaning up after a meal. Apparently, he's needed for that day - they're going to be visiting the Counting House, and his expertise is likely needed, particularly when it comes to the vaults.
[Wyll is truly a gentleman. Astarion gently extricates himself from Gale when he hears their leader calling, not wanting to rouse Gale from his rest just yet. He makes his way to the campfire to hear what the business of the day is, and steal a little top off of blood from their leader since they're unlikely to encounter any stray bandits or Bhaalists in the Counting House.
He's back to Gale's tent before he departs, crouching next to the sleeping wizard. With a gentle hand he brushes Gale's hair from his face, dropping a gentle kiss to his forehead.]
Dearest, breakfast's getting cold. And it seems that my skills are needed to lighten the purses of a few good patriars today.
[Gale finally stirs just enough to turn Astarion's way. His hair is a mess, earring snagged in his locks, bags under his eyes from a long night - and yet, he looks happy, his eyes bleary as he reaches up to brush his fingers against Astarion's cheek. He gives the vampire a droopy-eyed, lopsided smile, the look of a man not yet fully awake.]
[It's a very cute look on him. Astarion turns to kiss Gale's fingertips before catching his hand and giving it a tight squeeze.]
I'll get into just enough trouble to have a story to tell you, darling.
[He releases Gale's hand, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips before he rises and steps away. It's a more difficult thing than he'd like to admit, leaving Gale alone. There's a strong desire to simply idle away the morning watching his lover sleep, a strange novelty that Astarion's only recently gotten a taste for.
But there are more pressing matters at hand, especially with the news they have from the Guild of cult activity in the form of a rival criminal organization. Not to mention Astarion's pocket is heavy with a Counting House key he chose to liberate from Cazador's palace. He's curious to find out just what sort of things his former master had hidden away in the safety of the vaults. So it is he sets out into the streets of Baldur's Gate with their merry little band for another day of adventure.]
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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.
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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.]
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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.
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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.]
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[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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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I wouldn't worry about that. Dear Shale will always hold a special place in my heart.
[He pauses a moment. The flush in Gale's skin is very obvious to the touch, and he remembers how Gale reacted that tug so many days ago.]
But if the thought of a leash did appeal to you...there are a few things we could try. Once this business with the brain is sorted, of course.
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Unfortunately, it often wasn't enough, and that has left him with a wounded heart and a lot of uncertainty regarding just what he likes when it comes to the bedroom. While he'd consider himself an adventurous lover, he hasn't done much exploring on his own, particularly outside of what pleasures he can provide for his partner with his mastery of magic.
Astarion is different. With him, Gale doesn't worry about his worth, doesn't think for a moment Astarion would rather find someone more capable of satisfying him - certainly not with his history, with how he needs to heal from his own wounds and centuries of abuse. He's not here in Gale's tent, sharing his heart on account of what the wizard can do for him. They're discovering their own brand of intimacy together, finding their boundaries with all the agency they have been denied for so long.
And that is a thought Gale likes. He gives Astarion's hand a squeeze, basking in the thought of his devotion reciprocated.]
If you'll keep me in mind when you see a rope from now on... I would like that.
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He gives a smile, squeezing Gale's hand in response, pressing their joined hands over the wizard's heart.]
You'll be the first thing that comes to mind.
But I think perhaps we've had enough melancholy and innuendo for the night, hm? I don't want to keep you from your rest, dearest.
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[He closes his eyes, feeling how heavy his eyelids have grown.]
Stay with me until I'm asleep. I won't keep you long.
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[He drops a kiss to the nape of Gale's neck, the hand at his chest rubbing soft, slow circles over his heart. The touch, the warmth of Gale is a comfort to him. He won't admit it out loud, but the times they've spent the night together, feeling the beat of Gale's heart and the heat of his body has helped to soothe him in his own trance. He closes his eyes, letting himself draw his focus to the gentle pulse of Gale's skin beneath his fingertips, the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.]
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And there's a lot to be said about him. Amid the quiet, half-intelligible chatter are remarks on his crimson eyes, his silver hair, the way he smells. That last one trails into a sickeningly saccharine explanation of flowers, as explained in Volo's Guide to Flora Familia, Volume 3. Apparently, he associates Astarion with something called a blueshine for a number of reasons: the rarity of the flower, the way the white petals curl like his hair, and that the blossoms glow an almost silver in the moonlight - or under the influence of magic. Though often decorative, they were mainly treasured by wizards and alchemists, who would give them to one another as a sign of their desire.
As he falls deeper into sleep, Gale doesn't elaborate further, but he likely doesn't have to when the answer is painfully obvious.]
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His mind provides him something of an image of the flower in question, the memory blurred and indistinct, tinged with dim moonlight and the backdrop of a wide and sweeping city among the trees. It's maybe a passage from a book he read, a piece of art he glimpsed in his many years out in the city, but something about it feels more real than that. And for Gale to stir it within him...
He tightens his hold on Gale for a moment, his breath shallow, his forehead pressed to Gale's back. He whispers a response to Gale's ramblings, quiet and fervent.]
You truly are more precious than any flower could ever be. You are the rarest of blooms. I love you. I love you, Gale Dekarios. There's no flower in all of Toril that could capture the beauty of your heart.
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He's still largely conked out the next morning as their leader calls for Astarion, noting he's neither meditating in his tent, nor lingering on the outskirts of camp watching the sunrise or cleaning up after a meal. Apparently, he's needed for that day - they're going to be visiting the Counting House, and his expertise is likely needed, particularly when it comes to the vaults.
And, as expected, Wyll made breakfast.]
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He's back to Gale's tent before he departs, crouching next to the sleeping wizard. With a gentle hand he brushes Gale's hair from his face, dropping a gentle kiss to his forehead.]
Dearest, breakfast's getting cold. And it seems that my skills are needed to lighten the purses of a few good patriars today.
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Don't get into too much trouble without me.
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I'll get into just enough trouble to have a story to tell you, darling.
[He releases Gale's hand, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips before he rises and steps away. It's a more difficult thing than he'd like to admit, leaving Gale alone. There's a strong desire to simply idle away the morning watching his lover sleep, a strange novelty that Astarion's only recently gotten a taste for.
But there are more pressing matters at hand, especially with the news they have from the Guild of cult activity in the form of a rival criminal organization. Not to mention Astarion's pocket is heavy with a Counting House key he chose to liberate from Cazador's palace. He's curious to find out just what sort of things his former master had hidden away in the safety of the vaults. So it is he sets out into the streets of Baldur's Gate with their merry little band for another day of adventure.]