mystracal | 🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

[The transformation has a noted effect on Astarion. He's listening to Gale at first, but as the scent transforms it draws his attention away from Gale's words. He can nearly feel his mouth watering at the appealing thought of what Gale's blood might taste like now. How full bodied it might be, like the fine wines that he's been unable to taste for hundreds of years.

He draws in a deep breath, luxuriating in the scent before turning his head to nose against Gale's throat, kissing over his pulse, teasing at it with his teeth. When he answers, it's with a low rumble, reverberating against Gale's skin.]

I can only imagine, darling.

[That shuts him up.]

Oh.

[Gale smiles tentatively, assuming that's a good sign and not just Astarion getting his hopes up. He lets his hands fall around Astarion's waist, his breath picking up, heartbeat hot on his veins.]

Should we... sit down for this?

I think it would be wise for us to get comfortable, yes.

[He leaves a nip, pulling away and drawing Gale up with him. He draws him away to the beds that have been designated as theirs. There's a pause before he finds a folding screen, placing it such that it affords them a small amount of privacy should the rest of their party return.]

[Oh, that nip is terribly enticing. Gale is all too happy to follow Astarion, wearing what is likely the same expression he had when believed it was Astarion luring him away from camp: his lips are curled in a smile, creasing his eyes in lovesick adoration.

With the way the beds are arranged, the screen offers them a surprising amount of privacy, as the sleeping quarters are set in pairs, a short wall separating two beds from two more. With Astarion's bed set in a corner and a half-wall behind Gale's - and now the screen in front of the entrance to the space - it's almost as though they have their own room, four walls and everything. Though perhaps not as private as the tents at their previous camps, it will be just as soundproof when it comes to any romantic activities they may indulge in - which is to say, not at all.

Good thing they're alone. As his only other experience in being bitten by a vampire was when Astarion's sibling nearly ripped his throat out, he's not sure how he'll take it. He's thought about it a number of times, is certain he'll enjoy it on account of Astarion's presence - as well as the sense of accomplishment he'll gain from having solved his blood problem, albeit temporarily. However, the thought that it won't be enough lingers in the back of his mind; it will be back to the proverbial drawing board if it isn't.

He pulls off his ruined tunic; the long cuts in it weren't doing him any favors, and he'd rather it not be in the way. Once it's gone, tossed to the side, he can't help but bring his hands back to Astarion, one cupping his cheek while the other rests on his shoulder.]

It's almost like sharing our tents. A space just for us.

A preview of times to come, hm?

[Astarion leans into the touch, turning to kiss Gale's palm, then his pulse. He catches Gale by his hips, pushing him down onto the bed in the corner before crawling over him with clear intent. His hands move slowly up Gale's stomach and chest before coming to rest on his shoulders.

All his earlier apprehensions have been replaced with eager anticipation. The blood he's lost and the new, appealing aroma coming off of Gale have pushed any worries he could have far to the back of his mind. All he wants now is to feed, to feel the heat of Gale's blood across his tongue, filling his mouth.

He leans in to catch Gale's lips in a quick, heated kiss before he lowers his lips to his neck, laving his tongue across the skin once before he sinks his teeth in. The first burst has a familiar flavor, that rich, heady flavor of the Weave in Gale's blood. But beyond that, it has the same earthen notes. The sharp bite of cinnamon coats his mouth in a way he's never felt before.

He nearly groans at the indulgence of it, lapping his tongue across the bites to hold himself back only long enough to make sure the astringent aftertaste won't rear its ugly head. It's only a few beats before his hunger overrides that better sense and he latches his lips back over the wounds, drinking greedily.]

[Gale catches the look in those ruby eyes as Astarion crawls over him, his pale hands cool against the heat of the wizard's skin. Gale is warm, warmer than usual - it seems he was right about the slight fever he'd endure from the concoction, but it's a small price to pay for the excitement he feels as he meets Astarion's gaze. There's a hunger there, both in the literal and figurative sense; he'd be apprehensive in other circumstances, or even a pinch frightened, but as Astarion presses a kiss to his lips, it's Gale who returns it with a ravenous appetite, wanting more.

It will wait; he closes his eyes as Astarion drags his tongue across his neck and over his pulse. Gale's arms wrap around his partner's back to draw him closer, one hand lacing into Astarion's silver hair as he gives a silent prayer to any deity who will listen: he wants this to work so badly.

The bite is colder than he'd expected, like ice injected directly into his veins. He gasps sharply, surprised, his fingers curling against Astarion's back, gripping his hair as his chest briefly rises to meet him; he then holds his breath to hear the vampire's reaction. A word of encouragement would be nice, as would silence that indicates it's not bad enough to complain about - anything but retching would be preferable.

It's as Astarion pulls away, licking at the punctures before latching on again, that Gale finally relaxes fully. His smile widens in relief, then unbridled joy as a laugh bubbles through him, rumbling all the way from his core to his throat. He tries to swallow it down so as not to disturb Astarion's meal, but he can't help the euphoria he feels in that moment as his breath picks up, his neck arching to give Astarion more. He did it.]

[Never in Astarion's many years did he ever think that someone would be driven to joyous laughter by the simple act of him feeding. But Gale's laugh warms him nearly as much as the blood spilling across his tongue. It means everything to him, that Gale can have this, that they both care share this. That Astarion can truly taste his lover for the first time, that Gale won't continue to think less of himself for the taint in his blood. He gives in and lets an answering moan pull from his throat as he continues to drink, a faint flush returning to his skin, his touch warming oh so slightly as his body restores itself.

He could drink from Gale forever and never be full, could never have enough of the taste that is so uniquely him. He drinks deep and greedily, one hand running down Gale's arm to find his hand, gripping it tight. He'll give Gale every reassurance that he needs that it's worked, that he is truly delicious.]

[That moan in reply and the squeeze to his hand are all the reassurance Gale needs, any lingering doubts chased completely from his mind. He presses a kiss to Astarion's shoulder, letting himself get lost in the plethora of novel sensations running through him; though he tries to focus on them, it's difficult when he's basking in the unmitigated delight of their triumph over the orb.

Gods, he's glad they can share in this - that he can provide for his partner, that Astarion might not need to hunt every night or be beholden to someone else for his meals, like their leader. His hand in Astarion's hair slides to rest at the nape of his neck, encouraging him to drink his fill.

Though the image of being food for a creature of the night would certainly be horrific to some, Gale has to admit it's a rather intimate affair in practice, especially when said creature is his lover. He groans quietly as he murmurs Astarion's name, reveling in the closeness of their bodies, the cadence of his heartbeat in time with Astarion's fervent swallows, the way Astarion's skin seems to be warmer by the second while his is cooling. Despite the sheen of sweat across Gale's forehead, he feels a chill. Maybe that's the fever again, but with how lightheaded he's becoming, he can't quite tell.]

[It could be the fever, it could be the blood loss. Thankfully Astarion is attentive enough to how his feeding might effect someone now that he's in the habit of feeding from their leader. Though the sensation and thrill of Gale's blood does push that from his mind for a long moment. He doesn't want to pull away, doesn't want to end this. But when Gale's body starts to shiver and shudder beneath him, he's able to exert his self-control enough to stop. His tongue runs across the wounds to help them close, and for one last taste of Gale's blood so he can savor it on his tongue.

He looks up to Gale once he's done, his cheeks flushed, lips still a dark red from Gale's blood. His hands seek out Gale's face, running through his hair and feeling his forehead just to confirm that he's not in any danger of passing out. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, a deep satisfaction rumbling through him.]

Dearest Gale. My love.

[While not in danger of passing out, Gale is certainly pallid as Astarion pulls away, the shadows under his eyes just a little deeper, the violet tendrils reaching from the orb all the darker against his complexion. And yet, he smiles; he can't keep himself from smiling as he pulls his hand from the back of Astarion's head to his cheek, cradling it tenderly, his fingers brushing against the lobe of his pointed ear. It's so novel to see that color across his usually pale skin, endearing in a new way - it's as though Gale brought him back to life, however briefly.

And perhaps he has, in a sense. With his other hand, Gale pushes off the bed onto his elbow, just enough to bump his forehead against Astarion's in an affectionate nuzzle. He likes him so close.]

I'll assume the taste was more than acceptable.

[The noises Astarion made while drinking told him that much, but he wants to hear it from the vampire himself.]

[Astarion loves having Gale so close like this. Especially now that he's confirmed he hasn't drunk the other man dry. He responds to Gale's nuzzle by pressing a firm kiss to his lips, cupping the nape of Gale's neck in his hand.]

Darling, I would gladly drink nothing else for the rest of my days.

[He gives Gale another kiss, for good measure.]

You are the most brilliant wizard in all of the realms, Gale Dekarios. Gods, Hells, everything above and below. I am never letting you go far from me.

[Gale soaks that kiss in, tasting the bitter iron of his own blood. He leans back, pulling Astarion down with him.]

I am brilliant... [another softer, gentler kiss] ... but all the more so because I have you as a muse.

Edited 2023-12-07 07:07 (UTC)

[Astarion crawls over him, kneading at the nape of his neck while the other moves to fondle his chest, playfully.]

Mmh, I am an inspiration, aren't I? Your inspiration.

[He slots a knee between Gale's legs, pressing down. Gale's blood has certainly got him feeling feisty.]

My inspiration.

[He sighs at that knee between his legs, his hips rocking gently against it.]

My love. I want to give you so much more.

Darling, you've given me your heart, your blood, your body, your company, and the promise if your magic as well. What more of you is there to give?

[He sits back just a little, running his hands down Gale's chest. His eyes follow the gesture, giving the wizard a very appreciative eye rake.]

[Gale watches as Astarion looks him over, those ruby eyes drawing over him as though his body - for its softness and scars and all its human flaws - were a beautiful treasure to be kept, coveted. Astarion looks at him in a way Mystra never would, that no lover ever had: as though he's not just his magic and mind, but so much more. Mystra had asked Gale to die for her forgiveness, to detonate himself and leave nothing behind but a cloud of Netherese dust and a crater; Astarion wouldn't let harm come to him even if it meant charging into the temple of the Lord of Murder himself.

He'd been a plaything for Mystra; for Astarion, he is a partner. Someone for whom he willing to sacrifice ascension for them to remain equals. Astarion loves all Gale has to offer, the good, the bad, and even the uncertain. To have his devotion reciprocated means more to Gale than he can put into words.

He takes one of Astarion's hands, his hips still, but his heart thundering in his chest.]

My future. One for us, once this is all over.

Edited 2023-12-08 09:29 (UTC)

Dearest, I thought that was already part of it all?

[His immediate response is flippant, flirtatious, but it's a moment later that he feels the beat of Gale's heart beneath his touch. This is something else. Something beyond the promises they've whispered to each other in the privacy of their tents or when wound up in one another. He can see and feel the nervous thrum in Gale's blood at the thought of what's on offer and he can't deny that the thought hasn't crossed his mind as well. But he's never let it linger for as many times as he's had the thought. After all, who would promise their life to a vampire spawn? Who could want Astarion for more than the rake that he plays more often than not?

But Gale has proven time and time again that he's willing to do just that. That he sees Astarion for who he truly is, the man he can be beneath every defense that he's built for himself over centuries of torment.

He squeezes Gale's hand with his, lacing their fingers together to press their joined hands gently over the heavy beat of Gale's heart. When his gaze meets Gale it's equal parts nervous and anticipatory, one fang gently indenting against his lips in a coy smile.]

Unless there's more on offer...?

[Knowing good and well that Astarion can feel his heartbeat, Gale hopes he knows what future plans he has in mind, thinking that might help ease his nerves; it doesn't, but he presses forward., squeezing Astarion's hand for reassurance.]

I'd thought I would have this planned out eventually. [His smile crooks unevenly.] When Orin lured me from the camp like the besotted, stupid man I am, I thought it might be the right time. I even had something for you, which is probably now lying on the ground where she rendered me unconscious. I know we've not known each other terribly long, and the circumstances that brought us together have been trying at the very, very least, and maybe once this is all over, we'll find we've not got as much in common as we believed, but...

[He's rambling, and he knows it. He licks the dryness from his lips, swallowing the knot forming in his throat.]

I've never been so sure of wanting anything more in my life. Anyone more. I love you, and if you would, once it's all said and done, I want you to accompany me back to Waterdeep. [A beat as he finally gets to the point:] I want you to marry me, Astarion.

Edited 2023-12-08 21:04 (UTC)

[For as much as he saw it all coming, the words still put a flutter in Astarion's stomach. They draw the breath from his lungs, stilling the entire world for just this moment. He has to remind himself to breathe again so that he can give voice to his words, so he can answer Gale properly. Yet even still the first words he speaks are nearly whispered for how mush he rushes to push them past his lips.]

You know, I'd rather given up on the thought of such a mundane thing as marriage. As promising my life to someone, domestic bliss and all of that. But you've changed that. Through your words, your heart. Your faith in me, your trust.

[He pauses, gathering himself. His gaze trails down to their joined hands, Gale's darkened skin against his own pallor, with the same blood beating through them both now. It brings a smile to his face, they've already bound themselves to each other in so many ways, what's one more? He draws Gale's hand up to his lips as he lifts his gaze again, meeting Gale's eyes with a look of warmth and adoration.]

You gave me a life again, one I can live in any way I choose.

[He presses a kiss to the inside of Gale's wrist, against his racing pulse.]

I can truly think of no better way to spend it than at your side.

[Gale smiles so wide, wide enough he's afraid it might tear his face in two; there's relief in his eyes, elation, unmitigated and boundless.]

I- gods, you make me the happiest man alive.

[His hand in Astarion's grasp turns to cup his face, his pulse pounding from excitement rather than his nerves. He wipes his eye with the heel of his palm, his hands shaking.]

You know, we have to live through this now. I can't go getting your hopes up, only to not keep my word.

[Hells, Astarion really is head over heels in love with this stupid man, isn't he? Gale's smile is infectious, so much so that Astarion can't keep a wide grin from spreading across his own face. He moves to brush the tears from Gale's eyes, leaning forward to catch his lips in a brief, firm kiss.]

It's just a matter of steering clear of murderous cultists and my feral siblings, darling. Only the usual perils.

[He leans in again, unable to resist another kiss before resting his forehead against Gale's, his body braced over the other man's, their legs tangled together.]

But it is something I think I'll enjoy looking forward to. Sharing in all the delights your wizard's tower has to offer.

[Gale takes a deep inhale, breathing Astarion in. He's not sure what's making him so flush, the fever or his feelings - he suspects a combination of both - but he can feel it all the way down his chest, sweat beading along his neck.]

My tower is rather empty these days, what with all the artefacts I've had to consume. It could use some redecorating. Something to make it a place for both of us.

Oh, I do love the sound of a good challenge. Making it a space truly worthy of our names.

[He presses a kiss to the corner of Gale's lips, then turns to trail kisses along the line of his jaw. The adrenaline of Gale's blood in his veins, the sheer emotion welled up in his heart makes him loathe to separate himself from the wizard. He draws his hand up along Gale's side, dragging his nails to indent against his skin.]

[Those nails push a sigh from Gale, one that stutters against his ribs on the way out as though the very air in his lungs were raked through; his neck arches as he leans into Astarion's hand, as though demanding to be marked further.]

You will have to [ah] decide what life you'll lead with me. We can share the library, but what other hhhhhobbies will you indulge in now that you have your freedom?

[Astarion will never tire of drawing these reactions from Gale. He could spend a lifetime mapping the different touches that leave the wizard undone and squirming beneath him. It's such a heady rush to have found this again, to reclaim this part of himself, and the promise of more ways to carve out his own life is all the more alluring.]

Mmh, that is a thought, isn't it? We shall have to find some way to pass the time...

[He drops a kiss over the healing fang marks on Gale's neck, then lower, mouthing against his collarbone with teeth and tongue. His hand finds the hem of Gale's pants, his thumb brushing against the soft jut of his hip bone.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject