🔮 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

Comments

Holidays, please calm down. :(

[mystracal]

[Astarion's moan reverberates through Gale's member all the way up his spine. The heat of Astarion's mouth, the drag of his lips, and slight feeling of fangs brushing against the sides of his cock - the stimulation is enough to push a whine from the back of his throat.

Gale does his best to hold them in, but the vocalizations keep coming, escaping him one by one: a low groan as he shifts his back, his fingers twitching against Astarion's scalp; a short moan as his foot slides on the bed, failing to get traction; an uneven gasp as he feels the tightness of his erection, what blood he has in him redirected southward. He brushes his free hand through his hair, his palm landing on his forehead as chestnut strands cling to his fingers - he feels hot and cold at the same time, sweating and shivering and lightheaded all at once.

And yet, if his smile and the heavy, ragged breath that lumbers from his throat are any indication, he's still enjoying himself.]

Oh no :( Sending good vibes your way. I hope things calm down! <3

[sangwhine]

[The fact that Gale us trying to restrain himself, trying to stifle them, makes each one that escapes him all the more thrilling. Astarion works his deft tongue against Gale's length as he moves his head over it. His hands slide over the meat of Gale's thighs, dragging into the soft, giving flesh. He wants more of them, eagerly applying his many talents to the task.

Gale is so beautiful like this, flushed with sweat. He can't tear his eyes away. Knowing that Gale has promised himself to Astarion swells in Astarion's heart. He'll have this sight for so many days to come. This is the man who will be his husband, and he couldn't love Gale more.]

<3

[mystracal]

[Gale is stifling his third or fourth needy whine, letting them hiss through his teeth as he smiles, when there's an unexpected sound: the knob of the door rattling, a key being inserted into the old lock, metal turning within the wooden door. It opens: someone steps inside, closing the door behind them.

Gale turns about as red as the fires of Avernus itself, clapping a hand over his mouth and holding his breath. His attempt to keep the noise to a minimum may have been half-hearted before, but it's at the top of his priorities now.]

<3!!

[sangwhine]

[Speaking of the fires of Avernus, a moment later Karlach's voice rises across the room.]

Hey, Fangs! You two make it back all right?

[Astarion, of course, sees this as an opportunity. His eyes flick to Gale's face, watching his reaction carefully. In a swift moment, he swallows Gale down to the hilt. His nails drag up Gale's stomach and chest, twisting a nipple between his fingertips. At the same time, his free hand slides down between Gale's legs to press one finger into him.]

[mystracal]

[Gale has approximately one second to both realize what Astarion is thinking and give him a worried look before the vampire sets himself loose, attacking Gale from several angles. The sensation of his cock hitting the roof of Astarion's throat almost draws a moan from him; he bites his hand until it nearly bleeds as a pale hand climbs his chest, teasing him. He manages to swallow it all down, his toes curling, his free hand griping the comforter beneath him as though it would save him.]

We did, Karlach, both here and ah fine! We're just- resting.

[He bites harder on his hand, his teeth leaving imprints on his knuckles. Unfortunately, his manners get the better of him at the worst time.]

Thank you for hhhhhhhh gods—!

[That finger entering him was more than he could handle. This might be the end for him as he finally dies from embarrassment.]

[sangwhine]

[Perhaps adding insult to injury, there's a somewhat restrained giggle from the other side of the room, before Karlach answers.]

Sounds like my kind of rest. Don't you worry, I'll keep the rest busy downstairs!

[The door opens and closes behind her, her heavy footsteps retreating down the stairs a moment later.

Astarion, pleased as can be, pulls himself off Gale's cock to rest his cheek against the wizard's thigh, regarding him with a lazy grin.]

That should give us some privacy, don't you think?

[mystracal]

[Despite how painfully, impossibly red he is, Gale can't help but laugh at Astarion's mischievous predilections. He should have known they'd be walked in on eventually, and yet, he couldn't help himself.

And still can't, apparently. Gods, he's in love - there's no denying that, no matter how embarrassed he may be. At least Karlach was a good sport, ever-supportive of their coupling.]

I would hope so. If anyone can be a distraction, it's Karlach.

[He runs his hand through Astarion's hair, gazing down at him, the tips of his fingers brushing against those pale, pointed ears.]

I should've known you'd be trouble.

[sangwhine]

[There is nothing else quite like the sound of Gale's laughter or the touch of his hands. Astarion turns his head into his fingers, not unlike a cat seeking affection.]

I certainly don't recall hearing any protests from your lips, dearest.

[He moves just enough to press a kiss to Gale's palm, nuzzling against it. After a moment's consideration, he presses himself up, slipping up the length of Gale's body to press a kiss to his lips, momentarily distracted from his arousal.]

But if Karlach is to be our distraction, I dare say that discretion may not be her first order of business.

[Yet his voice is full of fondness. Astarion understands Karlach in ways he's sure that the others in their party can't, and it doesn't take much to know that she's hardly tactful when it comes to matters of lust and desire.]

[mystracal]

I assume she announced what we're doing the moment she hit the bottom of the stairs.

[He runs his hand along Astarion's back, letting his fingers fall into the dips of his muscles.]

And if not, give her a drink or two.

[As he breathes in, his chest and belly rise to meet Astarion's body above him; he rolls his hips just a pinch, seeking more contact.]

[sangwhine]

Oh, certainly. I would expect nothing less from her.

[His words come with a contented sigh as he takes a moment to savor Gale's hand at his back. It's strange how such a small thing brings him so much comfort, but the warmth of Gale's hand on his skin puts his mind at ease.

Then, of course, there's the much more pressing heat of Gale's arousal against his thigh. He favors the wizard with a fond smile, moving a hand to curl around him.]

Now, we wouldn't want to disappoint our companions, would we?

[mystracal]

Oh, I think we could disappoint a few of them. Jaheira, certainly. Lae'zel, perhaps. But Karlach? Never.

[A smile of his own stretches across his face at Astarion's touch.]

She's always been our staunchest supporter. Of yours in particular.

[sangwhine]

Lae'zel seems to only know satisfaction in the blood of her enemies. Which is honestly fine by me. But I am quite fond of our fiery devil.

[Though this topic of conversation seems to be straying from the matter at hand, as it were. He gives Gale a soft squeeze, slowly stroking over his length.]

Not as fond as I am of you, of course.

[mystracal]

[That squeeze is plenty to distract Gale, his breath catching for half a second; his hand at Astarion's back curls, blunt nails dragging along his skin.

But it seems he's not lost his words yet.]

I would hope not. You do have, ah. Quite a hold on me.

[sangwhine]

Quite the hold.

[His eyes flutter half-closed with the pressure of Gale's fingers. In answer, he gives an appreciative squeeze, increasing the pace of his strokes.]

Now...how to show you the extent of my fondness?

[mystracal]

[Gale shudders, biting his lower lip.]

Should I be treating you tonight? You are my savior, after all.

[And not just from Orin, but in all things. Astarion is the one who kept him from embarrassing himself in front of his mother, kept him safe from his siblings, helped him see a future where he doesn't pursue godhood because who he is is enough.]

[sangwhine]

[Astarion pauses, the question momentarily throwing him. It's a perfectly reasonable question, of course, but since their first few ill-fated attempts, it just hasn't occurred to him that Gale might still want to treat him, to indulge him. He's been so focused on reclaiming his own sense of self, his own ability to please the man he loves that he's not even thought that Gale would want to return the favor. No, more to the point he's convinced himself Gale had no interest in trying any more.

And yet, it's so obviously a poor assessment of Gale if he gives it any scrutiny. Gale who is stubborn in solving any problem life has thrown at him. Gale who loves him. Gale who wants to spend his life with Astarion.

He swallows, his expression softening along with his hold on Gale.]

I think that I would like that, yes.

[mystracal]

[Having anticipated Astarion might decline, Gale finds himself a hair surprised when he does otherwise - visibly, but delightfully so. His smile warms even more.]

Then allow me.

[He leans off his elbow to kiss at Astarion's neck, his hand slipping around the pale muscles on his side to his back to guide him to lie on his stomach. Though prepared to change course if there's even a hint of protest — his comfort is what matters, after all — Gale takes it nice and slow, hoping that still retaining some degree of control will keep his partner's mind at ease.

He just wants to massage those shoulders and kiss those scars, if he's allowed. It's been a thought that hasn't left him, apparently.]

[sangwhine]

[Gale's visible delight does make this easier. Even if Gale's indulging him, he wants to know the wizard's getting something out of it.

Astarion stretches his neck in offering to Gale's lips, giving a breathy little moan of encouragement before he feels the hand at his side. He slips over on the bed without a thought, but as Gale urges him to his stomach he feels himself tense, his gaze quickly flicking to find his lover's eyes.]

Dearest—what did you have in mind?

[mystracal]

[Ah, there's that hesitation. It's expected, so Gale keeps his voice gentle, encouraging.]

Just a massage, unless you'd like more. These hands are good for more than magic and cooking, you know.

[sangwhine]

I'd certainly like more, dear—

[He has to pause, to swallow against the panic he feels rising in his throat. His eyes flick away, lips pursed in a tight line, but he doesn't move, not yet.]

My back is hardly my most attractive feature. So why—what do you want?

[It's not the first time Gale's touch has strayed to Astarion's scars, or the first time they've drawn his focus. There must be something, some reason for it that Astarion can't see through the sharp memories of pain and feeling so powerless.]

[mystracal]

Attractiveness has nothing to do with it, but trust me when I say that scars or not, your back is something I desire.

[He slides one leg over Astarion's to straddle him, careful and slow with his movements.]

I want to love all of you - every inch of you, every scar and flaw and piece of your past you'd rather not acknowledge. But most of all, especially right now, I want to rub some of the tension out of your shoulders.

[sangwhine]

[Astarion bites at his tongue to hold back the cutting remark on his lips. The tension is only there because of Gale, because of his insistence. But it isn't completely true. It's Cazador who's to blame, the one remembrance of him Astarion will never truly be rid of.

Instead he bows his head, pressing his forehead to his arms, still wound as tight as a spring. He can say no, he can tell Gale to stop. This was supposed to be about him, wasn't it? Gale wants to love him, to show his love. How has it all gone wrong so quickly.]

Don't touch them. Please.

[mystracal]

[Gale's brow knits, but he acquiesces, nodding in the silence.]

As you wish.

[Chiding himself inwardly for pushing too far, he settles for his initial plan instead, folding his hands over Astarion's shoulders — carefully dodging his scars — to work out the tension he finds there. He's a man who has spent a lot of time cooking, kneading bread and meat when necessary; the principles work well enough on muscle, as well.]

[sangwhine]

[The muscle he finds there is perhaps a bit harder to work than a dough or cut of meat. Astarion's mind is gripped in a tumult and his body bears it out. The first bit of pressure draws a hissing breath from his lips that he tries to stifle into the bed. It's unpleasant with so much tension in his muscle. Gale's touch is warm, though. His hands warmer than Cazador's ever were. Perhaps if he can give that his focus. If he can draw his mind to the man he loves, who loves him, it can push away the awful memory of being held down so he wouldn't squirm, so each cut of jagged Infernal would be perfect.

It's Gale, he wants to shout at himself. Not Cazador. It's Gale. It's Gale's hands, Gale's weight, Gale's scent—]

Gale.

[mystracal]

[The tension is impossible to miss, even with the bloodloss - more so is the tone with which Astarion says his name. Gale pauses, gnawing his lip. He starts to offer to change course, but holds his tongue, instead giving his partner control.]

What would you have me do? Tell me.