mystracal | 🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

[Gale's gaze meets Astarion's, and he can't help but smile. He does as instructed and tries not to dwell on it for now.]

You're right. [A beat.] About the self-flagellation, though I'll take the title of 'Most Wonderful Thing You've Ever Had, Ever' as well. Since I'm not to be an archmage or a god, I'll be needing a new title.

[He leans against Astarion's hand; his skin remains feverish.]

I'll be happy to stay Gale Dekarios, of course... unless you'd rather I take your name.

I was already enjoying thinking of myself as 'The Future Mr. Dekarios,' love. As for mine...

[He pauses, a faint hint of a grimace marring the smile on his face as his gaze goes distant, trying to delve into the distant past.]

I don't think those of my name would care one way or another.

[The grimace turns to a frown with a slight shake of his head.]

I don't even know... They must have received word of my death after all these years.

Surely. I cannot imagine what my mother and Tara would do were I to suddenly vanish without a word.

[Recalling how Astarion took it last time when asked about his own mother, Gale treads carefully. Then again, the circumstances — and their entire relationship to one another — are very different than they were then.

He brushes the backs of his knuckles against Astarion's hair, putting some of it back into place. Gale might still be irritated with himself for ruining the moment, his pulse finally calming, but this is nice, the kind of intimacy he wouldn't trade for anything. That he can be such a comfort, useful to his partner —

Gale does his best not to see his worth in what he can offer, but old habits die hard.]

Have you considered sending word to them? Now that you're free?

[It is nice, simply lying together, letting himself soak in the warmth of Gale's skin against his. He brushes his fingers through Gale's hair in a mirror to Gale's touch. It's soothing, grounding. He watches the dark strands slip through pale fingers as he turns over the thought of reaching out to his family.

His relationship with them was fraught even before his death, but to them he was no more than an adolescent. Running off to Baldur's Gate to charm his way into the workings of the city was seen as nothing more than youthful rebellion, and he never overcame how much he resented the thought.

Because then there was Cazador. Astarion's death so many miles away from anyone who shared his name. And centuries spent with the cold certainty that he'd never lay eyes upon them again.]

I—the thought hadn't crossed my mind. Hearing from your lost child after so long. I doubt they'd believe me even if I stood before them.

And even if you did, there's no telling how they might feel about a vampire in their family. Unless, of course, the more scandalous story would be that you're marrying a human.

[He offers Astarion a grin, hoping to bring his spirits up, to keep the mood light. He knows how old-fashioned some families can be when it comes to the shorter-lived peoples.]

The fangs would bother them more than you would, darling.

[He pauses, his brow creasing as he digs at memories long since buried.]

They—were fond of humans. There was someone—a cousin? Who was a half-elf. With a charming Harper for a mother. Gods, she's long dead.

I imagine most who aren't full-blooded elves are, unfortunately.

[That cousin lived longer than Gale might. He's doing his best not to think too hard on his mortality, especially on a day when he very well might have died, had his friends — had Astarion — not rescued him.

He pushes just a little more, reassuring Astarion that he's safe with a soft kiss to his forehead.]

What else can you tell me about your family? Or rather, what do you care to remember?

[The kiss distracts him a moment, with as deep as he was in his memories. He blinks, looking up to meet Gale's gaze before giving a soft sigh.]

Only bits and pieces, dear. It's not a matter of caring, either, it's what's remained after being buried so long.

[He tilts his head, tracing his fingertips across Gale's cheek, the line of his jaw, letting himself get lost in the features of his lover's face as he speaks.]

I was born in an elven city. Evereska, I think? An only child. My parents are a blur. Except the look that my mother gave me when I told her that I was leaving to live among the humans. Before I had my true name. I—didn't want to be treated as a child anymore.

[Having spent more of his time studying magic than people, Gale nearly forgot about elves and their true names, something not given until they were already at the end of a human lifespan.

He lets Astarion trace his features, bringing his own arm to rest draped over the vampire's side.]

I cannot imagine you with a different name. Astarion suits you.

[He smirks to himself.]

Though 'Astarion Dekarios' does have a nice ring to it.

[That draws a smile from Astarion, pulling him from his past. He shifts closer, cupping Gale's cheek in his hand and leaning in for a soft kiss.]

I do like the sound of it. Letting you stake your claim on me. Being yours.

You're a person, not a possession, Astarion.

[He tilts his head just a smidge, ready to close that gap.]

I am, however, happy to leave my mark on you, as you have on me.

[He leans into that kiss, pulling Astarion as close as he can, wanting to feel the chill of his body against his own feverish warmth.]

[There's words Astarion could say about that, about being Gale's equal, his partner, but they're easily silenced by the soothing heat of his lips. Astarion will let himself be drawn in, hooking one leg over Gale's to press them both flush against one another. He hasn't forgotten Gale's promise to indulge him, to treat him, and the thought of Gale lavishing him with attention where Astarion can keep eyes on him is quite appealing.

But he's getting ahead of himself. For now, he has their kiss, his lips tilted against Gale's, his tongue slipping between them to catch that faint taste of sweat from Gale's fevered skin.]

[It's astoundingly easy for Gale to be swept up in Astarion's affection, in his kisses, his caresses, and even the way he entangles their legs together, allowing their frames to entwine as their lips do. His tongue chases Astarion's as his pulse picks up again, excitement careening through the bloodloss. He hasn't forgotten how he wanted to treat his hero tonight, either.

No kisses to his scars, and no massages, though. Gale can work within the stipulations. There are plenty of ways he hopes to show Astarion a good time.

He starts with the kisses, leaving them long and lingering, taking his time with them as he cups Astarion's face in his hands, letting his fingers brush the shell of his pointed ears. There's a touch of magic in his fingertips, the barest flicker of energy to entice the senses.]

[Oh. Astarion sucks in a quick breath against Gale's lips, his whole body shivering with the tingle of Gale's magic. He's not unaccustomed to lovers toying with his ears, the sensitivity of elven ears being a well known secret, but the magic in Gale's touch sends a warm frisson racing across his skin.

It's new, it's novel, and Astarion wants more. He runs a hand through Gale's hair, finding the shell of his ear to drag his fingers against it in reply. He's no wizard, but certainly Gale will understand the intention behind the gesture.]

[That breath from Astarion and the touch to his ear illuminate Gale, excite him - he gives Astarion one more kiss, pushing a hushed moan into it before he lets his lips trail down his cheek, to his neck. He stops there, intending to leave a mark or two.

As he does, his hand slides down as well, fingers raking along Astarion's ribs and the lithe muscle that lines them. They can't get any closer, and yet Gale pulls him still, his heart thrumming in his chest as he whispers Astarion's name into his skin.]

[It's an interesting turn for Astarion to be the one to stretch his neck in offering, but not an unwelcome one. Gale's lips are hot like a brand against his skin, and he wants to be marked. He offers a soft sigh in answer to Gale's moans, the whisper of his name. His fingers trace up the line of his lover's spine, indulging in the soft divots of his flesh.]

You are exquisite, love.

[Gale laughs, a low, dry chuckle breathed into Astarion's neck.]

I'm exquisite? Astarion...

[He nestles against Astarion's throat, heat radiating off his face as he arches into that touch at his back.]

You are... a marvel beyond description. A wonder I could have never imagined having in my life.

[Pulling his fingers along Astarion's side with a feather-light touch, he brings his hand to the vampire's front, feeling his abdomen, his chest, as though memorizing his bones and imperfections through touch alone.]

You took back your freedom, denied temptation when the power you sought was literally within your grasp. You've helped me see a future that when this adventure began, I didn't believe I'd live to see - certainly not with someone by my side.

[His hand slides around Astarion to the small of his back, careful not to touch his scars.]

I'm almost convinced that if Bhaal himself had taken me, you'd have fought him without a second thought. There's no word in any language I know that suits you.

[So action will have to do. He goes back to working Astarion's neck, his teeth catching as he sucks a dark mark there.]

[Trust Gale to take a single word and turn it into verse. A breathless laugh draws from Astarion's throat as he curls his fingers against the nape of his lover's neck. Despite the distraction, Gale is doing quite well on making good on his promise to treat Astarion properly tonight. Each touch sparks a new warmth in him, each one feeding the embers that curl deep in his belly. He wants Gale's touch on him, always.]

I wouldn't say that, dearest. You seem to have found a fine assortment of suitable words.

[He can't argue with Gale's actions, though. He gives a low groan, letting Gale feel the way it reverberates in his throat.]

Do you want to show me what else that clever mouth of yours can do?

[Gale smiles against him.]

Gladly.

[He leaves the bruising marks on Astarion's neck, nudging the vampire to encourage him onto his back so he can lean over him. As Gale's lips travel downward, he leaves hot kisses along the way: on Astarion's collarbones, his sternum, his diaphragm. He stops briefly with his tongue at one nipple and a hand at the other, his fingers pressing, massaging the muscle there.]

[There's an amused huff of breath from Astarion as he moves to his back. Propped up on the pillows like this, their positions from earlier are completely reversed. It's comforting in a way he doesn't have much time to examine before Gale's lips become thoroughly distracting.

He lets his back arch into each touch, urging Gale on. His wizard is so lovely like this, bent to his work, the flush of his cheeks a warm contrast to the pale canvas of Astarion's skin.]

[Finally managing to pry himself from Astarion's torso, Gale moves further, past the contours of his abdomen to his trousers. Having well shucked his own by now, Gale does the same for Astarion's, albeit slowly. He sits on his knees, between Astarion's legs as he works them off his partner's hips, letting his nails drag against his pale skin on the way down.

He'll give Astarion a moment to remove one leg, then the other before he tosses them aside, his hands sliding along Astarion's thighs.]

[Though Astarion's arousal is more of a fickle thing than he'd like these days, Gale's touch, his words, and his gaze have done more than enough to rouse it in Astarion once more. He lifts his hips to aid in ridding himself of his pants, pushing at his smallclothes to see those gone as well. It's easy to stretch naked under Gale's attention, to let his thighs spread under the warm touch of Gale's hands. His heated gaze finds his lover's, one hand carding through his soft locks.]

I'm yours, dearest. I love you.

And I love you. Let me show you my devotion.

[Gale gives Astarion one more look as he slides one pale thigh over his shoulder, then the other, bringing his lips to the skin he finds there. He starts on the left: his kisses are gentle at first, more fervent as he moves inward, all the while keeping his hands massaging the outer muscles of Astarion's legs.

For a man who spends most of his time with books and away from the field of battle, his hands are surprisingly strong, calloused in a way most wizards' fingers might not be.]

[Astarion does love the touch of those hands. Each brush of rough callous over the pale skin of his thighs sends a spark racing straight to his cock. That's not to mention the hot trail left by Gale's lips. Astarion presses his heels against Gale's back to urge him on, his eyes never leaving the sight of Gale between his thighs.

If he could carve this moment into his memory for eternity, he would. If his heart could beat, it would surely be pounding in his chest. He's always been the one to fall to his knees in servicing others, the favor returned so rarely that something as simple as this clouds his mind with desire.]

Show me, my love. I want to see it all.

[With a devilish grin, Gale gives that thigh a nip, the smooth skin barely catching on his beard as he continues to trail kisses to Astarion's cock. He stops at the base first, pressing a kiss to the shaft before moving down to work his tongue on Astarion's balls. That mouth is good for more than talking, it seems.

Meanwhile, he drags his right hand down Astarion's thigh, his fingers — tingling with magic — digging in just enough to leave gentle marks.]

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