[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?
[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.]
[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.]
[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.]
[Oh, tending to Gale's beard was a brilliant idea for moments just like this. The gentle brush of it against the soft skin of Astarion's thighs draws a soft gasp from his lips. He won't soon forget the delicious pleasure of that new sensation. But of course, Gale's mouth isn't about to be outdone. His wizard has talented lips, indeed. Astarion lets his head fall back against the pillows with a soft moan, his nails dragging gently against Gale's scalp.]
[That moan and the nails dragging against his scalp serve as incredible encouragement, Gale drinking them in - gods, he could listen to Astarion talk to him like that for the rest of time. A quiet, confident laugh escapes him in reply, one that he lets rumble deeply in his throat so Astarion can feel it.
Gale smiles into his kisses as he works his way back up to Astarion's cock, his mouth pressing urgent, hot embraces up the length. He feels the heat of his own face, a searing in his stomach as his kisses last longer, press deeper the closer he gets to the head. To say he's finding plenty of enjoyment himself in treating Astarion would be an understatement, his excitement obvious.]
[Gods, has anyone ever lavished this sort of attention on Astarion's cock? Certainly not that he can recall. He finds himself drawing quicker breaths to let short, gasping moans draw from his lips. Hells, Gale hasn't even put the damn thing in his mouth and already he feels like he's coming undone. He twists against the bed, his thighs pressing into the hold of Gale's hands to keep from thrusting straight into his face.]
[Well, Astarion may have had a witty response to that, but it's lost to the ages due to the keening whine that the touch of Gale's beard draws from his lips. His whole body shudders with the sensation, fingers twisting tight in Gale's hair.]
Oh--fuck.
[That's not very eloquent, is it? No. Astarion swallows hard trying to pull himself back under control.]
[There's pain as Astarion's fingers twist in Gale's hair, but it's the kind that draws a sharp gasp from the wizard himself, the tug on his locks a sign of just how much his lover is enjoying himself.
His lover. He will never tire of that thought, either.]
And here I thought you were the expert in such delicate affairs.
[And with that last bit of teasing, he wraps his lips around Astarion's erection at last, his tongue dancing along the underside as he pulls in a breath.]
[There may have been more to say, but it's swallowed by a sweet moan from Astarion's lips as he finally feels the heat of Gale's mouth around him. The lingering fever from the potion only makes it burn hotter, leaving Astarion unable to restrain the short jerk of his hips as he thrusts into that welcome heat.]
Gale--
[His name is a prayer, a plea. Adoration and pure desire twisting together on Astarion's lips.]
[That sudden jerk almost catches Gale by surprise, his cock skimming the roof of his mouth, forcing him to swallow lest he choke; he adjusts quickly, holding Astarion's legs steady as he lavishes attention on his arousal, taking more of him in, letting his teeth drag its length.
He lets out a deep groan as he does, feeling his own arousal building, broiling in the pit of his abdomen. Grinding on the bed only helps a little: he wants so much more in that moment, testing his own patience.
Finally, he slips a hand inward, up Astarion's thigh and around his ass, Gale's thumb grazing his entrance.]
[That groan reverberates through the whole of Astarion's body. He's so used to putting on a show of enjoying himself, twisting the right way, faking his moans and sounds of pleasure. But the pleasure that Gale draws from him is something wholly different. It's not for show, not a performance. Astarion whimpers and presses his cheek into the pillow beneath him, putting his free hand to his mouth, biting at his knuckles as a sharp, pleading moan slips from his lips.]
[Everything Astarion does — the praise, the sounds, the way he's losing control of himself right beneath his hands — is an aphrodisiac in and of itself, all going right to Gale's groin. He wants to reiterate how he feels with words, to tell Astarion how incredible he's making him feel; however, that's nigh impossible when he's sucking on the vampire's cock as though his life depended on it.
A quick gesture for conjured lubricant, and Gale presses a finger into Astarion, gauging his reaction before adding another. His own hips jerk on the bed, needy; his head swims, though he's not sure if that's the fever or pure, unadulterated arousal getting to him.]
[If Astarion had a single thought beyond the overwhelming lust clouding his own thoughts, he certainly would be able to tell how much Gale's enjoying this just from the fervor of how his mouth and fingers work against Astarion's body. But as it is, his focus is utterly consumed by those points of contact. The press of Gale's finger into him sees him whining again, his nails dragging sharp points into the nape of Gale's neck to urge him on.]
[Those nails on his neck are going to leave marks in the morning, and Gale relishes that thought. Let him be marked with puncture bites and raw, red lines - let everyone see what they mean to one another.
He curls his fingers within Astarion, drawing circles within him as he loosens him. With one more hum to Astarion's cock, he finally releases him from his mouth, gasping for air as he mutters his lover's name under his breath and looks to his eyes. Though he can feel Astarion is with him, he needs to see it for himself - be sure that he's present, truly wanting.]
[The murmur of his name and the momentary reprieve from the heat of Gale's mouth draws Astarion's attention enough for him to look down to his lover. Although his eyes are hazy with desire, his mouth hanging partway open from where he's pressed his own fingers to his lips, he's present. His eyes shine as they meet Gale's gaze, a coy smile curling across his lips.]
[Gale meets Astarion's eyes and gives him a smile - lovesick, adoring, almost worshipful despite how disheveled he is. He just wanted to be sure.]
Hold tight.
[Removing his fingers, he aligns himself and presses into Astarion gently, carefully. With one hand holding onto one of Astarion's thighs, he braces himself against the bed with the other, his peppered locks falling in front of his face as he groans from the pressure.]
[Astarion can't help but put both his hands to those sweat-slicked auburn locks, brushing them away from Gale's face as he cradles it in his hands. His own curls are surely a mess but hells he couldn't care less. The only thing that matters now is the man in his arms, the heat of Gale pressing into him, the undeniable desire and blood that they share coursing through his veins.]
Gods—I love you. I love you. A thousand times over. You are a miracle.
[His voice is breathless, his body nearly forgetting to draw in air to make the words audible with the overwhelming pleasure that floods his senses. He braces himself with one heel digging into the bed, shivering as he waits for Gale to adjust.]
[Gale's heart feels as though it will beat its way out of his chest as he adjusts, then pushes in a little more. Sweat pours from him, the air filled with the smell of lust, musk mingling with words as he mutters a mixture of profanity and professions of love.
He steadies himself, pulling in another breath, then another as he starts rocking.]
Astarion, you feel... incredible.
[Tight around him, cool versus the burning heat of his skin, but incredible all the same. His fingers curl into the blanket beneath them as he pushes them both toward the edge, his rhythm steadily growing in speed and intensity.]
[Astarion's reply begins with a moan as his hips begin to roll in motion with Gale's. All the pent up desire, the need that he's kept at bay until now releases as he meets his lover in pitching ever faster.]
Haah, you—you're one to talk, dearest.
[He swallows against the raw emotion welling in his throat, clinging to Gale as he feels his own release drawing closer. There's nothing at all composed about the needy sounds spilling from his lips, his heated moans only adding to the symphony their bodies create together.]
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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?
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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.]
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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.]
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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.]
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I'm yours, dearest. I love you.
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[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.]
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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.
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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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Yes, love. Just like that.
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Gale smiles into his kisses as he works his way back up to Astarion's cock, his mouth pressing urgent, hot embraces up the length. He feels the heat of his own face, a searing in his stomach as his kisses last longer, press deeper the closer he gets to the head. To say he's finding plenty of enjoyment himself in treating Astarion would be an understatement, his excitement obvious.]
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Gods, Gale. Don't tease.
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Patience is a virtue, Astarion. I've waited a long while to treat you like this, and I intend to take my time.
[And as he says that, he drags the side of his face and jaw along Astarion's cock letting him feel the beard there, too.]
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Oh--fuck.
[That's not very eloquent, is it? No. Astarion swallows hard trying to pull himself back under control.]
Take your time--like that--and I may not last.
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His lover. He will never tire of that thought, either.]
And here I thought you were the expert in such delicate affairs.
[And with that last bit of teasing, he wraps his lips around Astarion's erection at last, his tongue dancing along the underside as he pulls in a breath.]
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[There may have been more to say, but it's swallowed by a sweet moan from Astarion's lips as he finally feels the heat of Gale's mouth around him. The lingering fever from the potion only makes it burn hotter, leaving Astarion unable to restrain the short jerk of his hips as he thrusts into that welcome heat.]
Gale--
[His name is a prayer, a plea. Adoration and pure desire twisting together on Astarion's lips.]
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He lets out a deep groan as he does, feeling his own arousal building, broiling in the pit of his abdomen. Grinding on the bed only helps a little: he wants so much more in that moment, testing his own patience.
Finally, he slips a hand inward, up Astarion's thigh and around his ass, Gale's thumb grazing his entrance.]
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Gale, gods, you--you're perfect, you're everything--hnngh.
[Words fail him again as his hips jerk at the touch to his ass, his entrance. He spreads his legs wider, inviting Gale in, asking for more.]
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A quick gesture for conjured lubricant, and Gale presses a finger into Astarion, gauging his reaction before adding another. His own hips jerk on the bed, needy; his head swims, though he's not sure if that's the fever or pure, unadulterated arousal getting to him.]
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Yes, oh. Fuck, darling. Yes, please. Please.
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He curls his fingers within Astarion, drawing circles within him as he loosens him. With one more hum to Astarion's cock, he finally releases him from his mouth, gasping for air as he mutters his lover's name under his breath and looks to his eyes. Though he can feel Astarion is with him, he needs to see it for himself - be sure that he's present, truly wanting.]
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Gale. Dearest—I'm quite ready for you.
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Hold tight.
[Removing his fingers, he aligns himself and presses into Astarion gently, carefully. With one hand holding onto one of Astarion's thighs, he braces himself against the bed with the other, his peppered locks falling in front of his face as he groans from the pressure.]
Gods...
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Gods—I love you. I love you. A thousand times over. You are a miracle.
[His voice is breathless, his body nearly forgetting to draw in air to make the words audible with the overwhelming pleasure that floods his senses. He braces himself with one heel digging into the bed, shivering as he waits for Gale to adjust.]
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He steadies himself, pulling in another breath, then another as he starts rocking.]
Astarion, you feel... incredible.
[Tight around him, cool versus the burning heat of his skin, but incredible all the same. His fingers curl into the blanket beneath them as he pushes them both toward the edge, his rhythm steadily growing in speed and intensity.]
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Haah, you—you're one to talk, dearest.
[He swallows against the raw emotion welling in his throat, clinging to Gale as he feels his own release drawing closer. There's nothing at all composed about the needy sounds spilling from his lips, his heated moans only adding to the symphony their bodies create together.]
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