mystracal | 🔮 exsanguinated (with @sangwhine)

Consider it a compliment, love--

[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.]

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.]

[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.]

Yes, oh. Fuck, darling. Yes, please. Please.

[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. Dearest—I'm quite ready for you.

[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.]

Gods...

[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.]

Edited 2024-01-27 12:51 (UTC)

[Gale is one to talk — literally as well as figuratively — and might be doing more were he not already panting between thrusts, groaning and gasping as he feels the heat in him boiling over. He stiffens in Astarion's grasp as ecstasy overtakes him, running down his spine and into his abdomen as he feels his release; his teeth grind together as his hips spasm weakly, chasing that feeling as he rides it out.

He keeps rocking within Astarion as he comes down, sweat dripping from his locks and limbs, clinging to the strands of his chest hair - he lets go of the vampire's thigh, bracing himself on his forearms as he rests. Despite how dizzy he is, he wants to hold onto that feeling of being inside his lover for just another moment.]

[The heat of Gale spending inside him is enough to push Astarion over the edge as well. He comes with a jerk of his hips, painting across both their bodies. Yet while Gale continues to rock within him, the emotion from before wells up in him again.

He can't push it down, too worn out to hide it. The corners of his eyes sting as a choked sob escapes from his lips. Suddenly it's wrong. It's all wrong. He claps a hand over his mouth, the other still clinging to Gale as tears fall across his cheeks.]

[Lightheaded, feverish, and exhausted as he is, Gale doesn't miss the sound that escapes Astarion, not at all one he expected to hear.]

Astarion?

[He pulls out quickly, but carefully, making no effort to move from Astarion's grasp; bracing on his knees and one hand, the other cups Astarion's face, trying to draw his gaze. His immediate inclination is to apologize, to assume fault; however, he knows well enough otherwise. Old wounds don't heal that easily, especially ones as deep as those Cazador left upon his spawn.

And so, he does his best to ground his partner in the here and now, to comfort him when he needs it most.]

[Astarion gives a muffled cry into his palm. His eyes squeeze shut rather than meeting Gale's gaze, as if that could somehow stem the flow of tears. Yet the touch of Gale's hands to his face, the heat of a body over his is a reminder. His free hand drags blindly over Gale's arm, his back, pulling him in. His head bows and presses to the warmth of Gale's chest even as his body shakes.]

[Not moving even an inch away from Astarion, Gale eases onto his side, his heart thudding heavily in his chest with both worry and weariness. The orb still glows between them as he pulls his partner closer, one hand weaving through his silver hair as he rests his head atop Astarion's, the other resting in the small of his back.]

You're here with me, Astarion. Nowhere else. I have you.

[Astarion gives a hitched breath in reply. The hand at his mouth moves, pressing to the hair and soft skin of Gale's chest over his heart. He can feel the beat of it as well as he can hear it. And for all that it races, it gives Astarion something to pin his focus to. He breathes with the rhythm of Gale's worried pulse until he can make his throat work again, swallowing past the wet sound of his own tears.]

I--it's not that, dear.

Then what is it?

[He looks down to Astarion at his chest, though he's afraid to pull away in the slightest, as though the vampire would vanish if he let him go.]

Tell me.

[Astarion draws another unsteady breath as he shakes his head, rubbing at the tear tracks down his face with the heel of his hands.]

I--I don't know. One moment it was--it was wonderful. Truly. But as soon as I crested the peak of it, I--fell. And I couldn't stop falling.

[Guilt crosses Gale, tugs at the corners of his mouth as it throbs in his veins. It's not his fault, he tries to remind himself - this isn't about him.

And yet, he can't help feeling as though he pushed Astarion too far, made too many demands. He shouldn't have asked Astarion to turn over, shouldn't have mentioned the scars at all, shouldn't have—

He pulls Astarion to him tighter, forcing his mind onto his partner. He lets that focus — difficult as it is, his head swimming — keep him present, where he's needed.]

Will you be all right?

[Astarion doesn't shy away from being held. If anything, he seems to crave it. He puts his arms around Gale, finally lifting his head to meet his lover's gaze, his eyes bloodshot from the tears.]

I hope.

[He swallows, brow furrowed as he starts to see the guilt across Gale's features.]

Dearest, it isn't you. You--you were wonderful.

I know. I... I know.

[He presses his forehead to Astarion's, letting the coolness of his skin help temper his fever as the doubt creeps up his neck. He's going to ruin this by pushing too hard, just like before. When will he learn to do otherwise?

He chides himself inwardly. Astarion isn't like Mystra, and he'd be appalled by any amount of comparison, no matter how bare and hypothetical. He turns to levity, hoping it will help.]

As were you. But you're well aware of that, I'm sure.

Well aware, yes.

[The words lack Astarion's usual playful lilt, the subtle flirtation that usually undercuts most things he says. He swallows again as he presses his forehead to Gale's, finding comfort in the familiar gesture. He's still disquieted by the turn of events. His mind is here, his body is here, but every emotion has been swallowed by a gaping maw of emptiness. He doesn't feel himself anymore, and it grips his heart with fear. What if it never returns?

No, he won't let that be. He's free now, he has Gale, and that's worth everything. His lips purse into a tight line, one hand finding Gale's to hold tight to him like an anchor.]

Could I--would you be willing to open yourself to me, darling? Your mind, I mean.

[It's no secret that for as much as he wears his heart on his sleeve, Gale keeps his mind well-guarded. He'd been the only one of their companions to reveal his past via the tadpole purposefully rather than accidentally, his training as a wizard allowing him a greater degree of control over the side effects of the worm than most; when he has slipped, it's been either in private or in Astarion's company, and only for a moment.

There is no one he trusts more with his mind, save for Tara. He nods, giving Astarion's hand a squeeze.]

Of course. I would do anything for you.

[He closes his eyes, his thoughts unfolding. Though he tries to stifle his guilt, some of it remains at the top of his mind, right next to the worry and concern he feels for Astarion.]

[Astarion is far less experienced with keeping his mind in check, his own tadpole sometimes latching onto any strong emotion and projecting it for all to see. He's gotten better at it over time, of course, but it does make it easier in a moment like this to simply reach for Gale's mind and latch onto it.

Gale's guilt is something he quickly pushes away, tamping it down to silence it as much as he can. But as for the rest, he presses, as though searching. Filtering through Gale's worry and concern for something more, something comforting. His own mind, wide open to Gale now, seems filled with a dysphoric void more than anything else. Not unlike the orb in Gale's chest, it is a hungry darkness, consuming any fleeting happy thought Astarion might have. He's afraid of it. He wants it gone, but he's never felt this sort of emptiness before and he doesn't know how to quiet it.]

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