[Astarion gives a huff, running his fingers through Gale's hair and shifting to peer into the tub—without dislodging Gale's fingers, that is. He is going to perceive you, Gale Dekarios. Every bit of you.]
You haven't brought a premature end to our little play, have you?
[Gods, he's embarrassed. He takes another deep breath as his heart thuds away in his chest, all too reminded about how painfully human he is compared to his beautiful, perfect fiancé. And now look, he's gone and ruined the mood.
That painful throbbing from his cock keeps him from going too far down that rabbit hole. His hands tremble - including the one in Astarion - as he refocuses.]
[It may be a tremor born of nerves but the twitch of Gale's touch inside him makes Astarion shiver all the same. He knows the perfect way to deal with this little situation. If Gale's so aroused from Astarion's rough treatment, why not share it?
With a reluctant sigh, he shifts again, hooking his fingers in Gale's collar and leaning back in one fluid motion. His legs spread wide in offering, one ankle hooking over his lover's shoulder.]
Well then, you've been a good pup. Claim your reward.
[He emphasizes the offer with a sharp tug to the collar. Better get up here, Gale.]
[Oh, get up there he does - Gale eyes that ankle over his shoulder in near-disbelief before he slides into place between Astarion's legs, grateful his awkward moment was brushed past for the time being. He'll make it up to Astarion, surely.
He starts by leaning over his lover, allowing his erection to press against him as he lays some aggressive kisses onto his collarbone, Gale's lips trailing upward toward the bite marks on Astarion's neck as he positions himself below. Despite his mouth being busy, words slip through.]
You'll have to forgive my eagerness, I- gods, I've wanted you all night.
[Astarion leans back easily, moving his hands to tangle in Gale's damp hair. The illusory grass tickles at his back, the conjured sunlight warm against their skin, backlighting Gale's ardent expression in a way that's poetic in its beauty. He's almost tempted to draw attention to it, to see if he can darken the flush on his lover's cheeks, but Gale's touch has his mind elsewhere.
Indulgent, Astarion arches his back to press his own erection against Gale's with a low moan. His grip tightens to tug at the wizard's hair, guiding his lips up the line of Astarion's outstretched neck to his jaw. His voice is breathless and wanting, a harmony in reply to Gale's own words.]
All night, hm? And just where did the night begin, my pet? How long have I held your mind captive with the thought of showing me the pleasure that sweet cock of yours can bring?
[Gale lets their cocks press together a moment longer, breathing a confession into Astarion's skin.]
I might have had impure thoughts of you at the dinner table. And on the walk over, in the alley.
[Another kiss as he slips a hand between them, lining himself up to press into Astarion; despite the position they're in, he averts his eyes and reddens even more at some private thought, color seeping into his shoulders from his neck.]
[Astarion groans at the first hot press of Gale's cock into his body. Even though he's had it more frequently as of late, it's still a marvel every time. The thick heat radiating inside of him, the sharp scent of Gale's arousal flooding his senses, and knowing that Gale desires him because he's loved, because he's wanted and needed, is near overwhelming. He nearly forgets himself, clinging tightly to Gale's hair, his heels dragging over Gale's lower back to urge him on.
His eyes open to the sunlight above. He can't remember when he closed them, but the sight is blurred now with tears at the edges of his vision and a pleading moan drawing from his throat. There might have been some quip on his lips, some flirtation over how Gale could think of him like this at the dinner table, in the presence of Tara and his own mother, but it's long forgotten. Instead, he draws a breath to push words out, his voice thick with lust.]
[Gale wants to explain himself - of course he does - but there is not a coherent thought in his head once Astarion moans beneath him. He grunts in tandem as he presses inward; his partner is tight, something Gale will chide himself for later.
Another groan, one that reverberates in his throat; he leans over Astarion, one hand coming to rest on the leg thrown over his shoulder. His entire frame trembles as he rocks, encouraged by the heels against this back. He should have allowed them more time for foreplay, he thinks, should have—]
Were that true, I—
[He's cut off by a sharp exhale, one that interrupts both his internal voice and spoken word. His fingers curl, locks of chestnut hair falling across his face. Despite his heady tone, bleary eyes, and foreplay-ruining eagerness, he stills, waiting, making sure the stretch isn't too much for Astarion.]
[No, none of that. Astarion jerks Gale's gaze towards him by the white knuckled grip on his hair. A distant part of him knows what the rough treatment will do to Gale but that's rather the point of it.]
It is true, you daft little animal. Now—you have waited, haven't you? Give me your desperation. Fuck me for every heartbeat that I've kept you waiting.
[He emphasizes the words with a sharp roll of his hips, driving Gale's cock deeper. His breath catches, back arched with a hungry moan as the motion drives against his own sweet spot.]
[That grip to his hair draws Gale's focus; his eyes settle back on Astarion as a sharp grin does the same on his lips. The pressure around his cock as Astarion rocks against him makes his breath hitch in his throat, words tumbling from him before he can catch them.]
Gods, what would I do without you.
[He sucks in a breath through his teeth. No longer concerned about anything else — not the awkwardness he created, not what Mystra would think of his desire for degradation, not even the lingering anxiety he feels regarding their future together — Gale finds his rhythm, his confidence rising along with it. He lets sensation overwhelm him, lets it wash away the steady stream of thought that normally crowds his every waking moment; there's only the two of them now, himself and the lover to whom he's given himself entirely.
They belong together, and gods, does he like that.
Gale does as he's told and presses harder, faster, rougher than he might normally be, his fingers curling, eyes squeezed shut as he buries his face in Astarion's shoulder. Astarion wanted his desperation, and he shall have it.]
[And Gale's desperation is delicious. Every thrust, every ragged breath against his skin leaves Astarion wanting. He keeps his grip held tight in Gale's hair, his body rising to meet Gale's eager tempo. The heel of the foot not flung over Gale's back digs into arcane grass and dirt for leverage so he can open himself wider, allow Gale even deeper inside him.
It's a cacophony of sensation, but through Gale he's learned to feel the sweet melody of it once again. But only for Gale. Only for this sweet, desperate man. His lover, his intended, the man who knows his entire heart and wants him all the same. Astarion lets out a low, needy moan, words lost on his tongue as he presses his nose and lips to the damp of Gale's temple, wanting more, urging him on.]
[Color blossoms all around them, both in the sky and among the illusory grass. Gem-like flowers crystallize from the taller stems, their petals as translucent as tinted glass, their facets glittering in the sun's rays; they mirror the stars still visible in the clouds of dawn, flickering lights peering through their vibrant hues.
Though the conjured world around them remains serene, a tempest builds in Gale as he loses himself in Astarion, in the irrepressible want and need. Words tumble from his lips as it swallows him whole: Astarion's name a half-dozen times, gentle whispers of adoration, sweet promises he would keep could he remember them through the haze of desire.]
Please—
[He murmurs, pleading, struggling to hold on as his body tenses and stills; he was so close already, and every second he has Astarion wrapped around him feels like wonderful agony.]
[Gale may be halting himself, wanting this to last, but Astarion is absolutely of a very different opinion. The moment Gale stills over him, a rough moan pulls from his throat. His eyes snap open to the faceted rainbow light dancing over his lover's skin, blinking a moment before he can even properly orient himself. There's a beat, a breath, a panting whine on his lips as he's left wanting more before a moment of clarity strikes him through the haze of arousal.
His impertinent, disobedient pup.
His nails drag hard down the length of Gale's neck to jerk at his collar, dragging Gale's face up to press their foreheads together.]
You—dog. You scoundrel, you mongrel. Did I say you could halt?You could—you could stop?
[His eyes flash bright and intense, an inferno of passion burning behind their ruby light. The hand at Gale's collar moves to clench his chin and jaw, nails digging in hard enough to break skin, blood welling up beneath them.]
Fuck. Me. I'll have your cum inside me when I desire it, and I want it now.
[Gale's blood - hot as his breath, laced with the same magic coursing through his veins - pools beneath Astarion's nails as the wizard nods gently in his grasp, his hazel eyes as cloudy as Astarion's are fierce, demanding. He stiffens, struggling to move as his natural instinct - to maintain this moment, allowing it to last as long as possible - conflicts with the commands of his lover, the man who owns him body and soul. The heat between them is intoxicating, the scratches along his neck poisoning him with a desperate lust.
He nods again, murmuring.]
Anything- anything for you.
[Exhaling a heavy, husky groan, Gale begins rocking again, his breaths coming quicker with every thrust of his hips, the orb aglow in his chest despite its presumed dormancy. His voice returns, a distraction to keep him going.]
Let me worship you, Astarion. Let me —[another groan, one he swallows visibly, his throat bobbing from the effort]— let me throw myself upon your altar. Let me—
[Gale grinds his teeth as he reaches his own release, stars the same color as the morning sky forming before his eyes, but still he continues moving, pressing into Astarion for as long as he's able. It's only when he's truly exhausted, sweat slicking his skin, moisture dripping from his nose and beard, that he finally slows, his entire frame trembling; around them, he struggles to maintain the illusion, the conjured world unfocused and dotted with color.
He can't stop, though - not until he's told to do so. Either that will be the end of this play of theirs, or this night might be the end of him.]
[This, this is what he wanted. What they both craved. Utterly hedonistic debauchery, Gale filling him like a torrent, a lance of heat and desire warm inside him. Astarion groans with the sensation, still chasing his own release. It's just out of reach, despite Gale's ardent attention it's not quite enough, not yet. His eyes open to the haze of the illusion around them, blinking a moment before he realizes it's not just his own unfocused gaze but Gale who's let the illusion around them falter.
He turns to his lover in a wordless question, and what he sees there makes him still. It's not just the strain on Gale's face, the urge to keep going, to push beyond his own limits. No, it's the sickly purple glow the damn orb still lodged in his chest casts over the whole thing. Astarion swallows, grasping Gale's face between his hands. A stark contrast to only moments before, he digs his heels in, urging the man to slow, to be still. His own body rebels against his, hips stuttering as he tries to chase his own pleasure but there are, perhaps, things more important than that in this moment.]
Gale—darling, Gale. Dearest, my love—that's enough. It's enough.
[Gale bows his head in momentary frustration before lifting his gaze to meet Astarion's eyes; his limbs quake, barely able to hold him up. For as much as he's enjoyed all this — the exploration of their desires, them finding the safety to indulge in such fantasies with one another — he can't help that feeling that he's failed his lover. His chest heaves, his lungs desperate for air, but Gale is even desperate so for something else, something he can't quite name.]
But...
[The mark of the orb burns sharply in his chest, as though the foul magic feels his dissatisfaction with himself. It feeds upon that anguished ambition for what he could — what he feels he should — provide for his partner.
He shakes his head; it's more taxing than it ought to be. He can see Astarion isn't finished yet.]
It's not enough. I said that- I would treat you, that I would- I would do anything. After all you —[he swallows hard again, a bead of sweat running along the contours of his neck]— went through tonight, you deserve so much more.
It's enough—[ Astarion's voice betrays him, hitching with his own unfulfilled desire. But he's done this enough times to keep his wits about him in the throes of passion, and he knows well enough how his own pleasure can be such a fickle thing these days.
He presses his foot to the ground, more tile than grass now, to give himself leverage so that he can free Gale's cock where it's still nestled within him. Even if he has to bite back the guttural, needy sound at the back of his throat at how heady it feels having Gale's come drip from his well used hole, that doesn't matter.]
You daft—creature. Look at me, Gale. Look.
[He pants a moment, catching his own breath, his hands never leaving Gale's face.]
You have fucked me as well and hard as I've asked for. You—put a godsdamned collar around your neck, conjured the sun, and you think it's a lacking display?
[He hears that needy sound, can see the lack of release; even as he looks into Astarion's eyes, Gale has to fight that rising sense of disappointment that has decided to rear its ugly head at an unfortunate time. Even with the bright life ahead of them — they have his family's approval, each other, a home and future unburdened by the threat of the Netherbrain — Gale can't help but feel at times that he will never be enough.
The orb pulses unsteadily. He pulls in a deep breath, hoping to settle the ache in his chest, and leans into Astarion's hands. Gale has long suffered this distorted sense of self-worth, and excited as he is to be wed to Astarion, he knows he can't let his insecurity get in the way of their relationship. He cannot let perfection be the enemy of progress, not when they've come so far already. He wants to be who Astarion needs him to be, wants to prove himself capable and worthy just as he'd wanted for—
He swallows hard for a third time, forcing himself to trust Astarion's agency in this. The vampire wants who he wants: Gale, as he is - not as a god, but as a mortal with all the fallibility that comes with the territory. He doesn't have to prove anything more. He is enough, even if he struggles to believe it from time to time.
The throbbing in his chest subsides as the illusion clears; the collar remains around his neck, a sign of his need for someone to rein him in, to not let his mind wander into the infinite possibilities of the unknown. They can indulge in this fantasy another night, he tells himself. After the evening they had, perhaps what they need most is each other right now.
He leans back onto his knees, his limbs protesting.]
I'm glad I trusted you with my entirety. Perhaps I lost myself to our roles, or... maybe, even now, my nature is to destroy myself for the sake of love. To think I know what my lover wants rather than to listen to them.
[Astarion can see that conflict as it plays out behind Gale's eyes. He knows full well the doubt his lover must be feeling, the deep seated fear of being broken, of being not enough. He's felt it as well far too many times. The similar hurt that has left its scars on both of them. That's how he knows to leave Gale his time, to let his thoughts draw back to the present as the illusion fades. Only then does Astarion thread his hand through his lover's hair, levering himself up to press a kiss to Gale's damp forehead.]
Some—wise man once told me that together we find the boundaries of our comfort, our needs. Perhaps we've found one of yours, dearest.
[He drops his hand from Gale's hair to seek his wrist, slender fingers closing around it as he tugs Gale's touch to the line of his thigh, his hip.]
But for now—maybe your deft hands? Or that clever tongue of yours, hm?
[A rueful chuckle escapes Gale, just a single laugh pushed out with a heavy breath. Wise words indeed - maybe he should listen to them, for a change. As the thrum in his chest calms, he lets his hand be guided, his fingers sliding into position along Astarion's hip.]
Both, I think.
[He takes a moment to center himself, breathing Astarion in before indulging in a quick kiss to Astarion's shoulder. Another moment passes before he decides what he'd like to do.]
Here.
[With his fingers pressing against Astarion's skin to encourage him to follow, he slips back into the basin, sitting on the edge, letting the water reach up to his chest as he rests his back against the wall.]
Put your back to me. Let me hold you, if you would.
[He knows how Astarion feels about his back, but hopes wrapping his arms around him will ease some of the discomfort.]
[Ah, there's his Gale What a relief. It's strange the way it warms him from the inside out to see Gale settle into himself again. It's not arousal, not lust, but rather a simple and unadulterated adoration that wells inside him. He loves this man, and all the more when Gale has his confidence, the wry little quirk of his smile.
He slips forward with Gale's urging, sliding forward with him until he slips into the water. There is a brief beat of hesitation with his back turned to Gale, but with all they've shared in this evening alone it's simple enough to press through it. He turns just at the last moment to catch Gale's lips in a kiss before turning to nuzzle against the line of his jaw.]
[Gale accepts that kiss, his smile widening as Astarion puts his back to his chest; he wraps his arms around his partner, his beard brushing against Astarion's shoulder, then the crook of his neck as he presses another kiss there. This feels comfortable, familiar: not necessarily adventurous, but perhaps they've had enough adventure for one evening. They've spent hours in uncharted territory at this point.
He lets one arm settle around Astarion's middle, the other resting along the vampire's thigh. He'll get back to work in a minute - for now, he's enjoying the change in position.]
Perhaps I should have opened with this. I do rather enjoy it.
[The kisses and the brush of Gale's beard over his skin leaves a pleasant shiver running down Astarion's spine. His arousal has yet to fully flag, and his lover's touch only serves to keep it alive, smoldering. He breathes a laugh, bringing his hands to rest on Gale's arms, gently urging the wizard's touch to where he wants it the most.]
Having me in your arms, is it? I can certainly see the appeal.
[He follows Astarion's touch, letting his hands be guided along his frame. Astarion may have his back to him, but Gale wants him to still feel that he has some level of control, as he always does over Gale. After all, Gale meant what he said: he'd do terrible things if Astarion asked, all for his love, and he knows it.
But something so gentle, something so sweet? He vastly prefers these moments, cherishes them more than he can say. His fingers press into Astarion's thigh, massaging the muscle as he speaks a confession into his shoulder.]
Knowing that, despite my failures and missteps, you'd stay so near.
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I just didn't expect to be so —[he swallows hard, taking a breath]— egregiously aroused by this. I did, of course, but...
[He lets his head fall. Don't look at him, Astarion. Don't perceive him like this.]
I was hoping to keep pace with you.
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You haven't brought a premature end to our little play, have you?
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[Gods, he's embarrassed. He takes another deep breath as his heart thuds away in his chest, all too reminded about how painfully human he is compared to his beautiful, perfect fiancé. And now look, he's gone and ruined the mood.
That painful throbbing from his cock keeps him from going too far down that rabbit hole. His hands tremble - including the one in Astarion - as he refocuses.]
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With a reluctant sigh, he shifts again, hooking his fingers in Gale's collar and leaning back in one fluid motion. His legs spread wide in offering, one ankle hooking over his lover's shoulder.]
Well then, you've been a good pup. Claim your reward.
[He emphasizes the offer with a sharp tug to the collar. Better get up here, Gale.]
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He starts by leaning over his lover, allowing his erection to press against him as he lays some aggressive kisses onto his collarbone, Gale's lips trailing upward toward the bite marks on Astarion's neck as he positions himself below. Despite his mouth being busy, words slip through.]
You'll have to forgive my eagerness, I- gods, I've wanted you all night.
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Indulgent, Astarion arches his back to press his own erection against Gale's with a low moan. His grip tightens to tug at the wizard's hair, guiding his lips up the line of Astarion's outstretched neck to his jaw. His voice is breathless and wanting, a harmony in reply to Gale's own words.]
All night, hm? And just where did the night begin, my pet? How long have I held your mind captive with the thought of showing me the pleasure that sweet cock of yours can bring?
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[Gale lets their cocks press together a moment longer, breathing a confession into Astarion's skin.]
I might have had impure thoughts of you at the dinner table. And on the walk over, in the alley.
[Another kiss as he slips a hand between them, lining himself up to press into Astarion; despite the position they're in, he averts his eyes and reddens even more at some private thought, color seeping into his shoulders from his neck.]
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His eyes open to the sunlight above. He can't remember when he closed them, but the sight is blurred now with tears at the edges of his vision and a pleading moan drawing from his throat. There might have been some quip on his lips, some flirtation over how Gale could think of him like this at the dinner table, in the presence of Tara and his own mother, but it's long forgotten. Instead, he draws a breath to push words out, his voice thick with lust.]
Gods—every time, you are perfection.
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Another groan, one that reverberates in his throat; he leans over Astarion, one hand coming to rest on the leg thrown over his shoulder. His entire frame trembles as he rocks, encouraged by the heels against this back. He should have allowed them more time for foreplay, he thinks, should have—]
Were that true, I—
[He's cut off by a sharp exhale, one that interrupts both his internal voice and spoken word. His fingers curl, locks of chestnut hair falling across his face. Despite his heady tone, bleary eyes, and foreplay-ruining eagerness, he stills, waiting, making sure the stretch isn't too much for Astarion.]
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It is true, you daft little animal. Now—you have waited, haven't you? Give me your desperation. Fuck me for every heartbeat that I've kept you waiting.
[He emphasizes the words with a sharp roll of his hips, driving Gale's cock deeper. His breath catches, back arched with a hungry moan as the motion drives against his own sweet spot.]
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Gods, what would I do without you.
[He sucks in a breath through his teeth. No longer concerned about anything else — not the awkwardness he created, not what Mystra would think of his desire for degradation, not even the lingering anxiety he feels regarding their future together — Gale finds his rhythm, his confidence rising along with it. He lets sensation overwhelm him, lets it wash away the steady stream of thought that normally crowds his every waking moment; there's only the two of them now, himself and the lover to whom he's given himself entirely.
They belong together, and gods, does he like that.
Gale does as he's told and presses harder, faster, rougher than he might normally be, his fingers curling, eyes squeezed shut as he buries his face in Astarion's shoulder. Astarion wanted his desperation, and he shall have it.]
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It's a cacophony of sensation, but through Gale he's learned to feel the sweet melody of it once again. But only for Gale. Only for this sweet, desperate man. His lover, his intended, the man who knows his entire heart and wants him all the same. Astarion lets out a low, needy moan, words lost on his tongue as he presses his nose and lips to the damp of Gale's temple, wanting more, urging him on.]
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Though the conjured world around them remains serene, a tempest builds in Gale as he loses himself in Astarion, in the irrepressible want and need. Words tumble from his lips as it swallows him whole: Astarion's name a half-dozen times, gentle whispers of adoration, sweet promises he would keep could he remember them through the haze of desire.]
Please—
[He murmurs, pleading, struggling to hold on as his body tenses and stills; he was so close already, and every second he has Astarion wrapped around him feels like wonderful agony.]
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His impertinent, disobedient pup.
His nails drag hard down the length of Gale's neck to jerk at his collar, dragging Gale's face up to press their foreheads together.]
You—dog. You scoundrel, you mongrel. Did I say you could halt?You could—you could stop?
[His eyes flash bright and intense, an inferno of passion burning behind their ruby light. The hand at Gale's collar moves to clench his chin and jaw, nails digging in hard enough to break skin, blood welling up beneath them.]
Fuck. Me. I'll have your cum inside me when I desire it, and I want it now.
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He nods again, murmuring.]
Anything- anything for you.
[Exhaling a heavy, husky groan, Gale begins rocking again, his breaths coming quicker with every thrust of his hips, the orb aglow in his chest despite its presumed dormancy. His voice returns, a distraction to keep him going.]
Let me worship you, Astarion. Let me —[another groan, one he swallows visibly, his throat bobbing from the effort]— let me throw myself upon your altar. Let me—
[Gale grinds his teeth as he reaches his own release, stars the same color as the morning sky forming before his eyes, but still he continues moving, pressing into Astarion for as long as he's able. It's only when he's truly exhausted, sweat slicking his skin, moisture dripping from his nose and beard, that he finally slows, his entire frame trembling; around them, he struggles to maintain the illusion, the conjured world unfocused and dotted with color.
He can't stop, though - not until he's told to do so. Either that will be the end of this play of theirs, or this night might be the end of him.]
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He turns to his lover in a wordless question, and what he sees there makes him still. It's not just the strain on Gale's face, the urge to keep going, to push beyond his own limits. No, it's the sickly purple glow the damn orb still lodged in his chest casts over the whole thing. Astarion swallows, grasping Gale's face between his hands. A stark contrast to only moments before, he digs his heels in, urging the man to slow, to be still. His own body rebels against his, hips stuttering as he tries to chase his own pleasure but there are, perhaps, things more important than that in this moment.]
Gale—darling, Gale. Dearest, my love—that's enough. It's enough.
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But...
[The mark of the orb burns sharply in his chest, as though the foul magic feels his dissatisfaction with himself. It feeds upon that anguished ambition for what he could — what he feels he should — provide for his partner.
He shakes his head; it's more taxing than it ought to be. He can see Astarion isn't finished yet.]
It's not enough. I said that- I would treat you, that I would- I would do anything. After all you —[he swallows hard again, a bead of sweat running along the contours of his neck]— went through tonight, you deserve so much more.
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He presses his foot to the ground, more tile than grass now, to give himself leverage so that he can free Gale's cock where it's still nestled within him. Even if he has to bite back the guttural, needy sound at the back of his throat at how heady it feels having Gale's come drip from his well used hole, that doesn't matter.]
You daft—creature. Look at me, Gale. Look.
[He pants a moment, catching his own breath, his hands never leaving Gale's face.]
You have fucked me as well and hard as I've asked for. You—put a godsdamned collar around your neck, conjured the sun, and you think it's a lacking display?
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The orb pulses unsteadily. He pulls in a deep breath, hoping to settle the ache in his chest, and leans into Astarion's hands. Gale has long suffered this distorted sense of self-worth, and excited as he is to be wed to Astarion, he knows he can't let his insecurity get in the way of their relationship. He cannot let perfection be the enemy of progress, not when they've come so far already. He wants to be who Astarion needs him to be, wants to prove himself capable and worthy just as he'd wanted for—
He swallows hard for a third time, forcing himself to trust Astarion's agency in this. The vampire wants who he wants: Gale, as he is - not as a god, but as a mortal with all the fallibility that comes with the territory. He doesn't have to prove anything more. He is enough, even if he struggles to believe it from time to time.
The throbbing in his chest subsides as the illusion clears; the collar remains around his neck, a sign of his need for someone to rein him in, to not let his mind wander into the infinite possibilities of the unknown. They can indulge in this fantasy another night, he tells himself. After the evening they had, perhaps what they need most is each other right now.
He leans back onto his knees, his limbs protesting.]
I'm glad I trusted you with my entirety. Perhaps I lost myself to our roles, or... maybe, even now, my nature is to destroy myself for the sake of love. To think I know what my lover wants rather than to listen to them.
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Some—wise man once told me that together we find the boundaries of our comfort, our needs. Perhaps we've found one of yours, dearest.
[He drops his hand from Gale's hair to seek his wrist, slender fingers closing around it as he tugs Gale's touch to the line of his thigh, his hip.]
But for now—maybe your deft hands? Or that clever tongue of yours, hm?
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Both, I think.
[He takes a moment to center himself, breathing Astarion in before indulging in a quick kiss to Astarion's shoulder. Another moment passes before he decides what he'd like to do.]
Here.
[With his fingers pressing against Astarion's skin to encourage him to follow, he slips back into the basin, sitting on the edge, letting the water reach up to his chest as he rests his back against the wall.]
Put your back to me. Let me hold you, if you would.
[He knows how Astarion feels about his back, but hopes wrapping his arms around him will ease some of the discomfort.]
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What a relief. It's strange the way it warms him from the inside out to see Gale settle into himself again. It's not arousal, not lust, but rather a simple and unadulterated adoration that wells inside him. He loves this man, and all the more when Gale has his confidence, the wry little quirk of his smile.
He slips forward with Gale's urging, sliding forward with him until he slips into the water. There is a brief beat of hesitation with his back turned to Gale, but with all they've shared in this evening alone it's simple enough to press through it. He turns just at the last moment to catch Gale's lips in a kiss before turning to nuzzle against the line of his jaw.]
I'm in your care, my dearest Gale.
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He lets one arm settle around Astarion's middle, the other resting along the vampire's thigh. He'll get back to work in a minute - for now, he's enjoying the change in position.]
Perhaps I should have opened with this. I do rather enjoy it.
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Having me in your arms, is it? I can certainly see the appeal.
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[He follows Astarion's touch, letting his hands be guided along his frame. Astarion may have his back to him, but Gale wants him to still feel that he has some level of control, as he always does over Gale. After all, Gale meant what he said: he'd do terrible things if Astarion asked, all for his love, and he knows it.
But something so gentle, something so sweet? He vastly prefers these moments, cherishes them more than he can say. His fingers press into Astarion's thigh, massaging the muscle as he speaks a confession into his shoulder.]
Knowing that, despite my failures and missteps, you'd stay so near.
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