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“Read to me?” You ask suddenly, your voice sounding too loud as it breaks the silence.
You’d been at his desk writing letters, letters that you knew might not actually make it out of the city for weeks. Gale was sitting in front of the fireplace, reading, so that you had your space to write. As you stood, you caught sight of the storm buffeting the coast from the terrace doors. While all you saw was sleet and ice pelting into the water, you knew that even as close as the other side of the city, there would be snow.
“It’s nothing interesting,” Gale tells you as you pull the drapes shut over the doors, trying to preserve some of the warmth of the room.
“I’d listen to the history of fish-mongering if you read it,” this statement earns you a brilliant grin and an outstretched hand, beckoning you to the sofa.
You take his hand and fall onto the couch next to him, immediately curling into his side. A quick word and a spectral hand appears, then Gale wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. He begins to read where you’d interrupted him, midsentence even. It’s something about magic laws, but you’re not really listening to his words. It’s the sound of crackling logs overlaid with the soothing tone of his voice. You smile as you watch the spectral hand flip the page, his left hand now too busy idly stroking your thigh to be bothered with the chore. You let your eyes drift closed, nose buried into Gale’s side.
Maybe it’s been ten minutes, maybe an hour, you're not sure. But you shift a little, dropping your legs to the floor, stretching out the ache. Gale’s still reading dutifully, unbothered by the fact that you haven’t been paying attention. You listen for a moment; it's something about the ethics of the use of magic on animals, and you’re impressed that even he hasn’t fallen asleep. Smiling to yourself, you slowly slip from the couch onto your knees.
The only acknowledgment Gale makes as you undo the laces of his pants is a brief stuttering of words. This hadn’t been your plan for long, having acted on the first impulse only moments ago.
He’s still soft when you free him, cock only beginning to stir when you take him in hand. After barely a single stroke with your fingers, you lean forward and take him into your mouth. You don’t suck or move, really. Merely press your tongue forward, flat against the shaft. Gale’s free hand comes to rest on your head. You hold yourself there, eyes closing, as he continues to harden in your mouth. You sigh, happily, as the once spongey flesh becomes rigid, as his cockhead begins butting against the back of your mouth. Only then do you swallow around him, earning you a soft moan from above. He’s no longer reading, you realize.
“Please,” you say in a half whisper, sitting back on your knee, “keep going.”
Gale glances from you to the book he still holds in his hand, then nods. Only after he begins reading again do you pull him back into your mouth. You swallow him slowly, giving you both time to adjust with each new piece of his cock you slip between your lips. Eventually, he’s in you as far as you can comfortably go, your nose half buried in the soft dark curls at his base. His words stutter above you when you inhale. Gale still smells faintly of last night's bath mixed with the clean scent of his clothes and something else. A soft musk, not unclean or cloying, but something uniquely Gale coming through as the soaps and scents wear off.
Only once your jaw begins to ache from being held in the same position too long do you finally start moving. You work your tongue against him, pulling from every memory of every time you’ve been in this position. Your expertise with Gale is rewarded as his voice pitches and falls in time with your movements. He gathers your hair up, pulling it from your face, which allows you to work him more freely. You pull off just enough to flick your tongue against the slit of his cock. His words are broken by a startled moan, but Gale recovers and resumes reading.
He tugs on your hair, not hard but just enough to leave your scalp tingling. You moan and his next words escape as a gasp. It quickly becomes a perfect feedback loop. Your ministrations are rewarded with moaned words and fingers flexing in your hair. These things only spur you on, eager to earn more of these.
He’s close, you can feel in the way his thighs are drawn tight under your arms, hear it in the tone of his voice. You become aware that Gale’s no longer reading, instead its just a stream of moans and praises falling from his lips. Your body heats, as it always does, under praise. You work him intently, head bobbing fast enough that he’s not keeping up and each movement pulls at your hair.
“Love,” he gasps and tugs your hair insistently.
You ignore him and swallow his cock as far down your throat as you can manage. You work the shaft with the flat of your tongue. With a curse Gale comes, spilling down your throat. You swallow everything he gives you and then you keep swallowing. Only when he’s gasping your name, his hips pushing away from you into the cushions, do you finally release him.
You grin up at him, reveling in the way the corners of your mouth sting with the movement. Gale cuckles, trailing his hand from your hair down the side of your face until he’s cupping your jaw. He allows his thumb to rub over your swollen lips before gently gathering up a small amount of cum that had spilled out of your mouth. Eagerly you swipe your tongue over the pad of his finger cleaning it.
Gale groans. He leans down and then pulls you upward, gathering you onto his lap.
“You never cease to amaze me,” he says as he buries his face into your neck.