Chapter Text
Astarion sits at the living room coffee table, some shitty drama TV show about wedding dresses playing loudly in the background while he paints his nails a bright ruby red; the sun is shining through the curtains, coating the room in a golden glow. He’s humming a tune to a song he can’t quite place before his hand flinches at a sudden voice coming from the direction of the doorway — just barely managing to stop himself from painting his entire thumb red.
“I have been tormented with a fantasy of sexual nature in recent times, and I was wondering if you would be willing to fulfil it!” Gale almost shouts, clapping once, loudly, at the end of the sentence, as if to applaud himself for getting it out.
“I— W-Gale?” Astarion stammers, caught off guard by the man’s unanticipated presence. “I… Will have to think about it,” he says tentatively, placing the nail polish brush back into its bottle and turning his full attention to the man at the door. “What is it specifically?” He leans back into the plush sofa; blowing lightly onto his nails.
Gale takes a deep breath, fighting through his own bashfulness before speaking, “When you did that show with Karlach, Jen and Zel last week, I thoroughly enjoyed seeing you on stage. I know you said it was just an experience you were curious about, and that is fine of course; I am not going to ask you to go back up on stage again if you wouldn’t want to, you are free to make your own decisions regarding th—”
“Can you get to the point, darling?” Astarion interrupts. “Unless your fantasy is just reassuring me of consent ten times per conversation?” he questions, crossing one leg over the other as he inspects his still-drying nails.
“No— I mean— Yes , but— Okay… I shall try to be as laconic as possible.” He takes a breath. “You enamoured me while on stage and I would like to do some roleplay… in which you are in the role of an unobtainable rock star — or whatever genre you’d like—” Astarion shoots him a look, “Off topic. Apologies. I’d like to be playing the part of a fan of yours; the main appeal being you then taking me backstage…” He trails off, hand rubbing at the back of his neck as his gaze shoots around the room. “As if you had noticed me out of everyone in the crowd and—”
“And then we’d have sex?” Astarion finishes his sentence bluntly.
Gale’s gaze falls to the floor as he fidgets. “To put it crudely...”
Astarion hums, blowing on his nails for a couple more seconds before sauntering over to him. “I’ll think on it. And I’ll ask Karlach if they have any shows already booked,” he says, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek before heading down the stairs. Gale lets out a giddy squeal once he’s sure Astarion is out of earshot, hands stimming before he clears his throat and heads to his office.
~=~
[Three days later]
“This Friday,” Astarion announces as he walks in, ice cream in hand as music hums quietly from Gale’s laptop’s speakers.
“This Friday…?” He quirks a brow, spinning in his chair.
Astarion brings the ice lolly to his lips, lewdly licking down the length before taking half of it into his mouth, eyes fluttering closed before pulling off again with a ‘pop’. Gale’s breath turns heavy as Astarion responds, “The show I’m playing with the girls. You’re invited.”
Gale clears his throat and smiles in acknowledgment, before turning back around, hands shaky on his keyboard. “Wonderful. Thank you,” he says, already feeling his pants grow uncomfortably tight.
Why did I even wear jeans just to sit in my office? He thinks, shifting his hips slightly.
A hand suddenly lands on his jaw, urging him to turn his head as the ice lolly is placed gently at his lips. He opens his mouth without question and Astarion thrusts barely an inch into his mouth.
“Do you like this flavour?” He asks nonchalantly; Gale licks it quickly and nods. “I don’t. You can have the rest.” He pushes the ice cream almost fully into his mouth, taking his hand off the stick as some drool trickles down from the corner of Gale’s lips.
He pulls it out as Astarion turns to leave, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Wait,” he croaks, an uncomfortable amount of saliva in his mouth. “Don’t just do that and leave,” he says, a little more desperate than he was hoping; placing the ice cream down on an empty plate on his desk.
Astarion giggles. “Awww… and what if I do just leave?” He smirks, arms crossing over his chest as he cocks his head.
“...I’ll let you, of course. I'd go back to grading papers,” he says timidly. “Or rather, I’d attempt to go back to grading papers. I may spiral into many unbecoming thoughts and have to… ‘take care of myself’, so to speak…”
Astarion tuts, pouting in his direction. “Well, what a shame , then, that I told Zel I’d call her about song choices,” he says, stepping closer to Gale however, and trailing a finger down his jawline, the other looking at him like a kicked puppy.
He takes pity, and falls to his knees.
“Though I can always tell her Tara was stuck in the bin again or…” The sentence trails off as he fully turns the chair to face Gale towards him, undoing the button on his jeans and freeing the half-hard cock quickly.
Gods. He will never grow tired of the sight.
Modest in length but Hells was he thick; no matter how many times they’d fuck a day, there was always some amount of stretch he felt when Gale first thrust into him. He’s uncut, the foreskin rolled slightly over his tip, though exposing more and more as Astarion watches him grow harder by the second. He takes his hands away from Gale though, and looks up expectantly, met with a confused and very flushed face.
“Go on. Continue as you might have if I left,” he explains, taking Gale’s hand and placing it on his thigh.
His fingers promptly wrap around his own length with a sigh, fingers not quite touching around it as he stares down at lust-blown red eyes, barely blinking through his own hooded ones; he starts stroking himself slowly.
Astarion smiles and continues to kneel, his own hand snaking down to pull down his sweatpants and Gale whines at the realisation that he has no underwear on, eyes fluttering closed as he swipes a thumb over his slit, fully hard now.
“You’re so pretty like this,” Astarion sighs, fingers working inside himself as he grinds his clit into his palm. “Wanting— Needing me so bad…” He whines, head falling back as he finds the spot inside himself that makes him reel. “In reach — right here . Yet you won't even lay a finger on me unless I tell you to.”
Gale bites his lip. “Of course I-I won't. Not unless you tell me, love,” he agrees, his pace quickening as he sees Astarion riding his fingers enthusiastically.
“Speaking of— permission,” Astarion says through a small moan, an evil grin planting itself on his face. “I wonder if I should even let you- ah… finish…”
Gale’s eyes widen at the proposition, breath stuck in his throat as he pleads, “No, no please— Please let me, Astarion— I can't,” his voice coming out in an almost-whisper.
Gods, how Astarion loves the way he begs.
“You can.”
“I— Please, let me. I’ll be so good for you, I’ll be so good to you…” Gale’s hand is now at an unrelenting pace — desperately trying to draw himself closer to an unpromised climax.
“You will ,” Astarion growls quickly before reaching his own, riding his fingers as his nails dig into the denim entrapping Gale’s thighs, the other man’s hand completely still on the base of his cock now as he breathes heavily.
“Plea —”
“No,” he hisses through his orgasm.
Gale takes his hand off, whining and throwing his head back against the chair, his knuckles white against the arm rests as he steadies his breathing. “ Fuck ,” he says through clenched teeth.
His gaze settles back to the other as he stands, a slight shake in his legs. “Open,” Astarion commands, fingers ghosting against plump lips. Gale acquiesces, tongue swirling around the fingers covered in arousal, cock twitching at the familiar taste. Soon enough, they're taken out, and Astarion casts a quick prestidigitation to clean them off fully before tucking Gale back into his jeans uncomfortably; his head spins at the brief contact.
“You are a devil in disguise, my love,” Gale says through a pained chuckle, repositioning himself awkwardly.
Astarion hums, “More like a vampire in daylight really…” A wry smile on his face. “No orgasm 'till Friday,” he adds, bluntly.
“ Excuse me?”
“You're excused,” he states, uninterest coating his voice as he surveys his nails, grimacing at the chipped paint on his middle finger.
“I— Astarion… Surely you cannot be serious, that is six entire days away!” Bewilderment is plastered on his face as he continues, “To be clear — we usually partake in intimacy of some sort at least once a day; I’m really not sure I’ll manage such a task,” Gale reasons, hands settling on Astarion’s hips.
“What a shame that you must, then.” He turns and starts to leave the room with a wicked giggle, “I’m officially calling in my favour!”
Gale sits dumbfounded in his chair, blinking.
His head turns back to his desk and he spots the abandoned ice cream, now fully melted; the wooden stick slowly floating in the multi-coloured mess.
He groans, head falling forward against the desk with a small thud.
All’s fair in love and war.
~=~
Over the next four days, Astarion touches himself and Gale more than ever before; always getting him to the edge but never pushing him over, while he himself basks in his climax, sometimes multiple; Gale gets very few chances to touch him — let alone in the places he actually wants to.
It happens everywhere: their bedroom (of course), the garden, on the library balcony, and once — while he's feeling particularly evil — Astarion visits him while he’s teaching, coaxing him out of class with a fake emergency; only to get Gale on his knees and fuck his face.
For the first time in three years, Professor Dekarios cancels a class.
~=~
On the Wednesday, he takes to stress-baking while Astarion is busy working on some fancy gown for a client. Strewn about on various countertops are two trays of peanut butter brownies, blueberry muffins, and a two-layer vanilla sponge cake; a tray of chocolate chip cookies currently in the oven soon to join them.
Astarion’s voice is heard before he’s seen:
“Did you secretly open a bakery or are you stressed about something dear?” He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as he surveys the state of the kitchen, miscellaneous bags and tubs of ingredients scattered everywhere.
Gale’s eyes shoot up to him, apron, and somehow his face, covered in what he assumes is flour.
“Oh, I don’t know — perhaps I’m a little pent up, Astarion!” He snaps, quickly softening his expression however, and sighing, wiping his forehead with the back of his oven mitt. “Apologies. Our usual intimacy happens far less regularly than this, and as much as I can usually appreciate how gorgeous you are in no sexual manner, you are certainly not helping my case of that akin to temporary celibacy by…”
Gale is brought to pause as Astarion lifts his shirt slightly with one hand, cocking his head and smirking; revealing a black thong sitting atop his hip bones, completely unaffected by his small burst of anger.
“By doing that , for example!” he says in an exasperated tone, quickly kneeling with a loud pop of his knees to check on the cookies in the oven.
“Elminster?” Astarion questions, slight worry on his face now as he checks in with their safe word.
“No,” Gale responds rather quickly, pulling out the tray and placing them on a cooling rack one by one. “It’s fine, I promise. I merely needed a distraction for a moment,” he reassures, taking off his oven mitts and sitting at one of the stools at the island, fingers tangling into his own brown and grey-peppered hair.
Astarion meanders over, fingers ‘walking’ across the countertop, stopping in front of Gale. A low chuckle arises from his lips as his eyes scan over Gale under him, head perched up and looking up with those damn puppy-dog eyes.
“You know, we really must stop meeting like this…” he drawls.
“Like what ?” Gale questions, hands settling on Astarion’s waist over his shirt, pointer fingers resting on the outline of underwear — thankfully, Astarion wasn’t evil enough to ban all forms of contact; hands on clothes were across-the-board okay, much to Gale’s delight.
“You, under me. Staring up at me with that desperate look.” His hand tangles into Gale’s hair as he continues, “Though I suppose the spark of desperation is still there when I’m below you, too…” He closes the gap between them with a tug of hair, taking Gale into a chaotic kiss; he lifts his shirt again — fully over his head this time — making no effort to shed Gale’s hands though, the other basking in the rare skin-to-skin contact.
Gale whines into the kiss as he feels his erection push against the fabric of his underwear; he pulls away, and, “Please,” he begs, for the 100th time — the ‘let me orgasm’ that he meant to say doesn’t follow, but Astarion understands anyway.
And, “No,” he answers, for the 100th time.
His hands travel to Gale’s sweatpants, due to repeat the same dance they’ve grown familiar with in the past couple of days: get his cock out of his pants, make him unbelievably hard, then bring him to the edge with no release, panting and begging like a dog.
Astarion separates the kiss, sitting himself on the edge of the stool opposite Gale as he commands, “Kneel.”
He follows eagerly, knees disagreeable against the laminate flooring however, as Astarion frees himself of his sweatpants, the black thong leaving very little to the imagination. Gale leans forward, half assuming and half hoping he’s been bestowed the honour of eating Astarion out, but a hand on his shoulder quickly stops him.
Astarion tuts. “My my, were you about to touch me without my saying so?” He says, displeasure lining his tone.
Meekly, “I-I’m sorry — I crave you,” he whimpers, “It’s insatiable.”
“How unlike you…” Astarion disapproves, moving his underwear to the side slightly. “Come closer, but don’t touch,” he emphasises, a finger starting to work slow circles on his clit.
Gale goes to protest, but thinks it wise to keep his mouth shut — for once.
He continues to kneel, close enough to smell Astarion’s musk but not close enough to taste. His cock is standing very much to attention and leaking obscenely from the tip as Astarion works himself to orgasm. His head is swimming; he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s actually swaying in place.
He simply watches.
Very. Intently.
“Mage hand, in me,” Astarion says quickly, and he follows suit immediately; commanding the fingers to lube themselves up with his slick before sliding two into him — Gale’s eyes glaze over as he stops himself from drooling at the sight.
Funny how fucked out a man can look and feel without even being touched.
The mage hand and Astarion himself keep working towards his orgasm as his head falls back, Gale somehow resisting the urge to grind into Astarion’s leg as he sits silently, breaths seeming harder and harder to inhale with every passing second.
Suddenly, his eyes go wide and a hand slaps roughly down onto Astarion’s thigh, another wrapping tightly around the base of his own cock as he yells, “Stop!”
Eyes shoot down, all actions immediately halting as the mage hand disappears. “Are you okay? Elminster?” he asks quickly, gently placing his clean hand on Gale’s jaw; he flinches away from it, a full-body shiver sent through him at the contact.
“I— Not Elminster…” Gale takes a second to steady himself, befuddlement coating his eyes as he looks up, barely getting out his words; Astarion notices the hand in a death grip on the base of his cock. “I was… about to… I almost—”
“Came?” Astarion interjects, eyes now wide too as he laughs in amazement, “Ha! Oh my Gods , Gale.” A delighted grin grows on his face as he leans in towards the man. “You’ve cum pathetically while eating me out but — just from watching me…?” His smile grows bigger, somehow. “ That is a first,” he teases.
“Wh…” Gale continues to kneel, not sure what to do now.
“Well, well, little wizard. What am I to do with you…” Astarion ponders out loud, finger dramatically tapping against his chin, a scowl on his face. “We can’t have you undoing in seconds after the show, can we?”
Gale shakes his head, steadily bringing himself up to sit on the stool again, fumbling as he tries to tuck himself back into his pants. Astarion stops his hands, though, a small smile on his face as he stands; turning slightly and moving various bits of cookware, promptly folding himself over the edge of the countertop.
“Fuck me. And fill me,” he demands, and Gale is standing before he’s even finished speaking.
“Thank you, oh my Gods thank you — thank you so much, so good to me Astarion…” Gale keeps babbling as he lines himself up, pants and underwear now at his ankles as he slides in slowly to the base, careful not to have this be over in an embarrassing amount of time, despite the previous sequence of events alluding that he may not have a choice.
“Do not stop until I say so,” Astarion adds, and Gale’s nails dig into his hips so hard that neither of them would be shocked if he broke skin; breaths shaky as he starts thrusting.
Both men moan as he pulls out slowly to the tip, then plunges back in, balls lewdly slapping against skin.
A low, lust-filled chuckle escapes him as he folds himself over Astarion, fucking into him slow and rough and whispering into his ear, “ Gods — I cannot quantify in any amount of words how much I have— hah — missed the feeling of you around me.” He reaches a hand around to Astarion’s neck, pointer resting on his jaw as he raises his head up and forces him to look up.
One form of contact that was strictly banned was penetrative sex — Gale off-handedly mentioned he would not be able to last long inside while they were going over the exact terms of the favour; Astarion took that and ran with it.
All with a smirk, of course.
“Fuck me like you mean it, then,” he challenges, hands resting flat below himself, desperately needing something to grip onto but met with the cold, hard expanse of marble.
Gale ignites at the provocation and pulls Astarion to a full standing position, back curved into an impossible ‘C’ as his grip tightens around his neck. The new angle is making Astarion see stars as he gets pounded restlessly now, Gale’s other hand snaking around his waist to rub his clit, climax getting closer with each thrust.
Astarion’s arms reach around behind him, eventually settling on Gale’s sides.
“So ungrateful,” Gale spits at him, teeth and tongue procuring marks onto the back of Astarion’s shoulders and neck. “You ask me to— Fuck you- ah… And then have the gall to— complain,” his voice cracks as he himself feels blinding pleasure building in his core. “As if you haven’t been— Fuck, Astarion—” His sentence dies in his throat as the feeling in his gut intensifies, unbearable heat engulfing his entire body.
His heart stops pumping for what feels like minutes as he thrusts silently, eventually dropping Astarion back down before he’s spilling inside with a long groan; his nails dig into the skin below them and he starts to slow, his ears ringing and vision blurry.
“Don’t fucking stop,” Astarion growls. “Don’t. Fucking. Stop,” he punctuates each repeated word with a sharp thrust backwards, a small trickle of Gale’s spend travelling down the back of his thigh.
When Gale doesn’t follow his request, he pulls off and stomps on the clothes pooled at his feet; forcing him to step out of them with a light kick to his shins. Angrily, he pushes him into the living room, knocking him down to lay flat on the couch; straddling him and mounting his cock again immediately, producing a pathetic high-pitched whine from the man below him.
Gale sucks air in through his teeth as he throws his head back and winces at the overstimulation, hands roughly clenching at his sides. “ Please— Astarion, too mu—”
“Are you going to safe word or no?”
After a second, “No,” he whines, and Astarion rides him unforgivingly.
“Then be fucking quiet ,” he hisses, sitting himself up more and resting his hands on Gale’s chest, red eyes boring daggers into him as he seizes his pleasure. “It’s a damn shame there’s only one of me,” he says, no longer bouncing but rather grinding his hips, milking Gale for all he has. “It’d be nice to just shut you up with my cunt on your face as I rode you, too.”
Gale’s cock twitches at the words and he lets out a needy whine through a bitten lip; head immediately rushing with all his knowledge of magic, searching for what would be the easiest cloning spell to teach Astarion to achieve exactly what he’d suggested.
How in the world did we never think of this before, Gale questions to himself, overstimulation very slowly morphing into pleasure again, hands reaching up to settle on Astarion’s waist.
“There may be some ways we— can achieve that,” he says, thumbs gently coaxing themselves under Astarion’s underwear at his hip bones, eyes transfixed on his movements.
The movements soon stop, though, the man above him smiling.
“Good, you’re back with me,” he says, voice strained; eyes turning dark as he leans closer to Gale’s face, pulling him into a wet kiss and biting his bottom lip lightly, lapping excitedly at the beads of blood trickling out.
He leans back again, bracing himself once more on Gale’s chest before speaking, “Now, be good for me and fuck me — or no touching at all ‘till after the show.”
The threat is lined with nothing but truth and Gale snaps his hips up suddenly as a response, pulling his knees up and planting his feet flat, returning to his previous pace; his own spend and Astarion’s slick mixing at the base of his cock in a debauched display.
“You— will be the death of me, A-Astarion ,” Gale says breathlessly.
“There’s worse — ways to go out,” he responds simply, small moans escaping him as Gale fucks into him with a brutal pace.
A stupid grin grows on Gale’s face, eyes transfixed on where their bodies are meeting repeatedly, the neatly trimmed hair at the base of his cock covered in a mix of them.
“Gods we sound so— fucking filthy…”
Oh and how Gale loves it — he has a perverse sort-of adoration toward it; basks in the rare times he gets to tease Astarion, gets him so soaking wet it leaves his underwear and pants drenched. He’ll usually end up fingering him and moaning in response to the sounds it made alone, grinding against whatever he could to search for release.
Astarion lets out an exasperated chuckle that pulls him out of his thoughts. “Have I ever told you how m-much I adore— Ah — how much you swear during sex?” he asks rhetorically, hands moving to the side of Gale’s head now, faces ever so slightly closer. “Knowing that— I affect you so much, you lose all filters.”
“You’re so— You feel so good, how could I… not? ” he whines, barely keeping composure as a twinge of still-present overstimulation makes his head fall back.
“Fuck, Gale — you were made for me,” Astarion says, matching his thrusts with his own movements now, all words ceasing as both men let out only a chorus of vulgar moans. “Mage, clit—” Is the only thing Astarion manages to say as he searches for his climax — so close.
Gale’s eyes screw shut as he garners all possible concentration to fulfil Astarion’s request; the mage hand rubs ferociously, and he’s undone within seconds, falling forward onto Gale’s sweaty chest and convulsing as he continues to fuck him through the waves of pleasure.
Astarion’s almost-yelled moans are soon replaced with a babble of ‘thank you’ and ‘well done, so good’, his teeth precariously hovering over Gale’s neck but not sinking in; instead deciding to suck a dark mark into it as the other searches for his second orgasm.
It doesn’t find him soon enough, though, and Astarion pulls off. He whines, “No, no please— M’so clo—” He’s cut off quickly, however, as Astarion sinks down fully onto his length again — with his mouth this time — his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
Astarion’s head bobs up and down in a vicious tempo; tongue swirling all around the length, basking in the taste of them both. Satisfied hums and moans reverberate through Gale’s entire body as he lays silent, hands clenched hard at his sides; the resulting pain from his nails digging into his own skin only brings him closer to the edge.
His hands shoot down to Astarion’s curls as he reaches his tip, and with a loud shout of his name, he pushes his head fully down, a surprisingly large amount of seed pumping into his throat for a second orgasm.
Gale’s eyes wet with tears as one of the strongest bouts of pleasure he’s ever felt rips through him. He regains slight consciousness halfway through, the grip on Astarion’s hair loosening but not quite enough to let him go; small thrusts carrying on, cock hitting the back of Astarion’s throat continuously as he simply lets himself bask in the feeling.
“Hah…” he manages out, finally freeing Astarion from his cock, the other man happily lapping up any leftover evidence of their orgasms.
They lay in silence for a while, Gale happily swimming in a blissed-out brain fog.
“We should go shower…” Astarion says eventually, his head lay on Gale’s thigh, finger tracing patterns in the hair settled there.
“Mmm,” Gale agrees, vision still blurry and very assertive in the fact his legs probably won't work for another ten minutes. “Later.”
Astarion nods against him, “Still no other orgasms ‘til Friday, by the way.” Gale chuckles in response, the hand in Astarion’s hair petting it gently. “I simply did this because I don’t think a rock-star would be very impressed with a middle aged man climaxing as fast as a virgin highschool boy,” he teases.
Gale rebuttals, “Perhaps the rock-star should consider the effects of edging the middle aged man for a week prior, then.”
“Perhaps.” A finger ghosts over the length of Gale's slowly softening cock, producing a shiver; he smiles mischievously. “But where's the fun in that?”
There’s a pause, a beat of silence as Astarion leans into him, nibbling at his ear.
“I hope you know I’m getting my favour back.”
Gale groans.
All’s fair in love and war.