Chapter Text
The group licked their wounds and straightened their backbones at the bar that night over a few tankards of ale and glasses of brandy. Music and laughter aplenty, a fireplace heartened the quaint little inn that they each had become so fond of. For all its faults, it sheltered them as a flickering beacon in their dark uncertainty. It offered them a few moments of respite. Luxury, almost, in contrast to the experience of braving the elements.
Gale, having enjoyed just enough brandy to bring some colour to his golden skin, dismissed himself first as the others continued to raise their spirits. After enjoying a bath actually steaming that night, it was in this sly way he had found himself tucked up cozy in an entire bed all to himself, a satisfied grin on his lips as he sprawled under the blankets. Even his pillow, lumpier than overcooked porridge, could not bother this wizard as he listened to the sounds of his companions below. He pressed his nose into a newly procured book.
Could life be any more peaceful, given their sojourn ahead?
“There you are,” The door opened to reveal a curious Astarion, whose eyes widened at the sight, if momentarily. Gale involuntarily let out an unamused sigh, re-reading the paragraph he had just started at the top of page twenty seven. “Oh, and what’s this? I don’t recall seeing these little morsels in our food reserves. Have you been squirreling them away all for yourself?” The elf continued, red irises landing upon the sight of a small cheese platter sat on the bedside table besides their dusty and cracked lamp. Caught. Of course. Gale lowered his book to finally regard the other.
“That’s because I took them from breakfast. They overcharge here as it is! This is my small act of rebellion against an extortionate system.”
A pause, as Astarion began to peel off his gloves, applying an unusual amount of care to the movement as he studied Gale. His tone then dropped.
“Oh, you naughty wizard you.”
As soon as the words processed in his mind, Gale’s eyes returned to the top of page twenty seven. Paragraph one. First word: The. This time, he pursed his lips, once again finding himself swimming in the embarrassment which flooded his cheeks.
Was it him, or did the vampire’s teasing grow ever more zealous with each passing night they spent here? Or, was Gale simply viewing the world with an increased interest for the passions of the flesh due to a perfectly natural hormonal response to contact and simulation? That was different to lust, anyhow. The second answer sounded logical, so he settled there while ignoring how, maybe, his heart pounded not in frustration, but rather, excitement.
“And what brings you back so early, my equally quarrelsome friend?” He shot back, his eyes moving to the second sentence, fixating on the semicolon the author had used.
“Our tireless Gith wanted to talk strategy for tomorrow, and I for one, do not. Of course Wyll just indulged her.” Astarion moved effortlessly about the small space as he shed his armour, again into a heap, before glancing around for his nightshirt. That left him in nothing but his snug trousers, a boundary they had crossed long ago, only weeks into their journey. Gale still glanced, for a few seconds, but tried to focus on Astarion’s speech instead. “And I don’t quite know what’s come over Shadowheart and Karlach, but they’re positively unbearable as of late. It’s been nothing but a bunch of whispers and snickers from the two of them since we arrived.”
Gale hadn’t really noticed.
“Glad to know I’m still in your good grace, then.” He hummed, before returning his eyes to the semicolon. Then, to the top of the paragraph all over again. The. The. The necromancer.
“For now.” Astarion retorted and glided to find his shirt on the floor, near the wardrobe where he had flung it this morning. Yanking it on, the elf unceremoniously climbed over Gale on the bed, somehow keeping his limbs controlled even in what might otherwise be a cumbersome movement. Despite a few words of protest, they were once again bundled together on that too-small mattress, sunk into its valley, bathing in the warm glow of several dancing lights. Astarion laid on his back, eyes shut as he entered a trance, while Gale thumbed through several more pages between bites of cheese, their bodies pressed against each other as usual.
It was nice. For at least twenty minutes, it was nice.
☾
The start of the commotion could be traced to when Gale put his book on the bedside table and yawned, loudly. The inn had been running the central hearth with a healthy supply of logs all evening despite approaching the late spring season, and this was paired disastrously with the combination of him drinking stiff brandy and luxuriating in a heated bath. Hot, the wizard sank to lie down and soon kicked off the blanket as he flopped onto his side with a sigh.
At his age, a glass of wine was a good idea most nights, for he felt it helped him sleep. Anything stronger just seemed to cause restlessness.
Gale stretched out his legs, his skin prickling slightly where Astarion’s arms dug into his back, irritating. He suddenly wished he had asked to position themselves before the other had drifted into his trance. It would be rude to wake him now. Determined to live with the consequences of shortsightedness, the wizard tugged at the collar of his thick velvet jumper, wafting cool air over his chest.
It really was hot, wasn’t it? His sleepwear was very much intended for the poorly-designed air flow of a wizard’s tower, not for the top floor of an inn that resided over a roaring fire below. Realizing he was sweating beneath his arms, Gale rolled onto his back once more to stare at the ceiling.
“Just take your bloody shirt off already.”
Without so much as opening his eyes, Astarion ground out, having been awake for much of the wizard’s dilemma. He could smell his sweat from here, of course, and even he felt the other was uncomfortably warm to brush against. Gale hesitated, letting a long moment of silence lapse between them, until finally murmuring something quiet.
“Ordinarily I prefer to ask even my tressym to leave the room when I am indecent. It seems rather… uncouth.”
Astarion lifted his head to blink at him in disbelief, despite knowing the other would be unable to see him too well in the darkness. As if he had not seen Gale indecent several times within the last twenty four hours alone.
“You can be so terribly fickle. Would you rather we both spend the night awake?”
The gears of the wizard’s mind turned for a few moments, before he huffed out his discontentment and shifted to sit up, pull his shirt off, fold it, and lay it on the only chair in their room. The air still breathed hot on his skin, and after another moment of hesitation, he pulled down his trousers too, leaving him only in his underdrawers.
This was fine. Astarion was the one who suggested he undress in the first place, and they needed rest. Clearly this was the solution, the well-reasoned and objective chronology towards achieving a common goal, slumber.
How well could Astarion see him in this darkness?
“Not a word.” Gale warned as he slipped back into the bed, onto his side, far away from the other as he could manage in this space. It was not far. In fact, the valley below them made certain of that, as he felt himself roll back into Astarion already.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The elf teased back, flipping to his side.
“Astarion.” Gale warned, his cheeks artificially hot as he tried to ignore the shiver that ran up his spine at the sound of the other’s voice. Yes, maybe he was coming down with something, and not victim to the irresistible charm of the foul mouthed rogue.
On their second attempt to fall asleep, things did not go any smoother. Gale remained rather warm, but found cool relief in Astarion’s vampiric embrace, and therefore they decided one more night of cuddling was again the sensible answer to their predicament. Although the wizard had half-heartedly offered to go downstairs to put into a complaint to management, that had simply required too much effort on both their behalves.
So now they lay, Astarion’s front pressed to Gale’s back, his arm wrapped around their forms. Unlike other nights, however, the elf freshly found the position almost… distracting.
Gale was soft and felt made for his arms. He was warm in a way that held him with a caress of safety, of comfort. Underneath the smell of his acrid, poisoned blood (which had almost become not-bad, a sort of familiarity) he was perfumed with tempting wood aromas, of parchment, of tangy oils and now, a hint of drink. Dare he say, Gale was delicious, but not even in a ‘walking meal’ sort of way. No, this was a new avenue of hunger.
He was sure Gale felt it too, in his own way.
Gale was also still awake, his breath a little quicker than usual. Curious, Astarion very slowly moved his hand to the other’s chest with trepidation, waiting for the other to possibly snap at him in rejection.
Except, he didn’t.
Soon Astarion’s cool palm spread over Gale’s chest, fondling him, but more intently looking to feel the way his ribs expanded and contracted with life and air. Underneath, his skin felt flushed, textured. His breath hitched in a way that Astarion wished to repeat, and he leaned in, if only to hear how the wizard’s heart thumpered against his chest as he reacted into the rogue’s ministrations.
“You’re still burning.” Astarion whispered, not usually one to point out the obvious but in this situation, he simply did not know what else one could say.
“It appears so.” Gale agreed, though it came out more breathy than intended. When he did not complain, Astarion let his hand drift down experimentally, until it came to rest over the softest treasure of Gale’s stomach. It was smooth, almost velvety under the pads of his fingers. Something primal in him wished to kiss and squeeze and fondle, all over, to find the most delectable bits hidden on the wizard and positively devour them.
“You know, I recall you mentioning it has been quite some time since you’ve shared a bed. Since before your little rendezvous with a Goddess, presumably?”
At that, Gale seemed to tense, perhaps misunderstanding where this was headed or simply agitated at the mention of his lovelife. “Astarion, do not insult me. I am not one to be teased or made into a fool for your twis–”
“-I am not teasing! For once.” Quickly, the elf recovered with a huff of air against Gale’s neck, his hand’s pressure lightening slightly in defense. “I am curious. Consider it a… vested interest .”
“A vested interest? Speak plainly.”
Gods, he would make this difficult. A wizard of such intelligence, yet so thick in his skull sometimes. Astarion hated that he found it endearing. Narrowing his eyes, Astarion at last moved to press his hips into the other, their bodies more entangled, relishing in the way that Gale seemed to press back into him. His lips grazed over the open space of his neck, moving until he was hair strands away from the curve of his ear.
“I could provide you with what you haven’t had.” A purr, deeper and more practiced than ever before, sultry. “If you’d like.”
He could hear Gale’s swallowing, could almost feel the blush that was undoubtedly rising up over his pretty neck and cheeks.
“If I–” Gale seemed to debate this, and with some effort he rolled over to face Astarion and read his expression. His fingers snapped, and like that, several of the candles around them and the half-cracked oil lantern lit in a way that was intended to be practical, but actually, set a rather romantic mood. Astarion was right about the blush, too.
“Well. I… If you’d like to, that is.” He breathed, and Astarion reached up to cup his cheek, admiring those adoring brown eyes which he hoped to see soon widen in ecstasy.
“I asked, didn’t I?”
It was as if Gale needed confirmation that this was not a joke or a conquest, and he must have been satisfied with what he found as he reached a hand up to tentatively rest on Astarion’s hip, over his clothes.
“You did.” Gale agreed, and since his mind was taking far too long to piece this puzzle together, Astarion continued in the silence.
“It’s terribly obvious to me that you crave release, Gale.” He began, enjoying how the other’s fingers tightened into his skin at his blatancy. “And I am all too happy to give it to you.” There was no need for the labels Gale undoubtedly was searching for. It would do him well to step outside his comfort zone. The man had journeyed halfway through the Forgotten Realms, into crypt and cave, but trying something and someone new in the privacy of a bedroom may prove too exciting for him yet.
Still, Astarion gave him space, saying no more, waiting with a patience he actually surprised himself with. Gale in the interim gazed at him, his mind in battle with his own romantic ideals. They should be courting first, slow and meaningful. Not casual and dirty, or whatever this might look like.
And yet.
When propositioned by a dangerously attractive, almost ethereal vampire who had been the very cause of his frustrations, it is far easier to bend one's rules. When faced with nothing but the threat of death for months, one becomes more open to the spoils of fast pleasure. Gale’s heart picked up at the thought, and sensing the other was genuine, he at last gave a nod of enthusiastic agreement.
“You are not wrong. Sharing this bed with you each night…has had me longing for more…intimate company. Especially someone as mesmerizing as yourself.” He decided, and the way Astarion’s lips slowly curled up shot straight to his core. He was met with a breathy response. “Then let’s.”
Their lips crashed with all the fiery heat of two men drawn to the brink of desperation and pushed off its ledge. It was biting, hungry, starving. They kissed as though they had sat at a banquet table for hours, stomachs rumbling, knife and fork in hand as they awaited some sort of dinner bell to allow the feast to begin.
They kissed as two people who had not felt a kind touch in years, a lifetime maybe.
Astarion pushed in first, open mouthed and leering over the other, taking explorative liberty as his tongue rolled over Gale’s, teasing yet voracious. The wizard remained pliant beneath him though his clever fingers soon found a way underneath the elf’s nightshirt to grasp at the skin of his side below. It was not clean, for they discovered each other with some level of malpractice at times; Gale, for instance, accidentally bumped his incisor into a fang, causing an awkward grunt between them followed by a swift recovery when Astarion moved to suck on his lower lip. A content sigh from Gale smoothed the exchange over.
An irresistible neck would need to be tasted, for Astarion had found himself dreaming of doing so each night they had laid with each other. He moved downwards then, experimentally kissing and nipping over a prickly beard (deciding against that area, for now) before his lips found delicate flesh alongside taut muscle.
“Careful.” Gale breathed, and Astarion relished in the delicious way his throat clenched around a swallow of his own saliva. He planted a chaste kiss, before pulling away just enough for their eyes to meet.
“My sweet wizard, I will be very careful with you.” He spoke with something candied on his tongue, unlike his usual style. But Gale was a romantic, and he wished to impress, giving a moment's thought to finding the right words. “I shan’t bite. Rather, a nibble, perhaps?”
A set of pine brown eyes, wet and wide with desire granted him approval alongside a quick breathy, “Please.”
And Gods did that single whisper ignite something fierce inside Astarion’s gut.
Without delay he swooped down, renewed by a swell of greedy lust, his lips finding Gale’s throat once more and now pressing quicker, sloppier kisses along it until he found the crook of his shoulder. Open-mouthed, he laved his tongue until the wizard squirmed, before finally he indulged in sucking upon one particularly rich spot. Gale moaned.
Astarion would do anything in this world to hear it again in that moment. “You are beautiful.” he admired in an almost sing-song tone, finding a slightly higher spot to suckle. Perhaps Gale was not so accustomed to hearing that, for he bit his lower lip and moved a hand to gently curl into silvery pale locks.
“I will have you until you plead only my name, Gale, I want to hear you sing of all that pleasure you’ve missed out on. I want to be the one to give it to you.” It was a whisper, hot breath in his ear, as Gale nodded. Astarion’s mind drifted to the night prior, how he had felt Gale’s cock hard on his leg in his slumber, and how he wished he could have solved that sooner.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Gale gasped at the sight of the elf shifting downwards, kissing over his chest, lust mad in his sharp red eyes. “I… I’ve wanted you many a night. You set a lust within me to blaze, Astarion, incandescent as any star in the sky.”
While sweet, Astarion wished to steer from the emotions behind his words and simply enjoy the wizard beneath him. The last thing preventing him from doing just that was the fact that he still wore his evening clothes. “One moment.” He mumbled and shifted off the bed to quickly rip off his shirt and trousers to leave in a heap. At least it was vaguely piled this time.
There was a sound of shifting followed by a grunt from behind him. When he twisted around, on dusty wooden slats of their floor kneeled the sight of one gorgeous Gale, on his knees like a supplicant at an altar. “Please,” Under his lashes, Gale breathed again, chin tilting upwards. Before he had even stated his case, Astarion knew he had won. “I wish to please you, too.”
Ever devout, ever romantic, ever charming, Gale Dekarios.
“My, when asked so prettily, you know the answer is a yes, darling.” Astarion hummed, watching as Gale shuffled closer on his knees, a sight indeed fit for divinity. It was the elf’s turn to swallow thickly, fingers twitching in anticipation.
This was familiar, for Gale. In the realm of the astral plane he could fall to his knees and pleasure Mystra for hours, days if she would have commanded it, happy to serve. Confident, even. Astarion’s hand soon found a comfortable spot in his long hair, pushing it from his face in a way that felt dearly intimate.
He leaned into the touch, approving.
And then the grasp tightened, harshly, and he groaned, also approving.
For a second they both hesitated, curious of the other, and Astarion’s eyes narrowed but he did not say anything. Gale was almost glad. He raised his hands to touch at the bulging underdrawers inches from his face, but was swatted away, as Astarion pulled them down enough for his cock to spring free.
Gale could've drooled.
Of course his gorgeous bedfellow had a gorgeous cock to match, long and slightly curved. Pleading, Gale pulled against the hand in his hair, ready to demonstrate that he had not lost practice with his tongue, his proudest feature. At last his tongue met pre-cum and a thickly throbbing head, tentatively licking over the hardened member before gaining the confidence to take it into his mouth fully. Gale placed two hands on Astarion’s hips and experimented with bobbing his head.
He gave head like he did everything in life: with the utmost precision, concentration, and enthusiasm. It did not come so naturally at first, as he simultaneously acclimated to his rusty jaw while also trying to find a sustainable rhythm that Astarion enjoyed. There were a few quiet moments where he only tried harder, providing an encouraging hum and gasping between pulls. Astarion seemed to appreciate it, his hand tightening in Gale’s locks, a delirious groan filling the room.
It was most satisfying to take him to the hilt, to where his nose met silvery curls, though he fell off awkwardly after doing so, gagging, then gasping for air as he looked up to the other for approval. It came out rugged and lilted, “Oh, Mage. You are perfect.” And then a rumbling, “Up. Bed, now.”
Gale's cock throbbed at the sound, neglected, a patch of pre-cum already spread over his drawers. Onto aching knees he rose, reaching up to capture Astarion in another hungry kiss as they both shifted backwards. It was meant to be a nimble movement, but came out rather clumsy when the back of Gale’s leg hit the bed too soon and he found himself flat on his back with a loud creak of the frame. He offered a breathy laugh while Astarion exhaled a puff of amused air through his nose, both deciding not to mention the event as the elf dived down to touch lips once more.
With no small effort they managed to manoeuvre their underdrawers off until both were bare, and Gale was thankful the lighting was at a low warmth for their first time. Pushing between Gale’s legs as he stood at the edge of the bed, Astarion reached down to grab his cock in hand and began long, languid strokes from his base to tip, causing the other to arch beautifully, reactively into the very touch and gasp.
Yet there was already a heat deep in Gale's core that his mind could not abandon the thought of. Coming prematurely certainly occupied his concerns, between his recent bout of desperation and the time since he was last intimate, the middle-aged man could not help but fret. As his spiral became more obvious, Astarion quirked a brow with narrowed eyes, using a free hand to run over his stomach and thighs, kneading at the tight flesh.
“Gale.” He breathed, nosing at his neck and delivering another bruising kiss that seemed to pull the wizard back to the present, so he left it, for now. “Oh, you are divine. I’m going to be your undoing, my love, until you can think nothing but of me .”
Several more strokes to his cock and Gale shuddered, one hand reaching to still Astarion’s as he preened under the praise. It took self-control, but he uttered a few words under his breath, and with a sudden puff of air, grease began to drip from long, pale fingers. Gale’s blush darkened, as did Astarion’s eyes.
“A most tempting promise. I’ll hold you to it.” He returned, allowing his legs to open further. Astarion all but growled, allowing his index finger to tease and rub over the rim of Gale’s hole, not entering, simply investigating for several long moments until the wizard began to squirm.
“Go on.” Gale encouraged. His growing impatience was answered with the sensation of one finger entering him, opening him so slowly as it wriggled inside. Despite the passage of time it did not take long for another finger to join, finally delivering some semblance of relief that Gale bucked into, head falling back on the bed as he took steadying breaths.
Being vulnerable like this came with some difficulty, of course, but Astarion was surprisingly encouraging. The elf maintained an incessant stream of praise, suspecting how much the wizard cherished hearing it from their many travels together. And he did not mind thoughtlessly providing it, enjoying the way Gale seemed to feed from it, the loyal pup he could be. “That's it, take it for me my love, such beautiful noises, good boy,” and the like.
It came easy, too, to identify and fall into a rhythm that appeased his lover; Astarion had in his life become skilled at such a task. It almost allowed him to turn off but he fought to stay present in the unique delight that was his companion.
Therefore he fingered the wizard, opening, thrusting deep until Gale was all but on the precipice of begging. “Astarion,” He gasped, finally moving to his elbows as he tried to suppress a whine fr -! A third finger scissored him and the whine escaped anyhow, head lolling. “Hells.” He was not one to typically curse, but his cock was aching, leaking onto his core and hips were near quivering.
“Just delicious. My name belongs on your lips, Mage.” Astarion teased, relishing the opportunity to stare into that pleading honey gaze.
“I…” His thoughts were difficult to grasp, slipping through his fingers.
“How wanton you look. How does it feel to be taken by my hand?” Astarion continued, just to hear Gale whisper another curse, face scrunched with pleasure.
“Good!” His wizard managed to find his voice, but not his vocabulary; how he cherished the sound. “Astarion, please,” He gasped. “Fuck me.”
The magic word. Astarion could have lasted all night like this, if only to watch himself unmake the other. Still, he withdrew his fingers, stroking his cock once to lubricate it, and allowed the pulsing head to press against Gale’s hole. He looked to Gale for clearance, receiving an excitable little nod, sweet.
Pressing in gingerly felt like bliss itself, tight and hot and grasping. As he began to bottom out Gale let out a loud, deep moan and Astarion did not realize that he did, too, enraptured by the man beneath him and all he was.
“I… Need you.” Gale admitted, rather suddenly, as Astarion began at a tender pace, his lengthy cock pushing deep and full. He would handle the fragile wizard with care, for now.
“Tell me.” The words blurted from Astarion’s lips and he watched, absorbed, as Gale seemed to glance away for a few moments, unsure of himself as he fought through the haze of being taken and answering coherently. “Tell me how much you need me.” Astarion repeated with more lucidity and then moved to lift Gale’s legs above his shoulders, spreading him and truly appreciating the sight below of his sprawled companion, all sweat, perfumed skin, and flowing hair.
“Ah!” Gale gasped out, suddenly, not answering the question for in one of the slow movements Astarion’s cock had brushed against a bundle of delightful nerves hidden inside of him. Astarion stilled for only a second, just to smirk in triumph, before he repeated the motion with greater intent.
“Oh, dear, have I discovered something lovely?” He gloated in a drawl, allowing his hips to snap with more speed now that Gale encouraged him through moans. Gods. He would have the wizard’s mind, body, and soul entirely, he would fuck him until he saw a glorious white heat, he woul-
“‘Starion,” Gale interrupted, panting, eyes suddenly focused with concern. What? What could possibl-
“Bed. Wall.” At least he could relish in the knowledge that he had already pleasured the other enough to render his use of the English language to a near minimal state. That was satisfying in itself.
“It’s hitting.” Gale at last managed to explain. With a groan of frustration Astarion gazed blankly at him, trying to control his own urge to just continue pounding into that tight heat once more.
Fussy, fickle wizard. Too fussy. Too fickle. But he was right. “Gods.” Astarion huffed, and with a display of what could only be his vampiric, maddened strength, he wrapped his arms around Gale and lifted him with surprising ease, moving them both onto the bed. Now, rather than standing at its edge, he was fully knelt upon the mattress, with Gale’s pretty little head resting comfortably upon his stupid, crusty pillow.
“Better, darling?” Annoyed by the interruption, he captured Gale in a kiss as he received a hum of agreement. “Much. You’re doing amazing.”
Well. The praise was nice, but it also made Astarion recoil just a little in its sentimentality. Something about the way Gale said these words just targeted something a little too deep he was not willing to toy with. Still, he did not let the hesitance show, coating over with a tease.
“Now. Where were we? I believe you were just about to cry my name out and tell me how much you need me, weren’t you, darling?”
With that, he pointedly thrust his hips up, determined to send Gale back into his state of incoherence. But the wizard bit down into his lower lip to suppress his moan, and that wouldn't do. “Perhaps we should be mindful of the noise we make.”
Oh! Was that so?
Cute.
“Perhaps,” Astarion agreed, returning to his rhythm and bending himself over Gale, one arm down by his head. Like this, he could more clearly study the wizard and every little delicious twist of his expressive face. “So you’ll stay quiet then, my radiant little love, while I fuck my cock into you?” He jeered, thrusting a little faster as he watched Gale’s eyes dart for a moment, only to land on his own and glaze with pleasure. There was, if he wasn’t mistaken, something of a mischievous glint in those brown orbs. They kissed again, open and wet.
“There won’t be a single squeak from you, correct? While I take you?” Astarion sharpened his voice alongside his thrusting, pleased with Gale’s cry of surprise as he found that sweet spot once again.
“Ah! Deary me. I thought we were being mindful of the noise , hm? ”
Gale could say what he wished, but his face betrayed the full-hearted arousal Astarion’s words twisted within him. Some part of him wishing to please the other led him to moan again, eyes fluttering shut in the outerlands of his own building delirium.
“Astarion!”
The damn bed began creaking under their movements but Astarion fucked harder, pulling back so he could grab Gale’s thighs as leverage to thrust with vigour. Astarion was close, but Gale looked practically wrecked. His mouth lolled open, limbs and head ragdolling just a little with every deep thrust.
“Godsdamn! Yes, there, I… I do need you! Fuck ! Fucking… fuck me!” Astarion was not sure he had heard such foul language fall from Gale’s lips before, and it was every bit as delectable as he imagined it would be. At the next thrust, the useless wooden frame of the bed began to tap against their wall, and he growled, determined not to let it disturb their release, not when it had been so many months in the maki-
“Astarion!” Gale cried out, finally, arching and moaning lewdly into the night against the explosive heat of his climax. The sound of his delivery into ecstasy had Astarion groaning in response, hips twitching as he bucked hard into Gale, balls pressed into his arse and his cock pulsating cum into the other man. Gale's member, too, sputtered lines of white all over the man like artwork.
It was possibly the filthiest sensation Gale had experienced in years, and he loved it. They lay like that, close, gasping, shuddering through the little waves of drifting pleasure.
In a final curse from the universe and whatever powers that be around them, however, there came a loud crash and shake from beneath them. There was no afterglow nor sweet praise as the pair scrambled to their knees to look for the cause, still panting, trembling and sweating. Two heads popped down under the bed as they each spied the culprit: a wooden slat from their bed frame lay broken in half against the floor, amongst dust and - was that someone's old wooly sock?!
Their first time had certainly come with trials and tribulations of its own.
“I’m not paying for that.” Astarion instantly declared as they both lifted up at the same time to kneel, knees touching. A breathless response came with little thought. “Well, neither am I. They’ve already taken more than their fair share of my gold.”
A pause.
“I’ll pickpocket the front desk.”
“That's a terrible solution!”
Astarion was smirking, and somehow, Gale was, too (in a few days time, he never questioned why a satchel of gold coins appeared in his rucksack, alongside a small bar of token soap). With some less-than-attractive cleaning up, the pair eventually found themselves curled up in bed, now with Gale unabashedly pulling the rogue to his chest. Astarion allowed the cuddles, he reasoned, because Gale clearly wanted them so much. Not that he would admit to enjoying them.
“Well, with all the interruptions we faced, I cannot say that was… the highlight of my entire sex life.” Gale admitted, softly but teasingly, and Astarion begrudgingly sighed in agreement. After a few contemplative moments the other yawned, tone dropping to a murmur. “But it was the highlight of everything that’s happened to me since this tadpole, Astarion, and then some. Perhaps we’ll find the time again for a re-do, hm?”
In encounters past, he would have tossed his lover out at this stage, or slipped into the shadow of night himself, but that was just not a possibility here. Besides. A repeat sounded surprisingly tempting.
“Perhaps that could be arranged.”
In truth, he was not sure he could keep his hands off the other by tomorrow morning.
☾
Humans slept too much. Eight hours seemed excessive, particularly when Astarion had gotten adequate rest despite their fun, and Gale now looked groggy with bags beneath his eyes that matched the colour of his hideous robe.
“I could lie betwixt the sheets for an hour longer, or more.” He sighed, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, looking all the more miserable.
Astarion knew just how to cheer him up, “A marvelous idea, darling.” Cool hands moving to run over bare stomach, down, towards where Gale’s violet underdrawers sat snug on his hips.
“Mayhaps we should get to breakfast.” It took a long gaze between the two, hot red and pleading irises meeting tender, desirous brown ones before Gale reached his conclusions. “Although… I suppose there is no harm in enjoying what may be our last morning in a proper bed for quite some time still.”
“And I couldn’t agree more.” Satisfied, Astarion hummed, moving down Gale’s body to kneel between the wizard’s thighs. With his mouth almost salivating at the bulge beneath him, he leaned down to press a mouthy kiss over the other’s drawers.
“Now, let’s try this again, shall we?”
☾
“Not cool, Shadowheart! You promised twenty gold pieces!”
“I didn’t think we were taking this quite so seriously.”
“Uh, you must be kidding me!”
“Ladies, please! There is no need to argue. I said that this was a poor id- Lae’zel, wait. Surely you're not in on this too?”
“Chk! I am no is’tark . I have risen to the occasion of your games. And I am victorious.”
☾
Eventually, when they had all but exhausted each other, the pair dressed for breakfast and made the trek down the steep wooden steps of the inn and into the dining hall where their companions awaited. In silence.
Perhaps they’d heard us coming… Gale pondered, as he moved to pour himself a cup of coffee after nodding in greeting. Down the stairs, of course. No matter. We are all civilized, mature adults sharing an intimate space and even if they did hear the occasional bump in the night, it will be handled with the utmost discretion.
“You’re all awfully quiet.” Astarion commented as he sunk into the chair next to Shadowheart, lounging back to study her expression. She held her chin high, as if there were some sort of victory to be had. Red eyes narrowed. Suspicious.
“We were just discussing our plans for today.” Too sharply, Wyll began as his eyes cast over everyone. Gale took up a seat next to him with a bowl of hot porridge and honey. Something felt a little off in the air, but he shrugged it off, placated with a meal that he didn’t have to prepare, and a tray of freshly washed grapes to select from before them.
Shadowheart cleared her throat and began to cut through a patty of sausage, running her knife slow in contemplation. “Did anyone else hear a rather loud thud in the middle of the night?”
Mid-chew, Gale stilled. His eyes darted to pierce daggers through Astarion’s very soul, challenging him to so much as whisper. Luckily, the elf, by a miracle, noticed and raised him one brow before lifting a hand to study his own nail beds with a look of outward boredom - if it weren’t for his smirk.
“I didn’t.” Wyll supplied while he cleared his throat, horns pointed down into his plate of eggs.
“Really, Wyll? ‘Cause something wouldn’t stop banging on our wall.” Karlach continued, shooting a playful and pointed look towards Astarion. “Oh, how peculiar!” He responded, mouth dropping open in mock surprise.
“Perhaps it was one of the many ghosts rumoured to haunt these lands.” Gale offered through a furious blush, dutifully stirring a cube of sugar into his coffee cup, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of catching his glance. He ignored Shadowheart’s snicker at his words, back straight while he reached for the cream for his coffee. Mature.
The group could have simply moved on.
But they didn't, because Shadowheart grumbled beneath her breath, though loud enough for the table to hear. “These ‘ghosts’ cost me forty gold.” Before Gale nor Astarion could react, Lae’zel rose to the challenge, her fist landing on the table as she hissed at the other. “ Ts’va ! You meet defeat with an exposed underbelly.”
“You didn’t actually think I believed they would kill each other, did you?”
“I do not pity you. That is what you gambled on.”
Wyll had already palmed a hand over his face, sinking down in his chair whilst the pair bickered. Gale’s spoon failed to move from where he held it, his knuckles going white and his cheeks turning red.
“I do not wish to know.” The wizard spoke, interrupting Astarion, who clapped his hands together at the same time, “Oh, do tell me everything!”
Lae’zel regarded the elf with a flick of her head. “I gambled upon your fates; now that you have branded a promise of flesh and bone, I am victorious.”
Was that what they did? Gale found the thought oddly… romantic.
“Then what in the Hells did you bet on, Karlach?”
“I just thought you wouldn’t last the night together. I reckoned one of you would be begging one of us to switch. I mean, I could tell there was something going on between you two for a while now, but I had nooo idea I’d be so wrong, Starry.”
For a while? Astarion quieted at that, uncharacteristically. He also forgot to pretend to be upset at her nickname of him.
“Well, I am proud to announce that I took no part in any of this.” Wyll declared, placing a hesitant but sympathetic hand upon Gale’s shoulder.
“It appears you were still privy to it, however.” Gale retorted, unimpressed. “And I had thought our late night games of lanceboard would have amounted to more forthrightness between us, Wyll.”
See? Astarion immediately cast his gaze over the table. Did anyone actually listen to Gale? The vampire did not deserve to be pinned as the overdramatic one of their lot!
Gale continued with a sigh as Wyll rubbed his own arm and pressed his lips together in a thin line. It would soon be water beneath the sturdy bridges their friendships had constructed. “Well. I think it would be a wise and gracious course of action if we all agree to never mention this again. Should you all succeed in doing that, then perhaps I may overlook any… ill-gotten gains.”
“No promises.” Shadowheart quietly decided, reaching over Karlach for the basket of bread. Light shone through the frosted window panes over their breakfast in the warm and cozy inn hall, and for a moment, despite teasings, flaws, and imperfections within them all, a closeness settled over the group.
It would all be worth the exorbitant, cumulative sum spent over the three restful days.