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He’s so close, so godsdamned close, when a voice rings out through the room and he freezes. But not quickly enough to stop his release, as his eyes flick up to meet Astarion’s with one last stuttering moan.
“Well, what have we here?”
Shit.
“…Is that… my pillow??”
Shit.
“Uh. Maybe?” Gale manages, and watches a smile slowly curl across Astarion’s face.
“Missed me, my love?”
The smile is quickly replaced with a look of horror.
“Gale. How many of the pillows in the house have you done this with??”
They go out the next morning to buy all new pillows.
And embroidery thread, for some reason. Gale chooses not to question Astarion on that particular choice, the warmth of embarrassment lingering in his cheeks.
He regrets this eventually when a few days later, Gale’s reading time is interrupted. His book is knocked out of his hands by a large, rather squishy projectile from across the room followed by a high-pitched cackle as Astarion darts out of the room. Gale sighs and is about to reach for his book when a strange pattern across the front of the pillow catches his eye, and he leans to grab it from where it had fallen on the floor.
It’s a nice pillow, well-made too- firm but draped in a soft fabric. Nothing overly remarkable outside of that, except for the words that reveal themselves as Gale looks closer. Embroidered across its surface in careful, familiar stitches are the words “The Humping Pillow”, a small heart placed below it.
“ASTARION!!!”