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Astarion doesn't care that Gale is spending practically all his free time with the tiefling wizard. Sure, Rolan is insufferable—all the wizardly arrogance without an ounce of the charm Gale has—but Gale needs help retrieving and reforging the crown. As much as Astarion wants to help himself—which he definitely does, even though every step closer to the crown carries Gale further away from him—his lack of magical knowledge and renewed aversion to running water makes that impossible.
If watching Rolan put his hand on Gale's shoulder as he laughs way too hard at his puns annoys him, it's only because Rolan's interest is pathetically obvious. Gale looks happy to have someone to talk magic with, but surely he has no interest in Rolan. Not that Astarion would care if he does, it’s just…
Astarion’s relationship with Gale is complicated. They fucked a few times in the beginning of their journey, as part of Astarion’s grand plan to secure his place in the group, but somehow the ridiculous wizard grew on him. Gale didn’t mind the sharp barbs Astarion aimed at him, taking them in stride and bickering right back. They started sharing books. Talking sleepless nights away by the fire. Astarion would find little magic trinkets for Gale, and Gale offered up his neck whenever he asked.
It all came crumbling down at Moonrise, when Gale stood up for him against that wretched drow. Astarion, in an uncharacteristic fit of guilt-driven honesty, came clean about his motivations and his struggles with sex. Rather than getting rightfully upset at him, Gale just pulled him into a hug and assured Astarion he would be there for him as a friend.
At first, Astarion was relieved. The pressure to use his body as a tool for survival was gone. But then they fought a god, hurried to Baldur’s Gate, killed Cazador, fought the Chosen of two more gods, killed a Netherbrain, and saved the world. Somewhere along the line Astarion realized that he felt ready to try and reclaim sex for himself. Around the same time, rather inconveniently, he realized he didn’t want to just be friends with Gale. He wanted more.
But that ship has sailed. Gale, as frustratingly earnest and kind as he is, will go back to Waterdeep once he’s returned the crown to Mystra and cured himself of the orb, leaving Astarion behind to lurk in the shadows of the Gate. Astarion is… trying not to be bitter about it. He’s the one that put an end to their trysts, after all.
Astarion would’ve liked to make the most of the time he has left with Gale, but no. Instead, Rolan is monopolizing his free time while Astarion has nothing better to do than watch them and drink wine that tastes like vinegar. Eventually they finish up with whatever wizardly discussion they’re having, and Gale wanders over to where Astarion is sitting at the bar.
“How is my fine fanged friend holding up?” Gale asks, leaning against the counter as he faces him.
“Oh, you know. Just whiling away my immortality,” Astarion rolls his eyes and drinks deeply from his glass. If only he could actually get drunk off it.
“Someone’s in a mood today,” Gale teases, brown eyes sparkling in the Elfsong’s low lighting. “I have some good news that might cheer you up.”
Astarion quirks a brow at him, “Do tell, darling.”
“Rolan invited us to stay at Sorcerous Sundries. He’s got plenty of extra space and needs help properly configuring the tower now that it’s under his command. I figured it would be better than continuing to hole up here.”
How uncharacteristically altruistic of him. Astarion is immediately suspicious. It makes sense that he’d invite Gale, but Astarion, too? Astarion doubts he’ll be of much help, and he’s also fairly certain Rolan doesn’t like him.
“Did he say specifically that I’m invited?”
Gale frowns at him, brow furrowed, and that itself is confirmation of Astarion’s suspicions.
“Well, not exactly. He said that I’m welcome to stay, but why would he invite me and not you?”
“Gale, my sweet, he wants to fuck you so bad it makes him look stupid.”
The resulting flush of Gale’s cheeks is delicious, his eyes wide.
“I– That’s not– Astarion!” Gale chastises. “He’s helping me with the crown, you know that. We’re colleagues at best.”
“Mhm. He clearly wants to help you with more than just magic, darling.”
“Don’t be crass,” Gale rolls his eyes, before he pauses and arrows them. “You know, Astarion, you almost sound jealous.”
The noise Astarion makes is somewhere between a scoff and a startled squeak.
“I am not. I’m just pointing out the obvious.”
“So you wouldn’t mind if I moved into Sorcerous Sundries by myself?”
“I didn’t say that,” Astarion grumbles. “You’re already spending most of your waking hours around the man, do you really want to be around him more?”
“I knew it! You are jealous!” Gale proclaims, index finger held aloft. “Don’t worry, Astarion, your position as my closest friend is not under threat.”
Closest friend. Great. Exactly what Astarion wants.
“Please, I know I’m irreplaceable. Even when you so cruelly leave me to my own devices. Immortal I may be, but I can still die of boredom.”
Gale stares at him for a moment, blinking owlishly. Astarion can practically see the thoughts tumbling about in his head before he rests a big, warm hand on Astarion’s arm.
“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you in the midst of my efforts to recover the crown. It’s less than ideal, but I can’t get started on finding a way for you to walk in the sun while the orb remains.”
“What?”
Sure, Gale has mentioned helping him in passing, but that was ages ago. Back when they were still trying to save the world, before Gale had a clear path back home where he belongs.
“Come, now,” Gale smiles softly, and Astarion tries not to focus on how it makes his eyes crinkle in the corners, or the warmth of his touch seeping through his shirt. Stupid, endearing wizard. “You don’t think I’ve forgotten my promise, do you?”
Astarion doesn’t think he forgot, he assumes Gale never meant it in the first place.
“No, but I figured you changed your mind. You have a tower to get back to, after all.”
“I’m a man of my word, Astarion,” Gale says solemnly, meeting Astarion’s eyes with that soft, puppy-dog look he gets. “You must know you’re very special to me. I wouldn’t change my mind on something like that. Not when it’s you.”
The weight of those words makes Astarion’s chest ache. He wishes he’d said something all those months ago, when Gale had said they could be friends. Hates that whatever they might’ve had died before it ever got the chance to become something. How can he be content with being friends when Gale says things like this? What is he supposed to say in response?
Gale is so close to him, his hand still resting lightly on his shoulder, gorgeous as ever. The space between them feels tense, as if they’re both waiting for something. How will Gale react if Astarion closes the distance? Gods, he has no idea what he’s doing, but he wants this. Wants Gale. Astarion has never been selfless, nor is he the type to care about long term consequences.
He caves, tangling his hand in the collar of Gale’s silly robes and tugging him into a kiss.
Gale goes easily, his mouth hot against Astarion’s own as his hands slide up around his neck and into his hair. Gale holds him like he’s something precious as their lips slide together, rough and desperate. Unsaid words are exchanged in the press of their lips, and Gale parts his slightly to accommodate Astarion’s seeking tongue. It’s everything Astarion hoped it would be; Gale’s soft body against his lean frame. Warm and steady and safe, even as the kiss grows in intensity.
Gale makes content, muffled little noises into his mouth, and Astarion wants to devour him. Kisses him deeper, messier. He’s never had something like this, was never allowed to. He wants to leave an irrevocable mark on Gale, to intertwine them in ways that can’t be undone until no one can tell where Gale ends and he begins.
Eventually they part, if only so Gale can catch his breath. It gives Astarion a moment to calm down and keep himself from bending Gale over the Elfsong’s bar. He doesn’t want an audience for this.
“Upstairs,” Astarion breathes, pupils blown wide and drinking in Gale’s flushed, disheveled state. He knows how to do this part. How to communicate through his body what he can’t quite put into words.
Gale, wonderful man that he is, nods breathlessly and lets Astarion drag him away. It’s slow progress. Astarion stops every few feet to push Gale against the nearest wall and kiss him senseless, but eventually they make it to the door of their shared room. Gale blindly turns the handle behind him, refusing to break away long enough to turn around. They stumble into the room when he finally gets it open. Gale kicks the door shut behind them as Astarion presses him against the door.
Gale's beard scratches pleasantly against his cheeks. Then, as Astarion kisses along the darkened vein on Gale’s face towards his neck, against his lips. He sucks a bruise into the tender skin there as Gale rests his hand Astarion's upper back. Gale whimpers softly in response and holds Astarion tighter against his body.
Positioning a thigh in between Gale's legs, Astarion rolls his hips against Gale's and gets to work untying the knots of his robe.
“Astarion,” Gale whispers, breath puffing against the sensitive point of his ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Ties undone, the robe slips off Gale's shoulders, and Astarion hurriedly tugs him forward enough to pull it the rest of the way off. He doesn't bother messing with the wrap shirt, instead lifting it up and over Gale's head so he can grab handfuls of the soft, warm body he's been dreaming about for months.
“Show me," Astarion purrs, pulling Gale in for another brief, messy kiss before leading him back towards the bed.
When his legs hit the edge of the bed, Astarion quickly sheds his own shirt before Gale joins him, thick thighs straddling his lap.
“I missed this,” Astarion admits, running his hands through Gale's hair.
Remembering how much Gale likes his hair pulled, Astarion tightens his grip enough to tilt Gale's head back and kiss the sensitive skin of his throat.
“Really?" Gale asks, and Astarion wants to kiss away the wrinkle between his brows. “I hate that I used you without even realizing.”
That causes Astarion to pause. It’s not quite the truth. Already this feels worlds different than their first few times together. Gale had been nothing but a gentleman, and hadn’t taken anything Astarion didn’t expressly give him. Astarion faintly remembers enjoying himself. Still, those memories might as well belong to a different person. Recalling them feels numb. Distant. He’d barely come to grips with escaping Cazador, let alone having any concept of sleeping with someone out of desire.
“I think we used each other,” Astarion says eventually. In truth, he’s never been upset with Gale for anything that happened between them, but it’s clear Gale has been carrying this guilt around. They hadn’t known each other back then, at least in the ways that mattered. “Do you forgive me?”
Brown eyes soften, full of blatant affection. It hurts. How long has Gale been looking at Astarion like this before he finally noticed?
“Of course. There's nothing to forgive."
“Then consider yourself forgiven."
Astarion doesn't give him time to overthink, crashing their lips together while he indulges in the curve of Gale's chest, stomach, hips.
Gale feels familiar. Astarion likes the weight of him in his lap. Endless warmth and the soft scratch of all that body hair. The squish of Gale’s ample form beneath his hands. It's all functionally the same, but it feels different. Every sensation is amplified by the burning desire pooling low in his gut and the shaking need in his limbs. Astarion has never been in a position to want something like this, not until now. He wants it like this, awash in sensations he’s been separated from for ages.
Gale rocks down into his lap, and Astarion digs his fingers into his hips to encourage Gale to grind against him. Astarion’s mind is already racing with everything he wants to do to him. Everything he could do. Syrupy desire spreads through him like magma, and Astarion gets lost in delicious friction. Proof that Gale is hard, too, and wants this as much as he does. It’s not long before he wants more. More skin, more friction, more Gale. He brings his hands down to tug at Gale’s waistband impatiently.
“Off,” he demands, pushing lightly on Gale’s chest.
Gale awkwardly slides off his lap so he can stand. Astarion is on him immediately, undoing the laces of his trousers and pulling them down alongside his underwear. Astarion takes a moment to admire the dark hair trailing down Gale’s stomach towards his thick cock before pressing a sharp kiss to one hip bone, working the delicate skin between his teeth and smirking at the gasp it earns him. His nose is pressed against soft flesh, and his senses are working over time. The heady musk and salty tang of Gale’s sweat mingles with the rich scent of blood rushing beneath his skin.
Gale pulls away with an impatient whine, “I want to see you.”
Astarion obliges, wiggling out of his own tight pants. He lays back properly and brings Gale with him, feeling the thud of Gale’s heartbeat against his chest as his weight settles over him. Before, he’d hated positions like this. On his back and caged in. But now, instead of trapped, he feels held. Engulfed in all the tender warmth and gentle touch Gale has to offer him.
Gale kisses him again; forearms on either side of Astarion’s head, hips spread wide to accommodate him. Bare skin on skin is incredible, and Astarion can’t believe he made it as long as he did without having Gale like this again. It’s far more intense than what he remembers, little zaps of pleasure everywhere their bodies meet.
Slowly, Gale trails kisses down his body. Wet, messy meetings of lips and tongue to skin, unabashed in their frenzy. He pauses to take a pale pink nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud and making Astarion curse at the sensation. Before he can adjust to the feeling—before he can demand more—Gale is already moving down, pressing his mouth to the spaces between the faint outline of his ribs. Down, down, down. Hot, teasing breaths across Astarion’s stomach that have his abdominal muscles fluttering.
“You’re such a tease,” he groans, his hips rocking fruitlessly in search of friction.
Gale glances up from where he’s lowered his mouth to Astarion’s hip. There’s an undeniable smirk in those dark, hungry eyes, and Astarion is both infuriated and hopelessly turned on by the sudden spike in confidence. It’s not something he remembers seeing during their early, fumbling trysts, and it takes him completely off guard. He’s wanted Gale to want him again for so long. Now that Astarion has him, he’s ready to be consumed and consume in turn.
Sharp nips against Astarion’s hip bone start teasing before Gale’s tongue traces the vee of his pelvis. The whine it pulls from Astarion would be embarrassing if he cared about anything other than getting Gale to touch his cock before he spontaneously combusts.
“Gale, please.”
Rather than having mercy, Gale pulls back, and Astarion squirms at the loss.
“I think I must be the luckiest man in Faerûn, to have you like this,” Gale breathes. “You put the stars to shame.”
Astarion melts at the soft words, all the more impactful when Gale’s eyes meet his own, sparkling with sincerity. Impatience, however, wins out. Astarion’s still naked underneath him, and he’s never wanted to be touched more than he does right now.
“That’s all well and good, love, but I’d rather you show me.” Watching Gale’s pupils dilate in response to Astarion’s words only ramps up his need. “Touch me. Please.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Astarion isn’t expecting it when Gale returns to the sensitive skin of his hips. He continues making his way down, bypassing Astarion’s cock entirely in favor of drawing the tender flesh of his inner thighs into his mouth. Just hard enough to leave a mark. Astarion lets out a frustrated groan. Tries to buck into the touch, but Gale has both hands rubbing circles into Astarion’s hip bones, anchoring him into place.
“Gale,” Astarion whines, a warning edge to his voice.
“Impatient,” Gale murmurs against his skin. “Let me savor you, please?”
It’s the way Gale asks. A plea rather than a demand, not only in his words but in his expression. How he gazes up at Astarion in supplication. Astarion knows he could put a stop to all of this with a word, and it only makes him more eager to receive whatever Gale has in store for him. He trusts Gale. To listen to him, yes, but to treat him well without Astarion having to ask.
“You’re infuriating,” Astarion pouts without an ounce of sincerity.
Gale hums in response before pressing his nose into the crease of his thigh and inhaling deeply. The muffled moan that escapes him makes Astarion throb, his cock heavy and leaking.
“You’re such a little freak,” Astarion sighs appreciatively.
He’s forgotten how dirty his wizard can be, and his brain helpfully reminds him of the time Gale commented, in earshot of their poor companions, on Astarion’s musk after battle.
“Can’t help it,” Gale huffs, turning his head just enough to brush his nose against Astarion’s length as he presses more kisses to his inner thigh. “Smells good.”
“Hells, Gale. You can’t just say shit like that.”
“Fine. Let me taste you?”
“Yes,” Astarion moans. “Anything. Whatever you want.”
There’s a faint vibration as Gale laughs against him before he licks him slowly from base to tip. Astarion’s hand flies instinctively to Gale’s hair. It’s as soft as he remembers, and Gale looks like sin incarnate with his little half-bun, the front pieces coming loose from their tie and framing his sweat-dampened brow.
Pulling back his foreskin when he reaches the tip, Gale dips his tongue into the revealed slit as Astarion cries out. Gale mouths at the head and moves a hand down to the base, stroking to spread spit and precum along his length. Dazed, Astarion squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught of pleasure.
Gale takes Astarion slowly, one shallow bob of his head at a time. His hand strokes leisurely over what his mouth doesn’t cover. When Astarion adjusts to the contact—pleasure settling down into a simmer rather than an inferno—he opens his eyes again. He’s determined to commit the sight of Gale’s head between his thighs to memory.
“So good, love,” Astarion whines, hand tightening in Gale’s hair. “You’re so good.”
A rumbling moan around his cock leaves Astarion gasping, suppressing the urge to buck into Gale’s mouth. Gale swirls his tongue on the underside as he works Astarion further down, hollowing his cheeks every time he draws his head back. Gale lifts off him for a moment, hand moving in firm, steady strokes in absence of that talented mouth. Astarion almost begs him to come back before Gale pops the thumb of his other hand into his mouth, whirling his tongue wantonly around the digit as he meets Astarion’s gaze.
There isn’t a thought in Astarion’s head beyond Gale and his sinful mouth. He’d gathered that Gale had something of an oral fixation, but witnessing it first hand is something else altogether. He hadn’t gotten the chance to experience this particular skill set. The gods have never had mercy on Astarion, but Gale’s lips—spit-slick, swollen, and eager in their ministrations—are nothing short of holy.
Gale moves his spit slick hand down between Astarion’s legs at the same time that gorgeous mouth takes him back down. Astarion is too focused on having warm, wet heat surrounding him again to pay the wandering hand much attention, until it grazes his hole. The motion sends sparks of pleasure skittering up Astarion’s spine. It has him pulling Gale’s hair, and he earns a delighted groan for his efforts. Astarion tilts his hips, eager to give Gale more access. Instead of pressing inside, Gale’s slick fingers slide up just enough to rub against the sensitive skin behind his balls. It’s not something he can recall ever having done to him, but the effect is undeniable. Each press of Gale’s thumb sends a wave of heat through him, amplifying the pleasure coiling in his gut.
“Fuck, Gale,” Astarion feels his cock bump against the back of Gale’s throat, grounding himself with his hold on Gale’s hair. “Your mouth is perfect. So perfect for me.”
Gale hums in response, deliberately meeting Astarion’s eyes before pulling off.
“Use me,” he growls, voice thick from his efforts. “Please. Pull my hair and use my throat.”
Astarion barely has time to nod before Gale’s mouth is on him again, taking him down until Astarion can feel himself slipping into the tight channel of his throat. As Gale goes, he doesn’t stop rubbing slow, deep circles against Astarion’s perineum. When Gale has taken him all the way, nose pressed into his pubic hair, he opens his eyes to look up at Astarion.
Asatrion doesn’t stand a chance against the sight of gorgeous lips stretched around him. Gale hums happily; damp, cockdrunk eyes blinking languidly. One hand fists the sheets beside him while the other moves down to rub encouraging circles into Astarion’s thigh.
Astarion sets a slow pace to start, wary of gagging or hurting him, but Gale takes it easily. It doesn’t take Astarion long to lose himself in the pleasure, little gasps escaping him every time the head of his cock slips into his throat. Stifled moans, gasping breaths, and filthy wet sounds fill the air as Gale lets Astarion use him as he pleases.
“Not gonna last long,” Astarion huffs, pulling firmly on Gale’s hair as he thrusts his hips off the mattress and into the delicious heat Gale is offering him. “You make me feel so good. Such a good boy.”
Gale’s eyes flutter briefly shut at the praise. The next time Astarion thrusts all the way in, Gale slides his hand down to cup his ass. His fingers tremble slightly as they dig into soft flesh, halting Astarion’s motions. Astarion shifts, helping Gale keep his hips up as he holds Astarion down his throat.
“Shit, Gale, I’m so fucking close,” Astarion whimpers, but Gale doesn’t relent, keeping Astarion pressed deep inside him as he swallows once, twice. “Gale, I– I’m gonna– Gale!”
Astarion comes with a shout, tensing as shockwaves of bliss spread through him. Gale swallows without hesitation, working Astarion through his orgasm and only pulling away when Astarion begins to wince from the overstimulation. He gently lowers Astarion’s hips back onto the mattress, both of them panting as he comes down.
“Hells,” Astarion breathes, staring at Gale in awe. His cheeks are deep red and his hair has fallen out of its bun. He’s gently rubbing his palms up and down Astarion’s bare, heaving sides.
“Was that alright?” Gale asks, looking him over carefully.
“Just alright? You’ve been holding back on me darling,” Astarion grins. “I’ll need a few minutes to catch my breath before I return the favor.”
“That, ah, won’t be necessary.”
“Did you–”
Astarion doesn’t need to finish his question, his eyes landing on Gale’s softening cock and the mess he’s made in his own lap.
“I see someone enjoyed himself.”
“Can you blame me?” Gale grumbles. “I happen to find you very stimulating.”
“You sure know how to sweet talk a man,” Astarion giggles before pulling Gale down to lay beside him.
Gale slings an arm around Astarion and tucks his face against his chest. They lay in comfortable silence, Astarion trying to make sense of his mess of emotions. Having Gale here feels right. Gale feels right. The last thing Astarion wants to do is let him go any time soon.
“Astarion?”
“Hm?”
Astarion glances down, but Gale keeps his face hidden away.
“I’m in love with you,” Gale admits. “Perhaps that’s obvious, considering, but… I needed to say it.”
Astarion is so painfully fond of this ridiculous wizard. He doesn’t know if the warm things he feels for Gale counts as love, but he knows he wants more of this. Wants a chance to watch Gale come apart, to kiss him more, to keep holding him.
“There’s no need for you to say it back, of course,” Gale clarifies when Astarion has gone too long without responding. “Or to return my feelings. If you’d rather leave this as a one time occurrence, I understand.”
Astarion knows Gale well enough to hear the aching undertone to his voice, despite his attempt to sound neutral. Gale has always been a terrible liar.
“Gale, darling, you just sucked my brains out through my cock. Give a poor vampire a moment to collect his thoughts,” he snickers, and Gale finally tilts his head up to look at him. It’s impossible to miss the hopeful, tentative look in his eyes. “I don’t know what love feels like, honestly, but I want this with you. Whatever this is.”
The way Gale’s face lights up is gorgeous, and Astarion can’t help leaning down for a slow, indulgent kiss. Gale reaches a hand up to cup his face, all soft, earnest affection.
“Come back to Waterdeep with me?”
Astarion blinks at him. He hadn’t even realized that was an option. In hindsight, it’s an endearingly Gale thing to do, inviting him to move in right after they’ve had sex for (sort of) the first time.
“I suppose I might as well,” Astarion sighs with faux indignation, but there’s no hiding the smile on his face.