![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[Though still relatively new, there is already comfort in this morning routine they have begun to develop. Godfrey has always risen to meet the dawn, and Gale would do nothing to stand in the way of that, however much he might wish for them to remain tangled among the sheets together just a bit longer.
As he has done every morning since they had begun, Gale begins to stir softly as Godfrey disentangles himself, mumbling something incoherent but undeniably fond in protest under his breath. Godfrey's soothing efforts are as effective as they always are; the wizard's hold on his partner loosens and he drops back to the pillow below, caught between sleep and wakefulness, and settles for letting his hand trail down the length of Godfrey's forearm as the larger man pulls away, Gale subconsciously curling his fingers against his palm slightly just before they part.
Godfrey would pray, and sometime afterwards, Gale would rise and join him for breakfast, and together they would see what the day held. Until then, Gale would allow sleep to gently drag him back downwards into its embrace, curled up in the circle of warmth Godfrey had left in his wake.
There is a sudden shift in the atmosphere that tugs at his senses, causing him to stir a second time, but it is the scream that pierces the air a heartbeat afterwards that shocks him awake, eyes flying wide open as he feels a spike of terror surge through him. Covers are thrown aside as he all but trips over himself scrambling out of bed; adrenaline has forced sleep from his eyes just in time for him to see Godfrey become violently ill on the floor, a sense of dread all-encompassing as he rushes to his side.]
Godfrey, are you—
[His own panic is scarcely contained, fearful as he drops to his knees beside the paladin just as Godfrey's head smashes against surface of the table; Gale grabs hold of his shoulders to try and right him, his heart beating rapidly despite being lodges in his throat.]
My love, I'm here, can you—?!
[Can you hear me? But Godfrey himself is gasping for breath, gold streaming from his eyes, and Gale finds his own words seized from him.]
As he has done every morning since they had begun, Gale begins to stir softly as Godfrey disentangles himself, mumbling something incoherent but undeniably fond in protest under his breath. Godfrey's soothing efforts are as effective as they always are; the wizard's hold on his partner loosens and he drops back to the pillow below, caught between sleep and wakefulness, and settles for letting his hand trail down the length of Godfrey's forearm as the larger man pulls away, Gale subconsciously curling his fingers against his palm slightly just before they part.
Godfrey would pray, and sometime afterwards, Gale would rise and join him for breakfast, and together they would see what the day held. Until then, Gale would allow sleep to gently drag him back downwards into its embrace, curled up in the circle of warmth Godfrey had left in his wake.
There is a sudden shift in the atmosphere that tugs at his senses, causing him to stir a second time, but it is the scream that pierces the air a heartbeat afterwards that shocks him awake, eyes flying wide open as he feels a spike of terror surge through him. Covers are thrown aside as he all but trips over himself scrambling out of bed; adrenaline has forced sleep from his eyes just in time for him to see Godfrey become violently ill on the floor, a sense of dread all-encompassing as he rushes to his side.]
Godfrey, are you—
[His own panic is scarcely contained, fearful as he drops to his knees beside the paladin just as Godfrey's head smashes against surface of the table; Gale grabs hold of his shoulders to try and right him, his heart beating rapidly despite being lodges in his throat.]
My love, I'm here, can you—?!
[Can you hear me? But Godfrey himself is gasping for breath, gold streaming from his eyes, and Gale finds his own words seized from him.]
Edited 2025-02-24 02:24 (UTC)
I suppose I am soft.
[He can't decide if that's an insult or not, but he certainly knows it to be true.]
I never thought of myself as someone who could give up easily. Perhaps if I did, I wouldn't be where I am now. It is better to say that I am wearily frustrated.
You're right, however. Giving up would not become me. Thank you for the reminder.
[He can't decide if that's an insult or not, but he certainly knows it to be true.]
I never thought of myself as someone who could give up easily. Perhaps if I did, I wouldn't be where I am now. It is better to say that I am wearily frustrated.
You're right, however. Giving up would not become me. Thank you for the reminder.
Simply ask her? Well, that's a novel idea, isn't it?
[He's quite right, and his pointing it out has Gale laughing at himself a bit.]
Perhaps I'm simply worrying about it too much to begin with. I do rather have a habit of overthinking, or so I've been told.
[He's quite right, and his pointing it out has Gale laughing at himself a bit.]
Perhaps I'm simply worrying about it too much to begin with. I do rather have a habit of overthinking, or so I've been told.
A scholar, rather than a teacher, but I have given some thought to the latter as of late. Once, I would have insisted I did not have the patience for it, but I suppose we all change as time marches on.
Is it fancy? I've never given it much thought, but I do suppose you're right— it has endless uses, however. One of the first tricks a young wizard or sorcerer ought to learn, if you ask me! Now, I'll admit the name 'Brain Camp' certainly doesn't mince any words. It tells you precisely what it is.
Nearly all spells have both a verbal and somatic component, and some may even require reagents, particularly those that have to do with summoning. Especially skilled practitioners may be able to cast spells without speaking, but it is quite rare. The somatic gestures are a necessity, though not all will perform them equally.
Is it fancy? I've never given it much thought, but I do suppose you're right— it has endless uses, however. One of the first tricks a young wizard or sorcerer ought to learn, if you ask me! Now, I'll admit the name 'Brain Camp' certainly doesn't mince any words. It tells you precisely what it is.
Nearly all spells have both a verbal and somatic component, and some may even require reagents, particularly those that have to do with summoning. Especially skilled practitioners may be able to cast spells without speaking, but it is quite rare. The somatic gestures are a necessity, though not all will perform them equally.
[American money. He certainly understands why the colonies had insisted upon their independence, but what was so wrong with their currency that it had to be done away with entirely? Honestly.
Is he— is he joking?]
Pounds? As in—
[He pauses, narrowing his gaze before giving a shake of his head. No, no. He ought not let himself get baited further.]
Three dollars it is, then— show me this skill of yours, Mr. Morgan.
Is he— is he joking?]
Pounds? As in—
[He pauses, narrowing his gaze before giving a shake of his head. No, no. He ought not let himself get baited further.]
Three dollars it is, then— show me this skill of yours, Mr. Morgan.
Given how reticent she is at giving straight or complete answers at times, I can understand why it wouldn't have been the first choice.
[But Shadowheart can also be as blunt as a stone other times. It's worth finding out for certain, Jim thinks.]
[But Shadowheart can also be as blunt as a stone other times. It's worth finding out for certain, Jim thinks.]
Good man.
[Arthur pats Gale's back harder than he realizes, then starts waving off people who have stepped between him and the bottle.]
Outta the way, now--
[Once everyone catches wind of what was going on, a few people crane their necks to see, but Arthur pays them no mind. Just as everything faded away when he focused solely on Gale's words, the entire saloon becomes distant background noise when he settles his eyes on the empty bottle. He pulls the knife back over his shoulder, then pitches it forward in a swift arc. The glass bursts into dozens of pieces as the blade pierces it, then embeds itself in the wall with a dull thud.]
[Arthur pats Gale's back harder than he realizes, then starts waving off people who have stepped between him and the bottle.]
Outta the way, now--
[Once everyone catches wind of what was going on, a few people crane their necks to see, but Arthur pays them no mind. Just as everything faded away when he focused solely on Gale's words, the entire saloon becomes distant background noise when he settles his eyes on the empty bottle. He pulls the knife back over his shoulder, then pitches it forward in a swift arc. The glass bursts into dozens of pieces as the blade pierces it, then embeds itself in the wall with a dull thud.]
[ Another memory spared; he won't remember how likely it is that he ended up on his back because of how severely he tripped stepping out of his trousers.
This, though - the sight before him - stays. Hazy in his morning recollection, but there all the same; his love silhouetted in soft evening firelight, hair tousled, on his knees, hovering just above his hard dick, Gale's own bouncing as he settles into his position on his lap. Godfrey's broad and warm hand on his waist. The hot hint of colour he can see in what little light seeps through the fabric walls of the tent, sprayed across his cheeks, his collar.
Here is where, in his right mind, Godfrey might pause to think of logistical needs. The strain one might go through in this position, for instance, or the need for oil. The close proximity of murmuring voices and footsteps. The likelihood that they may be overheard.
None of these thoughts cross his mind. He's asked to come closer, and Godfrey, propping himself up on his elbow, pushes himself a little further. He pushes his palm into the ground beneath the pillows and runs his hand across the curve of his spine, pulls his face against his chest. A sigh is pushed roughly from him.
So are words, if one can make out the muttering he smears against the middle of his chest; I love you. ]
This, though - the sight before him - stays. Hazy in his morning recollection, but there all the same; his love silhouetted in soft evening firelight, hair tousled, on his knees, hovering just above his hard dick, Gale's own bouncing as he settles into his position on his lap. Godfrey's broad and warm hand on his waist. The hot hint of colour he can see in what little light seeps through the fabric walls of the tent, sprayed across his cheeks, his collar.
Here is where, in his right mind, Godfrey might pause to think of logistical needs. The strain one might go through in this position, for instance, or the need for oil. The close proximity of murmuring voices and footsteps. The likelihood that they may be overheard.
None of these thoughts cross his mind. He's asked to come closer, and Godfrey, propping himself up on his elbow, pushes himself a little further. He pushes his palm into the ground beneath the pillows and runs his hand across the curve of his spine, pulls his face against his chest. A sigh is pushed roughly from him.
So are words, if one can make out the muttering he smears against the middle of his chest; I love you. ]
[Gale's heart is thundering in his chest; there's some distant awareness of the logistics of what's to come, the usual necessities, but they seem wildly unimportant in this particular moment, Godfrey beneath him and beautifully tousled, arousal brushing against his own as Gale carefully settles his ass against Godfrey's thighs, hips straddled. Godfrey moves closer and buries his face against his chest, Gale threading his fingers into his hair as he looks down fondly, a laugh that is all warmth bubbling forth— that bit of tenderness among raw need only serving to further stoke desire.
It goes right to his cock, as does the sword-calloused palm moving along the curve of his spine, and Gale cups the side of his lover's face in hand even as aches for more.]
I love you.
[His thumb traces the curve of Godfrey's lower lip the moment it falls away from his chest, and he tips the paladin's face upwards so that he can meet his gaze, his own now dark with hunger, with need.]
Care to show me what you had in mind, my heart? I confess, I'm already finding it very difficult to be patient.
[How can he be, with such a feast before him?]
It goes right to his cock, as does the sword-calloused palm moving along the curve of his spine, and Gale cups the side of his lover's face in hand even as aches for more.]
I love you.
[His thumb traces the curve of Godfrey's lower lip the moment it falls away from his chest, and he tips the paladin's face upwards so that he can meet his gaze, his own now dark with hunger, with need.]
Care to show me what you had in mind, my heart? I confess, I'm already finding it very difficult to be patient.
[How can he be, with such a feast before him?]
[ in this case, she means it as an compliment. normally when she calls him soft it's an insult so its easy to get confused. ]
That's understandable given your situation but you're not a 'lost cause' as you put it
Not right now anyway but if you keep this up you will be
That's understandable given your situation but you're not a 'lost cause' as you put it
Not right now anyway but if you keep this up you will be
Funny, I once thought I couldn't teach others either. Now? Apparently I did so well they want me back to teach the next generation of biotics. It's quite an honor. And they wouldn't take no for an answer!
[ Kaidan wishes talk of Brain Camp didn't come with such conflicting feelings. It's true: BAaT developed much of the methodology now followed by most human biotics. But its cost was too high. Yet it seems a greater sin to not used such hard won knowledge. Or so he told the committee when they asked him what his thoughts were as a graduate of the ill-fated program. ] Yeah. Floating books came in handy when I needed to study for my degree. My mom hated it though. Said it was cheating.
Wow, so it really is like in those adventure books. Neat! The needing reagents, that is. We biotics use eezo—element zero, that is. Too much of it call kill us though. Today I learned I glow bright blue when I use my biotics , which is funny because I have a friend who glows green instead. So it's not just the gestures that differ from person to person. Magic in your world like that too?
[ Kaidan wishes talk of Brain Camp didn't come with such conflicting feelings. It's true: BAaT developed much of the methodology now followed by most human biotics. But its cost was too high. Yet it seems a greater sin to not used such hard won knowledge. Or so he told the committee when they asked him what his thoughts were as a graduate of the ill-fated program. ] Yeah. Floating books came in handy when I needed to study for my degree. My mom hated it though. Said it was cheating.
Wow, so it really is like in those adventure books. Neat! The needing reagents, that is. We biotics use eezo—element zero, that is. Too much of it call kill us though. Today I learned I glow bright blue when I use my biotics , which is funny because I have a friend who glows green instead. So it's not just the gestures that differ from person to person. Magic in your world like that too?
Edited 2025-03-08 04:33 (UTC)
[ All that Godfrey had in mind is on his face as he looks up, throat against the center of his chest, lips flushed and parted for hard, hot breaths.
The question doesn't fall bottomless through him. It enters some part of his head. It can be seen passing behind his eyes as he stares, breathless, taking in the man filling his lap and his arms and his life. He feels his palm warm his face and leans his cheek into it, slips his eyes closed. Warmth trills down his spine.
Godfrey responds before he realizes he had an answer to give; he brushes his lips against the inside of Gale's wrist, feels briefly the flutter of his blood beneath his skin through his sensitive lips. His roughened hands move quickly, greedily; along the curve of his spine, up his thigh, pressing his hips against his own hardness with a quiet groan.
This, is what he says. This is what he had in mind; every moment he could have his hands on him, share in his heartbeat, the warmth between them. He'd thought of nothing else. Until Gale asked him to word what had moved his hands, he still hadn't thought of anything else.
He turns his face. His nose presses against his chest as he kisses him, again. ]
We need oil, [ Godfrey slurs out that much, but proves no willingness to let Gale out of his arms to retrieve it. ]
The question doesn't fall bottomless through him. It enters some part of his head. It can be seen passing behind his eyes as he stares, breathless, taking in the man filling his lap and his arms and his life. He feels his palm warm his face and leans his cheek into it, slips his eyes closed. Warmth trills down his spine.
Godfrey responds before he realizes he had an answer to give; he brushes his lips against the inside of Gale's wrist, feels briefly the flutter of his blood beneath his skin through his sensitive lips. His roughened hands move quickly, greedily; along the curve of his spine, up his thigh, pressing his hips against his own hardness with a quiet groan.
This, is what he says. This is what he had in mind; every moment he could have his hands on him, share in his heartbeat, the warmth between them. He'd thought of nothing else. Until Gale asked him to word what had moved his hands, he still hadn't thought of anything else.
He turns his face. His nose presses against his chest as he kisses him, again. ]
We need oil, [ Godfrey slurs out that much, but proves no willingness to let Gale out of his arms to retrieve it. ]
[ Please strangles in his throat, combusted by the painful dawn blooming in his chest.
Often, sunrises are slow, pensive affairs. Dawn-side prayer is a soft and sacred thing, which brought watercolours to Godfrey's world; inky blue and deep, deep purples giving way for pinks and gentle violets and soft oranges, or the rich brilliance of more adventurous colours, or the soft fogginess of a gray rain-shower. Regardless of how it looked, sunrise always brought much of the same. Recollection, peace, the edge of awakening. Before the rest of the world caught up, this precipice is where Godfrey would sit and collect himself, and lay thought and deed bare for his Lord. He watched the dawn's rays stretch across the world, from that little window to the next plane. He thought it often His gaze, stretching across impossible distances, beholding the mortal plane.
Holding him in His regard.
Godfrey feels something impossible within him. He recedes from Gale, his touch, his voice, his concern - it runs farther and farther from him. Is he getting smaller, or farther away? He doesn't know. He won't ever know. The dawn is in his chest, ringing through him; it is strangling him, and it is spilling from his eyes in glowing molten brilliance, and it is burning every moisture from him. His mouth turns to sand. Blood drains from him. It is a dawn's ferocity with none of its peace.
It pushes in. The borders of him crack. Mountainous hands brace against the invisible pieces as it pushes its way in, and the dawn-light blots Godfrey's eyes to two glowing points of sunlight. ]
Often, sunrises are slow, pensive affairs. Dawn-side prayer is a soft and sacred thing, which brought watercolours to Godfrey's world; inky blue and deep, deep purples giving way for pinks and gentle violets and soft oranges, or the rich brilliance of more adventurous colours, or the soft fogginess of a gray rain-shower. Regardless of how it looked, sunrise always brought much of the same. Recollection, peace, the edge of awakening. Before the rest of the world caught up, this precipice is where Godfrey would sit and collect himself, and lay thought and deed bare for his Lord. He watched the dawn's rays stretch across the world, from that little window to the next plane. He thought it often His gaze, stretching across impossible distances, beholding the mortal plane.
Holding him in His regard.
Godfrey feels something impossible within him. He recedes from Gale, his touch, his voice, his concern - it runs farther and farther from him. Is he getting smaller, or farther away? He doesn't know. He won't ever know. The dawn is in his chest, ringing through him; it is strangling him, and it is spilling from his eyes in glowing molten brilliance, and it is burning every moisture from him. His mouth turns to sand. Blood drains from him. It is a dawn's ferocity with none of its peace.
It pushes in. The borders of him crack. Mountainous hands brace against the invisible pieces as it pushes its way in, and the dawn-light blots Godfrey's eyes to two glowing points of sunlight. ]
A testament to your skill with both biotics and rhetoric that they've been so insistent! You must be quite the talent.
[It's not often he gets to speak with another prodigy who's just as eager to discuss their respective crafts!]
It stands to reason that too much of any sort of power could be damaging, I suppose, though I'm certain a number of biotics have learned that lesson the hard way. The same could be said of many wizards and sorcerers alike. [He may know a little something about that firsthand...] The details do vary between individuals, however. I imagine that just as each caster's spells might take on a bit of their personality, each biotic is unique, as well.
[It's not often he gets to speak with another prodigy who's just as eager to discuss their respective crafts!]
It stands to reason that too much of any sort of power could be damaging, I suppose, though I'm certain a number of biotics have learned that lesson the hard way. The same could be said of many wizards and sorcerers alike. [He may know a little something about that firsthand...] The details do vary between individuals, however. I imagine that just as each caster's spells might take on a bit of their personality, each biotic is unique, as well.
One-in-a-million, I was told. But I try not to let it go to my head. Hard work matters more, I think.
Exactly why I try to keep a level head. Worst I ever heard was, uh, self-immolation. Instantaneous. Biotics is electricity based, so... [ Yeah, zapping yourself to death isn't how Kaidan would like to go.Tell me all about that Karsus, Gale. ] We are. Biotics falls into three broad categories: telekinesis, kinetic fields and spatial distortion. I'm good at the first two, but I've never gotten the hang of the third. I'm told I overthink it, get hung up on how cool it is that I'm making a pocket singularity...so it doesn't happen.
Exactly why I try to keep a level head. Worst I ever heard was, uh, self-immolation. Instantaneous. Biotics is electricity based, so... [ Yeah, zapping yourself to death isn't how Kaidan would like to go.
Edited 2025-04-14 02:22 (UTC)
[Godfrey is heavy in his arms, an impossible weight against his chest as Gale struggles to hold him up, his own heart racing and beating furiously against the inside of his ribcage.]
No, no!
[He doesn't recognize his own voice, raw and desperate, and he places a hand flat against Godfrey's chest and the blossoming heat within it, clenching his jaw as the paladin's eyes give way to brilliant light. He is all instinct now, pushing back against whatever this is that has taken hold of his lover, fighting to expel it with the sheer force of the arcane powers that flows through his own veins, drawn from the very atmosphere, and yet for all the strength he has regained, he can feel the futility of it, feel that this force he rails against is nothing less than divine.]
Godfrey!
[His voice echoes as it reaches the rafters— but already, he fears it falls on deaf ears, that the man in his arms has slipped beyond his reach.]
No, no!
[He doesn't recognize his own voice, raw and desperate, and he places a hand flat against Godfrey's chest and the blossoming heat within it, clenching his jaw as the paladin's eyes give way to brilliant light. He is all instinct now, pushing back against whatever this is that has taken hold of his lover, fighting to expel it with the sheer force of the arcane powers that flows through his own veins, drawn from the very atmosphere, and yet for all the strength he has regained, he can feel the futility of it, feel that this force he rails against is nothing less than divine.]
Godfrey!
[His voice echoes as it reaches the rafters— but already, he fears it falls on deaf ears, that the man in his arms has slipped beyond his reach.]
[In truth, had Godfrey been unable to give his desires voice, it would have mattered little— even beyond the obvious, they have had the time and opportunity to learn one another, understood one another well enough that they could have wordlessly found their way through this with little trouble. It is the opportunity to see his love take the lead that Gale cannot let slip past, and though Godfrey appears unwilling to release him, it is of little consequence. A soft rumble of approval moves through him as Godfrey presses lips to his chest, Gale's fingers curling possessively into flaxen hair, each pass of his heart's hands offering wordless promises.]
Easily remedied.
[The assurance is soft, the edge of his voice raw with want. It matters not that he remains held fast in Godfrey's arms; the somatic component of a simple cantrip is but a moment's work, and a spectral hand dutifully retrieves what they need. A small part of him takes some pleasure in knowing that even for the simplest of spells, Mystra must hear his bid for power, but it is greatly overshadowed by the knowledge that what he shares with Godfrey, her cold and distant heart could never truly grasp.
Gingerly, Gale takes the bottle in hand before he dismisses his spectral assistant— for the time being— and gently taps it against Godfrey's shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath as he makes an effort to remain restrained despite his own arousal.]
Shall I assist you?
Easily remedied.
[The assurance is soft, the edge of his voice raw with want. It matters not that he remains held fast in Godfrey's arms; the somatic component of a simple cantrip is but a moment's work, and a spectral hand dutifully retrieves what they need. A small part of him takes some pleasure in knowing that even for the simplest of spells, Mystra must hear his bid for power, but it is greatly overshadowed by the knowledge that what he shares with Godfrey, her cold and distant heart could never truly grasp.
Gingerly, Gale takes the bottle in hand before he dismisses his spectral assistant— for the time being— and gently taps it against Godfrey's shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath as he makes an effort to remain restrained despite his own arousal.]
Shall I assist you?
[ A sparse glance is all that Godfrey spares the bottle once it's produced against the thick bulk of his bare shoulder.
There's a moment before he realizes what the bottle is, or that he had only just asked for it, in which it exists as a mere obstacle to his current priority; suffocating himself between Gale's pectorals. His hand holding him by his back, pushing his body against his face, his other palm running the length of his naked thigh and tasting the warmth of his skin. He would live out the rest of the night in happiness here, if he would have been allowed to.
But he wouldn't be, of course - the delayed recognition of that bottle and its contents comes with an uncomfortable and profound pang in his hips, his cock pulling tight at the thought of more. He pulls back from his skin with a rough sigh, and looks up, touches Gale's gaze with his own. The words occur to him slowly, the shape of them before their meaning.
Once he has them, he reluctantly pulls himself free, slipping his hands from his body and leaning back to expose his hard cock pinned between the two of them. ]
There's a moment before he realizes what the bottle is, or that he had only just asked for it, in which it exists as a mere obstacle to his current priority; suffocating himself between Gale's pectorals. His hand holding him by his back, pushing his body against his face, his other palm running the length of his naked thigh and tasting the warmth of his skin. He would live out the rest of the night in happiness here, if he would have been allowed to.
But he wouldn't be, of course - the delayed recognition of that bottle and its contents comes with an uncomfortable and profound pang in his hips, his cock pulling tight at the thought of more. He pulls back from his skin with a rough sigh, and looks up, touches Gale's gaze with his own. The words occur to him slowly, the shape of them before their meaning.
Once he has them, he reluctantly pulls himself free, slipping his hands from his body and leaning back to expose his hard cock pinned between the two of them. ]
[The wizard can only let a low rumble of approval escape him as Godfrey leans back; it was tempting enough to be able to feel that arousal pressed against him, another thing entirely to see it jutting proudly and just waiting to be touched. The throb between his legs echoes Godfrey's own arousal, and he shifts back against Godfrey's thighs just enough to be able to lean forward and gain some leverage, bowing his head to press a kiss between the paladin's own pectorals, letting his nose gently drag against warm, flushed skin as he steadily kisses his way upwards, nuzzling at his neck before lightly catching skin between his teeth.
Though he was still inclined to let Godfrey lead so long as he wished to, it had become very clear that the man was well beyond the actual logistics of what was to come. It mattered little— they always found their way through well enough, and Godfrey has made his desires clear, desires Gale is more than happy to assist him in fulfilling.
He blindly uncaps the vial with the aid of his Mage Hand assistant to avoid spilling, propping one arm just beside Godfrey's head as he continues to kiss and nip at his broad jawline. Two slick fingertips press lightly against his entrance, gently circling it and painting him with oil as a cool and featherlight touch takes hold of his shaft, Gale's spectral aid taking Godfrey in hand as the wizard keeps him otherwise occupied.]
Though he was still inclined to let Godfrey lead so long as he wished to, it had become very clear that the man was well beyond the actual logistics of what was to come. It mattered little— they always found their way through well enough, and Godfrey has made his desires clear, desires Gale is more than happy to assist him in fulfilling.
He blindly uncaps the vial with the aid of his Mage Hand assistant to avoid spilling, propping one arm just beside Godfrey's head as he continues to kiss and nip at his broad jawline. Two slick fingertips press lightly against his entrance, gently circling it and painting him with oil as a cool and featherlight touch takes hold of his shaft, Gale's spectral aid taking Godfrey in hand as the wizard keeps him otherwise occupied.]
[A wizard sized hole. Something about that makes him smile to himself, kindling a warm fondness within his chest.]
Is it too much to say that I trust your judgement? In truth, I have my own search for a new path to consider... your influence has been a positive one so far. Whether you realize it or not, I feel that your companionship has helped me to make decisions that the Gale of several months back never would have dreamed of. Perhaps that trend will continue if I travel with you a bit longer.
Is it too much to say that I trust your judgement? In truth, I have my own search for a new path to consider... your influence has been a positive one so far. Whether you realize it or not, I feel that your companionship has helped me to make decisions that the Gale of several months back never would have dreamed of. Perhaps that trend will continue if I travel with you a bit longer.
Page 7 of 8