[ 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. ]
[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.]
[ 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. ]
[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.]
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no subject
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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]