[Gale has come so close to losing himself in the slow, steady rhythm of learning one another that there's a brief but very real mental delay as the kissing abruptly comes to a stop; his lips feel momentarily cheated as Astarion's absence is felt, and the wizard looks up at him with a furrowed brow, his hand having come to rest against the small of the rogue's back after tracing its way down the length of his spine.]
What?
[He's so startled by the accusation that he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, only to correct himself a moment later as he gathers his wits, letting out a warm chuckle. They're still close enough that Astarion is sure to feel the heat of his breath, and he gives a gentle shake of his head.]
I may be rather reckless at times, but I'm not that foolhardy. Have you known me to say things I don't mean?
[Admittedly, there had been occasions where Gale may have omitted information, especially in the early days of their acquaintance, but that was something they had in common. Generally, the wizard said precisely what he meant, even if he often used far too many words to do so.]
[ An unnecessary correction, but a bit of banter does ground Astarion in ways he doesn't realize he so badly needs. It was how they began, after all, tossing quips and sarcastic backhands while on the road, although Gale chose not to rise to the occasion much at the start. How far they've come from that to the hours spent, instead, in companionable silence when they decide to read books a few feet away from one another while the rest of the camp mills about.
To where they are now. Where Gale is now, staring at him incredulously. His hand his still against Astarion's back, his lips still just a breath away if Astarion wanted them. And he does, he knows that. They're nice to kiss and Gale tastes...gods, he would hate to describe it as cozy, but there is something strangely warm and calming to his mouth, even with the hints of wine.
But Gale isn't so drunk that he can fool Astarion. It just seems like elf needs to point out his play. ]
My name?
[ He wouldn't put it past the man to have looked up bits of elvish just to one-up his companions. ]
[Gale huffs softly in response, a reflex when it comes to the banter they've cultivated during their travels. Early on, he hadn't known what to make of Astarion's barbs and often refused to rise to take the bait, but the more they got to know one another, the easier it was for the vampire to get under his skin, if the wizard let him— better, he had decided, to play the game himself.
Trading verbal blows had become playful over time, a language all its own, and it was hardly an accident that they had chosen to pitch their tents at the same corner of the camp. They understood one another; Gale enjoyed speaking with each and every one of their companions when he had the opportunity, but Astarion was the one he felt he could match wits with, sharp enough to keep him on his toes. As such, the rebuke glances off of him, though he does frown, bafflement haven given way to genuine worry, now.]
Have I said something wrong?
[He certainly hadn't thought there was any way his compliment could be taken poorly, but he studies Astarion's face for a moment. Did he really think—?
Gale exhales steadily, taking Astarion's chin in hand so that he can guide him into another kiss, this one no less heated than those that had preceded it, but it lacks the demand and insistence that Astarion was sure to have found in past lovers. It breaks, and the wizard meets his gaze, his own somber even as it has become heavy with lust.]
I am many things, I will concede, but inclined towards insincerity is not one of them. I hadn't meant to tease you— I hadn't even given the 'star' of your name much thought, I confess. More the fool I, perhaps.
[ It doesn't take long for the accusation to start to feel silly. Gale is a painfully sincere person, even when it's at his own detriment—often when it is, actually. What is the real likelihood that he would tease Astarion about something genuinely person? Astraion may go through the throat, but Gale has always skirted the line no matter how harsh Astarion deigns to be.
If anything, it makes more sense for Gale to have some some well-intended research on High-Elven naming conventions.
But the thought of Gale being sincere in flattery that feels so...flowery? So unsuited for a man whose known beauty is irrevocably tied with used only for a moment's pleasure? It doesn't make sense. And Astarion starts to realize that his reaction was so tied in that idea of himself. That he's something pretty, but dirty. So very different than the stars in the sky.
Astarion's lips hang open for a moment after the kiss. The gentle kiss.
Gods, he didn't think this through at all. And here he thought Gale would be the one who wasn't ready...
He swallows and tries to mask it all with a huff of a laugh. He shakes his head, letting his natural curls bob with the motion and gives Gale's hip a squeeze, trying to redirect his attention elsewhere. ]
The one time I almost give you credit for being too clever and you didn't even deserve it?
[ He clicks his tongue. This can all be a joke, right? ]
As a fervent collector of knowledge, I assumed you already knew what it meant.
[ Lies. He did not. Does not. But he can shift this to get the mood back. The fact that Gale seems genuinely concerned he upset Astarion is...another thing to unpack.
[Gale snorts at that response in amusement; for as disruptive as this interlude has had the potential to be, at least, he doesn't feel the mood is entirely lost. As long as they can still tease one another, he thinks they're in reasonably good shape, or so his three glasses of wine assure him.]
You owe me a great many back payments on that credit; I may claim this one, anyway.
[He's more than earned it, even if not tonight!
He continues to watch Astarion's face with interest, close as they are, and his smile pulls to one side, indulgent. There's something about Astarion's response that rings just a bit hollow to him; it's difficult to tell, at times, but Gale has begun to think there is a different sound to his voice when he's being honest, much like he's sure he sounds quite different when he's all bluster.]
I regret to inform you that my knowledge of elven is rather particular to certain topics. [The squeeze of his hip encourages him to smooth his hand down the length of Astarion's back, sliding over the curve of his rear. Even fully clothed, he finds that he just wants to keep touching him.] Care to educate me, then? I am always eager to learn something new, as you well know.
[ His ruse seems to have worked, that's all that matters. Astarion has always done better with improvisation than planning anyway, so it's fitting this should be no different. And the movement of Gale's hand confirms that he's successfully directed their exchange back on target.
Good. This is good. ]
A rare admission of inadequacy? My Gods, Gale...
[ He all but purrs, nuzzling at the other man's cheek before dragging his own along Gale's beard. The feel of that does put another little spark of interest in Astarion's belly as well. Maybe he'll keep doing that, just rubbing himself all over Gale like a cat trying to intermingle their scents until they can't be told apart.
His lips finally land near the wizard's ear, and he says in a low tone... ]
[Gale scoffs in protest, but it's difficult for him to take any true umbrage with Astarion these days, especially with his weight resting against him and the soft purr of his voice as he leans in closer. The drag of skin against his beard makes something hitch in his chest, causes a pleasant twist low in his belly, and he instinctively turns his head just enough to grant Astarion better access as he works his way towards his ear, long hair having fallen back to bare his neck.
The brush of lips against the cuff of his ear sends a thrill through him, but even then, he cannot anticipate what the low purr of Astarion's voice does to him— the words are mostly unfamiliar to him, smooth as silk and almost musical in nature, beautiful by their very design.
He eyelids lower as he exhales, trying to maintain some level of composure.]
And what does that mean?
[His breath is short, and he swallows hard, half-hard against Astarion's thigh.
He has the wizard's undivided attention, to say the least.]
[ Oh Gale is presenting himself in ways that are very, very enchanting to a vampire. Truly Astarion could bite anywhere he wanted, but there is a very real appeal to the neck. To be so close to that major artery and a healthy flow of blood... Astarion can smell it, too. But he focuses his attention elsewhere.
And Gale's reaction here is exactly what he is hoping for. He's definitely encountered his fair share of elf fetishes, and while he doesn't take Gale as one, he knows the effect that some well-placed elvish can have on a non-elven man. And given Gale's penchant for knowledge, well, a tease of the unknown is something a little extra, isn't it?
This, Astarion finds, is something he enjoys. He likes that Gale wants to know something about him. About Astarion, not the pretty thing in his lap. ]
I asked if you wanted to know my name.
[ He leaves out the "my dear wizard" part. That is just for him.
Astarion's hand travels from Gale's hip to sliding between the press of their bodies. Gale's is responding quickly. He wonders if it's him or the wine. ]
Astarion— [ He says his own name, slightly shifted with rounded vowels and a lighter consonant. ] "Prince of Sunlight".
[ He leaves out the diminutive association. That would betray his age. Or...well, what was his age.
Gale wanted to go slow and Astarion seems to forget that for a moment as he runs his hand along Gale's clothed length—then suddenly remembers and pulls it back. A tease. It's just a tease. ]
[Despite his own request that they move slowly, Gale finds himself arching against Astarion's touch, drawing in a sharp, shuddering breath— he had almost forgotten what it felt like, to have someone else touch him; even through his clothes, it already feels worlds more promising than pitifully taking himself in hand, when he had dared to.
No, he doesn't want to lose himself yet— he has to collect himself, remain in the present moment.
He swallows again, turning his head back towards Astarion to catch his lips in another kiss, unable to keep the hunger from showing through this time, the vampires lower lip gently catching between his teeth.]
How fitting, then, that the stars themselves cannot hope to compare.
[ That is an encouraging response. It makes Astarion feel a bit more in his element in the ways he expects to be—the one making the moves, showing Gale what pleasure is supposed to be without all the frills of magic.
Because Astarion can offer pleasure. He may not have always been on the receiving end of it, but he knows very well that practice has made him good at what he does. That in and of itself shouldn't be a bad thing. Something to be ashamed of. It shouldn't. And not something simply necessary for survival, either.
He's used to hearing sighs of satisfaction, but rarely do they actually make him proud to hear it. And in this moment, he does feel proud—Gale is feeling this way because of something he's doing, no matter how simple. Because he chooses to do it.
Right, right. He's here because he wants to be...because Gale wants him to be here. Astarion. Not just another body.
He readily returns the kiss, pressing his thigh forward to add some pressure to Gale's cock. His own gives a twitch of life as he breathes in the wizard's scent once again. It's a conscious choice to do so, not needing to breathe, but he wants to inhale and have it sit in his lungs for a few seconds. To savor it.
And then Gale speaks again and Astarion feels almost breathless— ]
You flatterer. You already have me.
[ —But this time his voice sounds lighter. It's—Gale says these things that are ridiculous. Flowery, as one might imagine a man who enjoys the spoken and written word as much as Gale does. But this time, Astarion fights down the urge to find a double-meaning or worse, realize how much he feels he doesn't deserve it, no matter his initial requests of flattery.
Astarion does deserve this...he deserves nice things. He knows his beautiful. But he deserves to feel beautiful too, doesn't he? Even if it's just through Gale's eyes.
Astarion kisses the wizard again, all teeth and tongue as he runs his thumb down Gale's jaw. From there he trails down once again, stroking at his throat. That delectable throat. ]
[The wizard makes a sound of appreciation at the back of his throat, fingers lightly trailing along the blade of Astarion's ear in a gesture that threatens to be more affectionate than a mere tease.]
I didn't say it to try and win your favor.
[That raw edge of wanting to his voice is more apparent than before, bordering on breathless himself. The press of Astarion's thigh against his hardening length makes it impossible to remain still, that added bit of friction causing the wizard to roll his hips upward and grind against the rogue's leg in a bid for more. Gale's body is quick to betray him; slow may no longer be an option as each touch and shift and kiss pull desire closer to the surface, simmering just beneath the skin, and a soft groan escapes him, disappearing into Astarion's mouth as Gale meets that deep, hungry kiss with fervor, eager for that clash of tongue and teeth and to taste.
It's not only his body that betrays him. As Astarion's thumb draws along the length of his throat, Gale feels his pulse quicken, mind racing with the possibilities and implications, but as his heart speeds, the mark above it begins to glow, an eager and hungry pulse of weavelight beneath his shirt, that arcane glow slowly beginning to light the darkened veins that snake their way up his neck. Gale appears undeterred, entirely focused on the promise of more touch, of how Astarion has begun to bait him.]
I do want more of you. I want whatever you're willing to give.
[His words are murmured against Astarion's lips once more, unwilling to give them up now that they've begun, caught up in the heady feeling of being kiss-drunk after far, far too long without any kind of mortal affection. His distant memories of what it meant to surrender to mortal touch felt like mere echoes now, but instinct remains— he may have forgotten how it felt, but he hasn't forgotten what to do.]
[ The fingers along his ear make him shudder despite himself. His ears are sensitive, that seems to be just biological and hasn't changed at all with his vampiric transformation.
Astarion playfully nips at Gale's lips, preferring this mood to the shadows he nearly fell back into. He even let's his fang "accidentally" make an appearance as his thumb presses gently against the hollow of Gale's throat. Just as a reminder of what he's so very close to. Someone who could eat him alive if they wanted.
Yes, be in control. Astarion is in control of this.
"Whatever you're willing to give..."
What he's willing. Not what Gale is demanding—because he isn't demanding, he's asking. He's hoping. It's...freeing. ]
I could give you my mouth.
[ Astarion offers in turn, his voice a near whisper as he reminds Gale of what his lips can do. He steals another kiss, long and wet and heavy, until Gale's need for air dictates its end.
And he could leave it there. Make this simple, go down on the other man and remind him of the true physicality of sex. But Astarion...wants to push it. It's been months for himself too, and it's something he did so easily before, but never on his own terms. So he doesn't wait too long for the offer to settle, instead rolling his hips and consequently his rear back into Gale's hand. ]
Or I could give you my ass.
[ He drags his thumb lower to the wizard's collarbone. ]
[The offer itself immediately conjures ideas of what it might feel like to be wrapped in the silken heat of Astarion's mouth, to see himself disappear behind those lips, and the flash of fang is not in vain— while it has become easy enough to think of Astarion as simply Astarion rather than a vampire, the truth of what he is has never been lost on him. He's never forgotten that his friend has the potential to be quite dangerous, something he's proven time and time again right before his eyes.
It says a lot about him, he's sure, that he finds that more exciting than any kind of deterrent. Something to unpack at a later time, perhaps, but he knows it's not the first time he's noticed such inclinations in himself.
Astarion barely gives him time to think, time for the offer itself to sink in before he makes another, the suggestion roll of his hips and press of his ass into Gale's palm making his heart leap and lodge itself firmly in his throat.
Oh.
He hadn't even considered that possibility. He had assumed, apparently incorrectly, that with Astarion being the one to spearhead this endeavor and certainly more experienced in this particular area, that he himself would be on the receiving end, a role he has played before without complaint even if it has been years since. The barely-muted sound of interest he makes as Astarion's thumb traces his collarbone is bordering on obscene, he thinks, and he swallows it down and turns his face into his partner's cheek, nose pressing against him so that his lips brush against the vampire's jaw as he speaks.]
Both very, very tempting offers.
[Let that not be mistaken— he can already feel himself aching for more touch, more contact. His nerves are already so raw that he fears this could be over before it even truly begins if he's not careful, and so he moves his lips to Astarion's own earlobe, gently nipping as his well-manicured beard drags against his skin.]
Both to be taken under very real and serious consideration, but I wonder if I might taste you first.
[Astarion may have thought they he was doing Gale a favor with this potentially ill-advised night, but the wizard could never allow any such encounter to be one-sided.]
[ They should be tempting, he thinks. Services Astarion has performed and perfected over time. There is a skill to reading people both in intentions and their bodies and he has tried and true methods of bringing others to completion efficiently—...which is something else to consider. He does want this to last, he isn't trying to find the quickest path to satisfaction. It's about the journey.
For once...it's about the journey.
Astarion isn't entirely sure which Gale would prefer, though he actually thinks it might be the former given his own proclivity for words. Having an instrument that's usually meant to wax poetic otherwise occupied might give him a different kind of thrill.
But he isn't expecting what Gale requests in turn.
Crimson eyes widen as he stares forward into the pillow lightly framed by Gale's hair. Though the wizard manages to elicit another shudder with the attention on his ear—he's catching on quickly, it seems—Astarion does have to pull back so he can see the sincerity in Gale's expression. ]
[His smile quirks slightly to one side, but Astarion will find nothing but that sought-out sincerity in his gaze. The wizard pulls a hand forward over his partner's hip, tracing the slight curve of it towards his thigh, his touch searching but gentle, seeking to reach out and touch more of him without simply taking.]
It may surprise you, but I'm not entirely new at this— admittedly, it's been some time.
[ Gale asks as if it's such a simple little thing. And it should be, shouldn't it? For all of Astarion's experience and bravado about it, this should just be another nod and a coy "oh darling, I thought you'd never ask." But it isn't, because he didn't think Gale would ask and no one really does. Astarion is supposed to be the source of pleasure. What pleasure would someone else get if they were just concentrating on him?
The wheels start to turn more quickly in his mind as he realizes how ingrained that assumption is. He doesn't want to unpack it. And Gale gives him an incidental out—as if Astarion's confusion weren't related to how he views himself and what he's good for and instead on Gale's perceived skill level.
It's an out Astarion grabs onto readily. He forces out a somewhat choked laugh and quickly puts on a more appropriate expression. ]
Well, I suppose I'm open to be surprised.
[ A very appropriate statement.
Needing to feel in control again, Astarion leans down to capture Gale's lips in a kiss as he takes hold of the other man's hips...and flips them over, with Astarion's back on the pillows instead. He knows what positions are easier to work from, after all. When he breaks the kiss, it's slow and audible. He smiles up at the wizard. ]
[The wizard lets out a brief yelp of surprise as he finds their positions suddenly reversed, the sound itself muffled and swallowed up by the heated slide of their mouths against one another, and he lets out another soft, near-breathless chuckle as Astarion smiles up at him, keenly aware of exactly where the vampire's hands rest against his hips.]
I shall accept that challenge and, gods willing, rise to it.
[His own smile playfully pulls to one side before he steals another kiss, on instinct rather than any real play at seduction; this part had always come naturally to him, and given leave to touch freely after so many nights spent either alone or far, far from the material plane, he cannot help but want to make use of every possible opportunity.
He buries his face against the side of Astarion's neck, back bowed as he inhales the scent of him, idly thinking he might recognize some of the separate notes in his cologne as he begins to kiss his way down the curve leading to his clavicle, a slow and steady march even though he'd already made his destination known. He shifts so that one knee is carefully planted between Astarion's thighs; his slow progress allows him plenty of time to let his hands sweep down over the other man's chest with more deliberation than before, letting both hands steadily trace the curve of his ribs before it gives way to his waist.
Carefully, he pulls Astarion's shirt free from his belt to allow himself the freedom to slide a warm, steady hand across the flat planes of his stomach, curious and suddenly eager to feel it for himself after countless weeks of changing and bathing in the same bloody patch of existence and trying not to spare too much thought to what his companions looked like to someone as desperately touch-starved as himself. Kisses continue to trail downwards, along the bared expanse of Astarion's chest, his beard gently dragging against skin once more as he lets a hand snake downwards between them so that he can gently cup the other man's length through his trousers, a softer echo of the same bold move Astarion had made not long before.]
I almost think I could get used to seeing you like this.
[That's dangerous thinking, dangerous and incredibly foolish to say, but would he really be himself if he weren't in danger of putting his foot in his mouth?]
Astarion settles, centering himself as he indulges another kiss and teasing a little lick on Gale's bottom lip before the wizard moves on. His gaze turns to the top of Gale's tent as he feels the other man's beard and breath against his neck. It both tickles and scratches in a way that makes him want to purr, but instead he simply enjoys the sensation. He presses himself instinctively against Gale's thigh before holding back once again.
Gale is doing this for him. It's his turn to allow himself to feel. So he does...second by second, he lives it. He tries not to think.
As expected, Gale is somewhat methodical in his exploration, but it's not a heavy thing. His hands and mouth move and undress him in pieces and Astarion can feel his naturally cool skin start to bloom with heat. He drags his hands up along Gale's own torso before finally releasing the other man, instead stretching upwards and curling upwards to meet those lips. He holds the position with a small gasp when Gale cups him, one fang cheekily biting his bottom lip. ]
Could you?
[ It's just a bit of talk, isn't it? He doesn't really peg Gale as someone who would know how to be properly filthy, but it would stand to reason the man would enjoy banter even during sex. So that's what Astarion takes it as—part of the dance, part of the act.
He spreads his legs a little farther apart to accommodate Gale as he makes his way downward. His hands rest lazily above his head on the pillows as he looks down the line of his own chest to watch. ]
The show's only started, darling, and you're already asking for more.
[Bedroom talk is often a blurry area; things are often said in the heat of the moment to fan the flames, but even now, Gale is almost painfully sincere. He looks up along the long, lithe line of Astarion's body as the vampire makes himself comfortable against the pillows, pleased to see him at ease, a mischievous glint in his gaze as his smile quirks to one side.]
Let it not be forgotten that I am a man of great appetites.
[For far more than just the party's magic knick-knacks, he'll have it known.
With Astarion's shirt untucked, he bows his head to press an open kiss against the flat plane of his stomach, pushing his poet's shirt upwards so that it bunches around his ribs and gives Gale the freedom to move his palms and careful fingertips against bare skin as that heat begins to bloom beneath it. His tongue flicks against the spot just below Astarion's navel before he begins to work at his trousers, shifting to ease them down over his hips to reveal the smallclothes beneath, and once again he feels something stick in his throat as his pulse quickens, blood hot and racing in a way he'd nearly forgotten it could.]
There you are.
[He sits up on his knees so that he can more smoothly relieve Astarion of those ridiculously snug leather pants, carefully helping him out of them one leg at a time without faltering, possessing of an almost surprising confidence. He tosses them aside, haphazard, and his gaze hungrily rakes over Astarion's bared form, his breath short for a moment.
Truly, he is heart-stoppingly lovely.
He settles between the vampire's knees again, lowering his head to press a kiss against the inside of his thigh before reaching to gently hook his fingers beneath the waistband of his smallclothes.]
Tell me what you like as we go; I'll adapt accordingly.
[ A point of disconnect that Astarion won't be aware of for some time—the bedroom is a place for performance, for insincerities and playing to your role. It might not have always been that way for the elf, but it's all he's come to remember. He doesn't even consider that it could be otherwise, other than to the extent that they both may find some mutual pleasure for once.
But he will give Gale credit where is due, the man has a way with words. Certainly enough times to pull a genuine laugh out of Astarion from time to time, rather than just his usual merriment at a show of cruelty. As such, the twitch of his lips and the light in his eyes is honest amusement, a laugh thinly veiled with a sharp huff through his nose. ]
I always knew you were a greedy thing.
[ He's had mouths and all their accessories over every inch of his body, but the way that Gale kisses his stomach is so...different. Astarion knows he's on display, knows just the right way to keen and arch his back and present himself, but instead he tries to relax. His stomach muscles flutter as he watches, lifting his hips just enough to assist in the removal of his trousers, but offers no further help than that.
Astarion is rarely embarrassed in this setting. Objectively he is attractive enough for enough people to do what he does well. Yet he finds that he is, quietly, a little nervous that he may not add up to all the finer things that Gale has come to enjoy in his own life. Even before they got along as they do now, he pegged Gale for a man of taste. But his worries are quickly abated with the abject look of hunger in the wizard's eyes once he's just down to his smalls.
A smirk take his lips and Astarion brings a curled finger to his cheek as he allows some of his curls to fall to the side just so. It's a reliable look, one that exudes confidence but a lack of urgency. He hopes it still does the trick. The kiss to his thigh earns a pleased hum and Astarion as half a mind to pet Gale's hair approvingly—
—when the man surprises him again.
"Tell me what you like..."
It hits him. The answer should be obvious. Everyone knows what they like. What the body loves to respond to...except him.
"Tell me what you like as we go..."
He wants...not just instructions, but updates. Requests? Feedback...consent.
"I'll adapt accordingly."
And...he'll listen?
Astarion hopes he doesn't show the way his brain needs to stop to process that. He could swear his tadpole is similarly floored, but he knows that's ridiculous. So he quickly tries to make up for it, reaching out to move some of Gale's hair out of his face as means to distract from any unnecessary pauses in the flow of the moment. ]
Of course, darling. I'll tell you when you're doing well.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
What?
[He's so startled by the accusation that he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, only to correct himself a moment later as he gathers his wits, letting out a warm chuckle. They're still close enough that Astarion is sure to feel the heat of his breath, and he gives a gentle shake of his head.]
I may be rather reckless at times, but I'm not that foolhardy. Have you known me to say things I don't mean?
[Admittedly, there had been occasions where Gale may have omitted information, especially in the early days of their acquaintance, but that was something they had in common. Generally, the wizard said precisely what he meant, even if he often used far too many words to do so.]
no subject
[ An unnecessary correction, but a bit of banter does ground Astarion in ways he doesn't realize he so badly needs. It was how they began, after all, tossing quips and sarcastic backhands while on the road, although Gale chose not to rise to the occasion much at the start. How far they've come from that to the hours spent, instead, in companionable silence when they decide to read books a few feet away from one another while the rest of the camp mills about.
To where they are now. Where Gale is now, staring at him incredulously. His hand his still against Astarion's back, his lips still just a breath away if Astarion wanted them. And he does, he knows that. They're nice to kiss and Gale tastes...gods, he would hate to describe it as cozy, but there is something strangely warm and calming to his mouth, even with the hints of wine.
But Gale isn't so drunk that he can fool Astarion. It just seems like elf needs to point out his play. ]
My name?
[ He wouldn't put it past the man to have looked up bits of elvish just to one-up his companions. ]
That's what you're doing, isn't it?
no subject
Trading verbal blows had become playful over time, a language all its own, and it was hardly an accident that they had chosen to pitch their tents at the same corner of the camp. They understood one another; Gale enjoyed speaking with each and every one of their companions when he had the opportunity, but Astarion was the one he felt he could match wits with, sharp enough to keep him on his toes. As such, the rebuke glances off of him, though he does frown, bafflement haven given way to genuine worry, now.]
Have I said something wrong?
[He certainly hadn't thought there was any way his compliment could be taken poorly, but he studies Astarion's face for a moment. Did he really think—?
Gale exhales steadily, taking Astarion's chin in hand so that he can guide him into another kiss, this one no less heated than those that had preceded it, but it lacks the demand and insistence that Astarion was sure to have found in past lovers. It breaks, and the wizard meets his gaze, his own somber even as it has become heavy with lust.]
I am many things, I will concede, but inclined towards insincerity is not one of them. I hadn't meant to tease you— I hadn't even given the 'star' of your name much thought, I confess. More the fool I, perhaps.
no subject
If anything, it makes more sense for Gale to have some some well-intended research on High-Elven naming conventions.
But the thought of Gale being sincere in flattery that feels so...flowery? So unsuited for a man whose known beauty is irrevocably tied with used only for a moment's pleasure? It doesn't make sense. And Astarion starts to realize that his reaction was so tied in that idea of himself. That he's something pretty, but dirty. So very different than the stars in the sky.
Astarion's lips hang open for a moment after the kiss. The gentle kiss.
Gods, he didn't think this through at all. And here he thought Gale would be the one who wasn't ready...
He swallows and tries to mask it all with a huff of a laugh. He shakes his head, letting his natural curls bob with the motion and gives Gale's hip a squeeze, trying to redirect his attention elsewhere. ]
The one time I almost give you credit for being too clever and you didn't even deserve it?
[ He clicks his tongue. This can all be a joke, right? ]
As a fervent collector of knowledge, I assumed you already knew what it meant.
[ Lies. He did not. Does not. But he can shift this to get the mood back. The fact that Gale seems genuinely concerned he upset Astarion is...another thing to unpack.
Just get the mood back. Be in the moment.
This shouldn't be that complicated, he thinks. ]
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You owe me a great many back payments on that credit; I may claim this one, anyway.
[He's more than earned it, even if not tonight!
He continues to watch Astarion's face with interest, close as they are, and his smile pulls to one side, indulgent. There's something about Astarion's response that rings just a bit hollow to him; it's difficult to tell, at times, but Gale has begun to think there is a different sound to his voice when he's being honest, much like he's sure he sounds quite different when he's all bluster.]
I regret to inform you that my knowledge of elven is rather particular to certain topics. [The squeeze of his hip encourages him to smooth his hand down the length of Astarion's back, sliding over the curve of his rear. Even fully clothed, he finds that he just wants to keep touching him.] Care to educate me, then? I am always eager to learn something new, as you well know.
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Good. This is good. ]
A rare admission of inadequacy? My Gods, Gale...
[ He all but purrs, nuzzling at the other man's cheek before dragging his own along Gale's beard. The feel of that does put another little spark of interest in Astarion's belly as well. Maybe he'll keep doing that, just rubbing himself all over Gale like a cat trying to intermingle their scents until they can't be told apart.
His lips finally land near the wizard's ear, and he says in a low tone... ]
Ceri-cin anír na know nin est, nin meld curunir?
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The brush of lips against the cuff of his ear sends a thrill through him, but even then, he cannot anticipate what the low purr of Astarion's voice does to him— the words are mostly unfamiliar to him, smooth as silk and almost musical in nature, beautiful by their very design.
He eyelids lower as he exhales, trying to maintain some level of composure.]
And what does that mean?
[His breath is short, and he swallows hard, half-hard against Astarion's thigh.
He has the wizard's undivided attention, to say the least.]
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And Gale's reaction here is exactly what he is hoping for. He's definitely encountered his fair share of elf fetishes, and while he doesn't take Gale as one, he knows the effect that some well-placed elvish can have on a non-elven man. And given Gale's penchant for knowledge, well, a tease of the unknown is something a little extra, isn't it?
This, Astarion finds, is something he enjoys. He likes that Gale wants to know something about him. About Astarion, not the pretty thing in his lap. ]
I asked if you wanted to know my name.
[ He leaves out the "my dear wizard" part. That is just for him.
Astarion's hand travels from Gale's hip to sliding between the press of their bodies. Gale's is responding quickly. He wonders if it's him or the wine. ]
Astarion— [ He says his own name, slightly shifted with rounded vowels and a lighter consonant. ] "Prince of Sunlight".
[ He leaves out the diminutive association. That would betray his age. Or...well, what was his age.
Gale wanted to go slow and Astarion seems to forget that for a moment as he runs his hand along Gale's clothed length—then suddenly remembers and pulls it back. A tease. It's just a tease. ]
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No, he doesn't want to lose himself yet— he has to collect himself, remain in the present moment.
He swallows again, turning his head back towards Astarion to catch his lips in another kiss, unable to keep the hunger from showing through this time, the vampires lower lip gently catching between his teeth.]
How fitting, then, that the stars themselves cannot hope to compare.
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Because Astarion can offer pleasure. He may not have always been on the receiving end of it, but he knows very well that practice has made him good at what he does. That in and of itself shouldn't be a bad thing. Something to be ashamed of. It shouldn't. And not something simply necessary for survival, either.
He's used to hearing sighs of satisfaction, but rarely do they actually make him proud to hear it. And in this moment, he does feel proud—Gale is feeling this way because of something he's doing, no matter how simple. Because he chooses to do it.
Right, right. He's here because he wants to be...because Gale wants him to be here. Astarion. Not just another body.
He readily returns the kiss, pressing his thigh forward to add some pressure to Gale's cock. His own gives a twitch of life as he breathes in the wizard's scent once again. It's a conscious choice to do so, not needing to breathe, but he wants to inhale and have it sit in his lungs for a few seconds. To savor it.
And then Gale speaks again and Astarion feels almost breathless— ]
You flatterer. You already have me.
[ —But this time his voice sounds lighter. It's—Gale says these things that are ridiculous. Flowery, as one might imagine a man who enjoys the spoken and written word as much as Gale does. But this time, Astarion fights down the urge to find a double-meaning or worse, realize how much he feels he doesn't deserve it, no matter his initial requests of flattery.
Astarion does deserve this...he deserves nice things. He knows his beautiful. But he deserves to feel beautiful too, doesn't he? Even if it's just through Gale's eyes.
Astarion kisses the wizard again, all teeth and tongue as he runs his thumb down Gale's jaw. From there he trails down once again, stroking at his throat. That delectable throat. ]
But you could have more of me...
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I didn't say it to try and win your favor.
[That raw edge of wanting to his voice is more apparent than before, bordering on breathless himself. The press of Astarion's thigh against his hardening length makes it impossible to remain still, that added bit of friction causing the wizard to roll his hips upward and grind against the rogue's leg in a bid for more. Gale's body is quick to betray him; slow may no longer be an option as each touch and shift and kiss pull desire closer to the surface, simmering just beneath the skin, and a soft groan escapes him, disappearing into Astarion's mouth as Gale meets that deep, hungry kiss with fervor, eager for that clash of tongue and teeth and to taste.
It's not only his body that betrays him. As Astarion's thumb draws along the length of his throat, Gale feels his pulse quicken, mind racing with the possibilities and implications, but as his heart speeds, the mark above it begins to glow, an eager and hungry pulse of weavelight beneath his shirt, that arcane glow slowly beginning to light the darkened veins that snake their way up his neck. Gale appears undeterred, entirely focused on the promise of more touch, of how Astarion has begun to bait him.]
I do want more of you. I want whatever you're willing to give.
[His words are murmured against Astarion's lips once more, unwilling to give them up now that they've begun, caught up in the heady feeling of being kiss-drunk after far, far too long without any kind of mortal affection. His distant memories of what it meant to surrender to mortal touch felt like mere echoes now, but instinct remains— he may have forgotten how it felt, but he hasn't forgotten what to do.]
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Astarion playfully nips at Gale's lips, preferring this mood to the shadows he nearly fell back into. He even let's his fang "accidentally" make an appearance as his thumb presses gently against the hollow of Gale's throat. Just as a reminder of what he's so very close to. Someone who could eat him alive if they wanted.
Yes, be in control. Astarion is in control of this.
"Whatever you're willing to give..."
What he's willing. Not what Gale is demanding—because he isn't demanding, he's asking. He's hoping. It's...freeing. ]
I could give you my mouth.
[ Astarion offers in turn, his voice a near whisper as he reminds Gale of what his lips can do. He steals another kiss, long and wet and heavy, until Gale's need for air dictates its end.
And he could leave it there. Make this simple, go down on the other man and remind him of the true physicality of sex. But Astarion...wants to push it. It's been months for himself too, and it's something he did so easily before, but never on his own terms. So he doesn't wait too long for the offer to settle, instead rolling his hips and consequently his rear back into Gale's hand. ]
Or I could give you my ass.
[ He drags his thumb lower to the wizard's collarbone. ]
What do you think you can handle?
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It says a lot about him, he's sure, that he finds that more exciting than any kind of deterrent. Something to unpack at a later time, perhaps, but he knows it's not the first time he's noticed such inclinations in himself.
Astarion barely gives him time to think, time for the offer itself to sink in before he makes another, the suggestion roll of his hips and press of his ass into Gale's palm making his heart leap and lodge itself firmly in his throat.
Oh.
He hadn't even considered that possibility. He had assumed, apparently incorrectly, that with Astarion being the one to spearhead this endeavor and certainly more experienced in this particular area, that he himself would be on the receiving end, a role he has played before without complaint even if it has been years since. The barely-muted sound of interest he makes as Astarion's thumb traces his collarbone is bordering on obscene, he thinks, and he swallows it down and turns his face into his partner's cheek, nose pressing against him so that his lips brush against the vampire's jaw as he speaks.]
Both very, very tempting offers.
[Let that not be mistaken— he can already feel himself aching for more touch, more contact. His nerves are already so raw that he fears this could be over before it even truly begins if he's not careful, and so he moves his lips to Astarion's own earlobe, gently nipping as his well-manicured beard drags against his skin.]
Both to be taken under very real and serious consideration, but I wonder if I might taste you first.
[Astarion may have thought they he was doing Gale a favor with this potentially ill-advised night, but the wizard could never allow any such encounter to be one-sided.]
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For once...it's about the journey.
Astarion isn't entirely sure which Gale would prefer, though he actually thinks it might be the former given his own proclivity for words. Having an instrument that's usually meant to wax poetic otherwise occupied might give him a different kind of thrill.
But he isn't expecting what Gale requests in turn.
Crimson eyes widen as he stares forward into the pillow lightly framed by Gale's hair. Though the wizard manages to elicit another shudder with the attention on his ear—he's catching on quickly, it seems—Astarion does have to pull back so he can see the sincerity in Gale's expression. ]
You...want to go down on me?
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[His smile quirks slightly to one side, but Astarion will find nothing but that sought-out sincerity in his gaze. The wizard pulls a hand forward over his partner's hip, tracing the slight curve of it towards his thigh, his touch searching but gentle, seeking to reach out and touch more of him without simply taking.]
It may surprise you, but I'm not entirely new at this— admittedly, it's been some time.
[Still, some things you never forget.]
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The wheels start to turn more quickly in his mind as he realizes how ingrained that assumption is. He doesn't want to unpack it. And Gale gives him an incidental out—as if Astarion's confusion weren't related to how he views himself and what he's good for and instead on Gale's perceived skill level.
It's an out Astarion grabs onto readily. He forces out a somewhat choked laugh and quickly puts on a more appropriate expression. ]
Well, I suppose I'm open to be surprised.
[ A very appropriate statement.
Needing to feel in control again, Astarion leans down to capture Gale's lips in a kiss as he takes hold of the other man's hips...and flips them over, with Astarion's back on the pillows instead. He knows what positions are easier to work from, after all. When he breaks the kiss, it's slow and audible. He smiles up at the wizard. ]
Then surprise me.
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I shall accept that challenge and, gods willing, rise to it.
[His own smile playfully pulls to one side before he steals another kiss, on instinct rather than any real play at seduction; this part had always come naturally to him, and given leave to touch freely after so many nights spent either alone or far, far from the material plane, he cannot help but want to make use of every possible opportunity.
He buries his face against the side of Astarion's neck, back bowed as he inhales the scent of him, idly thinking he might recognize some of the separate notes in his cologne as he begins to kiss his way down the curve leading to his clavicle, a slow and steady march even though he'd already made his destination known. He shifts so that one knee is carefully planted between Astarion's thighs; his slow progress allows him plenty of time to let his hands sweep down over the other man's chest with more deliberation than before, letting both hands steadily trace the curve of his ribs before it gives way to his waist.
Carefully, he pulls Astarion's shirt free from his belt to allow himself the freedom to slide a warm, steady hand across the flat planes of his stomach, curious and suddenly eager to feel it for himself after countless weeks of changing and bathing in the same bloody patch of existence and trying not to spare too much thought to what his companions looked like to someone as desperately touch-starved as himself. Kisses continue to trail downwards, along the bared expanse of Astarion's chest, his beard gently dragging against skin once more as he lets a hand snake downwards between them so that he can gently cup the other man's length through his trousers, a softer echo of the same bold move Astarion had made not long before.]
I almost think I could get used to seeing you like this.
[That's dangerous thinking, dangerous and incredibly foolish to say, but would he really be himself if he weren't in danger of putting his foot in his mouth?]
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Astarion settles, centering himself as he indulges another kiss and teasing a little lick on Gale's bottom lip before the wizard moves on. His gaze turns to the top of Gale's tent as he feels the other man's beard and breath against his neck. It both tickles and scratches in a way that makes him want to purr, but instead he simply enjoys the sensation. He presses himself instinctively against Gale's thigh before holding back once again.
Gale is doing this for him. It's his turn to allow himself to feel. So he does...second by second, he lives it. He tries not to think.
As expected, Gale is somewhat methodical in his exploration, but it's not a heavy thing. His hands and mouth move and undress him in pieces and Astarion can feel his naturally cool skin start to bloom with heat. He drags his hands up along Gale's own torso before finally releasing the other man, instead stretching upwards and curling upwards to meet those lips. He holds the position with a small gasp when Gale cups him, one fang cheekily biting his bottom lip. ]
Could you?
[ It's just a bit of talk, isn't it? He doesn't really peg Gale as someone who would know how to be properly filthy, but it would stand to reason the man would enjoy banter even during sex. So that's what Astarion takes it as—part of the dance, part of the act.
He spreads his legs a little farther apart to accommodate Gale as he makes his way downward. His hands rest lazily above his head on the pillows as he looks down the line of his own chest to watch. ]
The show's only started, darling, and you're already asking for more.
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Let it not be forgotten that I am a man of great appetites.
[For far more than just the party's magic knick-knacks, he'll have it known.
With Astarion's shirt untucked, he bows his head to press an open kiss against the flat plane of his stomach, pushing his poet's shirt upwards so that it bunches around his ribs and gives Gale the freedom to move his palms and careful fingertips against bare skin as that heat begins to bloom beneath it. His tongue flicks against the spot just below Astarion's navel before he begins to work at his trousers, shifting to ease them down over his hips to reveal the smallclothes beneath, and once again he feels something stick in his throat as his pulse quickens, blood hot and racing in a way he'd nearly forgotten it could.]
There you are.
[He sits up on his knees so that he can more smoothly relieve Astarion of those ridiculously snug leather pants, carefully helping him out of them one leg at a time without faltering, possessing of an almost surprising confidence. He tosses them aside, haphazard, and his gaze hungrily rakes over Astarion's bared form, his breath short for a moment.
Truly, he is heart-stoppingly lovely.
He settles between the vampire's knees again, lowering his head to press a kiss against the inside of his thigh before reaching to gently hook his fingers beneath the waistband of his smallclothes.]
Tell me what you like as we go; I'll adapt accordingly.
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But he will give Gale credit where is due, the man has a way with words. Certainly enough times to pull a genuine laugh out of Astarion from time to time, rather than just his usual merriment at a show of cruelty. As such, the twitch of his lips and the light in his eyes is honest amusement, a laugh thinly veiled with a sharp huff through his nose. ]
I always knew you were a greedy thing.
[ He's had mouths and all their accessories over every inch of his body, but the way that Gale kisses his stomach is so...different. Astarion knows he's on display, knows just the right way to keen and arch his back and present himself, but instead he tries to relax. His stomach muscles flutter as he watches, lifting his hips just enough to assist in the removal of his trousers, but offers no further help than that.
Astarion is rarely embarrassed in this setting. Objectively he is attractive enough for enough people to do what he does well. Yet he finds that he is, quietly, a little nervous that he may not add up to all the finer things that Gale has come to enjoy in his own life. Even before they got along as they do now, he pegged Gale for a man of taste. But his worries are quickly abated with the abject look of hunger in the wizard's eyes once he's just down to his smalls.
A smirk take his lips and Astarion brings a curled finger to his cheek as he allows some of his curls to fall to the side just so. It's a reliable look, one that exudes confidence but a lack of urgency. He hopes it still does the trick. The kiss to his thigh earns a pleased hum and Astarion as half a mind to pet Gale's hair approvingly—
—when the man surprises him again.
"Tell me what you like..."
It hits him. The answer should be obvious. Everyone knows what they like. What the body loves to respond to...except him.
"Tell me what you like as we go..."
He wants...not just instructions, but updates. Requests? Feedback...consent.
"I'll adapt accordingly."
And...he'll listen?
Astarion hopes he doesn't show the way his brain needs to stop to process that. He could swear his tadpole is similarly floored, but he knows that's ridiculous. So he quickly tries to make up for it, reaching out to move some of Gale's hair out of his face as means to distract from any unnecessary pauses in the flow of the moment. ]
Of course, darling. I'll tell you when you're doing well.