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