[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
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.