[ Whatever Gale said about the wrist affording him the best view, he recants. Nothing, not even Astarion’s red mouth around his fingers, could improve upon this: Astarion bending into the vee of his thighs (so close to where he wants but can’t have), teasing or searching (cat-like) for the right spot. An exercise in patience that has Gale’s hips twitching as Astarion brushes up against danger. Gale rakes his fingers through Astarion’s hair, nails dragging against his scalp, more and more pleased by every curl that slips free. It’s something to focus on, besides, with his blood rushing south.
As Astarion uses his teeth, Gale’s gentle tangle abruptly becomes a tight hold. An encouraging pressure, even as he gasps. The same pin-prick that he felt by the fire recurs. A celestial warning, perhaps, or only his imagination. The splaying of one’s body on another altar is behaviour unbefitting Mystra’s Chosen — but Gale is a discarded thing. ]
Gods above. [ Such tender flesh aches more than his neck, icy pain chased by stinging pleasure. It’ll settle, he knows, when Astarion drinks enough to blur his senses and pull him under. Already, the throbbing ache draws his focus, quieting his myriad thoughts (of Mystra, of their companions approaching, of the undying agony in his chest that spreads like rot). A slight shudder, and he tips his head back. ]
no subject
As Astarion uses his teeth, Gale’s gentle tangle abruptly becomes a tight hold. An encouraging pressure, even as he gasps. The same pin-prick that he felt by the fire recurs. A celestial warning, perhaps, or only his imagination. The splaying of one’s body on another altar is behaviour unbefitting Mystra’s Chosen — but Gale is a discarded thing. ]
Gods above. [ Such tender flesh aches more than his neck, icy pain chased by stinging pleasure. It’ll settle, he knows, when Astarion drinks enough to blur his senses and pull him under. Already, the throbbing ache draws his focus, quieting his myriad thoughts (of Mystra, of their companions approaching, of the undying agony in his chest that spreads like rot). A slight shudder, and he tips his head back. ]