corporeity: (Default)
๐‘”๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘’ ๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘˜๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘œ๐‘  ([personal profile] corporeity) wrote 2023-12-17 11:07 pm (UTC)

[ If Gale were wholly present, heโ€™d know that Astarion was telling the truth โ€” if only because he isnโ€™t twisting out of his grasp or spinning pretty lies.

He isnโ€™t present. He doesnโ€™t know. But Gale does trust this troublesome man enough to follow him into his mind. The bracers seem less consuming in his fine hands, held by someone sated, not ravenous. As a byproduct of the exchange, the feeling of fullness helps settle Galeโ€™s rattling person. ]


Alright. [ Closing his eyes, Gale tries to centre himself (as if by not looking at the things he wants, he can cut off the wanting itself). His words slow to a rumble, reciting Astarionโ€™s earlier instructions like an incantation. ]

After the others have gone to bed. [ Which could be hours from now, gods above. It takes every ounce of restraint not to whine as much aloud. His grip stiffens before he unlocks it, eyes flashing. ] Iโ€™ll come to your tent.

[ Finally, he drags his hand away, sagging once more as the reality of denying himself persists. Whatโ€™s a few hours after agonising days? Nothing, he tells himself, unconvinced. Nothing at all. ]

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