[ Astarion knows every step to this dance. He knows how to flatter, how to charm, how to seduce; he knows the erogenous zones of humans and elves and tieflings, knows how to fake all the right sounds at the right moment. He knows what people want from him, what they see and expect when they look at him.
It should have been simple with Gale, but Gale has thrown off Astarion's steps from the beginning. The threat of detonation has always been there, just behind Gale's ribs -- poor planning, Astarion, at the choice to pursue the near-dead wizard for a back pocket ally. Worse planning to want him, but Astarion hadn't thought he was still capable of such things.
It isn't just wanting him, or -- maybe it is, and Astarion has just never known what it is to truly want another person. They've both known hunger, but that's a hollowing thing, claws that carve from the inside out. This is a blooming, or perhaps an untangling: Gale's fingers and lips finding knots Astarion didn't know existed, that he hasn't been able to see.
Just a bite, gentle, with human teeth, and Astarion feels a kick of heat in his gut, impossible as the warmth of the sun on his skin. His hands have found Gale's waist, the small of his back, legs spread to accommodate the solidity of Gale's thigh between them. Astarion doesn't know what move to make, where to put his hands. The soft, surprised sound he makes against Gale's shoulder isn't for show. ]
Gale. [ His hips hitch a little, a helpless desire to slot their bodies together, and Astarion feels a bloom of shame with that; the lack of control, from something so simple. He also doesn't want it to stop. ]
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It should have been simple with Gale, but Gale has thrown off Astarion's steps from the beginning. The threat of detonation has always been there, just behind Gale's ribs -- poor planning, Astarion, at the choice to pursue the near-dead wizard for a back pocket ally. Worse planning to want him, but Astarion hadn't thought he was still capable of such things.
It isn't just wanting him, or -- maybe it is, and Astarion has just never known what it is to truly want another person. They've both known hunger, but that's a hollowing thing, claws that carve from the inside out. This is a blooming, or perhaps an untangling: Gale's fingers and lips finding knots Astarion didn't know existed, that he hasn't been able to see.
Just a bite, gentle, with human teeth, and Astarion feels a kick of heat in his gut, impossible as the warmth of the sun on his skin. His hands have found Gale's waist, the small of his back, legs spread to accommodate the solidity of Gale's thigh between them. Astarion doesn't know what move to make, where to put his hands. The soft, surprised sound he makes against Gale's shoulder isn't for show. ]
Gale. [ His hips hitch a little, a helpless desire to slot their bodies together, and Astarion feels a bloom of shame with that; the lack of control, from something so simple. He also doesn't want it to stop. ]