corporeity: (Default)
๐‘”๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘’ ๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘˜๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘œ๐‘  ([personal profile] corporeity) wrote 2024-01-13 09:23 am (UTC)

[ Normally, Gale lets Astarion lead the dance. A solid weight in his lap, warmed only by proximity. Fangs marking his neck, wrist, shoulder, thigh at his leisure. Gale has always had a talent for both accepting what heโ€™s given and overreaching.

Humans are such wanting creatures, Mystra had told him once. Itโ€™s true of them in general and of Gale, in particular, though he surmises thereโ€™s more to it, in this moment, with Astarion hushing his name like a prayer. ]


Good. [ For all Gale obviously twists himself up in his head, Astarion falls into mind-traps of his own, but maybe this helps. It feels essential and effortless to encourage him now โ€” to approve of that want, unfurling amongst the brambles in his chest, and coax it into the light. ] Youโ€™re good, Astarion. [ Astarionโ€™s legs have fallen open, an invitation Gale has rarely dared to imagine, and one he answers by angling his knee to part them wider. ]

I have you. [ Gale kisses the reddened tip of Astarionโ€™s ear to prove it before ducking under his jaw. Fingers curl around the pointed shell, protective as the weight the settles over him, indulging that abortive hitch with a deep roll in return. ]

Again. [ His name, that sound. The scrape of stubble then teeth as Gale sucks a mark under the hinge of his jaw to match the fresh and fading bruises that have decorated his neck for weeks. ]

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