[ Truly a long time, for a human. Gale must be close to Astarion's age when he died, Astarion realizes; which makes him wonder how young he was when Mystra courted him. If courted is even the right word for what she did to this man.

Astarion would take her down, if he could, and briefly follows the thread of imagining what kind of power he would need to do so. Strong enough to defeat Cazador must be close to strong enough to defeat a goddess. They'll get there.

Astarion bites a kiss beneath Gale's jaw, then presses a softer one to the bruise. Pulls back enough to look at Gale, flushed and wanting beneath him. Beautiful. ]

I wanted you, back in the Underdark. [ Maybe the first time he felt the stirring of that want without a mask slipping into place. Astarion withdraws his hand, pressing the other to the center of Gale's chest to push him back into the pillows. ] To taste the salt of your blood, and then press my lips to your cock -- to hear the sounds you would make for me.

[ His gaze is dark, hungry. Astarion doesn't have a cantrip to ease friction, nor oil by their bedside, so he catches Gale's chin with the hand that had been stroking him, before pressing middle and forefinger to the seam of his lips and uttering a word: ] Suck.