Chapter Text
No surprise that Gale’s dorm is more books than room. Books on the table, books by the loveseat. Books stacked up to hold flower pots by the window.
“That’s ingenious, actually,” Astarion says, in passing, waving his hand towards the set-up. “I mean, why even bother buying furniture? Hells, sell that sofa, drape a blanket over a sturdy stack of tomes and no one would know the difference.”
“I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not,” Gale says, over his shoulder. His bare shoulder, of course. Astarion watched him peel off his cropped t-shirt at the party and it never reappeared. No real loss.
“I’m really not,” Astarion tells him, in a rush because gods, he can’t have Gale thinking like that. Not after accepting what he knows is a very sacred, very difficult to come by ticket to his actual dorm room. He rushes up to Gale too, winding around one of his arms and flashing him a grin. “I think it’s lovely. It suits you perfectly, all of this. Thank you for inviting me up.”
Gale stops moving through his apartment, stops outside what must, by the process of elimination, be the door to his bedroom. The only light in the small main room is dim, from the tiny kitchen, but his brown eyes glow. Like they make their own light, somehow.
“Well, that party was a real bore. Lucky we ran into each other, hey?”
“You know, I wasn’t even going to go out tonight. I’m glad I did,” a quiet murmur, as his eyes trail pointedly to Gale’s mouth. If there’s anything that might draw his gaze from those shining eyes, it’s his equally sublime mouth.
The things it does, the things he says. The easy smile that, even now, floats across his face and brightens his features even more.
How does he manage it?
“Do you want to show me your room now?” Astarion tries, utterly presumptuous. But with the smirk, calculated, he knows it’ll hit just right.
And it does. There’s a little blush creeping into Gale’s cheeks, and Astarion grins wider, presses closer. Laughs low and fond and presses his nose right up against Gale’s warm cheek.
“Oh, you don’t have to, if it’s going to make you nervous. I’m being too quick again, aren’t I? Let’s just - “
Gale cuts him off with the turn of his head. The shine in his eyes stays, but his brows draw into something serious. Thoughtful. He turns his body, too, so they’re completely facing. Turns it and takes both of Astarion’s hands and some vast tonal shift buttons up Astarion’s mouth quicker than anything ever has.
“I’ve been thinking. About things. About you.”
Nothing good comes after a sentence like that. Astarion fights not to let it deflate him. “And, let me guess, you like me.”
“Of course I do.”
“So much.”
“So, so much,” Gale repeats as emphatic as the first time he said it.
It makes Astarion feel as giddy as the first time, too. Every time. It hasn’t lost any of its punch yet, somehow.
“Is that all you’ve been thinking of?”
“No,” Gale said, and there’s finally a lift to his dire seriousness, a quirk at the corner of his mouth that Astarion knows precipitates a smile. “But I have this problem.”
“If this is about your deliciously touchy dick again, Gale, I swear - “
“No! No, not…not that. Although, if this conversation goes right, that will need addressing.”
“Oh. Oh. Well, keep talking then, don’t keep me in such suspense.”
His bones feel like they’re going to jump right out of his skin if he doesn’t hear right fucking now what Gale wants to say to him. What he’s been thinking. It sounds good, it actually sounds like good news and his heart races away already.
Still, always, too presumptuous for his own good.
“My problem,” Gale starts again, making a sigh out of the words, squeezing Astarion’s hands at the same time. “Is that I do want things to go further, with you. I don’t know how far, exactly. We’ve already surmounted my most casual rules, and we’re onto the more serious ones.”
“Such as don’t let anyone into your dorm.”
“No, it’s not quite like that. I let people in, Astarion. I’ve got friends, classmates. Just last week, would you believe it, I crammed ten people in here to watch a movie? It was a whole thing, I baked a cheesecake and it was lovely, but there was no sex involved, is what I’m getting at here. No one I’ve even so much as kissed.”
“Ah, that’s why I wasn’t invited.”
“Things get complicated in ways I never seem to understand. People…expect things. So I’m going to be clear with you. Painfully forthright.”
“Please.”
“I do want to…” his head ducks. Hair fans out over his blushing face and Astarion doesn’t hesitate to brush it back, to tuck it behind Gale’s ear and let his hand rest against the side of his neck. “I do want to fuck you, Astarion. Since you said it, it’s been difficult to stop thinking about.”
“Oh,” Astarion sighs and the held nerves dissolve right out of him. That’s really all he wanted, was Gale thinking about it. Because in the thinking about it, well, there’s no way that wouldn’t turn into something good.
“But…”
Gale draws it out and that’s mean.
It isn’t on purpose. Astarion knows that, sees the indecision in the man’s face. In the barely-there lines of his frown, with his gaze still so down-turned.
Astarion tips his head up, then. Hand under his chin and Gale goes easy with the motion and after a few seconds, he even looks Astarion right in the eyes again.
And continues.
“But I need to have some measure of freedom. This cannot turn into some locked-up relationship, no matter how beautiful the fetters.”
Astarion blinks, and Gale takes a breath to say more, but he cuts the man off with a finger over his mouth.
Oh, it’s so easy.
That’s all he wants?
“All you want, then, is to be able to fuck me and continue to reign free as the blow job queen, yes? Suck a hundred dicks a night? Jog through the campus with barely any clothes on? Tease your way through a dance floor? Gods, Gale, I’d never ask you to stop doing any of that. If anything, I’d be cross if you did stop.”
All the tension seems to bleed from Gale, at that, after a long, quiet moment. Astarion rests his hand against Gale's chest and it’s strong there, that heartbeat, under the warmth of his skin and his gorgeous pelt.
“Truly?” Gale says, and there’s a hint of incredulity there.
This has been a problem before. He sees it in Gale’s eyes. Hears it in the halting way he speaks, of fetters, of locks.
As earnestly as he can manage, he looks right into the shimmering browns of Gale’s eyes. “You’ll always be free to be your own person, Gale. No matter what we get up to. I can absolutely promise you that. I’d be a fool to try and stop you.”
“Well…what if we were dating?” And that’s halting too. That word, in Gale’s mouth.
Astarion shrugs, smiles gently. “Even then. Darling, we could be in some fabled future, fifty years married, and I’d never stop you from having your fun.”
“That’s…”
“A hypothetical. My stock and trade. That one was a lot, I know, but I’m simply saying - “
“That I can fuck you and still be the blow job queen?”
“I’d never come between you and that storied title.”
“Well…”
A lewd little joke but all Astarion can manage is a chuckle about it, before he presses further into Gale’s space. Rests their foreheads together and feels the heat of Gale’s body against his. Delicious and warm, a teasing sweetness in the way he breathes so deeply.
He cannot let another second pass without asking, without knowing.
“Does this mean you’re going to fuck me, Gale?”
He wants it so terribly bad. He’s spent the week or so since he mentioned it to Gale almost wishing he hadn’t. Because as much as it’s been on Gale's mind, he’s sure it’s been on his more. A heady daydream he keeps slipping into, mid-lecture. When he wakes, before he sleeps.
It’s been worse since they’ve been texting, catching meals together on and off, seeming to run into each other more and more. Astarion doesn’t believe much in signs, in fate, but maybe all of that is culminating here and now.
But the bedroom door is still closed. And Gale’s mouth with it, although his eyes restlessly scan Astarion’s, and his chest heaves against his body.
“I’d like to, yes,” he finally answers.
“Now?”
“Oh, why not? Why wait? Just tell me it won’t change anything.”
“I mean…you might not be able to stop after the first time. It might sear the perfect memory of how tightly I wrap around your incredible cock into your brain so sharply, so firmly, that you can’t stop thinking about me. That’d be a change, hm?”
“Not really,” Gale says, in an exhale, shallow and quick and from the tilt of his hips, Astarion knows the words, the promises, are getting to him already. “I already think about you so much. Nearly too much.”
“Nearly?” Astarion fakes a little pout and presses closer, eating up the last bit of space left between them. He slots a long leg between Gale’s thicker thighs, gives him a slow, telling grind. “Let’s fix that.”
It’s the slowest kiss. The slowest arrival to the kiss Astarion’s ever allowed. He doesn’t even use his tongue for a while; waits, instead for Gale’s, for Gale to open him up and at the same time as they truly sink into each other’s mouths, the bedroom door clicks open.
It’s a fight not to laugh.
How well Gale times things, like this. How unserious, but incredibly studious he is about the filthiest things.
There’s a tumble into the bedroom. Gale goes in first and Astarion follows him blind, follows the twisting and turning of his body as long as he doesn’t have to stop kissing Gale. Gods, he never wants to. What a truly perfect mouth.
The bed - he thinks so, at least - hits the backs of his calves and a hand out confirms it’s at least something soft and squishy. Something to support him against the light shove Gale gives. He goes with it too easily, sinking down and splaying onto his back. His hands grab for Gale immediately, pulling that warmth down atop him.
It feels so much more intimate, somehow.
The private room, the closest quarters yet. No interlopers. Nothing between them but a t-shirt and Gale makes quick work of that.
If he’s still nervous, it doesn’t show. Chest to chest, mouth to mouth. Maybe his heart hammers a little faster than usual but Astarion’s does too. Faster than it ever really has for another person.
And there’s so much more of Gale to touch, like this. His hands skim the human’s sides and grab his hips, his ass, still barely encased in the ridiculously small shorts he always favors for parties and just about anywhere else he can get away with it. A shame to pull his hands away but there’s the lithe muscle on his back too, that needs touched, and even better, maybe best of all, the soft silk of his forever-spilling-out hair.
And he can get a leg around Gale like this too, hoist it up around his hips and make them cram so much closer together. Gale groans into his mouth and grinds down harder, inelegant and quick and the trousers in the way become, immediately, the worst thing in Astarion’s life.
But the moving to take them off. Moving to stop kissing Gale, to stop touching him, might be the second worst. So he indulges it a few minutes longer. Until Gale’s breath hitches hard right against his lips, and his busy hips hold a grind long enough he swears he feels the human’s cock throb even through three layers.
“Let me get these off of you, yes?” Astarion mutters against his mouth, his hands, fingers clutching at the folded-over waistband on Gale’s shorts and giving a delicate tug. “And then my own, and then, well…”
Even the insinuation gets another groan from Gale and Astarion laughs, breathless and enchanted with all of this, but mostly, with Gale himself. How hot his skin is, how heavy and perfect on top of him. How easy he’s going to fall apart. How easy he already is.
A shuffle and Gale stands and Astarion chases him, on his knees on the bed, hands still hopelessly attached to those low-slung shorts. They peel off easy and he sighs, actually sighs to see that deep pink cock revealed, slapping up against Gale’s stomach gravity be damned.
He’s gentle, wrapping a fist around it. One finger at a time and even that sends Gale into a fit of gasping while he throbs against Astarion’s palm.
“How beautiful you are,” Astarion murmurs, looking up at the near-pained expression on Gale’s face. His lips parted and wet, his eyes all screwed up in a squint, his hair askew like they’ve already tumbled around. A nearly angelic frame, soft and thick and dazzling.
“Had I the wherewithal, I’d tell you the same.” It sounds a little apologetic, as Gale weaves fingers through Astarion’s hair, gentle and slow, and he lets the motion crane his head up higher, lets his eyes widen and his expression soften, naturally.
He needs Gale to see all of that. How much he wants him. Needs to convey, through expression, through touch, how changed he’s been since that first meeting and since every meeting afterwards. He can’t say any of it. That’s simply out of the question, especially knowing what he does about Gale. But if he gets a crumb of it through, he’ll be satisfied.
He thinks it works; Gale blinks and his squint relaxes. There’s a second of a frown, thoughtful, that draws down his brows. And another second later, Gale’s other hand warm and soft along his cheek, down his jaw. He nuzzles into it, shamelessly chasing the heat, the sweet touch, and turning to take Gale’s thumb between his lips. Even more shameless that he suckles at it, just to feel the throb in Gale’s cock over the act.
It’d be too easy to undo him, like this. Quick and simple and he could have Gale spilling before he’d even managed a finger inside and, fun as that sounds, it’s not what he wants. Not tonight.
“Just tell me how much you want to fuck me and I’ll call it even, then,” with a sly smirk, with a teasing lick at the pad of Gale’s thumb.
“So much,” Gale says, in a sigh. And it’s such a familiar echo of that other very sweet thing Gale’s been saying, it makes him laugh softly. “And it’s not…not particularly something I think on, you know. Well out of my oeuvre. But…gods, I’ve even been thinking about your mouth too much, you know.”
Eyebrows ping up and Astarion tilts his head and it’s impossible to halt the grin tugging at his mouth. And he’s so so close, he could just hunch and suck all of Gale’s cock right down his gullet and really, truly give him a taste of his own fantastic medicine.
“Really,” Astarion says, instead, “how intriguing. Why not both, tonight?”
“No,” Gale says, and it’s accompanied with a shudder, with another deep throb against Astarion’s palm. Another one when he finally moves his hand in a slow, loose stroke. “No, not…not yet, at least. I won’t have any hope of lasting, if we try for both.”
“That’s adorable,” and Astarion stretches up for Gale’s mouth, to sink against him for another kiss, deep and dirty before, “but you and I both know I’d get you hard again in a second. Or, more to the point, never let you go soft at all. You know, I could very easily just open myself up while I’m blowing you, and you could squeeze right in. Hmm?”
“Gods,” another shuddering sigh and Gale shuts his eyes, letting his forehead rest against Astarion’s. “I am incredibly tempted. But…well, you need to know, I’ve been imagining the tightness, the heat of you, opening up for me. And that’s the only place I want to come, tonight.”
“Oh, who could say no to that?” Astarion sighs back, and after another kiss, heated and long and a little desperate, he moves fast to get himself naked while Gale tends to the rest. Prepared, apparently, with lube, with towels, with an assortment of differently supportive pillows strewn across his bed.
Best of all, Gale doesn’t look too nervous, and he had worried over that. That he’d talked him into it, that he’d plied himself all too well to the human but no, Gale’s confident as he’s ever been, perched on the edge of the bed and waiting.
Another cocky smirk while Astarion covers the step or two between them, looking fondly down. So fondly. Almost too fondly, but he isn’t prepared to think too much on that, just yet. He stops in front of Gale, until Gale has to tip his head up to look.
“You want me on my back, I suppose?”
A deep breath, and Gale nods. His deft fingers flutter and clutch at the edge of the bed and Astarion longs to feel them everywhere, but specifically, working him open.
He’s coveted Gale enough; now he can take action. A ruffle of Gale’s hair and he crawls past him onto the bed. Not very big, about what he’d expect for a dorm, but that only means they’ll have to cram even closer together through all of this and that suits him just fine.
Gale turns while he’s still arranging himself artfully against the pillows, and drapes over him before he’s truly finished. He can’t complain, though. Not for that heat hitting him again, that scratchy lovely hair against his chest, his stomach, and the fiery hot brand of Gale's cock along his thigh.
“I’ll go slowly,” Gale promises him, his eyes sparkling with it.
“On my account? You better not,” Astarion counters. A little push at Gale's shoulder and, “let me show you something,” like he’s had it planned but he hadn’t; the dirty trick’s just occurred to him.
Astarion squeezes his hand between them, fits it around both of their cocks and remembers, so vividly, when they came together like that. The heady filthy pleasure of it, of their near-simultaneous orgasms. But after a second, he drops his own and presses Gale’s down flat, against his pelvis, against his stomach.
Gale starts, huffs, throbs. The standard reactions.
Astarion nuzzles along the side of his face, into that deliciously human beard covering his stunning jawline. “Look, look how deep inside me you’ll be. How far up in my guts you’ll get.”
Gale blinks wide before he looks, and his whole body seems to jerk. His hips stutter against Astarion’s grip and when he finally does look, there’s another huff of air and a second desperate, broken thrust.
“Oh, don’t, you can’t - not yet. At least let me…gods, please,” he babbles, tense, lovely.
“Let you what, darling?”
“Let me get my fingers inside of you before you start talking like that.”
And it’s said as he laces a hand through Astarion’s free one, right beside his head. Their fingers mingling, rubbing, squeezing and it shouldn’t be so horribly sweet but Astarion’s heart pumps hard and fast for a dizzying few seconds.
“Gods, yes, okay, go then. Please? Please don’t make me wait any longer.”
“It’s hardly been a wait at all,” Gale says, and now he’s the one with the amused tone, with the breathy smirk.
“Whatever time has passed between when I kissed you outside the door and this second has been entirely too long.”
“Fifteen minutes, I think.”
“Yes, alright, then it’s been fourteen minutes too long. Shall I beg?”
“You needn’t.”
“I will. If you want.”
A patient smile - far more patient than Astarion’s feeling - and another kiss before Gale moves. His mouth trails down Astarion’s neck and finds his collarbone. There’s a bite, there, with his blunt teeth, that sends sparks down Astarion’s spine. Gale moves further down, unlaces their hands to run his fingers over Astarion’s skin after every wet sweep of his mouth.
It feels like a new kind of torture. Waiting, watching. And wanting, so badly so quickly.
He hasn’t seen Gale work magic but he knows how much of it depends on those precise digital motions. And he has spent too many hours daydreaming about his hands. Especially the more casual time they spend together. Watching him balance a fork between his fingers, watching him turn a page. Watching him sweep his hair up in yet another messy bun. There’s skill, there. An ease of movement that, even now, Astarion can’t help but watch.
The fingers drum down his ribs as Gale tongues over his stomach, kisses his navel and sinks lower. Hands grip his hips, next. Thumbs rubbing at his hipbones and even though he’s watching, the twirl of Gale’s tongue over his cockhead still makes him swear.
He should’ve expected it but he’s been so focused elsewhere that it’s a blissful surprise. He tangles a hand in Gale’s hair and grinds out a throaty laugh.
“Gods, go easy, I was not ready for your perfect fucking mouth and I swear one little suck could have me bursting over your tongue.”
It doesn’t help, either, the way Gale looks up at him. Mischievous, light dancing in his big brown eyes. The tide has turned, for now but there’s nothing to begrudge him over. Nothing at all.
“I had to,” Gale explains, simply, as he leans in for more.
“Of course you did.”
And there’s no real telling him to stop. There’s no point to that. It feels too good, anyway; the warm, wet cradle of Gale’s tongue, the hot tug of his lips around Astarion’s head. Measured enough, he supposes that he won’t completely fall apart in the man’s mouth but gods, it always feels so precarious.
Like any second, Gale might do something, some stunning move or other, and completely obliterate any and all of Astarion’s stamina and willpower.
But, even as Gale slowly suckles at him, his hands skim down his thighs and palm the insides and that’s new. Never happened before. Astarion legs his legs fall open, then, again. And he arches a little, into Gale’s mouth, with a quiet little moan that’s half for sure. Mostly, just to speed things along.
“I bet you could multitask your way inside of me, you know.”
And Gale’s eyes squint at the notion and his gorgeous mouth drools off of Astarion’s dick, not moving far enough that the heat really goes anywhere. “I don’t think even a mind such as mine can accomplish that at first blush.”
“Oh, please, you could suck dick in your sleep, I’m sure of it. Here, give me your hand,” and he reaches for it, before Gale can even slide it up. Everything’s laid out just so, so all he has to do is grab the lube and they’re well on the way, all of a sudden.
But. He’d be remiss to skip the opportunity of hunching a little and sinking his mouth down around Gale’s first two fingers. A tease, a show, and Gale’s eyes go wide. A little strand of drool falls from his mouth onto Astarion’s slick cock. A beautiful sight.
“Sadly, not enough, no matter how long I salivate over your perfect fingers. But here,” and it’s just the index, for now, that he drizzles a little lube over until it’s shiny from that, too, and with some careful guidance, he maneuvers Gale’s hand back down. Back between his legs. Gale’s head leans against his thigh, his eyes fixing there, on their hands together, on Astarion reconfiguring his position and canting his hips and another, “here, just there,” before he presses that finger against the tight furl of his hole.
“Show me,” Gale says, broken and halting. Wide-eyed, staring up and flicking his gaze back down again, like he doesn’t know where to look.
But it’s already good, the press of his finger just there, not even moving. Astarion hitches a leg further up the bed and moves against it with a contented sigh, avidly watching Gale’s face. There’s nowhere else he’d rather stare, right now.
“It’s easy, see,” Astarion pants, and guides Gale’s still finger a little firmer. Rubs it in a slow circle, trying to relax against it but gods, it’s so good. He wants more, right away, always. But, if only for Gale’s sake, he’ll slow.
Gale, for the time being, seems frozen in place. Staring, his fingers flexing under Astarion’s grip.
“You’re supposed be the one imploring me to relax,” Astarion tells him, with a breathless chuckle that earns him Gale’s eyes again. “Hm? That’s usually how this works. Telling me to be patient while you tease me open with those incredible fingers of yours.”
“I’m…so out of my depth, I’m sorry, I don’t want to do anything wrong, I - “
“You’re so sweet, Gale,” he sighs, heart hammering, clenching weird again but gods, he’s really got to push past that and get things moving. “You can’t do a thing wrong. Here, just rub, like this,” and he moves Gale’s index finger for him and gives him a blissful smile and a nod, grinding back against the movements again.
Gale nods back, but he sees the swallow, the dark flicker in his eyes before it lowers again.
Then a hot huff spills out over his thigh, a pillow for Gale’s head, still, and, “gods, you’re so beautiful like this. Opening up.”
“Oh, there, see? That’s more like it.”
And already the flare of confidence in Gale’s brown eyes, and a flush darkening his cheeks again. Astarion moves his hand away and then that’s Gale, doing all the work.
Well. Most of it. Another grind and Astarion moans, while the tip slicks the way just inside, just barely.
Gale gasps along with it but he doesn’t recoil. No, he twists. He finds a better angle and he asks, “how will I ever fit? Hell’s teeth, you’re so tight.”
“Ah - keep going and you’ll see. Please, keep going.”
There’s a second or two of stillness, a second or two too long. Astarion clenches around Gale’s finger and only half of that is on purpose, trying to spur him into action. It works, snapping Gale’s apparent daze and he presses past that first taut muscle up to the first knuckle.
He does keep going. And it’s even more perfect than Astarion daydreamed about. No surprise Gale gets a feel for it, once he’s past his nerves.
And it’s been too long since Astarion let anyone do this. Too busy with his last year of school, back home. Too busy with moving and then, too consumed with this new life in Waterdeep. The parties, the new corners and alleys to discover. The new favorite person here, just between his legs, that he’s figuring out how to chase.
In a respectful way. In a way that makes sense and leaves them both free and clear to do whatever the hells they want.
He hasn’t stopped staring down at Gale, who hasn’t stopped staring at his single finger moving in a steady, slow rhythm. A little deeper but still so, so measured. And then he sinks to the second knuckle and shifts, laying a hot-mouthed kiss against Astarion’s inner thigh. How tender there, how sweet the feeling.
“You can go faster, now,” Astarion tells him, at the exact moment as he does do just that, like some incredible synchronization.
Gale laughs, that breath hot over his skin, and the grin he throws up Astarion’s way is nearly too much. He’s got it now, and it’s going to be very much too much. In the best way.
“Gods, yes,” Astarion groans about it, teasing a leg up over Gale’s back as the human hunches there, between his thighs. The bed moves with Gale’s effort, with his increasingly quick pace and something else, too. Gale’s hips, he realizes, rocking against nothing.
How gorgeous. Fun ammunition for later.
Or, for in about five minutes, when both their patience runs dangerously thin.
On pure impulse, Astarion reaches for Gale’s moving hand again, stops him and grins at the questioning glance up. “Another, please?”
“Oh, so soon?” a crease of concern, a furrow of his considerable brow.
“Yes,” Astarion says, immediately. Heedless how eager that makes him look because gods damn it all, he is eager for this. Spent the better part of a week obsessing over it. So it doesn’t seem soon at all, it feels like a long time coming for how worn the tread is in his brain.
Gale’s still doe-eyed and blinksome though, back at being a little halting and careful and Astarion’s got the cure for that, he’s sure.
It’s honesty.
“You need to understand,” breathy and that isn’t a show at all, and his eyes fix on Gale’s with something that feels achingly genuine, “that I cannot stop thinking about you shoving that gorgeous cock inside of me. I haven’t been able to, since I said so. Since long before that.”
He watches it take hold, watches Gale’s breathing pick up and his busy hips hitch again and oh, gods, to feel that motion inside, so uncontrolled and overeager and he tightens around Gale’s finger at the mere thought.
“Here,” Astarion rushes, paws for the lube and takes all the advantage of his long, willowy limbs to find Gale’s hand again, still between his legs. The cap pops easy under his thumb and he makes up for Gale’s lack of motion with a flurry of his own, until he’s sure it’s enough. Maybe more than enough, when he feels the slickness of those digits with his own. And, again, “please, let me show you? I can take it.”
And Gale nods, finally. More hair slips free, framing his flushed face like some mad sensual portrait. His fingers twitch. And Astarion guides him easy, the index out and then two pressing at the just-stretched rim, hot and slick and he watches Gale again, watches his face like he’s studying it, like he can’t hope to look away.
Gale’s gaze flickers from his face down to his ass, up and down and again like he can’t settle, even as he presses inside.
“I - the thing is - “ Gale starts, stutteringly, a wild wide expression on his face. “I don’t know if I can take it,” he pants out. “You’re so tight and warm and gods, I don’t know how to do any of this but I am so desperately close to, ah, embarrassing myself and - “
“Oh,” Astarion sighs out, and the rush of that flushes over his whole body. Clears his brain in one fell swoop and makes his cock fucking throb. “Truly?”
But he doesn’t stop anything; doesn’t stop moving against Gale’s guided fingers. Doesn’t stop guiding them either. He sinks them in deeper and watches Gale’s eyes go even wider, watches his whole body shudder and his breath catch and as much as he wants to see what Gale might look like if he accidentally shoots this soon, he’d really rather feel it somewhere deep and dirty instead.
“Fuck - slow down, Astarion, please, I don’t - “
“Here then,” breathless, scrabbling for any part of Gale with his less-sticky hand, “you can fit inside, quickly, here, here.”
Dirty, reaching right for Gale’s cock as he’s shifting up the bed but he practically has to, and anyway, it’s helpful if nothing else, slicking him up quick and then keeping hold while Gale hisses and throbs.
And gods, he’s so hard, and he always is. So hard and sensitive to every little touch that for a handful of heady seconds, Astarion wonders if he might come like this, before he’s even there.
If nothing else, it’d be a point of pride.
But, realistically, fuck pride.
He needs Gale inside of him, yesterday. Last week, even.
Their foreheads slam together, inelegantly, and Gale gasps right against his mouth. Hot and desperate and there, there’s the slick, hotter slide of his rigid cock against Astarion’s thigh, wet, so close and searching and he tries, he really does, to spear himself on Gale’s cock before it’s too late.
But he erupts right against his hole, on his skin, in a fiery mess. The human’s hips work erratically but Astarion manages, somehow, to stuff the spurting head inside.
It really is too much, that stretch, combined with Gale’s jerking hips, with his panting mouth and the so human heat of his body. Gale cries out something, nothing, against his lips and he’s still coming; Astarion feels it, the throb inside of him beyond the stretch. And it’s so, so good.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s too good, I’m - “
“No, no no, stop,” Astarion pours, purrs the words right into Gale’s open mouth. “Nothing to be sorry for, just don’t stop moving, don’t even try - ah!” and there’s suddenly so much more of the human pressing inside of him, absolutely more than he was ready for. The throb presses him wider, like a second heartbeat filling him up, and there’s no rhythm, no art at all to Gale’s fitful thrusts.
It aches, the further in he goes. Aches in the best way and he only for a second regrets not spending more time on the prep, only for a single second until that dull pain sharpens into pure bliss.
With a shudder, Gale stills. Tellingly, he doesn’t pull out at all; he doesn’t even try and Astarion takes that opportunity to wrap him up with his legs, with his arms, to kiss against his still-panting mouth.
“I didn’t mean to - gods, you’re so - gods above - “ babbles out, no matter how hard Astarion tries to kiss all the words from Gale’s mouth. It’s a little charming, somehow, hearing him so broken and brain dead.
“I’m so what?” Astarion prods, has to. He wants to hear it, wants to hear every blessed thought crossing Gale’s sodden brain.
“Tight,” Gale says, in a sigh, dramatically.
“Hmm.” Filthy, that he tightens up more around the human’s still-hard cock. It drives Gale’s hips in another stuttering thrust, deeper, and he stays there. “Fuck all, that is perfect, Gale. What else?”
“Hot. Like a…gods, like a fire, inside.”
“Hmm, you are too. I can feel every inch of you searing me, darling, and it is so fucking good. Better than I’d imagined, and I have spent so much time imagining it.”
Gale relaxes, a second; an easy smile falls across his face and even so close that he’s blurry, Astarion’s struck, as he often is, by how unbelievably handsome Gale is. To have him here, sweaty and heavy and all to himself seems so fucking magical.
“Nothing else could ever feel so marvelous, I’m sure of it,” Gale says, like a sigh, and if Astarion doesn’t laugh at that he’s going to say something very, very stupid.
So he does laugh, head tipped back and breathless, strumming his clean hand through Gale’s hair to push it back, but it always falls back down like a soft veil around them. “Oh, you should try a girl sometime. Not quite so tight but deliciously wet and warm. Or someone else’s ass. It’d be fun to compare notes.”
Gale sighs out another, “oh,” with a jerky thrust and Astarion gasps because gods, that’s as deep as he’s going to get and the pressure is incredible.
And it’s a bit of a shame because he had a whole bit lined up about wanting to watch Gale fuck someone else but he can’t manage to make words about anything. Later, perhaps. A later tease, a later ramble when they’re all tucked into each other and groggy. Just some nonsense pillow talk.
“Too much?” Gale asks, and it’s so sweet, it’s really too sweet how concerned he is about this.
Astarion shakes his head, bites his lip. “No,” he manages to sigh, rocking his hips just a little against Gale’s body. There’s the warm squish of his balls against Astarion’s skin, and the sticky mess from his first load. Astarion wonders what it looks like, how lewd that vision must be.
How much convincing would it take to get Gale to fuck him in front of a mirror, he wonders absently. Yet another thread for another time.
Oh, he’s going to forget all of these things he wants to bring up later.
Oh well.
“Do you need a moment?” Gale asks, and Astarion realizes he’s been head tilted back panting eyes shut fingers clutching thighs twitching for too long.
“Do you?” he counters.
Gale huffs, thought creasing his face but, ultimately, he shakes his head, shakes that gorgeous halo of silky hair around them and catches Astarion’s mouth with his again.
He starts moving slow. Starts moving while he’s still sucking at Astarion’s tongue and it’s head-spinning. He’s so careful, measured and practically crawling. It’s maddening, it’s maddeningly good. Not enough, just enough, Astarion can’t decide, and he doesn’t want to press Gale into something before he’s ready, not at all, but, gods, how could he get Gale back to losing that tightly held control again?
He wonders.
And then, he remembers. Remembers Gale on his knees at that party, glowing while Astarion lavished the most basic praise on him. Remembers the glitter of his eyes, the soft, dark flush in his cheeks. Oh, that’s right, he’s so easy and it’s fantastic.
And he detaches from Gale’s perfectly talented mouth, letting their foreheads fall together again.
And, “you’re so good, Gale. You feel so fantastic inside of me like this. You’re doing so well.”
Gale’s chest swells in sudden breath against Astarion’s and he blinks slow. His mouth still slacking open, shiny-wet. “Truly?”
“Yes,” Astarion says, and lays a hand against his cheek, drums up his most honest expression. Which isn’t difficult, at all. Because he means all of this things he’s saying, even if they’re designed to get Gale worked up even more. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget this. Don’t stop? Show me how capable you are with that wonderful cock, won’t you?”
A breathless nod and Gale shifts, raises up and gathers his knees for better leverage and gods, he truly is a natural at all of this, somehow. Made to please someone and how incredible that someone is Astarion, for tonight.
“Yes, there, that’s how you do it,” Astarion praises him, can’t stop, especially when it makes Gale turn so pink, so determined.
Especially when it gets him moving, testing long, slow strokes that barely dip the bed at all. And that feel overwhelmingly good, even if they aren’t so fast as Astarion would like. There’s time, after all. More or less.
It’s satisfying to stretch out under him and take it. To watch Gale figuring all of this out and, best of all, to get to feel it. All that hard, tightly held desperation and he’s only just started breaking it.
A little faster and Astarion sighs happily, stretches like a cat basking. And, “yes, see, there you are. I bet you could keep that up all night, darling, hm? I bet you could fuck for hours and leave me brainless and leaking by the end.”
That hits something.
Two ways.
Because Gale thrusts sharp and sudden, a slightly different angle and it’s that angle that truly hits Astarion perfectly inside and makes him throw his head back again in a cry, and tighten around the human, even as Gale’s already pulling back again.
“Did I - “ already apologizing while Astarion tries to find it again, that blissful angle, that sharp thump of thick cock spearing him just so.
“Right there, there, can you - oh,” and he finds it again with another roll of Gale’s busy, twitchy hips.
“There?” with a creased brow, desperately curious. One of his talented hands curls around Astarion’s thigh, pressing it out, up, wide.
And he thrusts again and Astarion swears he sees stars behind his eyelids, moons, planets, whole fucking galaxies, so good he can’t even speak.
Gale gets the idea after that. Easily, quickly, absolutely born to please.
So rare he’s struck speechless, noiseless, but all Astarion can do is arch into this, grab at Gale’s arm posted up beside him, and stare when he manages to keep his eyes open. Incredible how well Gale takes to this. Incredible, too, how utterly human it is.
Nothing like fucking back home.
That always held a special delicacy to it. Sweet touches and breathy caresses. Whispered, time-honored phrases of devotion, even if they were untrue.
This is pure and filthy. Gale’s sweat drips onto him and his heat blankets Astarion’s body in delicious waves. His breathing goes ragged, combined lewdly with the slick noises of the mess he’s already made inside, outside. There’s hair on his arm, where Astarion’s fingers dig in. There’s the stunning pelt on his chest, the tantalizing trail on his stomach. The trimmed bush grinding against Astarion’s smooth, flat pelvis, now and then.
And the effort. The speed, the pounding, pulsing heartbeat feeling inside and out.
Pure human.
A quicker pace thumps the bed against the wall, forces Astarion’s eyes shut against the perfect onslaught of fucking. He skims a hand down Gale’s chest. Plucks at a pierced nipple just to feel the hitch in Gale’s hips on the way to his own body.
He’s waited long enough, he figures, grasping his own cock. He’s leaky, throbbing hard and Gale’s pace picks up even more, once he sees it.
“Are you - gods, are you going to make yourself - “
“No,” Astarion huffs, clean hand around the back of Gale’s neck, drawing him down, close, closer. “No, you’re going to make me come. Aren’t you?”
A shudder, a nod, and Gale, dutifully, slams hard with the next thrust, and the next, and on and on and Astarion doesn’t even have time to scream, to drum up some sweet, lovely encouraging words, before he’s clenching and squeezing around it. He barely registers his own cock throbbing in his hand, spending against his stomach, barely knows anything outside of Gale pounding in again and again, even while Astarion’s body tries to hold him steady, milk him dry.
“That’s - too tight, gods below, I can’t - “ Gale babbles, shudders, slams. Sweats and pants and then the pace is untenable for a few hectic seconds. Astarion’s not sure he can take it, in that moment, and what a fantastic thing to feel.
He’s barely regained anything of his senses when Gale finishes - again. This time it’s deep inside of him, a little more planned, at least. It’s perfect.
It’s perfect and he tells Gale so, while he licks at his bottom lip, while his body clutches at him inside. A mindless chant of, “that’s it, you’re perfect, fill me up again, perfect, fucking perfect.”
Until Gale cuts him off. Tongue-first. Still thrusting weak, but deep.
He melts into the kiss. Melts into Gale’s mouth while Gale sort of collapses, on top of him. A sweaty pile that Astarion only wants to hold on to, to clutch at for as long as he can.
Gale doesn’t stop kissing him until they’re both struggling to breathe, and even then, when Astarion gasps laughingly for air, Gale sets his mouth onto his neck, instead. Like he can’t have it empty, can’t have it idle.
Oh, that oral fixation.
More like a compulsion. But the best kind, because Astarion’s on the receiving end of it.
Eventually, Gale stills and rests his head there, in the crook of his neck. He heaves a hot sigh against the drying sweat.
“I can’t believe how good you feel inside,” he says, a tired, delirious edge to his voice that Astarion loves. “Still.”
“Anytime you’d like to do that again - “
“I’d say right now but I think I might actually need a minute. Perhaps even two.”
Astarion laughs softly. Fondly. Kisses into Gale’s unruly hair and traces the muscles of his back with his clean hand. A leg still hitches around his waist, holding him in place. But the human doesn’t seem likely to move anytime soon.
Good.
“You take all the time you need. Neither of us are going anywhere, I think. Unless you’d like me to leave.”
“No,” muffles against his skin, with another kiss. “Please, stay. I haven’t shared a bed in an age but I’d really love to, for as long as you can stand it.”
As it turns out, he can stand it until the sun comes up. And quite a while after that.
Until, at least, the smell of something from the kitchen rouses him.
It takes a second before he places the bed he’s in. In Gale’s bedroom. In Gale’s dormitory.
Gods. Gale. The smell of him lingers in the bed beside him, in the tangle of the still warm sheets.
He doesn’t bother with clothes, getting up. And he’s a little tender in all manner of places but nothing too terrible. Reminders of a night well spent. Of a night he’d like to repeat.
Gale’s in the little kitchen beside the bedroom, predictably in yet another pair of petite shorts, barely clinging to his svelte hips. Both hands maneuver something over the stove and a soft piece of piano music floats out from a tinny-sounding speaker next to a coffee pot.
He’s humming to it. His hair’s uncombed, and the light from the window, open, illuminates him from behind.
Astarion stays in the doorway for a long moment, undiscovered, greedily staring. Gale in all of his capricious beauty, was only his, last night. Who knows if he ever will be again, but he’s content with that night. Content with this morning, drinking in the scene.
Ridiculous that Gale blushes when he sees him there, in the doorway.
Blushes, yes, but strides over until he’s right there in Astarion’s space, still wielding his cooking things, but also wielding a sweet half-smile and a delightful sparkle in his eyes.
“Good morning. I tried not to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” Astarion tells him, the truth, and he kisses that little half-smile until, finished, it’s a grin across Gale’s face.
He ducks back to the stove, gorgeous and flighty as ever.
It’s pancakes and bacon, with the thick Waterdhavian coffee he’s become used to, eaten in the tiny breakfast nook by the open window. The breeze drifts in, sending the steam swirling, along with Gale’s messy hair.
“I would like to do that again, sometime,” Gale says, over the rim of his mug. It breaks a comfortable silence and sounds so nervous, unsure. As if anyone would say no.
Astarion smirks, leans across the small table. “Anytime you’d like, like I said. That was - you are, I mean, incredible.”
A little smile tugs at the corner of Gale’s mouth. He sips the coffee, but his eyes still hold something. Some unspoken thought or other, so Astarion waits. Patiently as he can.
“I would like to do that only with you, Astarion. And no one else.”
He blinks a few times. Perhaps he hasn’t had enough coffee for his brain to truly catch up.
Good gods, he doesn’t know what to say.
“I’d like that,” is what makes it out of his mouth and after a moment’s thought, he realizes it’s actually true. That there’s a heady, slightly uncomfortable swelling in his chest and a syrupy warmth spreading around inside of him. That he wants that, too, so much. Whatever it is, whatever it makes them.
Gale’s face lights up beautifully. A hand stretches across the table and fits neatly against Astarion’s. “In the interest of clarity - “
“You will still be blowing much of the campus, yes, I have no qualms with that. I will be there watching, whenever you’d like, enjoying the show and being unquestioningly supportive.”
He didn’t think the light in Gale’s eyes could brighten but here it is. The dark brown illuminated so stunningly, so in sync with the grin widening on his face. It seems to lighten the room even more. Seems to multiply even the sunlight streaming in, to sweeten the breeze.
“And helping,” Gale says, eyebrows raised. “I do love you helping me.”
“And helping,” Astarion repeats, assuredly.
And, “well, there’s this party tonight…”
Well, isn’t there always?