Chapter Text
The upper crust of Baldur's Gate mingled and danced in a cavernous ballroom, with chandeliers the size of sports cars and clunky constructs serving champagne. A small orchestra did an adequate job of playing a waltz Astarion couldn't quite place, but it didn't matter. Astarion only needed to identify one thing that night. A glass of expensive whiskey in his left hand, he scanned the ballroom.
"That's the bastard at your six o'clock, Fangs." Barbarian's Lower City drawl was a pleasant sound in his consciousness. "Aaaaand perfect timing. That's me off for the night. Your magic man's finally arrived. Barbarian signing off."
Astarion felt waves of gratitude, knowing that his implant would transmit them to Barbarian, his first handler, the one who'd named him Fangs, who'd stayed late to cover for…
"Terribly sorry for the delay, Fangs. This is Wizard, signing on."
If Astarion was alone, he would pur out a flirtatious "how could you keep me waiting for so long?" But he was surrounded by awful men in awful tuxedos, so he had to rely on the emotional resonance implant sending Wizard whatever combination of comfort and delight washed through him at the sound of his voice.
"Gortash is now at your seven. He's noticed you. Give him a moment to admire your lovely gluteus maximus… Just a moment more… and now turn."
Astarion turned as if looking around at the surrounding party, making perfect accidental eye contact with his mark.
"Beautiful work."
Allowing his face to perk up in a sweet display of surprised delight, Astarion stepped forward. "Lord Gortash! I was so hoping I would have a chance to meet you during my stay, and here you are, like magic." He offered his hand. "Alejandro Greenstar, in this month from Waterdeep."
A chuckle reverberated through Astarion's mind. Wizard loved it when he invented a new character and made him from Waterdeep.
Gortash's handshake was firm. "Well, Alejandro Greenstar, let me welcome you to Baldur's Gate. What brings you to town?" He looked at Astarion with a small amount of interest, clearly finding Astarion attractive enough, which was all the start they needed.
"Not bad. Pupils dilating slightly, minimal increase in heartrate–"
Astarion bristled, the irritation cutting Wizard off.
"Right, right. You have a sixth sense for these things."
They chatted, Astarion explaining he was visiting his mother's side of the family, making sure to mention the old family name Eomane. Gortash feigned interest in Astarion's life as a corporate attorney at a big boring firm in Waterdeep. Astarion deftly pivoted to express that he's positively astounded by the marvelous work Gortash has done to make the city safer.
Wizard weighed in periodically, mostly warm words of encouragement.
"Beautiful, Fangs. No one with a pulse could resist that pout."
Astarion felt himself blush, even if he knew Wizard only knew about the pout from his data readouts. His handlers had never seen Astarion's face. But it was easy to forget that. Wizard was a diabolical flirt and a relentless flatterer, his effect on Astarion no doubt displayed on the multi-monitor setup where Wizard supported him remotely.
Gortash noticed the blush and quirked his eyebrows in confusion. "Are you alright, Alejandro?"
Shit.
"Admit that you're starstruck but you're embarrassed about it. Don't overplay it. You never get starstruck. You meet important people all the time."
Laughing nervously. "Gods, darling. You know, I never get starstruck. This is so absurd."
A wry smile spread across Gortash's face. "It's quite alright."
"Lovely, he's buying it. Stroke his ego. Remember the seminar."
Ducking his head with a beleaguered grimace, Astarion wrinkled his nose in a way he knew was adorable. "I actually did one of your leadership seminars. Oh gods this is embarrassing!"
A hand on Astarion's elbow. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about."
"You're stunning, Fangs. You've got him. It's a pleasure watching you work. I have half a mind to fall in love with you myself."
"I developed such a crush on you." Astarion laughed, a bit self-deprecating, trying to ignore the flutter of excitement from Wizard once again taking the flirting too far. "It was a very good seminar. I promise I wasn't objectifying you, but those remote lectures always inserted something special into my day."
Flicking his eyes up and down Astarion's body, Gortash's face curled into an amused smile. "For all your blushing and well-bred manners, you're quite an outrageous little flirt, Alejandro."
Letting his gaze heat, Astarion smiled back. "If you'd rather I acted the Upper City boy, I'd be happy to invite you for a game of squash."
Gortash's hand moved from his elbow to his waist, to his hip, to cup his ass and squeeze. "I could think of a few better ways we could work up a sweat."
"Well, that's hardly gentlemanly behavior, but I daresay you've snared yourself Lord Enver Gortash. Well done! Standing by to monitor travel and offer any support needed."
Leaving the ballroom with his mark, Astarion bristled, half a mind to fall in love with you myself echoing in his head, and asinine, juvenile butterflies in his stomach.
🧠📈
BEEP! The microwave went off, alerting Gale his leftovers were ready. Eyes on the monitors, he watched the outline of Gortash's limousine move from the venue to his mansion. Sounds of kissing and petting came out of his speakers. The camera feed was a blurry mess, but looking up at the graphs displaying Fangs' emotional state, Gale saw nothing out of the ordinary.
[Disgust. Irritation. Disdain.]
An unfortunate part of the gig, but an inevitable one for the jobs Fangs took. Gortash's biometric data made no indication that he'd realized his partner's lack of excitement, but he probably would if Fangs didn't start acting the part a bit more.
"He's going to notice your disinterest sooner or later, Fangs. Our course of action is up to you."
A series of lights began to pulse on Gale's console, a familiar sequence that made Gale hold his breath, gripping his fork too hard. Was Fangs going to–
No. The pattern for 'cancel request' popped up, and Fangs' voice came through Gale's speakers, the angle of his ocular cameras making the picture shift as he dropped to his knees.
"Mmm, do you mind if I take a taste?"
"By all means… far be it from me to deny you my city's finest delicacies."
Gale took a bite of his food, trying to ignore the sounds of Fangs sucking off Enver Gortash.
[Embarrassment. Disgust. Rage.]
"I'm right here if you need me, Fangs. You've got this moron like putty in your hands. Don't let him make you feel small."
[Embarrassment. Gratitude. Determination. Rage.]
Gale sighed. It was as good as he could hope for.
Before the cancellation sequence, it looked like Fangs was initiating the Honeyed Words Protocol, something they hadn't done in months. Strange. He took another bite of his pasta.
Fangs firmly refused the cybernetics that would allow him to do what everyone else did: appear aroused and engaged while retreating to another part of the mind to enjoy a game of lanceboard or a show. Which was why they tried the experimental Honeyed Words Protocol, an idea Gale was still quite proud of. With Honeyed Words, there was no need to override control of the body's systems. Instead, all Gale had to do was talk his asset into arousal. The old fashioned way! How novel.
The protocol was successful, with a few other handlers even able to pick it up, but no one saw more success than Gale working with Fangs. Gale loved his work, loved to watch the confidence of his assets rise while their discomfort waned. Still, nothing had been as professionally and personally fulfilling as seeing how well Honeyed Words worked on Fangs.
Gale kept their most successful session perfectly logged in his auxiliary memory, for data purposes.
Pale skin spread out for the camera like an ancient marble temple, hard planes of lean muscle arched in pleasure. The head of a mark bobbed between his legs, but when Fangs whimpered "don't stop, please don't stop," he was talking to Gale.
[Desire. Affection. Need.]
"Where were we? Three fingers deep?" Gale teased.
[Irritation.]
…
[Arousal.]
"That's right, I'm fucking you open on my fingers, Fangs. As impatient as you are, I want you stretched and wet and ready when you take me."
Fangs whined, a high and reedy thing.
"Gods you're lovely. The sounds you make– I was never much of a musician, but I bet I could play you like a fiddle. I could make you sing. Would you beg for it?"
A gasp. The monitor showing Fangs' emotional state fluctuated wildly.
[IrritationDesireIrritationAffectionLongingDesireDesireDesireDesirePleasureDesireFondnessPleasurePleasurePleasureNeedNeedIrritationNeed]
Chasing the warm feeling in his chest, Gale pushed.
"Sometimes I wonder if I could make you cum just like this. No mark, no con, no touching, just me talking to you. Do you think you'd like that?"
"Gods…" Fangs whimpered.
[PleasureNeedPleasureNeedDesperationNeedNeedNeed]
"Your readouts, Fangs… Your data. You're so responsive, as though all this time what you've needed was a silly wizard whispering filth into the back of your mind. You're extraordinary. You're brilliant. What I wouldn't give to touch you, to kiss you, to talk to you. I-"
"Oh, I… Oh!"
[OrgasmBlissIrritationTranscendence]
The strangest combination of feelings, Gale had studied the in-depth telemetry for hours, tracking the curves and spikes of Fangs' orgasm. He'd even checked them against Fangs' intake data, the weeklong tests to match brain activity to emotional state. Why did Fangs' affection and irritation correspond so highly? Neurotech had a long way to go towards understanding the intricacies of the human mind.
Fangs had drugged the mark and slipped through his house into his private office, picking the locks deftly with his cybernetic hands.
Fangs had been in and out quickly, but the entire time, his emotional readout remained the same.
[Elation.]
Escaping into the night, Fangs finally spoke to him, out of breath from jumping rooftops.
"Gods, Wizard. You're wonderful."
He'd given Gale a little wave in front of his ocular cameras, a playful wiggle of his fingers. Gale always swelled with pride watching Fangs use his cybernetic hands, the very ones Gale secretly commissioned and stole in his last months at MystraTech. Their first collaboration, even if neither one of them knew it yet.
Even then, smuggling them into the sewers, Gale had compared the mods to photos of the original limbs, admiring Fangs' lovely skin, the shape of his fingers, the blue veins visible in his wrists and forearms. It felt so good to steal something so beautiful from Mystra. It felt even better knowing he'd done it for Fangs.
Gale often reflected and determined that Fangs was perfect, the perfect thief, the perfect field asset, the perfect use case for Gale's methodology.
But subsequent efforts with Honeyed Words weren't as successful. An awkwardness developed between them, so Fangs went back to his original handler, Barbarian, for a few months.
The aborted sequence in Gortash's limo was the first time either of them had mentioned the protocol since they began working together again. Which was fine. Fangs seemed to be doing splendidly without it.
🧠📈
"Steady on, Fangs. I know Gortash is a dick but that's why we're about to rob him, right?"
Gortash came in Astarion's fucking hair. Astarion was ready to kill him. As the blueprints for the manor downloaded into his brain, Astarion thought about a plan.
"Drugs and gun in their usual spots. Servants are off tonight, the driver has a date in half an hour so he'll be gone as well. Maid is due back at 8 on the dot tomorrow. Standing by if you need me, but this is your show, Fangs."
Did Wizard sound sad? No. That wouldn't make any sense. He was just doing his job. As was Astarion.
Following Gortash through his front door and into some kind of parlor, Astarion cleared his throat.
"Parched? I don't blame you." Gortash leered.
Astarion couldn't kill him, but he'd figure out something.
"You were drinking whiskey before, if memory serves." Gortash walked towards a large, stocked bar and poured a couple fingers of whiskey into two rocks glasses, sitting down with Astarion on a sofa.
Astarion's couldn't imagine how much Nine-Fingers had to pay for his hands, top of the line MystraTech custom jobs, if she'd paid at all. They were beautiful, based exactly on his biological hands, customized with lock picks, hacking equipment, modular fingerprints, erotic attachments, and hidden compartments.
Each finger was equipped to dispense a different drug that he might find useful. It was so much easier than the sleight of hand he had to pull when he was working organic. So it was a simple thing, really, to let a fine powder fall into Gortash's drink as Astarion passed it over to cup the man's crotch with his hand.
"Not worried about whiskey dick, I see," he purred flirtatiously.
Gortash snorted a laugh and took a long pull from his glass, spreading his legs for Astarion. "Weak men fear that cybernetics might make them lesser, but I am more than happy to enjoy what technological progress can do for me." His eyes flickered to the dried cum in Astarion's hair. "I can go all night. Let's see how much more of a mess I can make of you, boy."
"Steady on, Fangs! He'll be out for the count in a moment. Don't let this idiot get to you."
Astarion sipped his drink. It was really very nice whiskey. "Tell me, Lord Gortash, have you ever had your asshole eaten by the wicked tongue of an attorney?"
"I can't say that I… oof… uh…" Gortash swayed a few times before his head hit the back of the sofa.
"Lord Gortash? Lord Gortash?"
"He's out. All my readings indicate unconsciousness. Well done, Fangs. All very well played."
"Wizard, I am beside myself. He came in my hair!"
A sympathetic hum in Astarion's mind. "As much as that offends me as a gentleman, as your handler, I'm afraid we must press on."
"Roger that." Astarion sighed. He would get his revenge, something more than just completing the job.
"Always a pleasure to hear your lovely voice pointed in my humble direction."
Rinsing out the two rocks glasses, Astarion got to work making it look like a few more people had been over, pouring booze down the drain. He looked at his hands, popping his fingers so they extended, revealing intricate machinery and lightweight, modular synthetic phalanges. Fine silicone fingertips flipped from one set of fingerprints to the next.
"What's the plan here, Wiz?"
"All the fingerprints we've loaded you up with are fit for planting here, except 12D, that one's yours."
So Astarion touched everything and got fingerprints everywhere before extracting a pair of scissors from the kit in his forearm.
"Fangs?"
Looming over Gortash, Astarion began to cut some pieces of his stupid hair off. "Do! Not! Fuck! With! A man's! Hair!" He allowed himself the luxury of really going in, absolutely destroying any chances of salvage. As punctuation, he kicked over a chair and knocked a few bottles to the floor.
"Well, I can't say he didn't deserve it."
Once the place looked as though it had seen some decent partying, Astarion made his way to the second floor study.
The rest was easy. He broke in, hacked Gortash's safe so quickly it was boring, got the samples of whatever it was Nine-Fingers needed, tucked them safely away up his sleeve, snuck past the security guards, and escaped into the sewers.
"Magnificent work, Fangs. The time estimate for this job accounted for a median of two more hours than we ended up needing. That's why I love you. Of course, I suppose when we run the simulation, it simply isn't as charming as you are. Ha! I'm rambling, but well done, truly."
Did Wizard just say that he loved him? Walking through the sewers, Astarion once again thought the flirting was getting out of hand. Gods, he'd almost initiated the Honeyed Words Protocol after swearing he'd never do it again! Just because he was that attracted to the little voice implanted in his head. Who was now casually telling Astarion that he loved him, something Astarion had never said to anyone!
It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that Wizard, whoever he was, got to just be in Astarion's head getting him worked up, making him feel emotions, making him want things. Saying 'I love you.' Who does that?
"Is something wrong? Your emotions are a bit erratic right now."
"Oh! Are they?" Astarion bit out sarcastically. "Gosh! I had no idea!"
🧠📈
[Sadness. Anger. Embarrassment. Frustration.]
Had something happened that escaped Gale's notice? Had Gale done something wrong?
"What's going on, Fangs? You did beautifully. Let's talk through this. I'm here. I've got you."
[Frustration. Sadness. Longing.]
"Do you- Do you want me to patch you through to Barbarian? She's left for the day but ah, in case of an emergency, I'm sure I can–"
"That won't be necessary. I am fine."
He wasn't fine. Fangs was angry, upset. Gale tried not to take it personally. Maybe he needed to patch in the staff counselor.
"If it's something you don't feel comfortable speaking with me about, Druid is available–"
"Not necessary. I am fine."
"If there's something I've done to upset you, Fangs, I can only say that I am terribly sorry. I deeply value this professional relationship and have such respect for you–"
It was the wrong thing to say. Gale had never seen Fangs so agitated before.
"Actually, patch me through to Barbarian. I can't stand to hear your voice for another minute."
"Affirmative." Gale typed out the request for an emergency off-site handler transfer, which she accepted. Barbarian would only need to see him through to delivery, which shouldn't be too much longer. "Great work tonight, as usual. A pleasure to work with you, Fangs. Wizard signing off."
Trying not to let himself feel too hurt, Gale wrote up his mission summary for his supervisor and took some notes for his own records.
It wasn't as though Gale was completely ignorant of Fangs' emotional volatility. He'd managed it plenty of times before without issue, always mindful of his asset's list of identified trauma points. Gale was good at his job and worked well with Fangs. They got along. Fangs liked him, even! Gale had the data to prove it.
Speaking of data, Gale dove into his files, trying to figure out where he went wrong. There had been a sadness simmering in Fangs from the point Gale signed on that was too low to appear on his monitor, a shadow that spiked quietly along with the more vibrant affection and confidence lines. Like every time Gale was encouraging Fangs, it hurt.
When Fangs' next few jobs were assigned to Barbarian, Gale wasn't surprised. It had been like that when Fangs stopped working with him the last time as well. Gale's other main asset, Wyll Ravengard, a man too famous to be anonymous but who still got the codename Hero, didn't have anything scheduled for weeks. So Gale found himself with a lot of time on his hands.
What could he do but call his mother more often and buy Tara some new cat toys? Gale learned a few new recipes and went for walks by the river. A pirate-themed gay bar was now offering speed dating, and he was lonely enough to consider it before he kept walking.
"Mrrp!" Tara head butted Gale's legs as he came through the door of his flat, rubbing her body possessively on his pants. He bent down to scratch under her chin, and the speaker in her mechanical wings switched on. "Mr. Dekarios, you stink of fishes."
"I was walking by the river."
"Now I feel a great desire for fresh fishes!" The voice he'd installed for her language implant was comforting, if still a bit uncanny. She sniffed twice. "You try to mislead me, but my nose is too clever. You brought home fresh fishes. I will have fish dinner tonight!"
Life wasn't too bad, even if it was lonely. He cooked Tara her fish dinner, putting the rest in the fridge for the next day. Clad in yellow rubber gloves, he was preparing to wash up when a familiar voice piped into his own rarely used neural implant.
"Wizard, this is High Harper requesting remote support."
"This is Wizard, confirming availability. I'm not at my desk at present, but am home in a private setting. What seems to be the issue?"
"Fangs has requested emergency support. Patching you through now. High Harper out."
Emergency support? Gale's stomach sank, his pulse pounding with anxiety. He pulled his gloves off, leaving them in the soapy water, and rushed to his desk.
The connection was made, and suddenly Fangs was in Gale's head, panting for breath.
"Hah hah hah hah."
"Fangs? This is Wizard signing on for emergency remote support." He sat at his desk and hurriedly powered up his computer, switching his monitors on. "What seems to be the issue? I don't have my full console available just yet, but I'm switching everything on. I've got you, Fangs. I'm here."
His home computer needed to update. Fuck. He switched on his implant's heads up display to give him some basic data. Gods, his implant really needed an update as well. He would need to bring it up with High Harper. The damn thing wasn't even compatible with his home monitors. All he could see on the HUD was that Fangs was in an apartment building in Lower City with an elevated heart rate and no apparent injuries. He appeared to be alone. The home computer estimated its update would be complete in twenty minutes.
"Can you talk? I don't see anyone with you. I'm sorry, Fangs, I'm having a spot of trouble with my home computer, so I'm relying on my implant HUD."
"Does that mean I'm in your mind, darling?"
Fangs sounded wrecked, voice low and words labored.
"Affirmative."
A deep groan. What was wrong? If only Gale had access to Fangs' emotional telemetry!
"Are you in immediate danger? Are you injured? I don't see any injuries but–"
"No injuries, no immediate danger. I'm just fucked, Wizard darling. I'm just gone and ruined. I'm done for." He paused. "R-request to initiate Honeyed Words Protocol."
"Of course." If this was an emergency, and his asset needed support, then there was no time to think about it or question it. "Hello my sweet. I've missed you terribly, you know. My lovely Fangs, my brilliant beauty."
"Wizard, I–"
"I've got you, love. You've been so good, you know that? You've been so very, very, very good. My sweet Fangs, I wish I could show you how grateful I am for how good you are."
It was different, more potent having Fangs piped directly into his mind, even if it was just heavy breathing with the occasional small vocalization. It made Gale's skin heat, his own cock immediately in a state that was difficult to ignore. But the update was going much faster than estimated. He'd have his readouts soon. He just needed to buy a bit more time.
"You sound so lovely, Fangs. Your sweet little gasps… How I would love to take you apart, bit by bit."
"How? How would you take me apart?"
Gale was blushing. Come on… He looked at the progress bar of the update impatiently. He felt unmoored without the immediate feedback of the data. Insecure. Scared.
"With my fingers, with my tongue, with my voice in your ear. I would make love to you so sweetly. I-I would worship you."
"Wizard, I want you to touch yourself."
Fangs' voice was low and hungry, commanding in a way Gale had never had directed towards him before. "I ah- that isn't really how this is meant to work."
"Your asset is experiencing an emergency and requires you to put your hand on your fucking cock. Am I understood?"
Fangs' voice hitched as he made his way through the command, a lovely sound, desperate and demanding.
Fuck it.
"Yes Fangs. You're understood." Gale hurried to unbutton his trousers and get himself in hand. He was hard, of course he was hard. Talking to Fangs like this always got him hard. Oh but the relief of actual contact, even if it was just his dry palm, was marvelous. "I have complied with your request."
"Good boy," Fangs cooed. "Tell me what you're doing."
"What?" Gale was… stroking himself in his desk chair watching a software update chug its way past the 90% mark, hoping his cat didn't come in. He smelled vaguely of fish. There was nothing sexy about that! If anything, it was embarrassing. "I'm, ah, I'm so hard. I have my cock in my hand. I'm at my desk. The update hasn't finished, so I'm still relying on my HUD, so all I can see are your vitals. And I am entirely at your disposal."
"Why, you sound almost nervous, Wizard. Is everything quite alright?"
Biting off a sound that was sure to be undignified, Gale tried to get ahold of himself. "This isn't how the protocol is supposed to work."
"You know, I've never asked you what mods you have. Anything pertinent to the task at hand?"
It felt like flooring the gas pedal with his eyes closed. "Just some basic neural mods and some plugs in my chest, I'm afraid. Hands and, um, phallus are ah… au naturel, as they say."
"Not even automatic lubricant?"
Was Fangs judging him or teasing him? Gale couldn't tell based on his tone of voice alone. He suspected teasing. "I prefer to do some things the old fashioned way."
"The old fashioned way, huh? Then why don't you go ahead and spit on it for me?"
Not thinking, Gale leaned forward and spat onto his dick, a thin string of it connecting his mouth to the pool of saliva that dripped down his cockhead. What was he doing? Why was he going along with this? Why wasn't he stopping?
"What kind of emergency could possibly necessitate this?" Gale was humiliated to hear his question come out as a breathy whine.
"Listen to you… oh what a lovely voice. I knew you had a lovely voice, but I never knew it could sound like this. Which does answer the question of if you've ever touched yourself while talking to me before."
"I wouldn't–"
"No, you're a gentleman, as you've so often mentioned. Have you gotten hard before? With your little protocol?"
"Yes. With you. You respond so beautifully, I–"
"Only with me?"
"Only with you." And not just with the protocol.
Thank the gods the update was finished. Gale hurried to sign onto Nine-Fingers' secure network with his clean hand, quickly clicking over to open his remote command center, finally getting Fangs' emotional telemetry graphs and video feed.
The video feed.
The fucking video feed.
Fangs' ocular implants broadcasted his view of his own body in a full length mirror, the angle just right so his face was out of frame. He was completely undressed, languidly stroking the prettiest erection Gale had ever seen.
"Gods!" A pulse of precum beaded at his slit. "Gods, you're… you're absolutely stunning."
As disorienting as the video was, the telemetry was a lifeline.
[PleasureSatisfactionNeed]
He could do this. There was no need to be nervous. He had his data. Gale spat in his hand again and started to lazily fuck his fist.
"Look at you, Fangs. Fucking breathtaking. A work of art."
"I gather your software update finished."
[AmusementSatisfactionDesire]
"It did indeed. I must confess I have no idea what kind of emergency you're in, but I'm very grateful to be the one you called for help." Why was he nervous? This was Fangs. He knew Fangs. He knew what Fangs liked. This would be easy. This would be fun.
"Is my auxiliary camera coming through?"
Typing a quick command into his keyboard, Gale sputtered and put both hands in the air, panicked, thinking of the farmers market and trying not to cum.
"Goodness!"
[AmusementAmusementAmusement]
Fangs' auxiliary camera showed a closeup of a very pink, very wet anus being deftly fingerfucked, the ministrations coming in time with Fangs' moans.
"Godsdamn… Fucking hell!" Gale looked at his ceiling and thought about taxes. Fangs' hole looked juicy, like some kind of exotic fresh fruit.
"Do you understand the nature of my emergency yet? I urgently need to make you cum."
Still looking at the ceiling, Gale thought about his supervisor and how pissed she would be about any report he could possibly file about his afternoon. "This is a highly irresponsible abuse of the emergency protocol."
"Yes, darling. I suppose it is. Would you like to stop?"
"I'm pretty sure this is against the rules, Fangs. We aren't supposed to do things like this."
"Would you like to stop, Wizard? Would you like to chalk all this up to a big misunderstanding? We can stop whenever you'd like."
Letting his eyes drift back down to the long, lean lines of pale flesh on his monitor, to the absolutely obscene sight of a flushed hole stuffed with fingers, Gale moaned. "We are going to be severely reprimanded."
"In that case, darling, we'd better make it count."
Leaning over, Gale moved the emotional telemetry window to its own monitor, switching to a more detailed view, watching the readout of Fangs' pleasure and enjoyment rise in steep slopes. Fangs was so happy, so entertained, so fond.
Gale spat into his palm again, trying to get himself as wet as Fangs' hole looked. "I wonder how many people know how sweet you are."
"Sweet!? Darling, are you sure you aren't confused?"
"Do you have everyone else fooled? You can't fool me, Fangs. It's all here, plain as day. You're brimming with goodness, with life."
A high pitched, choked sound from Fangs, his readings ecstatic. Gale continued, emboldened.
"Others may get to touch you, but I get to see you, to know you as no one else knows you, all your soft, secret places. My love, do you have any idea how many people get off on pain, on power, on domination? Do you know how few get off on kindness?"
Could Gale get the charts to climb to coincide with Fangs' orgasm? A perfect climax? He thought he could. He knew he could. He went further, dredging up suppressed truths of his own to push Fangs over the edge. They were already past the point of no return when it came to workplace propriety.
"Gods, Fangs. You don't know what you do to me. Even when we're working normally, sometimes I watch your emotions spike when I praise you, and it- it's thrilling. I get so– Every job we do together, I fall for you anew. I love to make you feel good. I don't care how I do it. You're so good, Fangs. You're so brilliant, so talented, so devious, but so good."
"Oh gods oh gods oh gods…"
Fangs was close, fondness and pleasure spiking higher than Gale had ever seen them.
"You want to make me cum? Then feel good for me. I can't make love to you properly, so let me do it from here. I can love you from a distance, Fangs. I have all this time. Show me how you clench that lovely hole on your fingers. Paint yourself white for me."
Fangs' body stilled, something like vulnerability rising on his chart and petulance filling his voice.
"You too. You have to, Wizard. It's not fair if it's just me."
Speeding up his hand, feeling the heat build in his body, Gale did what he did best. He kept talking.
"Your wish is my command, love. Look at you, laid out like a feast, so much strength and skill, so clever and still so sensitive. Gods this feels good, gods I love you, gods I love seeing you like this–"
"I love you."
Fangs' orgasm was devastating, perfect. He sobbed and worked himself through it, babbling nonsense Gale couldn't understand, his emotional resonance graphs climaxing beautifully, like nothing Gale had ever seen before.
"Thank you, Fangs. You're beautiful. This is… I will treasure this gift for the rest of my life."
Zooming out on the graph, Gale watched the lines from the peak form a pleasant plateau of bliss. Fangs' chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, hole slick and empty, still twitching.
"This is how I want you, always. Angelic and satisfied. This is how I would take you, fuck you, mark you, make you mine. Perfect. You're absolutely perfect. My hand is a poor replacement for the hot clutch of your body, but I'm still–"
"Please, darling. Let go for me."
Normally quiet, Gale came with a cry, all over his fist and shirt and hoodie.
It wasn't until they'd said goodbye and he was putting his clothes in the wash that it occurred to him what a catastrophically stupid thing he'd just done.
🧠📈
Drip… drip… drip…
Arms folded like a sullen child, Astarion sat in his chair staring at a dripping pipe, refusing to look at his supervisor.
"Do you know why we're meeting here today, Fangs? In the godsdamn sewers?" Jaheira raised a thin eyebrow at him.
"I don't know, High Harper, illuminate me."
She sighed, rage visibly simmering. "Astarion, you abused our emergency protocol for your own personal gratification. You had me interrupt one of our most valuable handlers on his day off, making him drop everything to help you out of danger, just so you could have a wank! Do you really not see the problem here?"
Astarion allowed himself a small huff of petulance. "He enjoyed himself. I don't see the issue."
"That's worse! Do you not understand how that's worse?" Her voice was raised now. She was angry, angrier than Astarion had ever seen. "'He,' you said. What's his name? What does he look like? Where does he live? Is he married? Dating someone? Does he have a family? What is important to him in life? What does he care about? You don't know these things for a reason, Astarion. He is Wizard and you are Fangs, two anonymous strangers who break the law together. We have put a great deal of thought into this system, and behavior like yours puts everything into jeopardy." She fumed, and Astarion did see her point, sort of.
"I… am. Hm." He cleared his throat and looked her in the eye. "I apologize, Jaheira." Deep breath. "But Wizard should be in trouble too! He's very confusing to work with, incredibly flirtatious, always getting me worked up. He says things like– He tells me he– " Astarion blushed at the memory, angry and embarrassed.
"I have already spoken with Wizard. Barring an emergency as determined by a third party, you will not be working together again."
"Why not? That fucker, what did he tell you? I have been nothing but professional with him except for this one time. Meanwhile, Wizard is massively unprofessional." And sweet and funny and lovely and sexy with such a nice voice and a clever mind.
Another sigh. Maybe Astarion felt bad for Jaheira, slightly. She looked so tired. "I am aware. Wizard is a brilliant data analyst, and I apologize for his lack of boundaries. He thought he was doing what was best based on his analysis of your readings." She massaged her temple as if trying to fend off a headache. "Wizard made rash assumptions and continues to insist that his methods are sound. He has been relegated to an analysis position and will no longer be handling any assets."
"Analysis? Is that a demotion? He really is a good handler, it's just–"
"He has told you multiple times that he loves you because his 'telemetry suggested it would be effective.'" She was shouting now. "That's not appropriate, Astarion, no matter how unconventional our work is!"
Was that why he said it? "It's not as though he's some creepy pervert. I did like it. I do like him. He wasn't wrong." Was the telemetry really the only reason Wizard said those things?
"I will take it under advisement. Barbarian will resume as your primary handler, with Druid available for backup. You will not attempt to contact Wizard again."
Fuck.
🧠📈
Staring into the middle distance, Gale mindlessly gave Tara chin scratches, remembering what High Harper had called him.
Grossly inappropriate.
Manipulative.
Cruel.
She had been furious, and Gale sat in her office like a fool, unable for the life of him to understand why.
"Your asset was growing attached to you, and you knowingly encouraged him."
"The attachment correlated with a phenomenal success rate! I don't see the issue here. Sure, a line was crossed when Fangs abused the emergency protocol, but perhaps there should be a new protocol to allow a handler to assist a field asset in working off excess stress, the way Druid provides after hours counseling."
High Harper's eyes went wide, her eyebrows rising to her hairline. "Can you hear yourself right now? Are you seriously suggesting a protocol to allow you to neurofuck your asset? And comparing it to the psychological counseling we offer?"
"I wouldn't use language quite so crass…" Gale blushed and crossed his arms.
"I can't tell if you're an idiot or if you're taking advantage of your position on purpose. You hurt this man! You hurt him! You made him like the disembodied voice in his head who's not a real person, and that hurt him."
Gale opened his mouth to speak, but before he could make a sound, High Harper pressed a button on her console.
"I'll never know his name or see his face! I'll never be able to… It's not real. I know it's not real, but gods it feels real."
Fangs' voice came out of the desk speaker, nervous and quick.
"It's silly! It's so silly. I don't know what's wrong with me that I can't remember it's not real. He's just so kind to me. No one has ever been that kind to me. But it just... I don't know. It's stupid. I'm so stupid. Sorry. I know I'm not supposed to say that. I feel stupid. It just makes me so… sad I suppose. It makes me sad that I'll never kiss him, or touch him, or you know… things like that. I guess sad is the right word. It makes me sad. There. Now I've spoken about my feelings. Tadaaaa! Are you happy, Druid darling? May I leave now?"
And so a horrible sinking feeling made a home in Gale's stomach and refused to leave, even now on his sofa with Tara.
Gale had overstepped, but only with Fangs, he was sure of it. High Harper seemed to agree, but still took him off handling, which was fair. Maybe Gale could work his way back up to it, but his confidence was shot now. He didn't trust himself. He couldn't ask a field asset to trust him.
All Gale ever wanted to do was make Fangs happy, and he'd hurt him instead.
Grossly inappropriate. Manipulative. Cruel.
Grossly inappropriate, sure. Gale would cop to that. No argument. A plea of guilty, your honor.
Manipulative? Well, wasn't that Gale's job? Why else have the emotional data to read off of? Handlers were there to provide tactical and emotional support to their field assets. It wasn't as though Gale ever lied. He did fall in love with Fangs every time they spoke. Just because it wasn't strictly real didn't make it a lie. He thought that charge should be thrown out.
But cruel was the one he really couldn't wrap his mind around. Gale understood that Fangs was sad that he'd formed a connection with someone he could never actually be with, but Gale felt the same way. Had he been cruel to himself? He didn't think so. Rash, thoughtless, insensitive. Yes, he'd agree to all of those, but not cruel.
Gale liked Fangs, cared for Fangs. Of course he would want to do all those things, the touching and kissing and so on. He'd have liked to do more. Talking, cooking together, going to a show. Of course it was sad they couldn't. What would Fangs think of Tara, Gale often wondered. Did he like animals? Did he have one of his own? Why was he called Fangs? Where was he from? What did he enjoy?
It was preposterous to suggest that Gale was being cruel. He was merely being himself. He was making a connection with his asset in the most authentic way he could. And, may it please the court, he was sad too.