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“What are you doing?”
Astarion glances up from his phone screen, brow furrowing as his focus wavers. Gale’s voice is adorably rough though, having just awoken not ten minutes prior. Astarion can’t help but grin at his lovely paramour from across their kitchen table, despite the interruption.
“I’m capturing you.” He says breezily, lifting his phone once more and pressing the camera button, getting his fourth photo with a satisfying electronic shutter click.
It’s not better than the first, but it’s leagues above that second one, where Gale had been picking sleep sand from the corner of his eye and looked a bit mad. Not that Astarion will delete it, mad eyes or no. It’ll go right into his collection, safely stored and backed up to his computer where the rest of his treasures live.
“I can see that, my love, I’m not completely addlebrained in the morning,” Here Astarion has to fight the snort that threatens to wheeze past his nostrils, lest Gale get grumpy. “But why are you taking my picture right now, when I’m quite clearly a mess?”
Astarion scoffs, unable to keep the outrage from contorting his features into something less than beautiful, as difficult as that may be with a face such as his. “Pardon me, a ‘mess’? You must be joking.”
Gale very nearly whines, grimacing. “The air conditioner is broken, so I spent the majority of the night sweating through my pajamas, I’ve still got nearly thirty-six papers to grade before Friday which has given me a stress headache for the past two days, and in the fleeting moments I did manage to fall asleep last night, I kept being awoken by the neighbor’s dog barking out their side window, so yes. I’m quite certain I’m not looking my best at the moment.”
Ah, Scratch, a sweet little mutt. Probably scenting owls or bears or some other manner of beasty out in the woods. Astarion gives Gale a sympathetic pout of his lips, then raises his phone once more and snaps another photo.
“Astarion. Please.” With a groan and a tired shifting in his creaking chair, Gale brings both palms up to rub roughly at his eyes, perhaps to clear them or perhaps just a brief display of frustration. Dropping his hand back down to the table, he grabs hold of his coffee mug once more. “Let me at least finish my coffee.”
World’s Sexiest Wizard, the mug says.
Astarion bought him that. A little tongue-in-cheek reference to Gale’s horrendous pick-up lines back when they’d just started dating. Something about ‘magic betwixt the sheets’, it had sent Astarion into a wild paroxysm of laughter at the time, intrigued and charmed but also not even close to believing Gale’s claims.
How wrong he’d been. Astarion hums quietly through his nose. How laughably, ridiculously wrong.
The man is sex on two legs.
A perfect specimen, an Adonis. Especially with his long hair tied up atop his head, artfully tousled, like he’d just come from a salon and not simply rolled out of bed, his pillow damp with drool. It’s unfair, really, that a man should look so effortlessly attractive. What with that immaculate jawline, his strong nose, those piercing eyes, not to mention those perfectly pillowy lips. After three years together, Astarion can feel the pressure of them against his own just by looking at them.
He swallows and snaps another picture.
“I was mid-yawn!” Gale grouses.
And his body, gods, his body, Astarion stares unabashedly, shifting in his own chair now. The broad expanse of Gale’s shoulders, the lean musculature of his warm arms, the thick downy layer of hair on his chest and the teasing trail that leads down, hidden unfortunately by the edge of their table…
“Astarion?”
He jolts, having completely gotten lost imagining himself sliding down that trail of hair like a snake. “What?”
Gale’s holding up his second piece of toast in offering. “Did you want this? My stomach’s not feeling the best with this headache, and I’d hate for it to go to waste.”
There’s one bite taken out of it, and Astarion snatches it gleefully, pressing his mouth over the remnants of Gale’s lingering taste. Like a secretive kiss.
How is a man supposed to live like this? How is Astarion expected to go about his day after being confronted by such a sight as his gorgeous, sleepy, sexy lover in threadbare boxers and nothing else?
As he nibbles on the toast, Gale turns and stretches, arms lifting to bend and meet above his head, the man arching this way and that, several loud pops from the movement. Each one, Gale gives a soft breathy grunt in response.
No this simply will not do. Astarion is not a saint, he can’t survive under these conditions, can’t withstand this erotic behavior.
Both the toast and his phone get put down with more force than either deserves, and Astarion goes boneless, slipping down his chair and under the table like that aforementioned snake and just as fast as one.
“Now what are you doing?”
Crouching on the balls of his feet, he ignores Gale’s somewhat muffled query from above and reaches for warm knees, sliding a palm up over each one, licking his lips as he shuffles closer.
“Astarion—”
He cuts Gale off with a quick bite to the man’s supple thigh, enjoying the yelp that follows. Such lovely legs Gale has, long and lean as the rest of him, soft beneath his touch, more of that deliciously thick hair, tickling his palms as he slides them up further towards where Gales boxers sit snugly concealing him.
He’ll remedy that problem immediately.
But Gale’s chair noisily scoots back, dragging on the floor. Astarion can only follow, shuffling forward on his knees, unwilling to remove his grip on Gale’s thighs. He squeezes them as punishment for Gale attempting to move away, fingers digging in to soft flesh.
“My love,” Gale says with a sigh, looking down at him where he kneels between his legs. “We don’t have time for this.”
Astarion returns his gaze, peering up from his half-emerged position beneath the table. He gives a smile that’s all mischief, leaning down to nip at Gale’s thigh again. It leaves a small patch of saliva that catches the sunlight streaming in through their bay window.
“I happen to know an excellent cure for headaches.” He says, instead of acknowledging that yes, they do both need to leave the house for work within the next thirty minutes at most and Gale hasn’t even finished his coffee.
“Oh? And what could that possibly be?”
Astarion peppers kisses up both of Gale’s thighs, humming approvingly as Gale parts them for him to crawl closer, and then looks up once more. “Why, a simply stunning orgasm, of course.”
Gale’s intake of breath is quick, but he lets it out much slower. One of his hands comes to rest gently over the side of Astarion’s cheek, the fingers partially threading into his hair, parted between middle and ring fingers by his ear, thumb soft as it strokes his cheekbone.
“I mustn’t be late,” but there’s barely any conviction in his voice. “There’s an exam today.”
Astarion dips down and noses into the tantalizing vee of Gale’s groin, inhaling the scent of skin and musk and the intoxicating, intimate smell of Gale. His mouth waters and he drags his palms all the way to where thighs meet hips and he slides his fingers around them, letting his thumbs slip into the legs of Gale’s boxers and press into the sensitive indented juncture of skin on either side of Gale’s awakening cock.
“Exams. Papers. Traffic. Pish posh, I say. How about we make a fun little deal instead of worrying about all of that other business?”
Gale’s breaths come a little heavier now and his hips cant ever so slightly forward. “And what, pray tell, is the deal you’d like to make?”
Astarion grins with all his teeth and lifts his head to show them off. “You shoot your load down my throat and in exchange, I’ll fill your hole with mine.”
There’s a choked sound in response, Gale’s face flushing beautifully, and Astarion’s eyes dip back down to watch as Gale’s half-hard cock quickly fills right before his eyes. Not wanting to waste even one more moment without that luscious heat in his mouth, Astarion tugs at the worn elastic waistband of Gale’s boxers and pushes them down underneath the man’s balls, exposing his thick, bulging cock.
Without preamble, he bends down and engulfs him completely, swallowing easily around his length, having had years of practice by this point. A ragged hiss of breath above him has him humming happily, which in turn causes Gale to twitch against his soft palate.
He ripples his throat teasingly and Gale’s fingers previously cupping his cheek quickly shove back into his hair instead, tangling roughly in his curls. An anchor, some stability, for both of them.
Astarion breathes noisily through his nose, pulling back slowly, shivering as the flared ridge of Gale’s tip slides along the pebbled width of his tongue over and over again, truly the filthiest of deep kisses. He’s ravenous for this man, for the bitter taste of his release to flood his mouth. He sinks down again, drags his tongue firmly over slippery velvet skin.
It feels good. Gale always feels good, every single part of him. Whatever Astarion can get.
Saliva spills past Astarion’s sealed lips, drips down to pool in the tiny furrow between Gale’s balls where they perch above his waistband, before spilling from there too and trailing down further.
Gale groans above him, shifts again in his seat, hips pushing out more, legs splaying wider, granting Astarion unrestricted access to his body. Astarion starts moving, up down up, faster than he wants to, but he can’t help chasing Gale’s pleasure, wanting to incapacitate him completely.
He hadn’t lied about Gale coming down his throat. He’s going to make sure of it.
His own cock throbs in sympathy, tucked away and ignored for now.
Later. He’ll deal with that later. After.
First, it’s Gale’s turn. He quickens his pace, taking him all the way to the base with every bob, the sounds louder now, wet and filthy, his throat audibly gulping each time he presses down.
Gale’s thighs are already trembling, the quakes resonating throughout his whole body, and Astarion can feel each one where he grips at Gale’s waist. How he adores being the one who can make him shake like this. How lucky he is.
His mouth is full of Gale’s flavor, thick and slick on his tongue, and he pulls off momentarily with a hard suck to catch his breath, lifting his hand to grip and stroke in absence of his mouth. There’s sweat at his temples and a drop sliding slowly down his back. His own breaths come quick, his aching cock harder to ignore now.
“My love…” Gale murmurs, chest glistening with sweat and shuddering, his other hand joining the first at the back of Astarion’s head and entangling in his hair. “Close.”
The sound that leaves Astarion is like a man starved, he can’t help it, how it rattles out of him. There’s dampness in his underwear, he’s leaking pretty heavily. Gale’s going to come soon. The thought makes him dizzy with want.
Gale always makes him dizzy with want, whether in the bedroom or elsewhere, for something as saccharine as handholding or spooning or watching how the man’s face lights up with pride when trying one of Astarion’s many experiments with cooking.
It's not just that Gale is gorgeous outside, but inside as well. His heart and his mind, both so kind and considerate, how deeply and thoroughly he loves Astarion, makes him feel safe and treasured and happy. Astarion does his best to express his love in return, and right now, he’s doing that by bending swiftly once more to lap teasingly at Gale’s leaking tip, a thick bead of precum smearing over his taste buds.
A fresh burst of saliva has Astarion swallowing that bitterness down and dipping further to suck Gale back inside. Once more to the root, his nose stopped only by the thick patch of hair on Gale’s stomach. He swallows, gagging softly as Gale’s cock nudges the very depths of his throat. Hot and so very hard, and Astarion’s greedy for it.
Hungry.
Pulling back once more despite the hot squirm of heat in his belly protesting the separation, he traces the flared head with his tongue, slurping off another bead of wet from the slit. Then he’s teasing Gale’s cockhead by shifting his foreskin, stroking up and down and checking Gale’s face to see how much more he can take.
Not much, if the beads of sweat on the other’s face are any indication. Gale’s heaving out great bellowing breaths, flushed all over, and tugging insistently at Astarion’s hair. The chair creaks ominously beneath his shifting, needy hips, but Astarion’s not worried.
“Ready, darling?” He asks, aiming for a teasing tone but somewhat overruled by how wrecked his voice sounds.
Gale nods quickly, biting his lower lip and fighting to keep his eyes from slipping shut. He likes to watch. Likes to see Astarion devour him and drink him down.
Not one to disappoint, Astarion does exactly that.
Once more, he bends forward and sucks Gale in completely, giving a genuine moan of pleasure at the stretch, and starts bobbing his head again. Gale hisses above him, those fingers tightening almost painfully. Almost. He gulps again, trying to squeeze Gale further with his throat muscles, and Gale stiffens underneath his hands, both legs kicking out as he lets out a strained whine.
Astarion pulls off just enough to feel Gale splashing his release against the back of his throat, the man’s hips hitching up against Astarion’s hold on them. Gale’s cock twitches hard, his pulse thundering rabbit fast against Astarion’s sensitive tongue, and then he’s practically whimpering, shuddering forward, clutching Astarion’s head right where it is, hips making aborted little kicks into the air as he spurts a final time.
This one, Astarion allows to coat his tongue, knowing Gale goes a little crazed at the sight.
True enough, when Gale sits back, still breathing heavily, his hold on Astarion no longer fiercely tugging but rather, gentle petting through Astarion’s curls, he catches sight of Astarion sitting there with his mouth still open. Empty except for his seed, and he visibly shivers.
Astarion makes a show of swallowing it and then grins again, pleased as punch.
“Mmm,” He moans, licking his lips and enjoying how that makes another shudder ripple through Gale’s body. “Delectable.”
Gale blushes somehow even more red, and covers his eyes with his hand, laughing weakly. Despite how much they do this, Gale still somehow gets shy. It’s impossibly endearing and outrageously attractive, and Astarion’s cock throbs in warning, reminding him there’s still the second part of their deal.
He stands, legs only a little stiff from kneeling on the floor, and offers Gale a hand, who takes it while still covering his eyes with the other. Pulling him up to stand too, Astarion wraps his arms around his winded lover, leaning in to suck a mark on Gale’s exposed collarbone, somewhere it’ll sit for days but be unseen to those fools unfortunate enough to never see Gale’s bare skin.
Their loss, his win.
“Bedroom?” Astarion asks, lifting his head to bite at Gale’s earlobe. “Or kitchen?”
In the end, he takes Gale right there on the kitchen counter. Two bottles of dried herbs go flying to the floor and break, a bottle of cooking oil gets tipped over, spilling its contents across the marble countertop, and neither of them make it to work on time.