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Gale had plenty on his mind these days: his soured relationship with Mystra, the orb embedded in his chest, and the tadpole wriggling in his head. And yet a distinct memory had solely occupied his thoughts since it had occurred— of Astarion slipping into his tent unbeknownst to him. Caught nose deep in erotic literature and with his pants down, literally.
Unlike the rest of their companions, Astarion proved to be treacherous at worst, and a wild card at best. He was not sure what encouraged him to act as he did, but it had caught Gale completely off guard. With Astarion settling between his knees, his sweet release was coaxed out by the vampire's mouth. Before he could fully register what had occurred, Astarion had risen to his feet and finished on his face; beads of cum — by gods, Astarion's cum — dribbled down his cheek and collected along his beard hairs as the vampire stood before him, calm and collected.
Don't ruin it now, he had said pointedly before leaving Gale to mull over what had just occurred. Astarion's words reverberated in his mind; A firm warning, and yet it was easier said than done.
Gale did not necessarily like Astarion, nor did he dislike him. His coquettish attitude was over the top and grating more often than not. Yet there was the more subdued side to him that Gale had come to enjoy. One that involved evenings spent reading side-by-side: discussing literature while lazily passing a bottle of wine between themselves and gossiping about their days like a pair of middle-aged women.
And he could not deny that the vampire was easy on the eyes. There was a certain allure to that coy smirk wide enough for a fang to teasingly peek out. An omen to his dangerous nature.
It was a danger that extended to the battlefield. Surrounded by an overwhelming number of goblins and similar ilk, Gale was mesmerized by Astarion's graceful lethality. The vampire was to the shadows as Gale was to the Weave; a masterful artist, able to slip through it as though it was second nature. It was impossible to keep track of where he was positioned as he struck with a practiced precision before retreating once more into the dark.
Their fight came to an end as the lithe rogue emerged from his stealth and dug his daggers firmly into the hobgoblin's neck. Despite no need for breath, adrenaline fueled Astarion's veins, encouraging hasty huffs as he inhaled the musk of combat — a cocktail of sweat, blood, and singed flesh.
His red eyes were slivers, obscured by blown out pupils from the thrill of the fight. With a quick flick of the wrist, Astarion replaced one of his daggers with his mouth, lapping at the blood spilling from the felled foe's shoulder.
It should not have been so entrancing. It was the equivalent of eating a meal at the campfire, after all. Yet there was an undeniable heat that pooled in Gale's stomach as he snuck a glimpse at the vampire's feeding: how he pressed his body against it needily, the subtle flutters of pale eyelashes with each noisy suckle he made. When Astarion withdrew from the body, decorated with the spatter of blood along his face and coating his lips. A tongue slipped from his mouth, running along his lips and cleaning the mess.
Gale became aware he was far too close to pass off his staring as a fleeting glance. As their eyes met, the corners of Astarion's mouth lifted into a grin, still in a state of euphoric bliss from his satiating meal.
"Can I help you with something, darling?" Astarion asked with a short, crooked laugh.
The sickly copper smell of blood wafted from his breath, amplifying Gale's heartbeat. There was something frightening about Astarion when he was in a sanguine-induced high; an unsettling way he looked at Gale like he might a meal. Equally unsettling was how his body seemed to react as a carnal want blossomed, making his skin buzz with an uncomfortable warmth.
"No, no. I'm, ah, fine. Just all the blood has me a little light-headed," Gale stammered. "I'm— I think I am going to head back to camp. Get a quick rinse before dinner. Nothing like a splash of cold water to clear one's mind."
Astarion raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to no doubt offer some fiendish retort, but Gale spun on his heels before he could. He was grateful his robes were loose enough to obscure the strain against his trousers.
Gale had only reached the stream nearby their camp and stripped himself when he felt that sensation of being watched. He pricked his ears up, listening expectantly for a noise other than the babbling of running water. His suspicions were confirmed from the soft crunch of leaves. He glanced over to find the pale elf sporting a blasé expression as he sauntered over.
Astarion, their group's skilled rogue, daring to be caught? No — it was an intentional move, though whether it was to stir a reaction from him or something else was yet to be determined. Gale cleared his throat, wrapping a tattered towel around his waist to provide himself some modesty.
"The stream is currently taken, Astarion."
With a disappointed click against the roof of his mouth, Astarion propped a hand on his hip. "What a shame. Here I thought you were inviting me to join you."
"And what would give you that idea?" he bit back.
Astarion circled him akin to a hunter stalking its prey. His eyes were dilated, reminiscent of their earlier battle. "Your heart is pounding, and you have a look as though you might bolt at any second," he paused, smiling to reveal menacing fangs. "Either you're scared of me, or you want me."
Gale shifted his weight between his feet. While he was bothered that Astarion picked up on the small signs, he was more bothered that he was so blatant in his displays. He would have liked to think Astarion was bluffing to get a rise out of him — it was definitely something he was capable of. And yet there was a glint in his eye and a knowing smirk as he halted a pace in front of Gale, tilting his head back as if to look down upon him.
"Yet you've always been apprehensive around me, haven't you? But today was different."
In a fluid motion, Astarion wrestled him onto the ground and straddled his hips. Gale's arms were pinned effortlessly over him. His chest fluttered and his brown eyes widened as he regarded the man atop. In contrast, Astarion was far more relaxed - red eyes were trained on him, his gaze as sharp as his daggers.
"You've been obsessed with me, darling."
"Me, obsessed?" Gale stammered, his voice coming out more shrill than intended. "What gave you such a preposterous idea—"
Astarion lifted a hand from one of his wrists, touching his index finger to the wizard's lips, effectively hushing him. Gale swallowed and noted how his eyes flicked to his throat, his interest apparent.
Gale wriggled in a half-hearted attempt to free himself. A fang flashed at him, taunting him as the vampire leaned ever-so-closely. Did Astarion notice how he made little effort to escape? With one arm free, surely he was aware that all it would take was a firm yank to unbind his other arm and a simple spell to send him flying—
"So you haven't been gawking at me these past few days?" the vampire asked, leaning closer.
—But he didn't want to be free, did he? He enjoyed how his heart raced with Astarion looming over him. It was as though he was imbibed on a pleasant liquor; there was a certain enjoyable dizzying head rush, coupled with the pleasant tingle along his limbs as he stared down the vampire.
It seemed Astarion was in the mood to play a dangerous game, and who was he to not to tread the line that was set? Gale remained quiet, highly aware of the rising heat in his face. How did he look from above? A crown of splayed dark hair, round doe-like eyes glaring up rebelliously, desire betrayed by his rosy cheeks?
With his red eyes still fixated on his throat, Astarion’s finger upon Gale's lip trailed down, tracing the perimeter of his facial hair onto his jawline. Gale kept still, his breath catching with each new touch. Astarion tutted as he followed down the darkened skin of his orb, stopping at the base of his neck and wrapping his hand around Gale's throat softly. A gentle press of fingers dipped against his skin, not to harm but to remind him of who had control.
"You seemed very interested in watching me feed. My, you were so flushed as you scampered away like a rabbit..." The words came out as a deep purr, sultry and dark.
"I wasn't—" Gale squeaked, falling silent as the vampire gave an experimental squeeze, coaxing a throaty groan out of him.
Astarion shifted back to looking at his eyes. Gale could swear they were a shade deeper, a mysterious darkness to them. He increased the pressure along his throat enough to make the world spin around him. His vision vignetted as Astarion pressed harder on his neck. Ironic how fragile life actually was — how easily it was to snip that thin strand with a simple squeeze.
He found himself drifting, snapped back to reality as Astarion let off on the pressure enough to cause a pleasant rush to his head. A shiver crept down his spine as he squirmed, becoming aware of the arousal building once more.
"Funny enough, it was much like how you are now. Your pulse is fluttering, darling."
"A brush with danger is known to, ah, occasionally spark desire for stimulation," Gale said, his voice coming out more as a whimper than he would have liked. Feeling skittish, he averted his eyes.
"Mm, and you're in danger around me?" Astarion mused, tensing his grip along Gale's neck once more. With pale fingers pressed more firmly into pulse points along his jaw and a quick tug, he forced Gale's head back up.
There was no doubt Astarion could feel the hammering of his heart under his fingertips.
"I—" Gale choked out, unable to muster up any more words. He was light-headed from lack of oxygen, and unable to focus with the budding heat in his core.
He was sure his brain short-circuited when Astarion casually rolled his hips, grinding his own bulge against the wizard's hardening member.
"Perhaps you need to work on your survival instincts, little bunny."
"I'm per–"
Gale's words were cut off as Astarion tightened the grip around his throat with a taunting smile.
"What's wrong, pet? Cat got your tongue?" he asked.
Was this truly happening? Or had he already passed out from lack of oxygen and was in some comatose state, happily dreaming fantasies? No, no— that didn't make sense. He was definitely still conscious, yet it seemed too surreal.
Astarion's grip eased, allowing him a moment of reprieve. He sucked in a mouthful of air.
What he would do for this to continue indefinitely would make Mystra shake her head with disapproval.
Regaining a modicum of breath, he found himself babbling between raspy breaths.
"If we are continuing an air of transparency, I suppose I have had some improper thoughts cross my mind since you, ah, interrupted my reading that one night."
Astarion pressed on his neck once more as if to cut him off. It was becoming harder and harder to focus on his thoughts as his head felt weightless, floaty. The sensation of nails pricking him as fingers pinched into his neck once more kept him composed as he teetered closer to unconsciousness.
Gale was vaguely aware of Astarion unhooking his towel off his waist. A sound of protest fell to soft whimpers as a cold teasing hand touched along his shaft. As Astarion pressed a thumb against his slit, he was acutely aware of how painfully hard he had become through Astarion's manhandling.
"Such a naughty wizard," Astarion cooed out, his voice oddly melodic and teasing. It was sinful how lovely those words sounded on the vampire's tongue, a devious jab twisted into an enthralling hum.
If this was to be his end, at least he could concede that it was one of the more enjoyable ways to die.
Then the pressure disappeared as Astarion released his grip. Despite being relieved of the tension on his neck, he found himself mourning the lost pressure as he sucked in mouthfuls of air greedily. His vision betrayed him as the world blurred around him. He could only focus on the sensation of Astarion's weight lifting off his body and the rustle of fabric as Astarion shirked his garments off.
How was he not floating away without the pressure on his neck and weight of Astarion's body? He grinned a lopsided smile, lost in a blissful stupor.
A cold touch against his leg helped ground him.
Astarion playfully combed the soft patches of fuzz along his thighs before prying his thighs apart. As his vision settled, he could see Astarion had settled on his shins between Gale's legs, a hand lazily stroking his cock. With his free hand, he rubbed a thumb pad against his asshole, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.
"Is this what you wanted?" Astarion asked, mocking him with a wicked smirk.
Yes, Gods yes. There was a sense of guilt as he recognized how his desire overrode logic, but Gale was too desperate for even a crumb of pleasure from the damn vampire to pay it much thought. He gave a terse nod.
His wariness was diluted by yearning as Astarion dipped a thumb's tip inside him. Despite giving in to his lust, Gale couldn't help but give a defiant bite of attitude, glowering at the vampire as he begrudgingly murmured a grease spell to coat his fingertips
The vampire seemed satisfied with his response, and with that Gale felt and his lower body being hoisted up into his lap. His hard cock was drooling on his stomach as Astarion roughly worked a greased finger in his asshole. There was a certain precision, repeated mechanical motions as he coaxed the finger deeper until it was knuckle deep. If he had been but an observer, he might have acknowledged the efficiency of Astarion's method, but being at the receiving end instead had him whimpering pitifully as muscles were kneaded in unfamiliar ways.
A tinge of pain with pleasure. As he started to accommodate to the intrusion, Gale wrapped a hand around his neglected cock only to be met with a tut.
"Who said you could do that?"
"If I didn't know better, I'd assume you were a devil," he hissed out, yet he still obeyed, releasing his hold and awkwardly tucking his arms along his body.
Astarion chuckled, "Don't think me so cruel, pet. I simply don't want you to be finished too quickly — I want to see you paint yourself while I'm inside you."
That…was a pleasant image.
The answer was enough to keep Gale pacified. An additional finger was added, repeating the process of easing in knuckle deep and scissoring inside. It was quicker than previously, rougher — a means to an end. Astarion was clearly as impatient as he was to chase his pleasure, paying little attention to Gale's soft whimpers and groans through gritted teeth as he was stretched just on the edge of too quickly.
Yet it was still not fast enough when Astarion considered him prepared, and lined the head of his cock against Gale's asshole.
"Say please," he cooed, mocking a saccharine innocence as he wiped the drooling head of his cock against him.
"Gods, no. Just fuck me, if you plan on it," Gale huffed.
"No fun," he retorted. But he made no effort to wait any longer and pressed his head in. Gale's muscles burned as he accommodated the length, drawing small breaths. His fingernails dug lines in the soft ground as he squirmed, letting out a string of expletives at a sharp pain.
"Nine hells," Astarion growled. "Didn't you want this? Still yourself. I'll treat you well, pet."
He glared but fell pliant to Astarion's demand, allowing for the vampire to place his hands on his hips and slowly rock himself further inside. Gale found himself glued to the look of concentration on Astarion's face; how he pressed his teeth against his bottom lip, fang pinching the corner of his mouth as he inhaled sharply and knocked his head back.
"Fuck, you're so tight. So warm," Astarion murmured.
It was too much to find a voice for words, so he let out an acknowledging grunt. Astarion reached for his unappreciated cock and Gale found himself bucking up into the much needed touch; it set off a tumble of dominoes as Astarion's hips jerked and drew out a full body shudder and husky groan from Gale.
"Astarion," he gasped.
His cock twitched as Astarion wrapped a hand around it, massaging the leaking precum along his head and down the shaft. It was a welcomed distraction. Something pleasurable to focus on as Astarion stuttered his hips more, burying himself deeper on that familiar edge of pleasure-pain.
"Yes, just like that. Look how well you take me. You've been such a good boy."
Gale took a morbid fascination with how Astarion displayed more feral ticks as he dipped further into his body. The narrow of his eyes, the slight barring of his teeth — it was something that should unnerve him, but instead excited him further, causing him to roll his hips to meet Astarion's motions.
Eventually pain gave way to pleasure and Gale's grunts turned to languid moans. It was only a matter of time before Astarion was joining in tandem, their moans a chorus as Astarion rocked against him.
There was a strange beauty in how Astarion's untamed movements were foiled by his composed words and soft coos. How there was not a gradual pick up in pace, but a sudden feverish one.
Astarion's hand matched the pace of his rutting. "Cum for me, will you?"
The words were enough to have him keening and tumbling over the edge — and oh, was that edge beautiful. His body felt white hot and buzzed with blissful gratification. It was a feeling he could only compare with immersing himself fully in the depths of the Weave, yet this was pure physicality.
As he reached his crescendo, his back arched and he clenched down tight around Astarion. His cock gave a final, desperate twitch and by the gods, Astarion was still stroking him as he coated his own stomach in his seed.
"Good," Astarion gasped out as he finally released his spent cock, claws coming to rest on Gale's hip once more. He held Gale tight down against him, bucking erratically as he chased after his own pleasure. "You did so good, pet," he growled, stuttering to a stop.
He could feel the pleasant twitching and wet warmth as Astarion came down from his peak with a pent-up exhale.
They regarded each other quietly as the world came back into focus. When Astarion withdrew, his expression shifted to a more dazed look as he pulled himself to his feet and reached for his clothing. There was an immediate switch in his body language as his savagery melted to a honey grin as he donned his clothes. No longer was he a looming threat, but the easygoing gentleman that read by his side. With a small clear of his throat, he waved dismissively towards Gale, as if he could sweep away what had just happened with a mere gesture.
"Mm, I suspect some belly-aching may occur soon. You should finish getting washed up before the rest of the group starts looking for you, darling," Astarion said pointedly.
Gale watched as the vampire turned on his heels and sauntered back towards the camp, a hand rubbing idly along his neck.
Astarion continued to be an enigma to him – a strange, sharp-toothed puzzle that would continue to befuddle him. But in the spirit of not ruining it, he was fine for this puzzle to elude him longer.