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Then it's fading, and he's going limp against Gale with a breathless moan. |
He's left hazy in the aftermath, panting as aftershocks occasionally wrack his muscles. It's the sort of pleasure that leaves one almost hollow in its wake. Gale is still rubbing little circles into his spot. He lets himself savor the flashes of too much bursting white behind his eyelids. It's like drifting, briefly, ... |
These brief moments Gale grants him, where he is not True Soul or cleric or savior, are more precious than all the gold in a king’s coffers. |
Gale curls his fingers a little too hard into that spot, drawing out a whine as his nerves light up a little too bright. The pressure ceases immediately. His fingers withdraw from Elendar's entrance, leaving him sensitive and open, and the touch on his oversensitive cock vanishes. |
He draws closer to Gale's chest, blindly seeking the warmth of his body. He is fragile like this, in the aftermath of pleasure so blinding it frightens him. Gale holds him gently. |
He opens his eyes and sits up, when it feels like he can without falling apart. His face heats as he takes in the sight of himself - most notably, the clear evidence of his pleasure streaked white across the lithe muscles at his abdomen. He must be a sight, skin flushed darker in places, hair falling unbound down his b... |
"You’re beautiful," Gale murmurs, kissing the corner of his mouth. He can’t help but believe it. |
He kisses Gale back, eliciting a soft sigh, and his still-cooling blood heats once more. He’s been pleasured more thoroughly than he’d imagined he could be, but Gale... |
"I want to please you," he all but whines, breathless and dizzy. |
"You already do." |
"I want to use my mouth." |
That gives Gale pause, his hand stilling at the small of his back. Then - "I’ll not have you please me from a place of obligation. Do you mean that? That you want this?" |
There’s an edge of desperation there, and it’s the only thing that speaks to how badly he wants it to be true. |
Elendar needs, just as badly, for him to see that it is. |
His fingers seek the warmth of Gale’s inner thigh, curling there. "Let me show you how much." |
"Then show me." He kisses him once, firmly, desire thick in his words. " Please. " |
And then he’s lying back on the pillows, Elendar rolling to lie on his stomach between his parting thighs. His lips brush the tip of his lover’s cock, wet with pre-spend. He's suddenly desperate to take him in his mouth, to taste him - he's wasted so much time shying from his own wants. He has so little left to waste. |
Every time he's brought Gale to climax, it's been from the touch of his hand or grinding his cock against his. Now, he finds himself taking him into his mouth as eagerly as though he's been doing it for years. |
Gale moans, and the sound is almost enough to make his cock stiffen again. It has him wrapping his lips around him twice as eagerly. He's perhaps overly cautious, ever wary of accidentally scraping his teeth along the shaft in his mouth, but he starts to find a rhythm as he sucks on the head. |
There's something inexplicably right about the feeling of another man's cock resting heavy against his tongue. He chases that sensation, curls his tongue against his shaft, takes him in as deep as he dares - which isn't very far, but perhaps someday that will change. |
The prospect of practicing this particular skillset is far from unappealing. |
"A little harder," murmurs Gale, stroking his hair - not to push his head down, simply to hold. "There you are - that's it, darling..." |
If Elendar sucks him a little more eagerly at the thought of earning a half-moaned good boy , he hardly has to tell Gale. He probably knows anyway. |
"Use your tongue." Another caress to his hair, brushing back strands that fall loose over his face. "There, at the tip - yes, like that--" A shuddering breath that nearly melts into a whimper. "You’re doing so well..." |
Elendar laps at the head of his cock as best he can, feeling his face heat in time with the rush of his heart. There's a terrifying submission to his position, lying with his head in his lover's lap and his cock in his mouth, but there's also pleasure. |
Somehow, sucking his lover's cock grounds him in his own body, in the pleasure-hazy moment. This is his as much as it is Gale's. |
"Wrap your hand around me," murmurs Gale. "Just there." |
Elendar strokes his shaft where he can’t fit it into his mouth. Gale’s fingers tighten in his hair, not pulling, just letting the strands slip between his fingers. His thighs tense, his breathing quickens. |
He flattens his tongue against the dripping slit at his tip and begins to lap at it. Just to see what will happen. |
Gale moans his name - gods, he’ll never tire of hearing that. He chases the thrill of that sound with an eagerness he’d scarcely known he possesses. He tightens his lips around him, takes him the barest bit further into his throat. His hand compensates for what he cannot do with his mouth, until Gale’s sighs and moans ... |
He can make him feel this , just as he is. That’s more than enough. |
"Good boy," breathes Gale, the words hitching as they fall from his lips. Elendar's body goes luminous. |
He stops trying to be perfect. Instead, he feels as he will, touches his lover as he will. There’s an edge of liberation so sharp it almost hurts - he wants this. He loves the weight of Gale’s cock in his mouth, the warmth of his thigh beneath his hand, the sounds of his pleasure soft in the air. He flattens his tong... |
"Just there," comes the soft instruction from above. "Gods above, I'm almost - if you want to stop, you can - oh... " |
Elendar runs his tongue steadily over the head of his cock, holding the pace that's making the hand gripping his hair tighten. He doesn't even think of pulling away. |
His cock twitches between his lips, and a second later, the salt of his release floods his mouth. He swallows as best he can, eyes fluttering shut, head spinning at the evidence of Gale's pleasure - he made that happen. He gave Gale the climax currently drawing breathy, needy moans from his lips. |
He rides that wave of euphoria through the throes of Gale’s peak, worshipping him with lips and tongue all the while. |
"Hells," breathes Gale, when his cock begins to soften between Elendar’s lips. "That was perfect. You were perfect, my love." |
Elendar draws back, seed and saliva wetting his lips, breath catching at the faint soreness in his throat. For a moment, all he can do is rest his head on his thigh and breathe. |
The hand running through his hair has him melting into him. He could spend forever this way. |
Forever is not a luxury the gods have seen fit to grant him. |
Instead, he presses a lazy kiss to the inside of his thigh, sits up until he can meet his eyes. "What did I do to deserve you?" |
"Deserve?" Gale kisses his brow. "If anyone doesn’t deserve this, it’s me." |
Elendar can't quite meet his eyes. "Don’t say such things. What you’ve done for me...you know, I never thought I’d...that anyone would take me to his bed. I never dreamt I’d know what it is to be wanted . Had I the words for my gratitude, you'd have heard them a thousandfold by now." |
Gale blinks. "I didn’t bed you to be thanked." |
Elendar runs a finger beneath his chin, tipping it back far enough for starlight to catch in his eyes. "Then we ought not keep score." |
"I bed you because I love you. Because I desire you, as you desire me." A shaky breath slips from those soft lips. Gale's hand smooths down his back, drawing him close, never lingering at the marks of the lash scarred into his skin. "Gods, that feels far too good to say aloud." |
Elendar chews at his lower lip in sudden thought. "Desire is such a strange word. Among my people, desire is synonymous with ambition. I think we truly want for safety above all, and that is the one thing we can never have. We do not want for beauty, or tenderness. But...I do. And with you, I am safe." |
"And I won’t let you down," Gale says, both hands folding around one of Elendar's - so much larger than his own, spellwork-soft and unscarred. "You deserve it, you know. To be safe. And yet here you are, in the arms of a man who could level a city, telling him you feel..." |
"With you, nothing is as I’ve come to expect." He’s holding his hand as though his touch could stave off the Absolute. "I knew you’d be something new from the moment I saw you pray. Not even the most silver-tongued of liars could feign the look I saw in your eyes. Who among drow prays to the stars and means it?" |
"If I was looking at the sky the way you watch the Weave," Elendar murmurs, "I know what you felt." |
"Gods, the zeal you have. That’s how I knew I was going to fall for you." Gale's grip on his hand tightens, and he lets it. "You know how to believe in something." |
"I think it's the only thing I know," Elendar confesses. His face burns at the unbidden words. "My apologies. I’m afraid I was never taught the art of pillow talk. I understand it’s meant to be lighthearted." |
"You've nothing to be sorry for." Gale moves away only long enough to take his discarded robe and drape it over Elendar's bared body. He brushes unruly white hair back from his brow, follows the gesture with a kiss. "To truly understand another is a more precious gift than all the sweet nothings in the world." |
"You’ve felt the same as I." Elendar takes his hand, entwines their fingers. "That there is nothing to you, save the thing you worship." |
It’s not a question. It doesn’t need to be one. |
Wordless, he brings Elendar’s hand to the mark of the Orb, a vortex of Weave beneath the skin. The magic prickles against his palm, hungry even after being quelled by Mystra's blessing. It's all the answer he can give, and all Elendar needs. |
"I am my faith," Elendar whispers, "And you are your magic. Or...that’s what we’ve always been. To seek what else we might be, if we've even the time to become those men...it’s terrifying." |
He is terrified, to love as a human might, to throw his heart at the feet of a dying man. He cannot imagine turning away. |
Gale cradles his hand to his chest, as though his touch can ease the roiling Weave where it sits ravenous behind his ribs. His eyes are dark, mirroring the stars and Elendar’s own fear. "I cannot say how long we have left, you and I. After Moonrise...it's more of a relief not to know, truth be told." |
Moonrise. The look in Gale's eyes when he'd braced himself to die at Mystra's command. The abject relief there, instead, when he'd clasped Elendar's hand and turned to face the Absolute at his side. |
"Tell me you won't seek your death," Elendar hears himself plead. "Even if you can't promise me. Just tell me you want to stay." |
Gale leans in, so close his breath catches. "Once, I couldn't have sworn such a thing. I'll not lie to you. But I am not quite the man I was - not now." |
There's moonlight in his eyes, in his hair. It's all Elendar can see. |
"Now," Gale whispers in that tone which belongs only to him, "I've found a few things worth staying for." |
It is in an alley outside of Sharess" Caress that Astarion sees him. He is a wolf among sheep, a drow upon the surface. His skin is a cool gray, like slinking shadows and painted eyes. He is dressed in an exotic finery and moves with the choreographed gracefulness of both a noble and a trained killer. Astarion is immed... |
The drow senses him from his hiding spot, piercing red eyes flick to him effortlessly, before returning to the whore he is soliciting with a single seamless movement. Astarion shivers in what he will call arousal, not fear, certainly not fear. Tales of the brutality of drow would be exaggerated to scare little childr... |
He decided then, that he would bring this rare thing back to his Master. Astarion would surely be rewarded in kind for his endeavors with such tricksome prey. Though, he was only a male drow, the inferior half of the population. There was little chance he was of any true talent given his gender, and his presence so fa... |
The drow had a hand on the whore's bare hip. His fingertips teased the skin there in a repetitive circular motion. He began to move, guiding the whore towards the proper entrance to the brothel. Once again, those red eyes found Astarion. He nodded, then disappeared behind the door frame. |
Astarion followed him. When he reached the front desk of the brothel, he couldn't spot the drow or his momentary consort anywhere. He pulled himself to the tips of his toes, peeking over the heads and writhing bodies of the regulars milling in the main space. Nothing. No shock of white hair or gray skin caught his atte... |
It was so nice when the prey played along. |
Astarion found the boudoir he'd been sent to with ease. He'd been to this brothel more times than he could count. There were always nameless travelers looking for a pretty thing to fuck loitering about. It was all too easy to lure them back to his Master with the promise of his body's embrace. He may entice them with t... |
He unlocked the door and silently slipped inside. Because this was a public establishment, used by countless souls a day, he needn't an invitation to enter. Astarion saw the same drow from before, arching over top of the human whore. He was sitting astride the human, his legs curled as he kept himself propped up with b... |
"Enter," the drow commanded. His voice carried a foreign lilt that was all the more attractive. Its timbre was flat and authoritative, in a way that showed he was accustomed to being obeyed. |
Astarion resisted his urge to hiss at the slight. He could slip back into the role he played with his Master, to hide his distaste. He plastered a fake smile on his face and slinked closer to the pair lying atop the bed. |
"So, you've had me play a little game of chase. Now, it seems I've caught my prize," Astarion purred. |
The drow chuckled. He unfolded himself, his long slender legs practically melting off the silk sheets and he brought himself to stand. He was perhaps a head shorter than Astarion, but his imposing presence made him feel as if it was the opposite. In such close proximity, Astarion could notice the spiderlike sigil tatto... |
"No, no, no. Little pet, you've got it backwards," the drow cooed with a saccharine sweetness. It was all too wrong. It made Astarion feel as if his senses had been muddled down by a thick coat of honey. "I'm the one who's caught you in my web." |
The drow brought his agile hands to Astarion's chest, smoothing his white blouse against his pale skin. He angled his head in various directions, eyeing Astarion with a disturbingly analytical stare. |
"Is that so? What do you intend to do with me now that you've got me, then?" |
The drow smiled at him, baring his mouth full of teeth. " Harl'il'cik . Kneel, darthiir . Show fealty to your jabbuk . Dos ragar qu'lith , but you will find subjugation instead." |
Astarion wasn't keen on the details of what he'd just said, but could understand the order well enough. He obediently dropped to his knees and looked up at the drow, awaiting further instruction. If only he could tear the bastard's throat out himself, but no, only his Master would receive that honor. |
"Good. You have been trained well," the drow noted. He stepped around where Astarion supplicated on the floor, grabbing a half drunk wine bottle from a nearby table. The contents of the glass sloshed around as the drow carried it, hand wrapped around its thin neck. He returned to stand before Astarion, holding the wine... |
Astarion hesitated, inching his neck closer but failing to wrap his lips around the rim of the bottle. The euphemism was certainly not lost upon him. |
"Hm, second thoughts, darthiir ? Your assent is ilindith , I hope for it." |
"Merely taking a moment to admire you, sir," Astarion murmured. He eyed the wine warily. He was smart enough to know that accepting a drink from a strange man was never a good idea. Especially if said man was a servant of the fucking Spider Queen. Astarion closed his eyes with a hiss, and darted his pink tongue out to ... |
The drow made a noise of approval, like one did with a particularly cute dog. He ran his free hand through Astarion's curls, and grasped them tightly, dragging Astarion further down the length of the bottle. He drank until it was empty, never stopping for a false breath. |
"Good boy," the drow praised. He loosened his hold, allowing Astarion to pry himself off the glass of wine. Then he discarded it back to the table where he'd originally procured it. The drow returned before Astarion, groin so tantalizingly close to his face. He could feel the heat coming from him, smell his rich noble ... |
The drow cupped Astarion's face with both hands, thumbs pressing into his wet wine-stained lips. He dug forcefully, pulling his mouth open and pressing his fingertips into his top gums. Astarion froze, before he began to try and shake the other man off. |
His fangs slid out of their sheathes with slick pop, and he whimpered in fear. The drow only smiled and laughed at him cruelly. He ran a finger against the sharp pin prick, drawing the tracest droplet of blood. Astarion had to physically restrain himself, full body shivering from his efforts. He must obey the Master's ... |
"Isn't this what you came for, darthiir ? Why do you hide from your hunger?" The drow pouted. "It's only the two of us here, now." |
Astarion blinked, his eyes growing heavy with some foreign exhaustion. He remembered the human prostitute, lying on the bed. He looked over to the whore's body, and found it unnaturally still. His half dressed skin was wet with a feverish sweat, and his face had gone pale. His chest no longer rose and fell with his bre... |
He'd been poisoned. Astarion's throat felt tight. His eyes darted to the empty bottle of wine on the table, then back to the drow. |
"It's a shame that the living are so fragile, isn't it?" |
"W-what the hells do you want from me, you bastard?!" Astarion gasped out of his closing esophagus. |
The drow appeared hurt, his white eyebrows drawn down. "You were the one who followed me , dosst ssinssrigg golhyrr usstan'sargh wael . I only want to play." |
Astarion tried to bring himself to his feet, but his knees gave out beneath him. He was sent crashing to the floor in a pitiful display of weakness. He tried to pull himself up by his trembling limbs. They had grown so heavy all of a sudden, as if a deep rothé was sitting on top of each one. He cried out in hopeless fr... |
"Don't be scared, vampling. I take great care of my playthings." The drow whispered as he succumbed to nothingness. |
Astarion awoke with a start. His head was throbbing, and his tongue was a coarse sandpaper in his mouth. His panicked red eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room around him. He didn't recognize where he was, a stranger's bedroom perhaps. The barest slivers of sunlight peeked through the gaps of the heavy curtains. A ... |
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