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Assistant: Title: Decathect
        Author: troutsoup troutsoup 
        Chapter: 1/1 
        Summary: After the first night they spend together, Astarion gets the sense that Gale's pulling away. Fortunately, he knows just how fix it.
        Contents: Summary:
            
              After the first night they spend together, Astarion gets the sense that Gale's pulling away. Fortunately, he knows just how fix it.
            
        

        
  Notes:






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          “So,” Karlach says, shaking kobold brains free from the grooves of her boots. “What’d’ya do to our wizard friend last night?”The day’s just begun. Astarion’s already done more fighting than he’d have liked—and far, far more walking. The sun is high above them and hot enough on Astarion’s skin to make him regret missing the feeling of basking in its light. He’s sweating under his armor; he’s sweating everywhere. He fishes around in his pack and produces a rag to wipe the back of his neck with.Karlach isn’t bad company on the road, at least. She doesn’t talk as much as Gale, and she isn’t as boring as Wyll. Plus she teases Tav and Shadowheart for their very new, very public displays of affection. Points for her all around.“Karlach, you filthy devil,” he drawls, “I don’t kiss and tell.”She hits him on the shoulder hard enough to bruise. “That’s not what I meant, dumbfuck, and you know it.”Astarion wipes his forehead, too. He feels positively disgusting; he’ll have to persuade the rest of them to make their next stop by a stream to cool himself off. “Out with it, then.”“I’m wondering why Gale looked like he’d just seen a bag of kittens get kicked into a river.” Her face changes, feigning horror. “Gods, Astarion, you didn’t kick a bag of kittens into a river, did you?”He tuts. “Needlessly cruel, even for me. And as for Gale…” He waves a hand around. “Morose is his natural state. He’s always sulking about some thing or another.”True enough, though his demeanor this morning had been somehow more self-pitying than usual; leave it to Gale to figure out how to do the impossible. Astarion had been meaning to catch his eye. Maybe wink at him, or dance his tongue across the front of his teeth—something that would’ve elicited that darling redness of Gale’s cheeks and that pathetic, flustered look that Astarion could only think to describe as  cute.  But after Gale made breakfast with slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, he’d ducked shyly back into his tent until the day’s group of adventurers had set out. Astarion hadn’t given it much thought—but perhaps he should have. “Maybe,” Karlach cedes. “But he doesn’t always forget to pack us sandwiches.”“He didn’t!” That b@st@rd—he  always  packed them! The first day, Astarion had been genuinely surprised to find one in his pack; Gale must’ve snuck it in there. Fresh tomato and Waterdhavian cheese on toasted bread, all wrapped up in paper. One for everyone who spent the day traveling. And then the next day, thinly-sliced ham and apple on sourdough. As delicious as it was thoughtful.“Did indeed.” Karlach props a foot on the rock Astarion’s sitting on, bringing herself closer, pinning Astarion with a reproachful look. “Look, I don’t know what you two have going on—”“Then we’ll have to be louder next time.”Karlach laughs aloud. “You’re disgusting! Come on, I’m trying to be serious. Be nice to him, alright?”Astarion watches her closely. “If you’re going to accuse me of something, I’d prefer you do it outright.”“Come off it, Astarion, I’m just looking out for ‘im.” She’s smiling, still, but her eyes are dark with solemnity. “And for you. You both could use something real sweet n’ genuine.”Astarion huffs. “What’s ‘genuine’ is the imminent threat of death. All I’m doing is ensuring I’m not the only one with incentive to keep me alive.”Karlach stares him down for a few moments, then sighs. “Some day you’ll realize this lot are actually your friends.” She steps off the rock and tilts her head toward the road. “That’s enough of a break, I’d say. We’d better get back before Tav and Shadowheart take advantage of their privacy, don’t you think?”“Ugh,” groans Astarion, standing. “Don’t remind me.” - He sneaks away in the evening while the others are preparing dinner. Divests a hog of its blood. Bathes in a secluded part of the nearby stream. Rehearses.“Gale,” he mutters to himself, scrubbing dirt and sweat out of his hair. “I’ve been thinking about you all day…” - “Gale,” he says later, when the sun is wiping its final streaks of orange through the purple sky. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”Gale startles, looking genuinely frightened. Perhaps sneaking up on him wasn’t the greatest idea.“Ah,” he says, voice shaky as he closes the book he’d been holding—but not without marking his place with a scrap of ribbon. “Astarion. You—ah—you were?”Astarion emerges from his spot in the darkness into the dimly-lit area of Gale’s tent. It’s the first time they’ve talked since their little rendez-vous, and Astarion had spent a maddeningly long amount of time deciding how to approach him. The first part, the seduction part, had been easy. Practiced. He hasn’t done much of this next part.“Of course I was,” he says slowly, getting closer until he can see each wrinkle at the edge of Gale’s eyes, the subtle purple veins crawling their way down the side of his face. Lately it seems the more Astarion looks at Gale, the prettier he becomes: most of all those dark, expressive eyes of his, watching Astarion carefully now, tracking his movement.He presses on. “Truth be told, I found it incredibly difficult to focus on fighting while my mind supplied me with the delicious image of you on your back, so eager to take me. Not to mention all the pretty little sounds you made.”There it is—the faintest glow of blush traveling up Gale’s cheeks while he looks to the ground, flustered.Success.“Well,” Gale says, still looking away. “The memory was… similarly preeminent in my thoughts today.” His eyebrows are furrowed with tension, skin folding into harsh lines above his nose. Suddenly and fleetingly, Astarion has the urge to press his finger to the space there and smooth that tension away with a gentle, sweeping touch. Would Gale shy away? Would he lean into his hand like a dog to its master?Astarion shakes his head, willing away the thought. Gale glances warily at him.D@mn it all. He must look insane.He tries for a charming smile. “Oh, do go on, lover, I’m terribly intrigued by what goes on in that brilliant mind of yours.”Gale’s chest rises and falls with a deep breath—the kind he’d taken before admitting to the party the true extent of his orb problem, so to speak.It’s not a great sign of what’s to come.“I’m not exactly accustomed to arrangements as casual as ours,” Gale says carefully, still not meeting Astarion’s eye. “I admit I was taken aback by your rather abrupt exit.”Oh, hells. That’s what this is about? Hadn’t they been over this? Astarion could’ve sworn he’d said s@x had nothing to do with liking a person, but still Gale had taken him so willingly, and yet…Astarion swallows the urge to roll his eyes. “I do apologize, dear,” he starts, moving forward to capture Gale’s arm with his hands, rubbing soothing circles across the sleeve of his robe and the skin underneath. “Staying the night with a lover is not something I do often. That sort of intimacy so easily overwhelms me. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I swear it.”True… enough. He’d slept the night through with plenty of lovers—hundreds of them. In fact, he preferred to; not only were their beds nicer than his own, but it made it all the easier to lure those poor souls back to Cazador in the morning. An exercise in trust, if you will. Long ago he’d learned to ignore the sick churning of his stomach at the feeling of another sleeping beside him, the sound of another heartbeat, the warmth of a living body.Gale’s warm eyes soften, his arm relaxing in Astarion’s hands. “That I can understand. Though in the moment you can see how I thought you’d not enjoyed our time together.”“Far from it, darling. I never intended to cause you such distress.” Then he tugs Gale’s arm in the direction of his tent, impatient. “In fact, I’d like to make it up to you.” - Astarion puts Gale on his hands and knees so he doesn’t have to look at his face.It’s a damned good decision, too—he’s stunning like this, a gorgeous span of skin completely at his mercy. He’s clearly trying to maintain composure while Astarion fingers him open this time, perhaps embarrassed by how quickly he descended into desperate madness last night—Astarion peeks over Gale’s shoulder to watch his eyes and fists clenching shut while he mutters something quietly to himself.“I’m afraid I can’t quite hear you, love,” he says. “Copper for your thoughts?”“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Gale says, and yelps out when Astarion twists his fingers, rocking forward. Astarion follows him, thrusting his hand deeper, inescapable. “If I didn’t want to hear you, I’d gag you,” he says. “Or is that what you want? Something to bite down on? To take care of all that empty space in your throat? To shut you up?”“Not particularly,” Gale grumbles.
   Vanilla f@ck@ng b@st@rd, that’s right. 
Astarion’s strategy changes. “Of course not,” he says gently, withdrawing his fingers to a gasp from Gale. “I do so love the noises you make for me.”This elicits a shiver from the mage—Astarion watches it travel from his shoulders down his back to his plump, delectable ass: one of the many benefits of Gale’s not being tightly packed with muscle. Astarion grabs some of it, because he can, quite enjoying the way the soft flesh firmly fills his hand. Then he grabs both cheeks, spreads them gently, and blows a stream of cool air onto Gale’s hole, already dripping with the oil Astarion had used working him open on his fingers. Gale flinches. “Was that really necessary?” The way his c@ck hangs heavy and hard between his legs betrays the annoyance he’s feigning.Astarion can’t help but laugh at him while slicking himself up, hand twisting and squeezing to relieve some of the pressure. “Do you know how to arch your back, love? Or shall I teach you?”Before Gale can answer, Astarion presses his dry hand to the bottom of Gale’s spine, gently pushing down until Gale identifies the muscle to use and positions himself correctly, the easy slope of his back leading up to the open, inviting shape of his ass. It’s almost too easy.“Good boy,” Astarion purrs, awed by how quickly he took to it—all the more proof Gale was made to take a dicking. “Are you ready?”“Yes,” Gale gasps into the empty space between his hands. “Please.”The polite request makes Astarion’s c@ck twitch with excitement. “Deep breath, now,” he says, lining himself up, and Gale takes one obediently, shoulders rising and falling. The best thing about f@ck@ng mortals as someone undead, Astarion thinks, is how deliciously  warm they are.Gale, of course, is no exception.They both groan when Astarion breaches him, something deep and guttural. There’s enough lubrication that it’s an easy push into him with all he’s got. He stays there for a few moments before moving, relishing in Gale’s heat and the tight ring of pressure all around him.“Gods,” Gale gasps. “You are—That is something.”“Are you lost for words again?” Astarion asks, amused. If only the others knew,  he doesn’t say.  That all they have to do to get you to shut up is put something in that hungry, desperate ass and get you whining like a b@tch. Astarion swallows, grabbing the narrowest part of Gale’s hips and forcing it forward, then back, sliding slickly out and into him again. That’s good for both of them—if the way Gale’s breathy  ah-ah-ahing is any indication.Their pace quickens while Astarion watches closely for Gale’s reactions: fists clenching up in front of him, head falling when he finds pleasure. Astarion yearns to get closer, so he does, folding himself over Gale’s back, hands braced next to his, breathing hard over the back of his neck next to where his hair is swept over one shoulder.Gale’s neck. Somehow still as inviting as it was the time he’d bitten it—only now he knows better. Taking great care not to puncture him with his teeth, Astarion sucks wetly at the skin there, hard. He almost can’t believe he hadn’t thought to leave marks on Gale last time they’d gotten together—he did love to see his work on the skin of another, an emblem of their carnal connection.It’s better still to feel beneath his mouth the vibration of the noises emerging from Gale’s throat, short and breathy, a step above gasping. Gods, he’s eager for it—maybe even close to his own release—even when Astarion’s thrusts are shallow and unfocused as he’s distracted with the task at hand.He licks over the spots he’d just abused with his mouth, already faintly pink. They’ll darken, soon, from red to sour yellow and deep purple. All that blood at the surface of his skin and yet the one thing Astarion would like to do with it—drink—is something he cannot. Nosing at Gale’s neck, he imagines tasting him again, his blood being as he’d first imagined: rich and flavorful, spilling across his tongue like honey. Perhaps it was for the best that Astarion didn’t enjoy the taste of Gale’s blood; had he started to drink from him—and enjoyed it—how could he have stopped? “Your fascination with my neck is still rather concerning,” Gale manages to say, even while trembling.Astarion reaches around his side to grab Gale’s c@ck—an extra source of pleasure will shut him up, surely—but the moment he does, Gale cries out and comes, tensing all around him.That easily—ha! It’s like he’d forgotten Gale was a not-quite-virgin.Astarion pulls out, quickly bringing his hand to himself to stroke off. He’ll come on Gale’s back, he thinks—until Gale turns around to face him, still on his knees, and asks “What can I do for you?”Like a lit torch in a dark tunnel, a singular idea appears in Astarion’s mind. On shaky legs he stands quickly, stepping forward. As soon as his c@ck is eye-level with Gale, the man’s mouth opens instinctually, tongue poised to wetly invite him in, and—whoa, a delicious thought, to be sure—but that’s not what Astarion wants, not this time. With one hand he strokes himself, fast and rough, and with the other he grabs Gale by the hair and pulls him backward, away, and Gale looks up at him as if the profound depth of his desire has been betrayed. Being looked at like this, up from where Gale kneels, is akin to being worshiped. Somewhere in the back of Astarion's mind it registers that Gale must be used to that—he wonders if the feeling is soured by Mystra’s influence, but still Gale looks at him with reverence, somehow, drinking him up with that dark, beautiful gaze.“Close your eyes,” he barely has time to order, and Gale does—just as Astarion’s release overtakes him, humming through his body like a major chord, spilling in thick, hot ropes onto Gale’s face. He flinches just lightly but stays put, serene as a statue, submissive as a lamb.Astarion’s glad he’d warned him—one streak of white delicately bridges the gap between the skin of his upper cheek and the ends of his dark eyelashes. When he opens his eyes, it stretches out, stringy and delicate.It’s sick. Depraved.“Gorgeous,” Astarion gasps, meaning it. He moves his hand to clutch the side of Gale’s face, fingertips caressing the spot behind his ear, soft with thick hair. “Gods, you’re gorgeous.”“If you say so—” Gale starts, interrupted by Astarion falling clumsily to his own knees to kiss him, messy and unrehearsed, desperate to get their mouths together. He doesn’t care that he tastes his own spend on Gale’s upper lip; the man is warm and whole and wants him, kissing him back eagerly, wrapping his arms around Astarion’s back to get him closer.He’s not sure how long they kiss. It feels like ages. Gale’s mouth is so warm. And he kisses slowly, like he’s savoring Astarion. Like he can’t get enough.He must eventually, though, because their mouths break apart, and Gale bumps their foreheads together instead. “Stay,” he says, with feeling, like it’s an incantation . “Please. I’d like you to.” - In the night they breathe and shift as if one creature together, seeking comfort and warmth, too. Gale’s head over Astarion’s shoulder, his arm snakes around his side to his back—fingers brushing over the scars there. So gently Astarion can barely feel it. Exploratory, first, like Gale’s not quite sure what he’s feeling, and then curious, touching more of him.Astarion holds his breath, waiting for the confusion—or maybe the horror. The questions, no doubt, and the explanation he’s obliged to provide, the journey he’ll have to take through the darkest parts of his memories to get there.But for now, Gale settles his hand flat against Astarion’s back, content just to hold him. To be close.'
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