goodmorrow | Event: It Speaks of My Death, but I Am Unafraid

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!event

Event: It Speaks of My Death, but I Am Unafraid

it speaks of my death,
but i am unafraid

autumn squashed | devotion | clairvoyance | ooc notes

all hallowed plays

Autumn Squashed As the brisk autumn air bites and the sun reigns for less and less time each day, the farmworkers happily begin to share the fruits of their efforts. The group of gourds is bountiful this season, praise be to the Old Ones, and the offerings from the local cooks has adjusted accordingly. Hearty bowls of squash soup abound, creamy and loaded with heavy calories to facilitate hard labor outdoors. All these strapping novitiate lads can surely set their minds to rest and help out more than they have been

The children of the village also appear to be enjoying the season, grabbing the leftover vegetable shells and carving creatures into their skins. The result of their creativity is that the town has started to glow at night, lit by the ethereal radiance of dozens of candles filtered by the grinning shapes just barely shading them. It all seems to normal, as long as you aren't outdoors too late.

Just past midnight, when the moon has reached its height, the carvings seem to find their own cravings. Something about the moonlight seems to resonate with that of the lanterns and prompts them to sprout from the ground on gangly, misshapen bodies of their own. From then until dawn, they wandeer the town like sentries, hissing warnings in the incomprehensible tongue of the Old Ones. They aren't harmful if left unprovoked, but will retaliate if they encounter violence from those prone to beast-slaying. It is advised to stay indoors to avoid becoming gored by a gourd.

if we die tomorrow

Devotion The day of Devotion sends a thrum of excitement around the town every time it happens. It is an honor to be allowed to show the Old Ones that the community accepts and cherishes the watchful eyes looking over them. It is a time to meet with their own wretchedness and come to terms with the insignificance of their lives. This month is intended to be a celebration of longevity and the centuries-long legacy both behind and ahead. Those who attend the Devotion receive an anonymizing mask to shield their identities from all but the eyes above. They are encouraged to ply themselves on food and drink before the start of the ritual itself.

The speeches are long and droning as ever, detailing the infinitesimal smallness of humanity and the thrumming wait for the end of all things. And once the elders begin to chant in more ancient words, the rhythm of the unpronounceable syllables feels safe somehow. There is protection in the ceremony, an assurance that these chosen few are the ones who will live to watch the end of everything else. Those who truly believe will see it in their minds' eye: a rain of fire consuming the home they remember best. Corpses left unburied while the survivors flee. A sky cracking open to reveal an indigo thunderstorm. Skeptics might only witness confusing flashes, but all will bear witness to some version of The End.

When the visions subside, the affected will feel an urge to behave as if the gathering is the last day of their lives. Throw caution to the wind. Live dangerously. Tell that special person they are loved. Carry out the vengeance that weighs on your spirit. It'll all be over soon. Make the evening count.

the future refused to change

Clairvoyance After the masque ends, participants are free to remove their veils and return to their everyday lives. It's something the townsfolk historically do with ease. They never seem to struggle when coming down from the emotional highs of the devotional acts. But the comedown is never quite as simple as they make it look.

Those who were present at Devotion will experience small aftershocks for days afterward. Without warning, they will see visions of doom about the people around them. It might be a simple precognition, like seeing someone fell into an open pit while there's still enough time to pull them out of harm's way. But other times, the visions are more graphic or disturbing, such as watching that same friend be mauled by a bear or stretched out on the rack until they are rent limb from limb. Each look into the future seems more grotesque and awful than the one before, but at least there's time to change things before the worst of it arrives. Surely there's time.

As they drop off clean laundry and fresh gossip, the washerwomen insist that these visions, varied and sometimes entirely untrue, are the latest gift from the Old ones. It is proof that the town remains blessed.

ooc notes

It's an event! Hopefully there's something to your liking.

Regarding the pumpkin monsters in particular, this seems like a group that likes to randomize battles. If you're in the mood to roll for initiative and see how things pan out, here are some stats for appropriate critters: Pumpkin King, Pumpkin Tendril, and some smaller chompy pumpkins.

With regard to the precognition side of things, there's a lot of room for visions. They can be "something that definitely will happen" regardless of what a character tries to change things, "something that could happen but is prevented by a quick-acting psychic," or "something that will never happen but sends a character into a panic anyway." People seeing a doomsday vision at Devotion are welcome to envision the worst possible bad ending their canon has to offer.

Have fun giving your characters a little spook during the appropriate season!

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

We should not. There is precious little of it...

[Not nearly enough of it. But there was now, and that would be enough. It would have to be. He smiled against Gale's lips at those words, that permission. He would take him up on it as much as he could, leave the other man littered in bitemarks, evidence of his presence and passing.

Gods help him, he was finding himself weak to every touch and every word, and weakness should have been a terrible thing. But tonight? Here? He did not care.

His fingers relaxed their grip in Gale's hair, and instead ran through those dark locks. He deliberately caught Gale's lip in his teeth, a nip just sharp enough to draw the smallest drop of blood, flavoring the kiss with that smokey flavor of whiskey and copper that he had become so very fond of.]

Take me somewhere private, darling? Take me to your bed?

[They could let the world fall down around them from there.]

[ A bed, he could manage a bed. His bed was rather comfortable and warm and would be suitable for what they were about to do-- his pulse quickened and likely Astarion's senses would be able to pick up that thrum like butterfly wings moving against Gale's chest as if it was attempting to get out, struggling to do so.

That was a fluttering that was of arousal, not fear; and perhaps that blood would taste much sweeter mid-climax as they both came within each other's arms. That would be an experiment; their time after all was exceedingly limited and there was a wealth of things to do this night.

All of them were exclusive to the circle of each other's arms.

Gale's arm looked around Astarion's waist as he started to lead him away from the partying and toward the simple facade of their inn room where they'd first found lodging upon touching down onto this strange new world; was it a coincidence that Gale's arm drew Astarion closer in so that the vampire could be closer to the wizard who smelled of incense and books?

No coincidence at all, he was endeavoring to get Astarion back to his room so that they could find that bed that Astarion wanted. ] Your wish is my command..

[A bed meant that whenever they finished this mad, desire-filled tryst that for whatever time remained in this dwindling world, Astarion could find an excuse to spend it in the wizard's warm arms. If this were the end, then what better way could there be to pass it?

He could hear the way that heartbeat grew more rapid, and it echoed in his ears like music, a rhythm that he'd love to dance to. He wanted to know what it was like to have Gale in every way that they could have each other in the time they had left, wanted to know what he sounded like, tasted like, when he lost himself in pleasure.

The vampire leaned close, letting himself be led, draped close against Gale, his arm draped around him, fingers teasing at the end of his hair, unable to stop touching him even in this brief transit. He trusted Gale to navigate, his eyes fixed on the other man, leaning in even as they walked to touch kisses along his jawline, up to nibble at his ear.]

I do like the sound of that. Especially you saying it.

[ How unfair it was that Astarion was leaving it up to him? And especially when he did such distracting things to his neck and ear-- there was no biting down, no breaking of skin but there was that anticipation as if at any moment Astarion could sink his teeth in and thereby render him into a mess on the floor.

And he had been a mess, he distantly recalled-- that first time. His body had wanted to read into it something sexual and he'd felt rather shameful because of that. But so mindful was he of consent that he had dared not broach the feeling of arousal that had passed over him.

Especially when Astarion had consumed him as if he was fine whiskey.

With the way that Astarion was acting, Gale rather was surprised that they made it back to his door so quickly; however before they could make it into the door-- he pulled Astarion close in for a kiss as his own back hit the door of the nearly deserted inn hallway. Likely everyone was dancing, eating and drinking-- and Gale, all Gale could do was pull shirt out of trousers, so that he could slip his hand underneath-- so that he could feel skin that he was sure would cool down his fevered state ]

[There would be bloodshed later. Astarion was still a vampire, and he'd found himself quite addicted to Gale's magic-infused blood. He knew the wizard by scent now, and he was happily losing himself in that scent as they walked, taking no responsibility at all for their navigation. He barely even paid attention to where Gale was leading them -- trusting the other man enough to lead them true, despite the vampire's best attempts to distract him.

He only seemed to notice where they'd made it when Gale stopped and he was eagerly meeting that kiss. One hand pressed to the door on one side of him, bracing himself as he did his best to devour those lips that he had dreamed of kissing for too long.

His free hand moved to see about untucking Gale's shirt as well, moving to work fastenings free, so eager to touch that his cool fingers seemed to tremble with the anticipation.]

[ His tongue was practiced, he was rather good at kissing it seemed and as he consumed Astarion with his mouth; he was already tracing incantations against the small of Astarion's back -- there was wine there between them, Gale had consumed a solid 3 glasses which had placed him in a place that felt rather good and as Astarion pressed into him, he would be able to feel what was rising up between them.

There was no way to successfully hide arousal within the confines of linen pants, especially when Gale was highly aroused and right now Astarion was up against him and treating his mouth as some battleground that needed seizing.

His free hand was fumbling for the handle was perhaps was a bad idea considering that he was rather distracted with Astarion that and they were right now relying on the door for balance. Please, Astarion save this wizard from himself else he do something highly regrettable such as open the door and promptly fall backwards. Though arguably at the very least Astarion would be atop him as he did that. ]

[Who knew that the wizard's tongue was as skilled with kissing as it was with speaking spells into being. Then again, perhaps this was a spell being cast in its own right. Astarion certainly felt like he was bewitched, but he also knew that he was in his own mind, that this desire had come from a place deep inside him where he'd intended on letting it remain.

More the fool he. Why had he resisted this need? He couldn't remember, couldn't figure it out, because pressed against Gale, his own arousal an obvious presence as he felt the press of the wizard's against him. Gods he could kiss him forever, he thought, could eagerly spend hours learning the heat of him, the taste of him.

It was only a trick of luck and high dexterity that he could avert disaster. He heard the click of the doorknob and only just managed to move into Gale, turning the both of them so the wizard's weight would not be so fully leaned against the know opening door.]

Careful, darling. I very much want you to fall for me, but not that literally. Not before we've a soft bed to tumble on.

[ Gale let out a little mrrr in between the kisses; it was decidedly cat-like but also it was a response that was in direct result of the ruination of his mouth by Astarion- oh, if the vampire ruined his mouth with kisses, he knew that he would melt like butter every single time. Really, it was likely that Astarion would get what he wanted as affection was a wonderful incentive even if it felt conditional-- it was still affection at its lowest common denominator. And right now this was transactional to Gale because there was no reason not to believe it was anything other than that.

His body shifted in tandem at Astarion'a words; he should've caught the 'fall for' in those words perhaps miscalculatingly spoken but the sad fact of the matter was that any affection right now would render him a bit of a fool; honestly, he had not thought he was so very touch starved and needy until Astarion had rendered his world completely upended with but a kiss and now he was ravenous-- the hunger only matched by his insatiability for magical artifacts. ]

Mmmmm, thank you. [ eeriely non-wordy, Gale's words came out breathlessly as he righted himself, and then once he righted his balance, the door was opened and he slipped inside-- pulling Astarion in with him. Normally Mage Hand would be summoned but as he was bereft of all of his powers at the moment, he was left to shut the door with his foot.

And here was the room of Astarion's first feeding of him, kept immaculate. The aforementioned soft bed was made, and a few books laying on the bedside table, little traces of Gale making this place home in as much as he possibly could, and once inside Gale leaned in for another kiss and it was a greedy thing even as his fingers struggled with the ties of that linen shirt between them, to divest Astarion of clothing so he could worship with his mouth the poetry of Astarion's skin ]

Edited 2023-11-06 13:11 (UTC)

[Astarion wanted to consume each and every one of those sounds, devour them and sustain himself on those as much as any drop of blood. He didn't want the kiss to end, didn't want any of these last moments to actually pass, but eventually he'd at least allow Gale a breath -- he was only human, after all and Astarion would not begrudge him the need.

Still on their feet, the vampire only moved closer to Gale, hanging on him like he'd be quite happy for the wizard to wear him like his favorite piece of clothing. The way he could feel his own hunger echoed in the wizard was intoxicating in its own right.]

Happy to help... [Really. Remarkable brevity for Gale Dekarios. He met that next kiss with a soft, contented sound of his own, here within this room that did hold comforting little touches that it was indeed Gale's. He felt those clever fingers start on his clothes, and broke away from that kiss with a slow, deliberately smile. He stepped out of the circle of those arms as he reached back to pull his shirt off, letting it fall forgotten to the floor before slowly backing towards the bed, holding a hand out to beckon Gale to follow him.]

Come, my love, I'm in need of someone to warm me up.

[ Lightning shot through him and it seemed to make his skin vibrate with the quality of it, the sheer unmitigated want that made his mouth run dry-- he nearly reached to keep Astarion back in the circle of his arms until he saw the way that Astarion slid off his shirt for him, tossing it to the ground with nary but a casual thought and that too seemed to play him like a particularly vibrant lute tune, where it took all in his power not to dash into those arms.

But Astarion had a goal and he was backing up to the bed and beckoning him to follow; hypnotized, Gale followed at a close enough pace.. pressing forehead to forehead until he could feel where there was no more going for the back of Astarion's knees had hit the bed, and then it was Gale's turn to push Astarion lightly (he had a strength of 8, it was not very hard whatsoever) and then he slid very cleanly to his knees.

Between those thighs, pushing palms to knees and then parting them so that he could settle there. Of course he had to look up at Astarion with those gasoline and gold eyes, and the barest whisper of a smile there before he leaned in to press a kiss to the top of that abdomen, cool like crystal and rather in the need for warming, but all of that in time. He would let Astarion feast on his flesh as if it was the last time.

As he believed it would be. ]

If I do anything you do not like, you will let me know-- correct? [ He was once again checking in on Astarion, making sure that he had that acknowledgement that Astarion would let him know if he crossed over some boundary-- kissed a spot that held unpleasant memories or touched in a spot that he was not comfortable with. ]

[Astarion smiled as Gale came to him as beckoned, though something in that frankly smug and self-satisfied expression faltered before softening as the wizard rested their foreheads together. There was something sweetly intimate in the touch, and it made Astarion's cold, undead heart catch in his throat. He was caught enough off-guard that Gale would have no trouble with the pushing, thee vampire losing his balance and dropping to sit at the edge of the bed, fingers gripping into blankets beneath him.

He watched with rapt attention as Gale sank to his knees so prettily for him. So very pretty. His fingers moved to run through Gale's hair, pushing it back before curling their, gripping. Almost gently. His stomach caved in a ticklish flutter beneath those lips, but it was the words that went the furthest in undoing him.

To know that even now, on this final night before every promised tomorrow ceased to be, Gale cared about Astarion and what he wanted. Not trusting his voice, he nodded.]

I will, yes. But I expect the same of you.

[He would see that Gale was not given anything but what he wished.]

[ The slightly choked gasp at the touch of fingers twinning in his hair was audible, the breath puffed warm against Astarion's abdomen, a husky sigh and then he started to kiss a trail downward against that stomach as if every inch was precious; palms slid ever inward though slowly enough to get a good mapping of body. And it would be ever increasingly aware that to Gale this was not just a last-night fuck.

This was something, yes-- a relieving of steam but also a secret and hidden secondary option.

Those skilled fingers, used to conjuring up somatics in air was dancing lightly against clothed thighs, alternating between firm touches and fluttering ones; and then he was there at the edge of trousers and he could sense the length underneath waiting for his tongue, his mouth. He closed his eyes and arched his cheek into Astarion's hands while he worked the fastenings open, it was perhaps slower than patience dictated and their time was not infinite-- but he wanted the touch of Astarion against his hot skin, making it's home there.

As Gale nuzzled, the scratch of beard followed suit to leave it's indelible mark. ]

[What pretty sounds his Gale made. Astarion's mind slammed to a halt and tumbled at that thought. His. Yes, yes that sounded right. He knew he wasn't, knew that Gale's heart belonged to his goddess, to the weave, to a million things that were not a nothing vampire spawn. But in this moment, tonight -- and tonight was all there was -- tonight, Gale was his.

He shivered, the frisson shaking loose a soft moan as Gale went kissing his way down, the warmth of those lips, the delicious prickle of that beard against his kin, the way those far too talented fingers moved along his thighs. He spread his legs wider, invitation and unspoken plea.

The wizard would find him aroused and straining for his touch, prick hard and eager to be set free from his trousers.]

Gale... please.

[ There was a mess of complicated feelings when it came to Mystra and he was not thinking about the goddess at this moment; the goddess who wanted him to do her bidding as a way to earn her favor back, and that invariably was to blow himself quite out of existence if it meant taking down the Absolute.

But Gale did not have to worry about that right now; he wouldn't have to worry about that again likely.

After fastenings were undone, he reached into the trousers and his hand encircled the arousal that all but jumped and danced into his hand in a manner terribly like a sneak attack; how like the rogue to possess hidden magic with his cock. But he could not find it in his heart to deny Astarion and so once he had Astarion well in hand, the flat of his tongue dragged across the cockhead while he lathed sparkling beats of precome that tasted like spring water.

There was no heat but somehow that made his thirst quench all the more, as well as the innate desire to warm Astarion up from the inside, his tongue wrapping around the head and lightly pulling. This was the first time he'd ever sucked cock before and yet, he was only doing what he thought would feel good to him, using his tongue lightly and dancingly and proving without a shadow of a doubt that he was just as talented with his tongue in manners other than talking. ]

[The groan that broke past Astarion's lips into the open air was equal parts relieved and needing. Finally, finally that touch and the exquisite drag of that tongue, hot against his own cool skin. His fingers gripped at Gale's hair as he struggled to still his hips from immediately rolling towards that attention.

He had to remind himself that this breathless feeling couldn't be real, that he had no need of air in his lungs to live, but Gale had stolen it all regardless, and oh he was happy for the theft.]

Your mouth is skilled at more than just words, darling... I should have guessed.

[He tried to keep his tone light, that usual sardonic lilt to his words, but desire roughened them, made the desire impossible to miss.]

[ And Astarion has just hit deftly upon a praise kink, such a thing as that he heard as his lips wrapped around more, cheeks hollowing as he sucked and tasted the dead sea salt therein upon that perfect effigy of an arousal, shifting downward so that he could take more-- fitting an inch more deeper inside while he glanced up at Astarion as if seeking approval.

The rumble at the back of the throat that felt deceptively like a purr and his fingers casually stroking that thigh, leather clad and pliant under his fingers. If he attempted to speak, it was unintelligible with how much he wanted to continue his ministrations of cock in mouth; but still on the back of his tongue it was clear he could take more.

A wizard, after all, should always attempt to challenge themself on a day by day basis and he was resolved to be the very best; if this was the last blowjob that the pale elf would ever recieve, it would tear the world asunder. ]

[Oh now that was an interesting reaction. Astarion could not possibly miss it, and it pulled at something inside him. He hissed a low, pleased sound, fingers running through Gale's hair now, grip loosening, sifting through again and again before gripping once more.]

So good for me... you can take more for me, can't you? In that sweet, hot mouth. [Since Gale had seemed to respond to even that praise, seemed to need it if the way that those dark eyes looked up at him near pleading for it.] My good boy.

[His. He knew he had no right to make that claim, but he did anyway. The world would end, and for this final night he would have what he wanted, all he could have wanted.]

[ And verily, Astarion would find out firsthand that Gale always strove to be the very best, to put his entire being into pleasing and right now Astarion was the one that he was searching for approval from. In fact, it was hard for him not to want to cheat that palm as if bunting his head against it for more head scratches.

Honestly, if Gale was not so focused on this last night-- he would call himself desperate, but there was no time for those thoughts. Perhaps in the morning when they both woke up and the world had not ended, and they realized how they managed to muddle everything else.

Likely, they would be more angry at the Old Ones; that would be a better direction of their frustrations.

The mouth was silky wet, and as he lowered his mouth back down until he was almost downward, and then he broke, but not in a way that mattered. No, the most subtle of choke with the slight glisten of tears at the corner of his eyes though he felt no pain. Astarion was actually recieving Gale's very first given blowjob, and was intent on making it a good one-- the nerd, wanting to surpass himself as if he was getting top marks at the consortium. ]

[Astarion was entirely too willing to let his fingers continue that deliberate movement through his hair, dangerously affectionate if he stopped to think about it. Thankfully there would were no thoughts in his head right now save for the mouth around him and how exquisite it felt.

Come the dawn, Astarion would eagerly aim his fury at the Old Ones, yes. It would be better than truly examining his own motivations, certainly simpler.

Another groan of sound, half sighed out as that hot mouth engulfed him further. He heard that choking sound, looked down to see the sheen gathering in those deep brown eyes and fuck if that didn't send another jolt of arousal through him.]

That's it, my sweet. Just like that.

[His hand slipped from the wizard's hair to cup at his cheek, thumb brushing along the corner of a teary eye.]

[ Something raw and achingly hot rumbled through him, it was like honey being poured into him, it was like floundering in a sea of something unfamiliar-- and then those cool fingers as they caressed his cheek, and he reached a sort of state that was like a humming in his ears; eyes falling closed as he relaxed every single muscle that he could, save for the briefest hint of swallow at the back of that throat that sent Astarion the last bit of way.

Then his eyes opened again and he looked up at the other man, all living pulsing man with whiskey gasoline that poured through his veins, and for once complete silence-- though right now Astarion would see that the wizard was speaking more despite not using any words, communicated in the subtle furrow of his brows and the way that each movement seemed to ripple and cause that throat to grip.

How ready was he to lap up every praise that Astarion gave him, striving to do better-- to be better, to take that cock and consume it whole much like he did a pretty artefact. ]

[Astarion did not bother trying to hide the moan that escaped his lips as Gale took him to the root, his cock disappeared into that perfect mouth, the wizard's nose tucked quite neatly against the coarse white curls there, and those eyes looking up at him and making him want to disappear straight into them.

Fuck. Why had he waited so long for this?

His head fell forward fingers running through Gale's hair once more.]

Look at you... like your lips were made to be wrapped around my cock. So very pretty, my darling. You feel so perfect...

[So very perfect. Astarion couldn't tear his eyes away from the wizard, wanting to absorb every last detail of this moment, to make sure it was secure in his memory for whatever time was left to them.

He shifted one leg, careful not to do anything to dislodge that beautiful mouth, toes finding their way to press against the front of Gale's pants, to trace the outline of the bulge he found there, to feel if his lover was turned on by this.]

[ The most inelegant choke from that throat as he glanced upward at Astarion-- the taste of salt that liberally dripped and welled at the back of his throat, displacing saliva with a riotous thickening, the way that the cock vibrated and caused a hum that was also felt against quivering length.

The toes against the linen of his trousers had a very brief jump in that his cock twitched a the merest touch, an embarrassing reaction but one that Astarion would feel as a glaring signal flare that held no secrets from how aroused he was. No, it was clear that this had made him hard; there was no hiding it from the vampire with such high perception, or the way that he seemed to wear his heart on his tongue.

Thankfully that tongue was sucking, not talking-- and suck he did, his mouth starting to move up and down on that shaft, saliva sliding and painting the dick with such a pearlescent sheen ]

[Ah. There he was. Astarion allowed the start of a faintly smug smile as he let his toes knead and play deliberately along Gale's prick, tracing the shape of him through the fabric of his trousers. Good. He wanted the wizard to enjoy this, to be just as turned on as he was. And Astarion would see to it that the pleasure the other man was giving him was fully returned.

His fingers curled into a fist in Gale's hair then, tight enough to pull as Gale began to move on him.]

Ah.... fuck. You'd be the death of me, darling, if death hadn't gotten to me first.

[And he may yet be the second death of him. He couldn't quite keep his hips still, a jerk towards that perfect wet heat, looking to bury himself inside once more as Gale's lips slide up and down the shaft, his grip in the wizard's hair guiding in something between demand and encouragement.]

It won't be long... will you swallow down every last drop of my seed? For me?

[ Another swallow of those throat walls, constricting as if in unspoken need for the other man to fill up his throat, and from this viewpoint it was clear that Gale did have such lovely lashes, because they fluttered against brown eyes as he approached a sort of nirvana. Right now he did not care of the world came crashing down, burning in fiery waves-- no, he was too intent on this moment and cycled into such a perfect sub space-- and this was his rather first time attaining it; a gift that the vampire had bequeathed him.

A purr of pleasure like a cat, and that could be taken as assent. Of Gale's eagerness to have that bitter seed splashing against the back of his throat. For right now, Gale was perfectly obedient, and his entire world was focused around the man who was sitting on the bed like so, the feel of the arousal as it slid over his tongue-- could feel the tension in thighs underneath his fingers.

He became a creature that could only interpret the signs right before him as if Astarion's state of orgasm had become his own priority; when he opened his eyes-- it was to reveal those eyes and that furrowed brow-- a unspoken plead as he gave it a lavishly luscious suck. ]

[This was a deliciously good look on Gale, on his knees and fully blissed out. Astarion rather thought he could get used to this view, if he were allowed, if only there were time. God that throat was so perfectly welcoming, tongue wet and velvet and so hot against his own cooler skin.

He did indeed take that purr -- that he could feel all through his entire prick -- as permission, if not outright plea. Good. He would give his pretty lover everything that he had. When Gale looked up at him with those damnable doe eyes, Astarion could not hope to last a moment more.

Another tight grip int hat hair and he urged Gale's head forward, to hilt himself further, burying himself deep as he could.]

Don't spill a drop now, pet... [And that was all he had, a groan tearing from him as he found his release, spilling thick rope after rope of spend into that waiting throat, his entire body trembling with the force of his pleasure. He could not remember ever feeling this good, and Gale had given this to him, an exquisite little treasure that he would not forget.]

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