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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[ The moment that Astarion slipped with his knee on one side of his hips, fingers wrapping around his as hard as sin cock while thickening droplets of precome danced against those artistic fingertips. His groan was decadent, his eyes sliding open just a little bit more as he made eye contact with the vampire, and then he leaned in and felt that mouth, how it was almost like he was being given a touch that was more divine that he had ever felt before in his life.

Back in, as if to attempt to catch those lips again and to taste the subtle taste of copper and cinnamon on those lips as if they were a wine and he was woefully too sober for this.

A hitched breath at the thought of being punished, and why did Astarion make it quite like he would enjoy the trip through such a punishment tableaux. And then he has to think of what he wants, that the other man was allowing him to have something that he wanted. There was no taking, and he was content with that.

Gale Dekarios was absolutely entranced by the man, held in some sort of thrall-- although it was hard for him to say the word fuck, it was his own sensibilities which he had to cut through and he managed a very succinct and yet still incredulous. ] I could.. have you?

[ Astarion would likely have to indoctrinate him into dirty talk though that may be when his wits were a bit more about him. ]

[Oh he heard that hitch of breath, and he had to fight a smile. He was learning things about this pretty wizard that he wished he had known before. Tragic to know it only at the end, but he would make the most of what they did have. He'd had so much less than this for so fucking long, it would figure when time finally threatened to truly end that he finally found something. Whatever this was.

There was no time for regret, not now not here. He would not ruin this moment, would ruin none of this. He wouldn't dare.

And there was Gale looking at him with that disbelieving look, and it made Astarion want to give him everything. And it made him want to ruin him in the most exquisite way he could, to draw the filthiest things out of that pretty, proper mouth and all its spells and poetry.]

I told you, darling. You can have whatever you want... [He purred the words.] And I... well, I want you.

[Astarion would teach him so much, if only there were time.]

[ his breath was caught like a butterfly in a net and he could feel all his heat go right to his eyes; that was accompanied by a swallow as he leaned backward on his forearms as he watched how Astarion loomed over him, crowding his space.

The only thing he could register was how intimate it was to he focused on by the Vampire, and the "I want you" which was more than what he had felt for so long in that he absolutely craved, being the center of someone's universe.. pulling them into his orbit as they formed a private universe of two.

The way he was splayed now was a very distinct invitation-- all that flushed skin, the subtle human scars, the lines of imperfections-- a scar running across his knee trom where he had attempted to show off as a 15 year old, or the more recent case of hubris where that scar over the middle of his upper chest and how the skin was not as smooth there. ]

I am not.. demanding.

[ He breathed as he took that hand and drew Astarion onto the bed, closer as he looked into those eyes ] Anything you choose to give me shall be more than enough.

I know.

[Astarion breathed the words in a low purr.]

And that's why I'm happy to give...

[There were no demands, no forcing of the issues, there was only Gale who looked so surprised to be given the offer. A flash of something he'd have to call anger at the realization of where that came from, where the wizard looking so shocked at being asked and offered what he wanted had originated. Gale's goddess was clearly a waste of a deity.

He followed Gale further onto the bed, nearer now, leaning in all the closer and urging Gale back, so that the other man would lie back for him.]

You have no idea how much you deserve, do you? [He heaved a heavy and extremely put upon sigh.] Well, that leaves it to me to show you. Tell me you have something useful nearby? Scented oil? Anything?

[ If Gale was not so enchanted by Astarion in these final moments, he would've likely quipped something. But no, he was enjoying this with carefully held breath, pushing himself backward just a bit more so that he was not awkwardly hanging off of it. The question though, he was running through the contents of what he had. There was some scented oil that he used for his beard.

That could potentially work.

If he had more time, if they had more time he would invest in some proper oils-- that is if Astarion wanted a second time. But what he was doing thinking of beyond this night even though he was hopeful. ]

I have some oils on the beside table, it's used for my ah.. scruff, if you think that will work. [ Although it was certain that they could improvise if needed, there were ways to prepare without the use of oils, it was just altogether much more convenient overall ]

[Oh. Well, yes, Astarion knew that oil, didn't he? Knew the by now familiar scent of Gale as he inhaled so close to that beard, his skin, the moments before he sank his fangs into that precious neck. Oh yes, that would more than do for their purposes.]

Wonderful. Yes, we can make that work.

[The vampire reached across Gale, leaning quite close in the process, opening the drawer and fishing out the bottle. As he shifted back, he resettled himself straddling Gale's thighs and opened the bottle. That familiar scent suffused the air and Astarion couldn't help a pleased smile as he poured a liberal amount on his fingers.]

This time. I'll expect something sweeter smelling next time.

[Next time. As if the world weren't ending tonight. As if, even it weren't, Gale would ever want to... Well, to hell with those thoughts now. They had no place in this limited time. He reached behind himself with oil-slick fingers, no hesitation before he pressed one, then another inside himself, hissing softly.]

Ah yes, next time.

[ Easy to think that this was not the end of the world, that this could go on. Gale was drunk on lust and something else, an overwhelming need to seize the time that they had, to cherish it for what it was-- a finale before the finale. His eyes felt hazed and overpoweringly aroused, eyes blown to voids dark and infinite.

The scent of the beard oil filled him, dark blood orange and sandlewood-- it was a strong scent, nothing light nor dancing about it, and the fact that Astarion was using it to prepare himself (he could hear the preparation, the way that fingers worked against teased hole, causing himself to throb painfully against Astarion's thigh. It was there, brushing ramrod straight against cooler skin.

He'd brew the sweetest smelling oils; something scenting of honey and vanilla, something sweet-- something that he could drizzle against all of Astarion's secret places and then conversely lap it up; gladly he would do it-- worship the other man as if he were a god, ecclesiastics born of tongue and kisses. ]

[It was more pleasing than he cared to admit to himself to hear Gale speak of a next time, even if it would never come. He'd still appreciate the thought of it, rather greatly if he were being honest with himself. Just as much as he appreciated looking into those lust-blown eyes, and wasn't that a pretty sight?

He swallowed back a sound as he spread himself with his fingers, hesitating a moment and glancing down to see Gale's prick hard and eager against his thigh and decided that a third finger might be in order. His back arched sharply, another soft hiss as he spared this extra few seconds before his patience ran out entirely.

Astarion wanted him, and now. And though he'd already come once, his own arousal was stirring once more. After all, he'd told Gale he expected to be made to come again before the wizard would be permitted to have his own release. He'd meant it.

Slick fingers pulled free of himself and found their way around the wizard's staff, smearing more of that scented oil along him, mingled with the precome he found there. He shifted up on his knees, positioning himself, guiding Gale's cock so that he could let the head nudge against his hole, rolling his hips but not enough to take him inside. Not yet. Instead, he looked to the other man with a smile.]

Tell me you want me?

[ This was such an exquisite edging, the likes of which he could not very well enumerate how blissful it was; to not have thoughts plauging his ever-worrying mind. To focus on this moment and the way that Astarion's melodious voice all but sang for him, as if he was a gift.

And it triggered something inside of him that could not be contained. ]

I want to please you, I want you-- I want to feel you quake around my arousal, to know that I did that to you, please.. [ There was something so very desperate about the wizard in this moment, not even for artefacts was he this desperate, this near unhinged with desire. It did not help that he could hear the delicious way that Astarion prepared himself for him. White lust overtook him at he very greedily arched his hips, bucking upward to draw attention to the fact that he ultimately was here for the vampire's pleasure.

The very last time, and by gods he wanted to enjoy it and savor it, perhaps carry that memory to his next life, whatever that may entail. ]

[Astarion wondered if Gale was intentionally trying to undo him with words. Wasn't the vampire the one who was supposed to have a silver tongue here? But no, here was Gale of Waterdeep, wizard extraordinaire, using his words to dismantle Astarion piece by piece. He may have been the one to ask Gale to say it, but he was somehow not prepared for the words regardless.]

How could I possibly say no when you ask so sweetly? When I want you so much too?

[And there was the crux of it. They both wanted each other, and that was something entirely novel for Astarion. Gale was not some targeted victim he'd been set upon, not a mistake in the making. It really was a tragedy they hadn't acted sooner, before the end.

But he would make of it such an end. A soft, startled groan as Gale bucked against him, as that slick arousal went sliding along his ass. Fuck. He rolled his own hips, reaching below to wrap his fingers around the wizard's cock, positioning him and finally pressing his ass don and taking that prick inside, voice breaking on a soft, wordless sound as he felt his body begin to yield around that length.]

[ His mouth formed an 'oh' the moment that Astarion slid downward upon his shaft, and because of the preparation, the other man was as slick as the precome that had beaded and fell down Gale's own hungry prick, helping to ease the way. He looked delightfully confused and disarmed all in this sole moment, sweetly begging for more-- inch upon inch of Astarion to enrobe him.

It was hard to keep his hips from bucking further upward, he had to struggle so as to not take control. Touching that he did not, letting Astarion steer this as he needed and required it. He would match the rhythem but he was allowing Astarion that control, slipping it into slender fingers to manipulate at will.

And he needed this, wanted to be exactly that for his lover. Give him autonomy, which may be a bad idea in general but what was the least that it could do? Kill him? The end was already nigh and he was feeling rather like tempting fate with how that body felt over him. What he did do though was rub his palms up that abdomnen, chest and them his thumbs brushed against the ice points of nipples with fingertips that rather felt like concentrated heady heat ]

[Astarion could feel the tension in the other man as Gale wrestled with his restraint to allow the vampire to remain in control. Oh he did like that, and made no secret of how much he was enjoying all of this, the feeling of oh so slowing being filled by Gale's length, at his own leisurely, luxuriant pace as he impaled himself inch by painstakingly sweet inch.]

Oh... there you are, darling. Filling me up so perfectly...

[He set a hand against Gale's chest, to steady himself as he finally came to settle, Gale's prick fully sheathed inside him. Stilling for a moment to let his gaze greedily take in the wizard's features, arching into those questing, warm hands, hissing his approval as fingertips teased at his nipples.

Another moment, and he rolled his hips, head falling back with a groan. His own cock seemed to answer, aroused again and quite ready for whatever Gale had to give him.]

How do you feel? [Another roll of hi ships, not really rising off him so much as rutting, grinding against him.] Is it good, pet?

[ Gale felt.. perfect. He barely even had to assess it, but that Astarion's hips started to move back and forth and managed to take him as well. There was no control that he had over this but in this moment, he wanted to feel exactly like that-- to know that he was giving Astarion such indescribable pleasure; though the hisses and moans communicated quite winningly.

The affectionate name hit in the exact right way; the vampire could call him 'darling' in that tone of voice and he would die happily.

Astarion was sitting up straight which definitely allowed for his eyes to move up and down that body, the curve of it-- eyes to drink in the vampire like fine wine in the most exquisitely crafted goblet, and for him he was drinking him up with his eyes as a kaleidoscope of pleasure sheened through them. ]

I feel like if this is my last memory of this world-- it will be a very good one-- like the last glimmering star left in the sky.. [ And fuck if he did not move one hand upward, stroking against a neck and then cupping that jawline to brush his thumb lightly there, a treasure even amidst the raw hungry coupling, through it he wanted to feel like this meant something.

He could not do anything like this without it meaning something. That was his downfall, and he was rather grateful that Astarion was allowing him that illusion. ]

[Astarion was discovering that he liked Gale's eyes on him. He'd been a creature of the shadows too long, perhaps, and coming out fully into the light, into Gale's light, he craved the attention, the knowledge that he was seen. Truly seen. Maybe it was too much to place on a desperate one night, last night coming together, but he had no defense against those damnably gorgeous brown eyes.

Slowly he rose up off Gale, until his cock had nearly slipped free entirely before rolling his hips back down, slow and deliberate, as if he fully intended on drawing this out, on taking up every last moment they had left to them. That hand was warm against his neck and he set his own hand atop it, chill fingers curling gently, to hold Gale there, even as he turned his head to graze his lips against the inside of the other man's wrist, pressed to where he could feel that pulse beating so sweetly.

But he did not bite, instead he looked down to Gale through lowered lashes, still moving on him, more insistent with each rise and fall.]

That tongue of yours may be more dangerous than your spells... [Silvered as it was. The words didn't stop him from nuzzling into that warm hand.] But, yes... if this is the end, I cannot imagine spending it an other way than basking in your warmth.

[ He did not know why it especially affected him that Astarion pressed kisses against his wrist without biting at it, scraping teeth against it. Intimate, it felt deliciously intimate for him and his eyes softened into something that resembled dark brown butter as he used his own hips and pistoned them upward; engaging in back and forth now-- weaving his own movements into Astarion's.

Underneath them, he could feel the bed start to quiver under the duress of their bodies and the momentum that they were casting against each other. The faintest sheen of sweat from his own very mortal body, glistening and with the scent of musk.. a combination made up of many different factors. ]

Tell me if this is alright, lovely. [ His hand slipped to the back of Astarion's neck where he palmed it, sliding fingers through the curls there at the nape, soft and silky. He was a very tactile man, such was the truth and if there was anything that he wanted the most, it was to touch his lover, to enjoy the sensuality of exploring every inch of skin even if it was in such seemingly innocent manner.

His goal was to, despite their body talking, to convey how much he appreciated these final moments. ]

[A moan startled from him as Gale's hips thrust up to meet his movement, the roll finding an angle that struck that spot inside him in such an exquisite way that he feared he might be undone far too quickly. It spurred him on though, driving that need into a building fury. The creak and rhythm of the bed moving beneath them, the sound of Gale's breath, his heartbeat, it was sweeter than any song he'd ever heard played by any bard.

Astarion would not complain about a single iota of that touch, not when Gale touched him as if he were something precious, something worth treating gently, worth touching sweetly. It was the sort of touch he had never known, and he could very easily find himself addicted to it.]

It's... ah... far better than all right. Do what you want. Take what you want. I want to give it to you, all of it. [All of me.] Fuck me, darling. Please.

[ he wanted to be infinite within those arms and as Astarion's voice rang out, hot and gasping-- needy and he held no proof underneath the sun for that, he wanted to do exactly what Astarion begged for, to tear him asunder. That begging voice deserved the sweetest of mercies and he wanted to give them to the other man. And thus he angled his hips upward, and then as he struck into gold-- he used a combination of magic and momentum to reverse their positons on the bed until Astarion's back was pressed into bed.

And Gale looking down at him. Those dark eyes holding a sensuality that was still eager to please, but ready to pleasure his lover in a wholly different way; he was still bent on servicing Astarion but he was taking a little bit of the control out of the equation but if Astarion did not like this-- he would stop. ]

Is this.. alright, Master?

[ His hips took a few hesitant pumps, deep into that hole while their thighs slapped together and the bed creaked precariously underneath them, uncertain as to the weight of two grown men and the preludesque ferocity of their fucking, and when Astarion's go-ahead, they would get much more fierce as it clicked that this was the last night and all moments would be seized with claws and talons. ]

[Astarion was busy rolling with the feeling of Gale moving against him to recognize at first that he was being moved. Then he was under Gale, looking up at the other man, eyes clouded with the desire that flooded through him, just as hot as any blood he had ever drank, making his heart feel like it could remember how to beat.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Gale thrust deep inside him and words fled like so many birds startled into flight. It took him a beat to gather them back, still looking at the wizard in wonder, at that sweet little quest for permission. Oh he could grow addicted to this man, to the way that Gale looked at him, touched him.]

It's perfect...

[He answered in a rush, arms reaching up to urge Gale closer, one leg hooking around his hips, every eloquent unspoken word of his body a plea, encouragement. This was all they had, an Astarion would indeed claw for every last moment of it, every new height of sensation, would cling to Gale and all the wizard was -- all they could have been if there was more time -- and hold to it.]

Harder, pet. Let me feel everything you are.

[ As long as Astarion continued to call him pet, he would do whatever the the man said, would pump harder-- as long as those eyes continued to look up at him with ill-repressed desire. He leaned in, hunching his back over him as he modulated the rhythm, slow but deep-- his eyes were blown wide and over Astarion, they were pressed chest to chest so that the vampire could hear the frantic beating of his heart.

He could not believe how strongly he felt in this moment, it was something.. but no-- it couldn't be. Even though his heart sent a warning keen throughout him that this was more than he thought possible.

It was the overwhelming feeling that he needed to put his heart somewhere but did not know exactly where; instead he leaned down and pressed his lips against that neck where the pulse would be as he angled himself to hit that spot. His prick being milked by those tight walls and his own breathing like a gasp that felt reverent and holy.

As if he were worshipping Astarion with every somatic and verbal component within him. ] So.. close-- Star.. so close.

[This close, he was sure he was in danger of being fully consumed by Gale's warmth, and he would happily melt to it. He could feel and hear each breath and heartbeat from the other man. With each slow, deliberate thrust, Astarion could not hold back the low cry that was knocked free of his lips. His back arched, body rolling with the wizard's motions, one long, pale leg hooking over Gale's hip, tightening as if he could bring him closer, as if there was any space between them left to close.

When Gale's lips found his neck, the vampire let his head fall back, baring his neck to that attention. There was some irony in it perhaps, this small reversal in their usual positions, but all Astarion knew was he wanted the attention, warm and affectionate as it felt, even as Gale systematically took him apart with each deliberate drive of that cock inside him.

Was this what it was like to be wanted? His voice caught on a sound at being called Star, and he would have to examine that later perhaps. For now his arms wound around Gale, fingers gripping at the back of his shoulders. He was close too, driven to the very edge by everything about Gale.]

So am I. Come for me, my darling. I want to feel you.

[ The star had been a slip, a breathless gasp of which only the word within was fully heard and in that haze of pre-climax clarity, he understood how right it felt-- this implosion of Astarion and himself back into the solar system, every arcane secret as it raced through him fast and hot, that coloured the next thrust sharp and pinioning ; and how he used that momentum between them to score even deeper while he gasped a litany against the neck.

He was close, could feel it with each rising, how Astarion's walls were slippery with hs aroused precome as they guided the path over and over again; he was on a trail and ready to take off like a shooting star against Astarion.

One breath, one thrust-- two breaths and another as they mounted together and then he saw stars, or maybe it was just the pinpoints of Astarion's pale skin underneath his slitted eyes-- and he gasped against that neck, mouthed as silent groans vibrated from him and to Astarion

Warmth would fill Astarion until there was nowhere else for it to go, until it became slippery as it attempted to shove itself back where they connected to glisten against both men's thighs; Gale's body wracked with such sobs as if his entire soul was being torn out of his body and he was but a conduit-- it would likely do wonders for his vanity that Gale's entire being was being deconstructed and then reformed into something that desired Astarion's approval ]

[Slip or not, Astarion would not forget it, but then he would not forget a moment of any of this. Not when the world managed not to end and he realized that they'd been played by the games of the cult and their old ones. They had been played and perhaps had played straight into it, as if something in the both of them had been waiting for this excuse, some reason to fall into each other.

Astarion clung to Gale tightly as the wizard chased his climax, and it was the start of a chain reaction. The way the other man gasped for him, the rush of warmth inside him, molten and intense and that was all Astarion could handle. He groaned, a great deal less silently as he spilled his seed between both their bodies.

He could feel the way Gale still moved against him, those sobs that shook broad shoulders. However many moments they had left to them in this life, in this moment, Gale Dekarios was his and no one else's, and that was the sweetest gift he could imagine.

As the waves of his own climax washed over him and began to ebb, he relaxed some of his grip on the wizard, but he did not release him, instead his hands soothed over his back, his shoulders, perhaps surprisingly gentle touches for the vampire who was too often as sharp as the blades he wielded.]

There you are... so good for me...

[ He was fluttering to the metaphorical floor, eddying downward and downward in a pool of heady desire, all of his body felt like liquid though he made an attempt not to put his full weight on the other man, however in supplication and a final gift-- his head angled to the side to reveal the line of it.

And poised their on the precipice, his pulse right where Astarion could sink his teeth into. Supplication, a final meal for the other man to partake in, the sheen on that neck was misted in a combination of sweat and musk and would flavor Gale's blood likely in such a delicious way. ]?

Would you?

[ Perhaps the last moment that they could take for each other and his own way of offering himself fully for Astarion. ]

[Astarion would all too happily be trapped beneath the wizard's weight, would only bask in the warmth and the knowledge of being held to the earth as the world crumbled around them. He looked up at Gale with dazed crimson eyes, still awash in the ecstasy of their coupling. But distracted or not, Astarion would not miss that invitation.

It called to him, the way he could hear Gale's heartbeat, knew exactly where beneath that warm, sweat-sheened skin he could sink his fangs into that smokey, magic-infused blood. His throat suddenly went dry with the sudden surge of thirst, need.]

I... yes, of course.

[As if he would ever turn down such a gift. He leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Gale's neck, tongue dragging to taste the musk and sweat left on that warm skin, and then fangs followed, sinking into flesh. Astarion groaned at the first hot splash of blood against his tongue, clinging to him once more.]

[ Astarion's mouth found that pulse, tongue dragging over it and Gale nearly moaned in a way that he hadn't before. The first time, it had been sustenance-- and while yes, this was the fulfilling of a need, there was something blatantly sexual about it-- overt instead of subversive that filled him and had his eyes falling shut in a amber heaviness.

He slipped onto his side then, knowing that hew as going to become a pool of molten fire. Every evocation spell, he felt humming through his veins while that hot gush of dark red blood fought to bejewel Astarion's tongue. This was intrinsically sensual and his fingers slipped around that waist even as his head hit the pillow.

Such a reduction that he had come to, it was amazing and he encouraged Astarion with the stroking of those fingertips, to drink deep of him while his mouth managed to both hum and pant at the same time, thereby making quite the mess of himself as he slipped from Astarion.

The bed would have to be prestidigitated, he knew-- as his come slipped out from hole and down thighs, but his body still welcomed the intrusion and likewise welcomed those fangs that slipped into his flesh as if it were butter at the perfect temperature to be spread. ]

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