Chapter Text
Gale was stirring the cookpot as the sun started to lower in the late afternoon. In a few hours, they would be on their way and would reach their destination. Astarion had opened his tent flap now that the sun was partially hidden by the trees and not streaming into his abode. He was lounging with what Gale presumed was his favourite book, seeing how worn the cover was.
As he sprinkled a pinch of salt into the stew, he glanced over at Astarion. The elf truly was breathtaking. Watching him so engrossed in the book made Gale think of how splendid he would look curled up on his couch in his library.
“You’re staring, darling.” came the self-satisfied reply from Astarion, who side-eyed Gale with a toothy grin. Gale turned beet-red as he turned around. Astarion gave a quiet chuckle. It was fun to tease the wizard like this.
“Apologies, you just looked to be enjoying yourself. You are a fan of Drizzt?” Gale asked, as he returned to cooking and stirring. “I have read many of his adventures myself and have quite the collection of books. As a matter of fact, I have a whole section of him in my library.”
Astarion had initially returned to reading after calling out Gale’s blatant eyeballing, but when the wizard mentioned his library Astarion’s interest was piqued. “That sounds wonderful, having one's own personal library. I wonder what other….treasures…you have hidden away there.” Astarion couldn’t resist the insinuation. His mind drifted a bit, imagining what that library looked like. A cozy fireplace to sit near perhaps?
Gale coughed into his sleeve to try and mask the thought of Astarion finding one of his smutty romance novels, only to read it and tease him with it. He may barely know the man, but was positive Astarion would stoop to that level to get a rise out of him.
In an effort to divert topics Gale asked, “Tell me Astarion, do you have any family?”
Silence followed, and Gale slowly peeked over his shoulder to see that Astarion had placed his book on the ground and sat up. “Any family I had before being turned I cannot recall. Hells, I don’t even know what I look like because I can’t see myself in the mirror,” was his bitter reply.
“I’m sorry Astarion, I didn't mean to open old wounds.” Gale felt like had dug himself into a hole with a seemingly innocent question.
“It’s alright Gale, you are not to blame for it. I did have a family of sorts after turning. I wasn’t the only spawn Cazador sired. I have 6 ‘siblings’ as Cazador called us. Treated all of us like shit, but apparently, my screams sound the sweetest to him , so I was always treated the worst out of them.” Astarion’s mind shifted momentarily to the horrors he suffered under Cazador. The beatings, the flayings….any slip, any minor disobedience, and they were thrown into the kennel for Godey to have his way. That old bucket of bones was cruel in life and in death.
Gale saw Astarion’s head hang low as he told him about the screams. His hand tightened on the ladle, nearly breaking it in two. How he wished Cazador was alive only for him to rip him apart himself. It was obvious to Gale that while the elf was physically free of the torment, mentally it was not something he would ever forget.
Astarion looked up after a short moment, watching Gale, steeling his resolve to share further, before he turned around and started to take off his shirt.
Gale panicked for a moment, not sure what to do at the sight of Astarion stripping….until he saw them.
Jagged raised scarring on Astarion’s back, thick lines drawn in circles with… were those infernal symbols? Gale was quiet as he took in what Astarion was showing him. How vulnerable he was being about something like this.
Astarion peeked over his shoulder at Gale. “Well….say something.”.
Gale put the soup ladle down into the nearby bowl, and went into Astarion’s tent, kneeling behind him. He carefully brought his hand up and gently laid it on Astarion’s back. Astarion instantly melted into the warmth of Gale’s palm, repressing a delighted moan of pleasure at the touch, as the man gently traced the pattern on his back.
“Astarion…who did this to you?”
Astarion let out a sound between a scoff and a snort. “Cazador did. He did it to all of us actually. I’ve never seen the ones on my back, but according to the bastard it was a poem. He made revisions as he went… many of them,” he added sadly at the end.
“Astarion…..was Cazador well versed in infernal?” Gale asked, his heart squeezing in sorrow for Astarion.
As if a bucket of cold water was tossed on him, Astarion felt his thoughts cease for a moment. “Infernal…what do you mean infernal?” he exclaimed, turning around to face Gale.
Gale didn’t feel pity for Astarion. He felt sadness and rage at the suffering he was put through. “These symbols are infernal. While I am no expert in the language, I can make out enough that it seems to have been some sort of… contract of sorts. I suspect your thankfully dead former master was attempting to make some sort of deal with a devil.”
Astarion saw red as he processed what Gale told him. A fucking contract carved into his back? “Show me. Please. I need to see it.” Astarion implored Gale desperately.
Gale nodded, backing up. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the scars, lifting his hand and conjuring them for Astarion to see. Astarion grabbed his hand and yanked him forward, as he stared at the projection with rapt attention.
“What did the bastard do to me?” he pondered out loud.
Gale wanted to pull Astarion close and hug him, wishing he could go back in time somehow and spare the elf all the suffering he had endured. To have saved him from the torment.
Finally, Astarion released his hand. “Thank you Gale. I…I appreciate you doing this for me. I finally know what's back there. I just wish I knew what it was for.” He grabbed his discarded shirt and redressed.
Gale suddenly recalled what Astarion had mentioned earlier. That he had not seen himself since being turned. If he couldn’t go back and save him from what happened, the least he could do was give him something he was so clearly missing. “Astarion, a moment. You mentioned not knowing what you looked like. Well…” Gale trailed off and he closed his eyes again, this time picturing Astarion as he conjured an image of the elf in his hand.
Astarion tilted his head in curiosity, watching the wizard as waves of weave shimmered in his hand, until the image of a rather handsome elf popped up. Before long, Astarion realized it was him.
“Gale, this is a gift, you know?” Astarion said quietly, mesmerized by his visage. Gale dreamily watched as Astarion admired himself for a bit, and felt pride in being able to give the elf something he hadn’t had for so long.
“If only I could keep this projection up forever, I would, “ Gale said earnestly. The image eventually dissipated from his hand, much to their shared disappointment.
Astarion’s gaze flickered to Gale’s. “Well, it meant more than you know for the brief time it was there.”
For what seemed like eons, they looked at each other's eyes. The moment dragged on with neither of them moving, before Gale made the unbearable decision to tear his eyes away from the enrapturing man that now held his heart in a vice, and return to the stew. “I am glad to see you happy.” He said smiling. As Astarion watched Gale return to cooking, he felt a flutter in his belly at the exchange between them just now, wishing the moment had not ended so soon.
Gale bit his lip thinking about Astarion's courage and bravery telling him about his past, and the wizard felt like he owed it to the elf to tell him about his troubles as well, “Hey Astarion?” Gale called out as he held the ladle in his hands, thinking about how he'd go about telling him.
“Yes my dear?” Astarion replied.
“As you know, I was a former Chosen and lover of Mystra, but our relationship had grown into something like a power struggle. Dating the Goddess of Magic herself was magical but also mind bogglingly toxic. For years I stood in her shadow as she flounced about, wanting nothing more than to stand by her as her equal. I was only her equal when we had sex, bonding through the weave only, and even that felt empty, like I had something to prove to her, to prove that I was enough. In the end, my effort to prove my love, my devotion and my worth by finding a missing part of the weave and returning it to her, was punished severely by her.”
The wizard admitted all this as he realised he hadn't actually spoken to anyone else about this, apart from Tara. She was his family and he'd rather die if he ever told his mother. Morena Dekarios would have found a way to get to Elysium herself to rip the Mother of Magic apart if she knew.
He paused, feeling resentful of Mystra. Somehow in the last few days in Astarion’s company, his eyes were starting to see the negatives of his entanglement with her beyond that of simply Wizard and Goddess. “She cursed me to live with… an affliction and before you ask if it's contagious, you know from when you tasted my blood earlier that it's not, but, it is what makes it taste so bad.” Gale blushed at the memory, his thigh feeling warm as he looked back at Astarion who watched him, his book laying across his lap forgotten as he listened to Gale's tale, hearing the human’s heartbeat pick up at the mention of his feeding.
“I certainly don’t feel any worse for wear from it.” Astarion replied, his attention focused on Gale. “What is this affliction aside from having a literal bomb in your chest?”
Halting making his stew, Gale untied his robe, his chest on full display as he presented the orb’s mark for Astarion to see. “It's what one would call Netherese Magic, it basically means that I have to absorb the Weave inside magical items to stop myself from blowing up. What I thought was a missing piece of the weave I could return to Mystra was, in fact, a blight on it that entered my body as soon as it could.” Gale traced the outline of the orb as he spoke. Astarion’s eyes followed the movement with rapt attention.
“The orb consumed my abilities, reducing my powers to a fraction of what they once were, effectively removing my Archmage status. While I am still powerful, it is not anything like it was before. The orb is more or less a parasite that demands to be fed. For a year I locked myself in my tower, and only with Tara’s help did we discover this method of managing the condition. But each passing day I must consume the weave more and more often. This amulet may be my only hope of freeing myself from this curse.” Gale’s voice dropped as despair caught up with him.
Astarion’s hand gripped his book so hard he nearly tore it in two. Hearing that Gale, through simply wanting to please his goddess, was cast out and left not only with a potential explosive device in his chest, but with something literally eating him alive, drove Astarion insane. He, who despised the gods for ignoring him during his plight every time he prayed and begged them for help, hated them even more now. Toying with mortal lives, giving them hope, only to discard them when no longer of use.
Gale was a kind, gentle man. One who gave his love to someone who tossed him to the side all due to an error, leaving him with an all consuming hunger that can never be sated. Something Astarion understands all too well. Mystra, you fucking bitch.
Astarion realised that he hadn't spoken in a while. The afternoon sun had dipped beyond the trees, leaving them in shade, offering him some shelter, so the elf got up and exited his tent, before standing in front of Gale. He reached forward, his hands making contact with Gale's warm skin, his fingers tracing over the outline of the orb. “We might actually have a lot more in common than we realise.” He paused before looking at Gale's face, his fingers brushing up to cup the wizards chin, his beard scratching Astarion's hand pleasantly.
“It seems like we do.” Gale half chuckled. For a brief moment, Astarion merely continued circling the orb with one hand, while resting his other hand on his face. Gale raised his own hand and slowly placed it on Astarion’s cheek, before he finally plucked up the courage to kiss the elf like he had wanted to since they first met.
Gale leaned forward, testing the waters, waiting to be pushed away by Astarion, but the white haired male didn't, instead he pulled him closer, their lips brushing against each other in a synchronised dance that twisted and tasted of pure delight. Astarion moaned into the kiss as he gripped Gale's neck like a lifeline, the kiss growing more passionate as each of them communicated the tension that had been lingering since day one.
Gale’s hand slipped up into Astarion’s hair, keeping him close, and his other hand wound itself around Astarion’s waist, gripping the shirt, using it as leverage to hold Astarion even closer. Like a man starved, his tongue plundered into Astarion’s mouth, grazing his fangs, tasting all of him. He didn’t want to let go.
Astarion reluctantly pulled away as Gale had to catch his breath, but the vampire merrily began to leave marks and bites on Gale's neck, his fangs leaving trails down to his shoulder, the slight twang of the wizard's blood stirring up his own desire. “Fuck, Gale, let me ride your thigh, your foot, anywhere, please,” Astarion whimpered quietly. He briefly looked over at the preparation of the stew but was too focused on the continuous pressure building within him.
“Astarion, nghh the s-stew..” Gale blushed as he looked at his dinner and then Astarion. Gods, did he want this, wanted to watch Astarion lose himself without laying a hand on him where he needed it most. Watch him take his pleasure against him.
“Please, please, want you so bad,” the elf muttered as he expertly ripped his trousers open without a single button going flying, and pulled them and his underwear just below his sac, freeing his stiff length. Astarion kneeled by Gale's legs and bucked against the meat of the wizard's calf, along his boots.
Gale didn’t know how he'd stay focused like this but he was keen to try. Astarion started slow, but began to buck his half hard cock against Gale’s leg at an intense pace, the friction providing delicious pleasure as the elf continued to move, humping his leg like a bitch in heat.
“Fuck, fuck I wanna fuck you so bad, fill you with my cum and get you pregnant, fuck.” Astarion babbled as he incoherently spoke, his eyes glazed with lust, looking up at Gale, whose own eyes widened.
Gods preserve me. Hearing those words fall out of Astarion’s mouth drove Gale mad. While physically impossible, it did nothing to reduce the intense feelings going through him at the thought of Astarion turning him over and fucking him until he was full, somehow defying biology in the process.
He tried to focus on things that they actually needed to do like rest and collect resources, but all he could do was try to prepare his stew whilst a ridiculously horny elf fucked his leg within an inch of his life. “Gale, wanna make you a daddy… pump you full...” Astarion groaned loudly as his furious red cockhead shot ropes of pearly white cum, staining the wizard's boots to an obscene amount.
Gale choked as he struggled to temper himself. Utterly distracted, he had given up on cooking, his mind focusing on the elf by his feet. He nearly came himself at the sight of Astarion’s seed dribbling down his boots and he didn’t think he'd been more turned on in his life until this point. The look on Astarion’s face was one he wouldn’t soon forget.
“Shit Astarion, you ruined my boots.” Gale remarked, not in disgust, but in a haze of lust. With a sudden bout of boldness, he looked at Astarion before using his soiled boot to put pressure upon the elf’s thigh, “Be a good boy and wash them. Good boys always swallow.” Gale said the last sentence with a deep but quieter timber, probably sounding ridiculous coming from him, but he deemed he might as well indulge in some dirty talk. The sudden rush of authority he felt in uttering the command hit him right in his shaft that was painfully tight in his pants.
Astarion, brain half mush at this point, nodded before licking Gale's boot with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, the taste of himself on the leather boots addictive. He continued to lick and slurp all his seed before standing up, opening his mouth to show Gale the amount of cum in his mouth, feeling more lucid as he slowly re-combobulated himself.
Gale groaned seeing Astarion’s mouth so full, and paused before he did something that he'd never done before. With a swift movement of his hand he grabbed Astarion’s chin, and spit in his mouth, the saliva mixing with the cum. “Now swallow.” He commanded. Astarion made a feral sound at the instruction. Feeling an odd mix of shock and arousal, Gale didn’t understand why he enjoyed it so much, but if it made Astarion happy he was more than happy to oblige, especially when he moaned like that. I want to hear him make those noises all the time.
The pale elf swallowed the mess in his mouth, swiping his hand to clean up the residue, grinning happily, “Seems like you have a stew to prepare darling.” Astarion regained his brain as he winked and sauntered off towards the tent, righting his underwear and trousers once more.
Gale quickly resumed cooking his dinner, but the sight of Astarion bucking up against him was practically engraved into his mind and the way the elf cheekily walked off infuriated him. Once again he was left painfully hard, his mind an absolute maze.
“We will cure you Gale.” He heard Astarion say quietly. Whatever negative emotions he had melted away at the words as he looked back at Astarion with a sudden gasp of breath. The elf held his gaze with a serious look.
Gale’s heart fluttered, before he nodded with a smile. “Thank you, Astarion.”