Author's Note: Alrighty I just want everyone to know that this horny posting is, @arczism 's fault. See this amazing piece of art and this amazing piece of art to understand why this fic was born. And you can bet every single pair of soiled panties on the planet that a version of this will be featured in Ubi amor.
Naughty Tags: blowjob, penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, dirty talk, Gale is SO hot, oh my God.
Or, read it on Ao3!
🔞NSFW🔞
You pressed your lips to his skin, cold meeting warmth, and finally understood reverence. Your eyes fell closed and you breathed him in -- musk, vanilla, and heat that permeated your nose and set your core aflame. The gentle gasp that escaped his throat only had you burning hotter as you learned his bumps and valleys by mouth alone.
Soft, hot, twitching -- God above, he was perfect. With an iron grip on his hip, you let your other hand wander up the scattered trail of hair that climbed his torso, moaning when the muscles beneath your fingertips flexed in response.
"By Mystra's mantle," he gasped, fingers curling into your hair when you suddenly nibbled at his hip bone.
"Don't say her name while my mouth is on you," you growled, nipping his skin again. You exhaled into the dip, surprised at your own possessiveness. But the strained groan that stuttered from his lips and the way his hips canted, fingers curling tighter into your hair as they did so, sent a rush of validated confidence through your veins.
Your tongue flicked out and tasted him, and you felt your skin flush, like your body already knew it had found its new addiction. He groaned and you were lost to him, suckling and nibbling your way across his abdomen; eyes closed, half delirious in your need to burn his taste onto your tongue forever. When your fingertips reached the paltry towel - the only thing separating you from the pleasure you ached to give him - his hips stuttered in your hands.
"Hells below," he grunted, his eyes locked on yours in a desperate dance of longing and impatience.
"Much better," you murmured, your lips quirking up. He whimpered - God, what a sound - and you hooked your fingers over the fabric, tugging it free with little hesitation. A guttural moan pierced the air between you; did that come from your throat? Or his? You couldn't decide, already too hazy to care as your lips found his flushed tip. You felt a tug on your hair and your eyes drank in his visage on their way to meet his, parched in a way you'd never known before. When blue locked onto brown, a broken cry left his lips and you exhaled, hot and needy, directly onto his cock. It twitched in response and you could feel the way your mouth salivated at the sight.
"P-Please," he rasped, fingers threading further into your hair in a desperate attempt to keep still.
"What was that?" you muttered, burning blood pounding in your ears. You needed to hear it again.
"Please, gods, by the weave, take me." His skin flushed a pretty pink all the way up as the words left his lips and you hummed in approval.
Echoing his favorite sentiments, you pressed a kiss to his leaking tip and murmured against the pulsing skin, "As you wish, my love." His hips stuttered, but you held him fast, opening your lips around him and taking him into your mouth. Sobbed cries of your name fell from his lips again and again, like a prayer already half answered, and whispers of how good you felt and how wonderful you are followed in quick succession. You keened at his praise and took him further, until you were forced to bring your hand from his hip to assist you.
You breathed through his involuntary movements, relaxing into the taste of warm salt on your tongue as he swiftly approached his release. Seconds later, he tugged you back, and you released him, gazing up at him with confusion in your eyes. He looked glorious - his hair fell in disarray over his face; wavy pieces hanging heavy with sweat at the ends, the apples of his cheeks stained a beautiful pink, a color that traveled down his neck and was creeping across his chest. His chest heaved and sweat beads had gathered in the dips of his torso. The picture of a man undone. You bit your lip, relishing the rush of heat that rushed to your core at the realization that this was your doing.
"I need-" he panted, hand still fisted in your hair. "I-" His brows knitted together; stringing together words was not normally so difficult for him. Finally, he huffed - defeat - and growled, "Come here." You stood without question, eager to let him take you, but you still gasped when he wrenched you to his chest and heaved you up by the undersides of your knees. Your ankles locked behind him in an instant and you yelped as your back hit the cold wall behind you, knocking you breathless. His lips were on yours before you could even register your new position and he groaned, deep and aching, into your mouth. You scrambled to keep up with him, grabbing onto his shoulders like a lifeline as his lips left yours and blazed a wet trail down the column of your neck. You shivered when he bit down, ever so gently, near your collarbone, then huffed a soft laugh in the same spot.
"You," he muttered between peppering kisses against your skin. "you have made a ruin of me, and I have allowed it - no, I have encouraged it, and have enjoyed every moment. And now, I will make a ruin of you." He smiled against your chest and you shivered again, anticipation rolling through you in waves. Your head fell against his shoulder and you took to repaying his favor, claiming his skin with your mouth and tongue just as he had done yours; so focused that you yelped when his fingers found your clit and rubbed in tight, quick circles that had your eyes rolling back. You bucked against his fingers, body searching for more, and Gale - being the ever generous lover he was - provided, dipping a finger into your awaiting hole and pumping into you with a dizzying rhythm.
"G-Gale! Oh hells, Gale!" you cried, no longer in control of the way your body stuttered and tilted, pulsing in time with the rhythm of his ministrations. A second finger spread you wider and you sobbed in gratitude, the extra stretch just enough to send stars exploding behind your eyes. You rocked onto his fingers with wild abandon, and he worked you through your peak, scissoring your hole as the aftershocks took you again and again.
"My love," he choked. "so perfect for me, so lovely; comets weep, for they are dwarfed by you. The cosmos cannot compare, nor do they dare to try." He murmured sweet nothings into the crook of your neck as his thumb circled your still trembling entrance, soothing you for what came next. You whimpered into his hair, nerves frayed, and yet you still needed him. You already missed the way he filled you, and you ground your hips against him, using the wall behind you as leverage. "So eager," he purred. It sounded close enough to praise for you to mewl into his ear and tighten your grip on him. "Very well, my dearest," he murmured, his fingers leaving you to position himself at your entrance. "I will not leave you wanting."
When he sank into you, letting you slide down the wall to mount him properly, you shuddered into each other's mouths - it felt like coming home. He gave you time to adjust to the size of him - thick, but oh, so perfect - before his thumb found your swollen nub and circled it - once; twice - then paused. You wailed at the contact, hips bucking without your permission, and you choked out a sob as he pulsed inside of you. "Gaaale," you whined, your eyes screwed so tightly shut that your head ached. "Please- please!"
"Tell me what you want, my love," he cooed in your ear - a playful taunt from your earlier stunt.
You groaned, too far gone to pay him back in kind. "P-please move. Move, god, please, please, please..." your voice fell off, but Gale seemed satisfied with your answer, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you halfway off his cock before lowering you down again with a hiss. You took him greedily, panting into his ear as he used the wall to his advantage, angling himself to plunge deep every time, and whispering words you no longer understood into the skin at your shoulder. As his pace frenzied, your fingers dove into his damp brown locks and dragged his mouth to yours in a bruising kiss. Your body slid against his, sweat mingling with release as skin slapped against skin - the only sound in the room besides the fervent declarations of love whispered between you.
You felt his muscles pulling taut beneath you and his grip on your backside tightened as he rutted into you. "Hold-" the word was strangled, but the meaning was clear enough. You gripped his shoulders and one of his hands traveled between you, his thumb pressing against your clit so suddenly that you saw white and your body descended into violent shakes, your pleasure tearing through you like a storm. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered Gale coming apart inside of you, his arms locked so tightly around you that you were no longer certain where he ended and you began, panting your name in your ear as hot spurts of his seed coated your walls.
You floated back into awareness slowly, small spasms keeping you walking the edge of reality and ecstasy as Gale lowered you both down onto the soft sheets, you atop him. You hummed against his chest, already pleasantly aching as he softened inside of you. "My sweet love," he mumbled, lips on the damp hair at the crown of your head. "You are wondrous."
A soft giggle fell from your lips and you craned your neck surging up to capture his mouth with yours. "You're not so bad yourself," you teased and he quirked a tired brow at you.
"Not so bad?" His gaze was pointed, but there was enough mirth behind it that you knew he had understood your intent. You giggled again and bumped his nose with your own.
"'Not so bad', in this case, meaning world-endingly, mind-blowingly perfect in every way," you nuzzled his nose and he chuckled, arms encircling you again.
"Well, I suppose that's high enough praise to consider the evening won."
You laughed then, full-bodied and uninhibited, and Gale's eyes softened, watching you like you were the only stars the sky had ever needed. "I should say so."
"Shall we sleep, or shall we bathe, milady?" Gale asked, fingers trailing up and down your spine.
You shivered when he reached your low back. "Sleep. We'll wake and bathe in a couple of hours. I, for one, don't believe I could make it to the terrace from here, let alone the bathroom."
Gale laughed, shaking his head. "I would carry you, my love. I am not so weak after that little endeavor that I could not carry my partner to a well-deserved bath."
You flushed, still unused to someone so confident in lifting you, and tucked your nose into his neck. "Sleep, Gale. I don't want to move from this spot just yet. You are quite comfortable, you know."
His palms made tracks up and down your body and he chuckled lowly. "Very well. I can't say I'm opposed to remaining wrapped up in you a little longer, myself."
~
fin
Tagging, Darlings: @serenaoffaerun @optimisticgrey @bite-me-tonight @whiskeyskin @fanon-and-canon @rafayels-bioluminescent-cumdump @worfs-glorious-hair @senualothbrok @brabblesban @nerissa-dekarios @faerybella219 @micropoe10 @knightofmight01 (As usual, please let me know if you would like to be added to or taken off this list!)
I'm feeling spicy let's have Gale Bottom Week please *attempts the eyebrow wiggle thing and fails with a nat 1 dice roll*
Since you are asking so nicely and I intended to post this during Bottom Gale Week and then somehow...forgot?
Have some Gale smut!
summary: Just a quick call.
author's note: This is Part Three of Relax, my love
content warning:NSFW, MDNI. Phonesex
VP by @alstromeri-a
word count: 1,1k words
AO3 Link
Gale had been unsettled all day.
He could, of course, identify the underlying cause with a fair amount of self-awareness—it was Celeste’s absence. That much was clear. Her presence, so constant, so grounding, had become the rhythm by which his days moved. Without it, something in him faltered. He’d risen early, taught his lectures, reviewed student essays with a practiced mind—but his thoughts had wandered, adrift, returning always to the silence she’d left behind.
Sighing, he closed his laptop with more force than was necessary. The precise, orderly string of words on his screen had blurred into irrelevance. Whatever semblance of focus he had managed to maintain had dissolved into that familiar ache again—the gnawing, persistent awareness that she wasn’t there.
He tucked the device into his satchel, slung it over his shoulder, and descended to the parking deck in the quiet hum of the elevator. The building’s fluorescent lights cast sterile shadows on the concrete, and Gale found the sharpness of them irritating.
As soon as he approached the car, his phone buzzed, a soft chime echoing through the speakers the moment it linked with the vehicle. Celeste.
He barely had time to drop his bag onto the passangers seat before accepting the call. Relief stirred within him, blooming as he opened his mouth.
“My love, I was just—”
“Gale.”
Her voice struck him like a spell. A breathless moan, low and velvet-smooth, cracked through the quiet of the car, followed by the unmistakable sound of her breathing—heavy, desperate, real.
For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
His hand froze on the steering wheel, his heart slamming hard into his ribs as he listened, rapt and unprepared. There was something maddeningly intimate about the way she moaned his name.
“I only have a few minutes,” she breathed, her voice rough with need, raw with want. “And I need to cum so badly. Will you help me? Please?”
The last word fell like silk, saturated with intent.
Gale exhaled sharply, a sound that might have once been composure leaving his body entirely. That tone….Gods, that tone. She knew precisely what it did to him.
He swallowed, an objection rising faintly before dissolving under the weight of her next moan.
“I’m in my car, in the parking lot-“
Her only answer was another, deeper moan, one that seemed to wrap around his spine and take hold of his better judgment. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles pale, breath caught between discipline and surrender. And then he closed his eyes.
“Yes, my love,” he sighed, his pants growing uncomfortably tight. “It will only be a few days until I am with you again.”
“Touch yourself,” she huffed. Gale could hear her shifting. “Toss your jacket over the stirring wheel, come on, Gale, please, I need to hear you….”
Another moan—low, desperate, unguarded—slipped from her throat and unfurled in his ear, potent and irresistible. Gale could see her in his mind’s eye as though summoned there by the Weave itself: her back arched in abandon, lips parted in reverent surrender, eyes half-lidded with that look of unspoken trust and aching desire, the very image of intimacy made flesh.
All sense of decorum fell away like autumn leaves in a gale. He shrugged off his jacket with uncharacteristic urgency, casting it hastily over the steering wheel in a flimsy gesture of modesty. His arousal, already insistently present, had grown near unbearable—his trousers no longer containing the pressure, the need.
His fingers moved with a sort of reverent desperation, freeing himself with a breathless curse. The moment his thumb grazed the slick, aching tip, his head fell back against the seat, breath catching, eyes fluttering shut. His hand wrapped around the length of him, and he began to stroke with a rhythm as swift as the longing in his chest, every movement a silent invocation of her name.
“By the Gods, Celeste… the effect you have on me defies reason,” he breathed, his voice low and thick with longing—each word laced with reverence and barely-contained hunger. The sheer depth of his arousal, unguarded in his tone, drew a soft, helpless whimper from her in response.
“Tell me..” she huffs, breath halting.
“If I were….with you right now….would you allow me….fuck, I miss you…”
Celeste’s breath caught—ragged, uneven, a sharp intake that struck him like a chord plucked at the base of his spine. It was so visceral, so vivid, that for a moment Gale could swear he tasted her on his tongue—salt and sweetness, memory and longing mingled into something maddeningly real.
“I love you…I miss you…..”
His own moan escaped before he could suppress it, low and involuntary, a sound that carried more than arousal—it carried ache, devotion, surrender. He heard it then, unmistakable: the tremor in her breath, the shudder that coursed through her like a ripple over still water, fragile and full of force. And in that moment, he knew—he was with her, utterly, even from a distance.
“What do you miss the most?” he choked. Celeste giggled, half-breathless, half moaning.
“Your tongue…I have been dreaming about….our…oh fuck, Gale!....our last morning…your gorgeous, incredible deep eyes staring at me….while I…I…I…sat on your face and you….with your tongue…Gale…gods…I need your tongue…to feel you…your hand gripping me…massaging my ass…fuck, Gale, I am so close…I….”
“Allow me to hear you in all your glory, my love!” Gale attempted speech—a declaration, a plea, something articulate and worthy of the moment—but all that emerged was a fractured moan, breathless and raw. His body seized in response, a tremor lancing through him with the abruptness of lightning not cast by Weave or storm, but born of something far more intimate—her.
And then she shattered—gloriously, audibly. Her cries, so full of ecstasy, unraveled into laughter, rich with warmth and release. That sound…Celeste's laughter wrapped in afterglow was, to Gale, nothing short of divine.
“Thank you, my love,” she giggled in that one tone, still filled with lust but a deeper, more intimate longing as well. “Do you want more?”
“Yes, please….”
“I want you to grip me, when I get back. Lift me onto any surface you want, my love, anything you want to do to me…. I want to cum on your tongue-“
It was her voice that undid him. Sweet and silken, threaded with laughter and lingering desire. That tender sound, so achingly familiar, so unabashedly hers, resonated through him like a spell long studied and perfectly cast. In that moment, her joy, her vulnerability, the sheer truth of her—laughing and breathless and his—was more than enough.
With a shuddering breath and a groan torn from someplace deep and helpless, Gale surrendered, spilling into his hand, undone by nothing more and nothing less than the sound of the woman he loved.
Summary: Liar’s Night in Waterdeep, sweet hidden secrets are unmasked at the annual masquerade.
CW: Toothrotting fluff, bad puns, Galeisms, Gale infodumping
🎨 by @starlight-pirate
Ao3 Link | Masterlist
When the wind howled like this off the Sea of Swords, a thick fog always rolled in, blanketing Waterdeep in a bone chilly mist. Wet and frigid.
Two things Merelind hated. Two things Waterdeep boasted lots of in addition to its "Splendours" as Gale daily described them. Autumn was colder here, and even though it had been her new home away from Baldur's Gate and the city she had once reigned over in blood as Bhaal's chosen, Merelind Dekarios still was… acclamating.
It was a long walk from his Tower by the shore to the City Council chambers. But tonight there would be no carriages.
Tonight was Liar's Night.
Foggy and damp, the glowing of lanterns and carved pumpkins illumined the streets of the city in eerie flickers.
Merelind clung harder to Gale's arm, shivering. "Much further, my love?" She asked, a little out of breath, more than usual.
She hoped her Wizard didn't notice.
But Gale was far too festive, his step keeping them propelling along the winding streets past other revelers in costumes and masks. "None too far, my rose. We are just now passing the Selûnite Temple."
Merelind noted the scents of incense in the air and the muted songs of prayers and hums from the glowing windows. Good. Not much further.
Her body was aching, and rightly so. Her hand moved to adjust the mask on her face. Her eyes were rimmed extra black, making them a little extra striking, orbs of blue and red in the night sky.
"Your first Liar's Night as a Waterdhavian, Merelind. Aren't you ecstatic?" Gale began to droll as they kept walking into crowds of costumed citizens. "Watch your pockets, my love. Tonight is a night for mischief, tricks, pranks and the like." Arm snugly around hers, he guided his new wife towards the throng of people in the town center, all flowing towards the massive building of the Council Chambers ahead. Its large windows illuminated the square, so bright, even the fog seemed to obey and scatter.
But Merelind's face remained in a pained expression. "Certainly…. festive? Is festive the right word?" She couldn't help the sharp edge to her tone. "Masks and costumes are certainly a lot to behold. But the pumpkins?"
Gale raised a finger. "Ah yes! The pumpkins! An autumn symbol for us, the outer deception of a costume, the inner light of our true identity…"
"A night for tricks?" Merelind's sharp and cold annoyance rivaled the chilling fog.
"Or treats, depending on how well one behaves," Gale's voice lowered, rumbling and velvety, his own black and rose covered mask pressed against her ear as he did.
"Not now, Gale," Merelind huffed. "I'm not in the mood for playing the good girl." She shivered hard until they drew up to the glowing venue. Costumed guests lined the mirror and gold gilted halls and rooms. And Merelind's eyes went wide at the sea of people. "Oh… fuck."
Gale must not have heard her, or he was a bit put out by her flat out denial of his flirtation. He led them inside, heading right for the refreshments. Bowls of punch and mugs of steaming cider covered the table. But the wizard reached for two flutes of champagne. "If you won't allow me to demonstrate with carnal pursuits why this night is festive, at least allow me a toast?"
He held the alcohol out for his wife.
Merelind gave a practiced smile. Forced but she hoped he didn't notice. Instead her hand reached for a mug of cider, lifting it to her nose to sniff. "Allow me to toast with something warmer than champagne after that slog of a walk." The copper mug shined in the candlelight. "To…?" She prompted him.
"To Liars!" He teased, a great big grin on his beared chin.
"Quite the toast from the once Hero of Baldur's Gate, no?" She licked her lips before sipping the hot cider. Gale drank one flute, setting the other back down.
"Is it? Why, given my taste in powerful, deadly brides who smell divine after slaying a thousand enemies, I thought you of all people would know how I do enjoy the darker, more dangerous side of life?" Those brown eyes did not waver from her face, watching how her blood red lips pursed to blow on her hot drink with a hunger Merelind knew.
Shame he'd have to wait.
"You're cute Gale, and I do recall your… propensity for my body once said dangers were eliminated." Merelind's laugh was soft, her head turning to scan the crowd.
Gale's fingers softly pressed under her chin, turning those red and blue eyes back upon him. "Are you alright? Just say the word if you need me." His voice was laced with concern, his warm brown eyes scanning her up and down.
"Hmm? Oh yes. Never better, ha…" she huffed, her eyes flicking around the crowd yet, so many papered faces and voices, it made her uneasy.
"Hmm, not lying are you?" Gale asked, a hint hurt in his voice as if he suspected it was true.
"Lair's night, and you question me?" She frowns slightly. "Not very festive of you."
"Festivities be damned if you're not well, my rose." Gale gave a gentle smile, his black demi-mask framing his lips. "You worry me, and you're mine to worry about, my wife." His black gloved finger reached out to boop her masked nose, the nose of a skull. Gale huffed at the irony of a skull with a nose… andappendage and feature decidedly lacking in the real specimen.
"If you won't taste the champagne, at least let me push my wife around the dance floor a turn or two?" His eyes gleamed, expectant and eager to show her how wonderful this night was. "Your literal Rose Incarnate desires it." He bowed, his purple suit, covered in splotches of red and pink rose blossoms did catch the eye and accept his shape. Their pet names for one another made into his own disguise for the night.
Merelind shook her head, smiling. Even in her state, she couldn't deny him a dance. She held her crimson skirts, her skull mask sticking to her sweating face, but she smiled all the more. "A dance with Death is what you desire? Then I shall oblidge." Her small hand slipped into his, her mismatched eyes lost in the way his face captivated her, even half covered in his disguise. She would know him anywhere.
Gale's smile broadened as he led her to the dance floor, ever the gentleman. A lilting melody, if a bit haunting, crescendoed as he led her to the heart of the mass of dancers. Her body was ever bit lithe and graceful, characteristic of her elven blood. But in his arms, Gale could swear Merelind moved as an extension of his own body.
The same as it was when they made love.
She read every movement of his hands, of his feet on the dance floor, the smallest pressure of his hand at her waist. It was so easy for her to flow around him, like liquid gold, the same shade of her hair that cascaded down her back.
Gale couldn't help the enamored sigh from his lips as he beheld her in his arms. Compared to every other costumed figure in the room, even masked she turned heads. Even disguised as Red Death walking abroad, she was every inch a Queen.
He pressed a kiss to her neck as the moves of the dance dictated he pull her close. "My love, you are radiant," he praised. "What lucky a man am I that I should forgo the shadows of temples and orders of hollow goddesses to call you mine. My wife."
Merelind bristled at the mere vague mention of Mystra, but nevertheless, she smiled back at him.
"Certainly the call of the divine is nothing compared to the call of your wife from our bed, hmm?" She laughed, her body aching and protesting. Eager to return to said bed.
A deep rumble of a laugh vibrated her ear, the soft scruff of his beard scoring her sensitive shell. "Oh I'm sure your designs on getting me into bed are purely innocent, eh, wife?" He crooned, hand sliding down the red swaths of her skirt to squeeze her ass.
Her face fell, her lips pressing as she turned her head. "You misunderstand my intentions," she murmured, even as he took her hand to spin her under his arm. Mid-turn, Merelind caught the perplexed frown on his face.
"Have I?" Gale asked, confused and concerned. "Since when have I ever failed to follow the careful trail of your wiles to our…" he blushed and leaned in to whisper, "marital activities."
"Hells Gale, no," she pulled back, blushing harder even as they kept swaying and moving across the dance floor. "It's not that…. I'm tired." She swallowed the ball of nerves that threatened to burst from her throat. "I have reason to be."
"Gods, are you ill?" Gale frowned deeper. "Did you get into the cursed tomes I explicitly told you not to in my library? Is it Tara? Did she say something? My mother? Did she comment on…?"
Merelind lifted her hand and pressed her fingers firmly on his flapping lips.
"No. It has nothing to do with any of that and everything to do with you… me… us."
Gale frowned in utter confusion even as her fingers covered his lips. He tried to speak but Merelind only pressed to them harder.
"Ah ah, Gale," she smirked. "My words are heavy with meaning… they're still… incubating."
The perplexed scowl didn't move. Still nothing. Those brown eyes shifted even as he closed a hand around her wrist to remove her silencing touch. His mind, so sharp in matters of magic still did not perceive her meaning.
"Before I give you a pregnant pause, I'll tell you why I'm tired… eager to rest, less of my spritely self."
His eyes went wide, head moving as he eyed her up at down. "Is this a trick? It is Liar's Night. A good night for pranks." He muttered, a hint of excitement. "Don't tease me, Merelind," Gale hummed, looking down, a sad turn to his masked mouth as his hands came to rest on her hips.
"Not a trick, a…treat."
Gale's brown eyes warmed even brighter. "Oh… Oh, Merelind…" her meaning now had his belief. Those hands that could spark fire and lightning rested on her front. "Oh, my rose, I confess I was… expecting… something quite different, thought I cannot fathom what."
"Tch, don't use such crude puns, Gale." She teased, she smiled. "This dance for two is now a dance for three," she laughed softly, pushing her mask up off her face so he could see her revealed elation. "I hope you don't mind if she cuts in."
"She?" Gale pushed up his mask as well so he could smile as hard and wide as he wanted without impediment. "Already you think we are having a baby girl? A little half-elf daughter?"
Merelind shrugged, eyes down where his hand pressed to her front, belly still flat but sure to grow round now. "A mother's intuition…" she mused. "I can only think of the joy she will bring." Red and blue eyes drifted up to his face, lost in the warmth of his brown ones, watching them well with tears. "A creation of joy."
"An accurate observation," he commented in reply. "Our creation of joy, or," he lifted his finger yet again, his smile all trembling with happiness, "in your Elvish mother tongue of which I have been hard at study… Nhavae."
"Nhavae," Merelind repeated pulling herself into his embrace. "I think you should take Nhavae and I home. It's been a long night of lanterns, and tricks, and treats."
Gale laughed, scooping her up, formal dress and all, in his arms as he carried her from the party back into the lanternlight and dark of night. "Then allow me to escort you both back home to the warm tower that awaits."
Pumpkins grinned, lanterns flared in the foggy dark, but there was no one warmer or bright that night than the Wizard of Waterdeep and his wife.
(takes place mostly after the events of the game with some flashbacks sprinkled throughout)
rating: mature
CW: (f) masturbation and (separately) (m) masturbation, fantasizing about one another and pining and yearning and aching for each other while being in the same house (I mean seriously guys)
in summary: After the fall of the brain, and her home having been destroyed in the chaos, Gale offers Elara sanctuary with him back in Waterdeep. She struggles to deal with the feelings she has been harboring for him and the guilt that she’d been the one to prevent either of them from taking the relationship any further a few months prior. Yearning and pining ensues
a/n: rewrite of this gale fic because I lost inspiration and motivation for it a while back but I miss writing about my sweet wizard man and also I want to write romantic gale smut !!!! I crave it I need it !!!!
It was easily one of the most overlooked colors, one so common you almost forget it entirely— one we so easily take for granted.
Yet, some of the most lovely things in life come in the warmest shades of brown.
A cup of hot tea on a chilly day while the rain pours and patters against the windows. The leather bindings of her favorite book that brought her boundless comfort more times than she could count on either hand, worn from the years of reading it and tucking it into her bag so that it was always at her side. The rough bark of the great oak tree near the tower in Waterdeep.
She spends many mornings sitting on the roots of that tree, the large and weathered trunk shielding her from the harsh rays of the rising morning sun, either reading a book she nabbed from the library in his office or scribbling nonsense in her notebook.
Occasionally her newly befriended tressym companion, Tara, joins her, sitting beside her and allowing the sun to warm just the back half of her, basking her fur and wings in a beautiful golden glow. There are brown spots on her fur. She’s lovely.
The loveliest of things, though, were the things she tried with everything within her not to think about— like Gale Dekarios’ long chestnut brown hair, or the silver streaks that adorned the dark waves near the top of his head like it were a crown atop a prince’s, and the way he would tie it back into a messy half updo that perfectly accentuated his face and neck. The small pieces of hair that would fall into his eyes that she so desperately wanted to brush away. His perfectly groomed facial hair that had matching gray streaks and how he’d run his hands through the bristles on his cheeks or rake his fingers through his hair when he was deep in thought.
And his eyes— gods, his damned eyes. So warm and kind and full of a genuine sweetness that she’d never seen in another person’s eyes before. Eyes that seemed to read her so well as if she were a book he had read a dozen or more times, especially when she least wanted her pages to be turned. Eyes that when in the right lighting, appeared golden, like the richest honey in all of Faerun. Eyes that really seemed to see her. Many had looked at her before— few had ever really seen her.
No, she certainly didn’t think about it. Not often, really.
Only when his hands would brush against hers as he took the scroll from her hands that he kindly asked her to fetch for him. Or when he would utter a groggy but kindhearted good morning to her as he ambled into the kitchen first thing in the morning, the first light of dawn breaking through the parted dark velvet curtains that drape over the large windows, the golden streams beaming on him in just the right way to make him appear otherworldly. Or when she would fall asleep on the chaise in the study and wake to find a blanket draped over her body.
Not often. Not really.
One would assume it would become easier after a while; to be in his presence and not ache at every smile, or every laugh, or every kind gesture he ever made. But it wasn’t a simple ache that could be balmed by rest and a special tea or a healing potion— it was consuming. It flooded her veins and extended to every extremity of her aching body.
Only made worse by the fact that the blame for her own misery fell solely upon her own shoulders.
The thought of that night made her shudder— what a fool she’d been and continues to be.
The others always teased her, telling her that the obvious pining was painful to witness to which she would shake her head and refuse to admit that every part of her physically hurt to see him struggle, or how badly she wanted to hold him until the stars burned out of the sky and shield him from all that threatened him.
Selfishly, the original reason she’d given herself to justify ignoring her feelings was the orb— it was safer for everyone that way, at the time.
Then when Elminster stabilized it she scrambled to find a new excuse, settling for the fact that he had been considering detonating the orb, as Mystra intended.
It was to save herself from the heartache of loving someone who in a matter of days would be reduced to mere stardust and wasted potential due to a spiteful god whom she had once worshiped herself.
Then when she had finally successfully talked him off of the proverbial edge, she was at a loss. What was truly stopping her from loving him as she knew she would whether she expressed it to him or not?
She turned him down the night prior, but so much transpired in such a short time that the opportunity to rectify it never came to pass.
And now, here she remained, reaping the bitter consequences of her own lack of communication.
She watched Gale read a letter that Shadowheart sent for them as he sat at his large mahogany desk, his glasses balancing just at the end of his nose and his brows furrowed as he read. His expression didn’t change or seem anything other than relaxed as he read, so she took that as a good sign. She relaxed slightly into the plush cushions of the chaise, a weight she didn’t realize she’d been bearing lifting off of her shoulders.
She lounged on her favorite spot in his office where she would spend hours reading and researching with him, or where she would sit as she intently listened to him bestow her with random tidbits of knowledge that he found riveting, his cadence as he spoke about it making her feel just as excited by it as he was.
“I wonder how many more times any one of them will promise to visit before they actually do,” she jokes, breaking the comfortable silence.
Gale huffs air from his nose, never looking up at her from the assortment of scrolls, parchment, and tomes scattered across the surface of his desk. “Knowing them, they have all got their hands quite full in their own lives. Especially Shadowheart. I imagine keeping Astarion in check is keeping her on her toes.”
She chuckles lightly and sighs, leaning her cheek against the back of the chaise. “I imagine you’re probably right.”
Another comfortable silence fills the room, as it often did while Gale busied himself with whatever studies he found pressing enough to indulge in, these days mostly consisting of vampirism and potential cures or anything to aid with the symptoms, at her request as Astarion outright refused to ask Gale himself.
She typically assisted with this, finding her own books and tomes to sift through for any pertinent information that could assist in any way, but today her mind was anywhere but in the present. Each page she had tried to read looked as though they’d been written in unintelligible scrawl.
She quietly hops off of the lounger and pads over to the large open window on the other side of the room, perching herself on the windowsill and gazing at the vast expanse of the ocean below, the sun shimmering on it in hues of orange and pink as it began to set over the horizon.
The breeze is pleasant and the faint salty scent of the ocean drifts toward her with the wind and fills her senses. Her eyes shut as she indulges in it for a few moments, feeling a kind of serenity that she hadn’t felt in a while.
When she finally opens her eyes, she finds Gale has turned in his seat and is watching her with a peaceful grin on his face. She holds his gaze for a moment before she has to tear herself away as she squirms under his intense gaze.
“Would you care to accompany me for a stroll? It’s a beautiful evening,” he asks, leaning against the back of the chair, his chin tilted up as he watched her.
Gods, give me strength, she thinks to herself. How could she ever think living in the same tower as this man was a wise decision?
“It is,” she nearly chokes out, then clears the lump from her throat. “Almost reminds me of—”
“That evening in the Shadow Cursed Lands. When I showed you Waterdeep. This very room, to be exact.” He reminisces, his tone neither bitter, nor pleasant. She hadn’t expected him to bring it up, and the shock of it nearly caused her to topple over the sill and fall out of the open window.
Great.
Gale jolts in his seat, preparing to rescue her from her own potential idiotic demise, before she quickly hops down and plants her feet firmly on the ground and shoots him a reassuring glance.
“I’m alright,” she holds her hands in front of her, her breathing uneven as she recovers.
“I don’t think my heart can handle being around you, at times,” he jokes. His eyes widen and his face pales, and he clears his throat nervously before he continues. “I didn’t mean it that way, it’s just— that’s the second— no, third— time you’ve nearly fallen out of that window. I am beginning to consider casting an arcane lock on the damned thing.”
I don’t think my heart can handle being around you.
Her stomach flips and somersaults as she replays it in her head a million times over within a second, despite him quickly correcting himself. Little did he know, she felt very much the same way around him, but likely for an entirely different reason.
“Apologies,” she whispers, her eyes dropping to the floor sheepishly. “I’ve never been exactly graceful.”
He sighs, silently chuckling and shaking his head. “So I’ve gathered. Though, you could always hold your own in battle, to your own credit.”
He stands and joins her in front of the window, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back slightly as he mimics what she’d done just moments prior, minus the potential self-defenestration.
A stronger breeze passes, blowing back his chestnut waves and his lavish looking robes with it. His slightly aged and weathered skin bathed in the peachy hues from the sunset made him appear as if he’d been painted rather than real and standing just beside her. She shudders.
“What do you say?” He asks, turning to her once again, his hands clasped behind his back.
She swallows hard. The thought of a stroll in the warm twilight with him while she was in this state could potentially prove to be disastrous. She fiddles with the bottom hem of her blouse as it flowed loosely down her frame, her gaze fixed on a random point far off into the horizon.
“I—I’m actually not feeling very well… I believe I may need to lie down for a bit. But perhaps… another time?” She stammers, her voice meek and unconvincing. At least to herself.
Stupid, stupid.
Gale nods, but is unable to entirely mask his disappointment, a slight frown gracing his features that would almost be impossible to notice if it weren’t for his always expressive eyes. Her heart nearly shatters at the way his dark irises resembled a puppy who’d just been denied a treat. Was it too late to take it back?
“Are you well? Is there anything I can do for you?” He takes a step closer, concern replacing the disappointment in his eyes as his brows softened and his hand raised as if he was going to reach for her, before quickly lowering it and dropping it to his side.
Her body stiffens and her back straightens, her heart pounding. How did she get to this point— where something as simple as him extending base level kindness to her was enough to affect her this greatly? It was torture— and the more time she spent with him, the more she ached to bridge the seemingly vast gap between them. To be close to him in every way, to tangle herself in him and pray the knots never loosen.
But she had already accepted that she’d ruined her chances many months ago, and that it would be best to try to move forward until the feeling eventually fades as if it had never been present to begin with. That, for now, all she could do was endure.
“I’m fine, really. I think I just… perhaps I just need a nice relaxing bath, some time to myself.” She offers, throwing it out meaninglessly then realizing that a hot bath sounded absolutely divine.
An unreadable expression flashes across his face for a flicker of an instant before he recomposes, then smooths the front of his coat down with his hands and clears his throat. He offers her his usual warm grin, and nods.
“By all means. Perhaps I’ll start dinner while you do. It should be done by the time you’ve finished.”
She can’t hold back the thankful smile that teases the corners of her mouth.
She nods. “That sounds good. Thank you.”
Without exchanging another word, they disperse, him retreating downstairs and her essentially running to her room to grab her towels and toiletries.
She grabs two towels, one for her body and one for her hair, then the soap that she’d gotten the last time she went to the market to pick up a few of her personal essentials. The shopkeeper let her know that it was a special soap, made particularly with ingredients that had calming effects on the user.
How appropriate.
She pads out of her room, closing the door behind her and making her way to the large washroom at the far end of the hallway.
Gale had a way of leaving his mark on every space he inhabited, and this one was no exception.
The room was cozy, draped in various deep violet curtains and several houseplants that looked as if they’d been cared for by the most skilled of botanists, not a single dead leaf or weak stem.
There were robes neatly hung on the wall closest to the large clawfoot tub on one end of the room— his robes. She mindlessly runs her hand across the soft fabric of one of them, noticing a small tear in the collar and a few scuffs and singed marks throughout it. She imagines what mischief he’d gotten himself into while wearing it, and whether she had been present for it. A smile creeps across her face at the thought.
She tears herself away from her thoughts and his clothes (that still smelled strongly of him), and approaches the tub, turning the ornate handle for the hot water and watching it run, slowly filling the marble basin. She perches herself on the edge of the tub, staring blankly into the rippling water.
She thinks of how many times Gale had probably done the exact same thing as she was doing right now— how he would sink himself into the water and finally rest his weary and aching bones, and wash away the stresses of the day even if it were only for the small duration of him being enveloped in the comforts of a warm bath. She wonders if he ever—
No. Another thing she absolutely could not think about. A thought to avoid at all costs if she intended on ever being able to look him in the eye again. It was hard enough already as it was.
The tub finally fills just as she shakes her head to clear herself of the beginnings of what were certainly very perverse and not very platonic thoughts, thankfully allowing her to now focus on something else. She quickly disrobes, folding her clothes neatly and setting them aside on the chair in the corner of the room— a habit she’d picked up from watching him do it and knowing that neatness was his preference in most things.
The room, apart from the heat radiating off of the water in the tub, is chilly against her flushed skin, instantly raising gooseflesh all over her as she peels away the thin layers of clothing she’d been wearing. The tile feels icy against the bare soles of her feet as she returns to the tub, reaching over and grabbing the soap off of the shelf she’d placed it on earlier as she begins to submerge herself.
The second her body dipped below the surface and the warm water completely enveloped her, she felt all tension in her body release like it had never been there to begin with. She hadn’t even used the soap yet and she felt the calming effects of it from the smell alone as she dunked it underwater. Lavender and a hint of citrus.
Sometimes she caught a whiff of lavender when the window in the kitchen was open and the breeze would jostle the lavender plant that sat on the sill. She remembered Gale telling her that he loved the smell of fresh lavender. Not that that was the reason she bought the soap. Not at all. Not really.
Her body sinks lower and lower into the bath until only her nose and everything above it remains above the waterline, her slow breaths causing ripples in the water.
Her mind wanders back to him— picturing him with his hair down, loose and wet tresses falling over his face, tan skin glistening. The long column of his neck stretched, Adam’s apple bobbing with his head thrown back as he—
No, no.
Gods. What is wrong with me?
She clenches her legs together, in hopes to subvert the throbbing between her legs. She leans her head back against the edge of the tub, inhaling a shuddering breath.
Maybe this was what she needed— just a minute of bliss. Her own personal bliss.
Against her better judgment, her hand slowly travels down her body, but in her mind it was his; the way his roughened hands would feel as they trailed the length of her torso. The way his fingers would feel as they chased her pleasure, coaxing it out of her the way one would coax an animal out of the shadows.
Was he as giving of a lover as she pictured? Was he selfish? Did it even matter?
Her breath catches in her throat as her fingers expertly circle the swollen bud where most of her pleasure resides, now realizing how badly she’d needed this. Release. Guilt aside.
Unaware and completely lost in her fantasies, soft moans and cries fell from her lips, some sounding suspiciously close to his name. She couldn’t care less in this moment, she was already so close—
“Oh, hells!”
The door had burst open, Gale standing slack jawed in the doorway for a second that felt like several before quickly shielding his eyes.
She gasps loudly, reflexively standing from the tub, before realizing that was worse than just staying where she was, one hand moving to cover her mouth in shock and the other arm shielding her chest to maintain whatever shred of modesty or dignity she had left.
“I— I thought— your bedroom door was closed, so I assumed you were— forgive me! I just— um—” He clamors over himself trying to make any sort of sense at all, never moving his hand an inch out of the way of his eyes, closing them tightly for good measure. “D-Dinner is finished and on the table waiting for you when you’re ready. Take your time.”
He darts out of the room, slamming the door behind him and the sound of hurried footsteps down the hall preceding.
What in the hells just happened?!
Her heart pounds anxiously in her chest as if it were a wardrum and she’s almost certain that she might actually die of embarrassment. That is if she doesn’t resort to drowning herself in the leftover bathwater to avoid going downstairs and facing him, first.
That seemed like the safest option. Sinking back down into the water and staying there until she rotted away.
She remained in the water for what felt like both an eternity and not nearly long enough until the water had officially turned cold, sincerely debating dunking her head under and not letting herself up for air to spare herself the misery of facing Gale after—
Oh, gods, how much did he hear? How much did he see?
She groans loudly, covering her flushed and surely beet red face with both hands. Her shriveled fingers and hands serve as a sign to dry off, much to her dismay.
Fine. The world’s most awkward dinner ever, it is.
She quickly stands again and wraps one of the towels around her body, then the other around her shoulders for extra coverage before peeking her head out of the door, checking if the coast was clear before dashing down the hallway and into the safety of her bedroom.
Once inside, she shuts the door with a loud click, then leans against the wood and sighs.
Within one singular day, within at least an hour of each other, she’d rejected his very kind offer of a nice walk under the sunset, and he’d walked in on her in what could only be the worst situation for him to walk in on, and he’d likely seen her entire naked body.
They had experienced their fair share of awkward exchanges in all of their time knowing each other, but nothing quite as catastrophic as this. What could she even say? Should she pretend it never happened? Should she apologize?
Her back slides down the wooden door until she lands on the floor with a loud thud, her head dejectedly falling against her knees as she pulls them to her chest.
Accidents happen, and he just so happened to accidentally manage to walk into the washroom at the exact moment her fingers were inside herself and she’d let his name slip from her lips which he may or may not have heard. Things happen. It’s fine.
She recalls him saying that her bedroom door was shut and that was why he assumed it was safe for him to come in. She’s not sure why him noticing something like that made her stomach twist and do flips as if she were tumbling very suddenly down a hill, but it did all the same. She wonders what other things he notices about her, if anything else at all. The thought makes her throat run dry.
With a huff, she stands. She paces around the room for another few or ten minutes before her stomach begins to rumble. Shit.
She pulls on an oversized blouse that fell well past the top of her thighs as well as a comfortable pair of pants, feeling the need to cover as much of herself as possible to maybe cancel out the fact that he’d seen everything only moments ago. It didn’t work, of course, but it was worth a try.
Realizing that he was probably sitting at the table and waiting for her to join him before he began eating, as he always did, she finally forces herself to face the inevitable.
Perhaps he hadn’t seen anything.
Hopefully.
She peeks around the corner and sees him exactly where she expected him to be— the same seat he always sat in for any meals, opposite the chair she always occupied, staring blankly down at his plate, massaging his temples with his fingertips. He looks equally as perturbed by their encounter as she does, and she can’t tell if that is a comfort to her or if it made her want to run while she had the chance.
She catches a flash of auburn and gray fur as Tara flies in from an open window and perches herself on the table beside Gale. He doesn’t acknowledge her physically, but utters a quiet ‘hello, Tara’ that sounds more like a groan.
“Mr. Dekarios, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” She chirps, pawing at his bicep with concern. “Where is my favorite reading companion? Have you finally scared her off?”
Gale swats her paw off of his arm and shoots her a look of annoyance. “Not now, Tara.”
“Did something happen between you two? About time, I say. I do rather like having her around, you know.” The feathered feline continues, pacing in front of Gale and nearly stepping right in the middle of his plate before he scoots it away.
“I fear she may run for the hills like a bat out of a crypt after today,” He groans. “I’ve made a complete ass of myself. It seems to be my specialty these days.”
“Mr. Dekarios, I may just be a simple tressym but I have it on good authority she won’t go anywhere.” Tara says, her tone meaningful and full of insinuation as she pokes and prods Gale’s arm once again.
He looks at his companion with soft eyes full of despair, his entire body seeming to sag in his seat in contrast to his usually perfect and poised posture. “I hope you’re right.”
Silence fills the room as Tara comfortingly bumps her head against Gale’s shoulder, eliciting a sweet smile from him that makes her insides feel fuzzy. She waits a few moments more before exiting the stairway so as to not appear suspicious or that she’d been eavesdropping. Her steps are extra quiet as she carefully tiptoes into the dining room. Tara notices her first and greets her warmly.
“Elara! There you are! How are you, my friend?” Tara calls to her, strutting across the large wooden surface of the dinner table to her side, sitting right next to her plate.
She glances at Gale for a brief moment, his eyes boring into her as if he were anticipating something terrible to come from her mouth. She offers him a shy smile, then turns her attention back to Tara.
“I’m well, thank you. I missed you this morning, Tara. Find any juicy pigeons to snack on?” She jokes, patting her head gently. Tara purrs and bumps her head against Elara’s palm, almost appearing to smile at the affectionate gesture. Gale’s eyes darted back and forth between his two companions rapidly, an unreadable expression on his face.
She tilts her head at him in a silent inquiry, to which he simply waves his hand and invites her to sit.
“Oh, yes, of course. You’ll have to come with me some day.” She offers, and Elara chuckles. As silly as it was, she knew how sweet it was for Tara to invite her to join her for a hunt, regardless of whether or not she ever actually would.
“I’d love to.”
The chair legs squeal as she pulls it out from under the table and sits, eyeing her plate and finding that somehow her food was still steaming hot as if it were fresh, while Gale’s appeared to have gone cold and stale.
“I warmed it for you.” He says, answering her question before she even had the chance to ask. She smiles a grateful smile before taking a bite, not realizing just how hungry she’d been until the very second the food landed on her taste buds.
They eat mostly in silence, aside from the sound of Gale’s fork scraping against the plate as he pushes his food around. She wants to ask why he didn’t bother to heat his own plate as well, but doesn’t want to pry. Perhaps he just wasn’t that hungry.
The echoes of something she overheard Gale say in response to Tara’s teasing linger in her mind, reverberating off of the walls of her skull as if he’d shouted them into the mouth of a cave.
I hope you’re right.
He hoped she’d stay. He wants her to stay.
The sound of Tara taking flight startles her from her thoughts, catching a glimpse of the tail end of her as she flies toward the staircase, likely heading to her favorite spot in Gale’s office on a blanket right in front of the fireplace. The departure of what acted as the buffer for the awkward tension between the two of them made it impossible to ignore the proverbial owlbear in the room.
“I should have—”
“I’m sorry you saw—”
They stare at each other for a moment, then both chuckle.
“You first.” She says quietly, her smile dying as she braces herself.
Gale’s voice cracks nervously, and he clears his throat before trying again. “I apologize again— for earlier. I should have knocked.”
She waves him off, dropping her gaze back down to her plate as she pokes and prods at the vegetables that remained. “Things happen.”
He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I just fear that I’ve made you uncomfortable more than once today.”
Now her gaze is locked right on him, confusion coating her features. When he notices, he sighs.
“When I asked you if you wanted to go for a stroll. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Oh.
Gods, why is he so damn considerate?
“No, no,” she says, her voice softening and her eyes matching it. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”
It’s his turn to be confused now, his eyebrows knitted together and mouth pressed into a line. “Why did you say no, then?”
What answer could she give him that wasn’t entirely incriminating? ‘I said no because I’m hopelessly, idiotically in love with you and you make me nervous’? Not a chance.
“I… I’m just feeling a bit off today. It’s nothing, I just— I would rather not burden you with my issues.”
He eyes her and suddenly it’s like she’s completely naked under his gaze once again, only she nearly feels even more exposed now than she did when she was actually naked. He can tell there’s more to it, but he doesn’t push. He never pushes.
“Well, do know that I’m always here if you need to talk. If there’s something burdening you, I don’t mind helping you carry the load.”
Only there isn’t anything he can do to help— hells, even this conversation is doing the very opposite of helping.
“Thank you, Gale. Really.” She smiles sheepishly. “I’m sorry you— you know.”
He waves his hand in front of him as he goes to take a long gulp of his wine. He barely finishes swallowing before he speaks again. “You’ve no need to apologize.”
Silence fills the room again. Lighter, this time, at least, but not lacking most of the tension it held before. There were things unsaid on both ends, both too scared to break the peace. So silent it remained.
She clears her throat after a while and after she’d finished her dinner. “Thank you, for dinner. Delicious, as always.”
“My pleasure,” He breathes, pushing his chair back and standing with his plate in hand. “I apologize, but I may turn in early tonight. Don’t worry about your dishes, I will take care of them in the morning.”
She watches him as he scrapes his plate into the waste bin and then places it in the sink basin, rubbing his hands together before turning to head for the stairs. He breezes past her and she catches a whiff of that familiar scent she’d caught from the robes hanging in the bathroom— sandalwood, bergamot, and a hint of old parchment. Something she would try not to think about if she weren’t reminded of it everyday that she spent surrounded by him, still feeling as though he were in the room with her even when he was away.
Just before his foot lands on the first stair, she turns and calls to him. He pauses, turning his entire body at the sound of her voice.
“Goodnight, Gale.”
He beams at her, his smile reaching his deep brown eyes that she could see the twinkle in even from across the room. She swears she would be able to see it from miles away.
It lingered throughout the halls and wafted out from the washroom for hours after her bath, and he found himself stopping just outside the doorway without realizing it, as if some invisible force was drawing him to it. As if that smell were a siren’s call, and he was a fisherman lost at sea being lured right into her claws. He smelled it on her when she came downstairs, her long azure tinted waves still damp and falling in her face, her skin still flushed from the warmth of the water.
Selfishly, he could not get the image of her out of his head— the elegant curves of her body and the way it glistened as the hazy light of dusk paired with candlelight cast an ethereal glow that almost made her seem like nothing more than a conjured illusion. Though, he was sure no wizard would ever be able to conjure something as meticulously crafted as her, something that exquisite couldn’t have even been sculpted by the gods.
The muffled sound of her voice from the other side of the door replayed in his mind as well; he hadn’t heard much, but what he did hear almost sounded like—
Impossible.
It felt wrong and he felt the crushing weight of guilt on his shoulders for violating her privacy tenfold, and yet, his brain could not seem to let him forget for even a fraction of a second. He was incredibly thankful he was able to make it downstairs and hide his arousal under the table before she saw him again and was truly put off by him once and for all. He cursed himself internally for being unable to contain himself— one can’t always be a gentleman, it seems.
It was purely a miracle that he managed to contain himself as he walked past her to finally retire to his bedroom after what felt like the most mentally exhausting day. It was a miracle every day that he managed to contain himself around her, really.
Especially on days that she wore dresses— he adored dresses on her. He pictured taking her for a proper evening out in Waterdeep. Greeting her at the door with flowers, walking hand in hand and buying her dinner, showing her all of his favorite places in the city he loved most in the world, then kissing her goodnight on the stoop and smiling like a giddy schoolboy the entire rest of the night after they departed.
He’d been enraptured by her from the first moment he laid eyes on her, that fateful day on that beach amongst the wreckage and chaos. Her face being the first he saw as he emerged from that portal felt all too fitting, as hers was the only face he had been able to think of or dream of for months now.
Even after she turned him down in the Shadow Cursed Lands, his affinity for her did not subside. If anything, it burned brighter and brighter in the weeks that followed as she showed more care for him than another person aside from his mother and his tressym had done for him in what felt like a lifetime. As she did everything in her power to save her friends one by one, as well as the rest of the world.
After it was all said and done and he’d seen that look in her eyes after the brain and the crown fell into the Chionthar, and all of her newly acquired friends had departed while she remained— he knew he could not allow her to think she had nowhere or no one in the world to turn to.
While you’d think having the object of your desires right within your own home at all times would make things easier— it did not. It only further complicated an already somewhat complicated situation.
He valued his friendship with her greatly, and feared that he would jeopardize it if he attempted anything romantic— but something was telling him he needed to try. To be patient and if nothing ever came of it, he would give her a safe place to lay her head at night.
She was worth trying for. She was worth everything.
Now, he’s tormented by her being so close and yet not close enough to touch. To occupy the same home as her, but never the same space was downright agonizing.
She had become the bane of his very existence, only because every day she made it even harder to resist her.
For example, the way she interacted with Tara— whom, mind you, generally disliked most other humans or humanoid creatures aside from himself and his mother— the way Tara greeted her with such ardor, not too different from the way she would greet him. The way she not only allowed her to pet her head, but even purred as she did so. Tara is many things, but easily swayed by people is not one of them. And yet, she welcomes her into their home as if she’d always been there. As if she’d been simply waiting for her to come home all this time.
It had begun to feel that way for Gale as well— his heart ached at the thought of her finding her own place and leaving. While he respected her decisions no matter what they may be, he could not deny that he’d miss her presence in this house much more.
He felt himself going mad. Absolutely and truly around the bend crazy over her.
He certainly wasn’t proud of what he’d done the second he made it into his bedchamber for the night.
To make matters worse, it wasn’t even the first time he’d done such a thing.
The pained straining of his erection against his clothing was making his entire body ache along with it, as if it were punishing him for neglecting it for as long as he had. The second he released it from the confines of his pants and underclothes, a bead of precum leaked and he groaned.
Gods, this is madness.
Perhaps maybe if he did this, he could get it out of his system and forget about it all in the morning. Yes, he thought, that makes perfectly logical and reasonable sense.
He clumsily strips his day clothes off apart from his underwear, uncharacteristically discarding it into a heap beside his bed before jumping into the expanse of the large mattress in the center of the room and making himself comfortable.
He looks down at his own pathetically swollen and throbbing cock, and he almost wishes he could call her into his room and show her the effect she has on him.
He pictures her long dazzling blue tresses fanned out across the pillows at the head of the bed, the way her tanned complexion would be complimented so beautifully by the violet silk sheets beneath her, her legs spread wide for him, like an offering. The way he’d devour her and drink her in as if she were the richest wine or the sweetest peach in all of Faerun. The way his name would sound cried from her lips in pure ecstasy.
The thought alone was enough to bring him closer to the edge— hells, he was sure he’d been on the brink of orgasm for longer than he would like to admit. He was almost certain the second he began to pump himself into his fist that he’d be done for.
He started slowly, hoping to savor it for at least a few minutes and give himself more time to indulge in his fantasies. His chest heaved and his cheeks flushed with desire. He had to bite down onto his fingers to try to keep himself quiet on the off chance that she would overhear him.
Despite his efforts, he grunted softly as his pace quickened, now pumping himself with a steady rhythm that felt right— that if he closed his eyes, he could picture her on top of him, riding him like her life depended on it.
That didn’t last long, as within a minute he was spilling onto his own chest and coming completely undone, chanting her name in breathy whispers over and over as if it were a prayer.
He grips himself as he rides out the aftershocks until the sensation was entirely too much and he had to let go, his entire body going limp and exhaustion finally presenting itself to him and each one of the muscles he’d just expended in that process. He looks down wearily at the mess he’d made of himself, and throws his head back into the pillows.
He wonders if her pillows smell of lavender. He imagines that they do.
Disclaimer: @shadowwheartt and I got far too invested in our playthrough/characters and we both think we’re funny so here’s the product of that. More to come?
Vaylin is a drow oath-broken paladin. We have headcannoned that Amren a half-drow rogue, is her younger half-sister. Both women are bhaalspawn in our little world with thier shared parent being Bhaal himself
Gale narrowed his eyes as he watched Amren laugh at something Astarion had said. The vampire spawn was sitting far too close to her for Gale’s comfort, his arm slung around the back of her seat as he leant in to whisper something in her ear. Amren’s laugh rings out across the camp and her hand slaps down on Astarion’s knee as she unconsciously leans against his side while she tries to catch her breath. He takes a deep swig from his goblet of wine, a frown marring his brow, before he pushes himself off the fallen log he’d been sitting on and skulking away in the opposite direction. His path takes him across the camp and straight past Shadowheart’s tent, where the cleric and her ever-present companion, Vaylin, both sit outside sharing a bottle of wine.
“Hey, Sparklefingers, why the long face? Did someone dogear a page in one of your precious books again?” Vaylin asks, her tone light yet incredibly snarky as he tries to walk past them.
“You know, I’ve never quite understood how you and Amren can share so many features and characteristics as sisters, and yet your words always cut like the sting from a death viper while she comes across as docile as a newborn tressym,” Gale bristles at her words and gives Vaylin a levelled glare. Vaylin snorts as she takes a sip from the bottle, her laugh turning into a cough as the liquid goes down the wrong way.
“Docile?” Shadowheart lets out a soft laugh and grabs the bottle of wine from Vaylin so she can take a sip herself. “There are dozens of words I would use to describe Amren, but docile is definitely not amongst them.” Gale’s shoulders slump slightly as Shadowheart gives him a sympathetic smile and wills himself not to look at the smirk that’s no doubt lingering on Vaylin’s features. “What’s the matter, Gale? Unlike some people,” she shoots a look at her girlfriend who remained unaffected, “I understand the value of a pair of friendly ears when one is struggling.”
“It’s just,” he lets out a sigh and waves his hand in the direction he came from, where Amren and Astarion are no doubt still sitting together closer than friends should. “It’s nothing. As much as I would like for there to be.” He hears Amren laugh again, the sound softer this time, and tries not to linger too much on how he’s probably missed his chance with the female rogue. Of course she was curled up beside the fire with Astarion, the vampire spawn was everything he wasn’t - charismatic, attractive and refined. There was no wonder Amren fell for his charms. Gale was far too deep into his self-deprecating thoughts to notice Vaylin let out a yawn, clearly bored by the conversation and pouting wizard already. Shadowheart elbowed the oath-broken paladin in the side and sent her a reprimanding glare before looking back at Gale with a concerned expression.
“Nothing wouldn’t include a certain rogue, would it?” Shadowheart asked.
“Two of them, actually,” Gale admits. Shadowheart peers around his frame to where both Astarion and Amren are sitting together, whispering about something they’re too far away to hear. Despite her better judgement Vaylin takes a peek as well, her nose wrinkling as she realises just why the wizard is looking so downtrodden.
“I’m not sure who has worst taste, Astarion for being into Amren, or…ugh, nevermind,” Vaylin reaches for the wine bottle again and takes a long drink, as if she were trying to wash the unsaid words from her mouth.
“I have neither the time nor patience for your riddles or your half-veiled insults tonight, bhaalspawn,” Gale crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Speak plainly or don’t speak at all.” Vaylin raises a solitary eyebrow and takes a slow sip from the bottle of wine, her gaze unwavering as she stares him down. She would sooner rip her own tongue out than admit it aloud, but there were stirrings of respect at his newfound backbone rising within her. At least she thought that’s what it was, it was buried so deep within her it could have very easily been indigestion from the vinegary wine they were drinking. Gale seemed to realise after a moments silence that she had taken his words literally and had decided not to speak at all and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at her antics.
“Will you please just put him out of his misery?” Shadowheart turns to look at Vaylin, an amused smile playing on her lips.
“What do you propose I do?” The drow scoffed, “Light him on fire?”
“You know perfectly well that is not what I meant,” Shadowheart nudged Vaylin and took the bottle of wine back from her. “You’re not getting this back until you tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Gale asked, frowning in confusion as he watched Vaylin give Shadowheart a withering glare. Both women ignored him as they stared each other down, waiting for the other to break first.
“You’re a sadist,” Vaylin groaned in defeat, tipping her head back dramatically.
“You weren’t complaining last night,” the cleric quipped. Gale felt his face go warm as Vaylin looked back at Shadowheart, the heat obvious in her gaze.
“Can someone please tell me what I’m missing?” Gale repeats, hoping to draw the attention back to him so he didn’t have to witness the pair eye-fuck each other in front of him.
“Every single target whenever you cast…well, any spell really,” Vaylin turns to him with a saccharine smile.
“Tell him or there will be more than one person left unsatisfied tonight,” Shadowheart nudged Vaylin again, a little harder this time. The oath-broken paladin looked at her girlfriend with narrowed eyes as the meaning of her words sunk in.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Are you willing to test that theory?” Shadowheart asked innocently, her fingers toying with the pendant on the necklace Vaylin had gifted her. The charm was in the shape of an orchid and Vaylin had painted it blue herself so that it looked as similar to a night orchid as possible. It sat on the end of a long chain and rested in the valley of her cleavage, and although the drow needed no prompting to look there anyway her eyes were immediately drawn in by the movement. She sighed deeply and braced herself as if the words she was about to say physically pained her.
“She’s in love with you, you blithering idiot,” Vaylin spits out. Gale feels all the breath leave his lungs and his face burns as the words settle in his head.
“Very tactful. Well done,” Shadowheart remarks dryly, allowing Vaylin to snatch the wine from her again.
“She’s…she’s what?” Gale repeated. His knees felt weak and he slowly sank down to sit on the ground. Vaylin was always throwing back-handed remarks out at his expense, surely this had to be one of them? He glanced at Shadowheart, who leant forward in concern as he sat with them, her hand reaching out as if to touch his own before she pulled back again. Shadowheart wouldn’t be that cruel to him though. She made the odd quip in his direction as well, but that was all friendly banter, and something he returned all too often in kind. He felt as if his mind was racing at a million miles per minute as he tried to figure out if what Vaylin had said about her sister was all in jest or not.
“Oh, sure, feel free to join us,” Vaylin rolls her eyes as he sits with them. “The more the merrier.”
“Behave yourself,” Shadowheart glares at her. “Do you have the capacity to be compassionate for at least two seconds?” Vaylin scowled at her girlfriend and instead of replying took another sip from her wine. “Gale, are you alright?” she turned her attention back to the wizard when it became clear that Vaylin wasn’t going to speak anymore.
“Is it true?” he asks, his voice no louder than a whisper. He didn’t dare to hope that it would be, he needed the confirmation. He needed Shadowheart to tell him that Vaylin hadn’t been lying and that it was true that Amren cared for him as deeply as he cared for her.
“She could have said it better,” Shadowheart glances at her girlfriend, who gives her a sweet smile in return, “but yes, it’s true.”
“She loves me?”
“Yes.”
“But…but Astarion -”
“I’m going to say this once,” Vaylin looks at him, her tone stern, “and if you ever tell another person alive or dead that I said this I will deny it with every ounce of my soul. In terms of a love interest she could do…much worse than you, I suppose.”
“That almost sounded completely sincere,” Shadowheart looked at the drow with a small smirk, “I’m so proud of you.”
“If I didn’t know any better, Vaylin, I’d say you were warming up to me,” Gale teased.
“Fuck off, wizard.” Her body language made it extremely clear she would not be saying anything further to him that evening, whether it was an unwilling compliment or a scathing insult. Gale just smiled to himself and bid Shadowheart goodnight, ignoring Vaylin completely as he walked away from the tent and gave them both some privacy.
He wandered back in the direction he had originally come from, his steps feeling infinitely lighter than it had before his conversation with the prickly drow and her girlfriend. He suspected the drow liked him more than she let on, and although her softer side was only reserved for their cleric and her sister, he could see she was (albeit begrudgingly) slowly getting used to his presence and the affections that he held for Amren.
He knew her behaviour came from the horrors of being raised as a bhaalspawn, and although he wouldn’t admit it to her, he found Vaylin’s strength and resilience admirable. Hers and Amren’s. Although they didn’t share a mother, both women had been sired by Bhaal himself and only found out about the other during their teens. It had been a difficult journey for them to renounce their fathers ways and leave his cult, but here they both were, trying to prove that their unfortunate bloodline did not define who they were as people.
Gale approached Amren and Astarion, who broke apart to look up at him as he neared. Amren’s face lit up with a smile as she took note of him and for a brief moment he stopped and wondered if he’d always been so blind. Gale prided himself on his intelligence, there wasn’t a puzzle he couldn’t solve or a spell he couldn’t cast without a little work first - so how had he not noticed the way Amren looked at him until now? Her lavender eyes - the only indication of her half-drow lineage - all but reflected every single thing he felt for her right back at him. He gave her a warm smile as he sank into a seat beside her and only offered Astarion the briefest of looks as he spoke to the male rogue, unwilling to look away from the woman next to him.
“Could you give us a moment, Astarion?” Gale asked. Astarion gave him an affronted look, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically as he looked between Gale and Amren, a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. He knew, of course, what was about to happen. It was glaringly obvious to everyone in the camp how the pair felt for each other - everyone except them of course - and even though he didn’t particularly fancy being a third wheel in the performance, he couldn’t help but put up a little bit of a fight at the request.
“Is everything okay, Gale?” Amren placed a hand on his, her expression laced with worry. Gale felt his heart thump in his chest as her skin brushed his and for a moment he wondered if her touch alone would be enough to help him get through the days that the orb in his chest demanded more magic.
“Everything is…wonderful,” he admits, breathing out a quiet laugh. “I just need a moment of your time. Alone.” He gives Astarion another pointed look, silently hoping he would take the hint and give them some privacy.
“Star,” Amren nudges him gently as she murmurs his name. “Can you give us a few minutes, please?” Astarion sighs in mock exasperation, but can’t help but smile and nod at her request, the nickname she’d bestowed upon him warming his heart. He ruffles Amren’s hair playfully and easily dodges her hand as she tries to swat him away before making his way across camp to sit with Shadowheart and Vaylin so he can eavesdrop and relay the conversation to them both. Gale doesn’t say anything for a few moments and Amren takes his hand in hers and squeezes gently, calling his attention back to her. “Is everything alright?”
“Everything is fine,” he assures her. He catches her hand in between both of hers, lacing their fingers together. “I didn’t plan on this, I’m not quite sure what to say.”
“I never thought I’d see the day,” Amren teases lightly. “Is the famed Wizard of Waterdeep at a loss for words?”
“No,” Gale shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “But Gale Dekarios is.” He meets Amren’s gaze and brushes some hair away from her face before letting out a quiet sigh. “I just had a talk with your sister.”
“Oh gods,” Amren wrinkles her nose. “Whatever she said to you now I’m so sorry, Gale. I’ll have a word with her in the morning about being nicer to you.”
“There’s no need. She actually behaved herself this time.” Amren gives him a look, clearly not believing a word he had said and he can’t help but laugh at the expression. “Alright, she was mostly behaved. I’ve definitely had more harrowsome conversations with her than this one.”
“What did you talk about?”
“You.”
“Me?” Amren pulls back in surprise. “What about me?” Gale releases her hands to run his own through his hair to ease the slight anxiety that sits in his chest.
“If things were different, if we were back home I could have done this better. I would have taken the time to properly romance you and lavish you with gifts and treat you exactly how you deserve to be. I would have taken the time to come up with a rousing speech about all the different ways I care for you instead of deciding to confess this all to you on a whim and feeling like the ground has been ripped out from underneath me…but that’s what you do,” his gaze turns tender as she watches her expression for any sign that Vaylin and Shadowheart had been lying to him. “From the moment I met you I feel like the ground has been ripped out from under my feet and I’m falling and you’re the only one who can steady me. You’re so special to me, Amren. I care about you more than I can express.”
“What…exactly did Vaylin tell you?” Amren asks slowly, her voice hoarse and her cheeks flushed.
“I want to hear the words from you. I don’t want to repeat something that I heard secondhand.”
“Gale…”
“I love you, Amren,” he takes her face in his hands, his forehead pressed lightly against hers. “I am utterly and hopelessly in love with you and I sincerely hope what your sister said was true and you feel the same way about me.”
“Of course I’m in love with you,” Amren feels her heart melt as his eyes slide shut in relief and his body physically relaxes. “How could I not be, Gale?”
“I had thought there was something between you and Astarion,” he admits. He opens his eyes again in time to catch the amused expression on his face.
“No one compares to you, Gale Dekarios.”
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that. I didn’t particularly fancy making an ass of myself as part of your sister’s whims.” Amren laughs softly at that and leans in a little closer so that their lips are only a fraction of an inch away.
“Careful now, Gale, she is the reason we’re finally having this conversation. I’d say you owe all of this to her,” Amren teases. Gale groans playfully, but there’s an undeniable happiness on his face as he takes in Amren’s smile. He tilts her chin up slowly, his eyes flickering from her, down to her lips and back up again.
Author's Note: What started out as a Late Night Thought became this monster of a scene that will eventually be featured in my reverse-isekai Songweave long-fic! This is the standalone version that features a formal event, some horny texting, and switch Gale + switch Lyra!
Warning: Explicit smut; unprotected penetration; sexting; dom/sub if you squint; switch sex dynamics; exhibitionism; wall sex; dirty talk (lots of it); predator/prey if you have binoculars; cunnilingus, f-receiving (just a little; can't help myself); fingering, f-receiving; creampie; quickie
🔞NSFW🔞
You bit your lip and worried it between your teeth. Your finger hovered hesitantly over the button, halfway between abandoning the idea before you began and throwing caution completely to the wind. You observed him from your seat in the corner. He looked so good. Sinfully good. He had donned a pair of navy dress pants, a white button-up, and a blazer to match the pants.
The top button had no chance against the expanse of his broad chest, and button and slit sat an inch apart, exposing the smallest tease of deep purple orb tendrils and dark hair. Only you knew where the trail of that hair led, and you bruised your lip further when the vision clouded your mind's eye. Everyone was so charmed by him; how could they not be? He was sophisticated, well-read, intelligent, charismatic, handsome. The way the women - and some of the men - in the room stared as he chatted sent both pride and irritation ripping through you. You needed him. Now.
You hit send.
The notification chimed on his phone, a sound saved for your texts alone, and he slid the device out of his pocket. He had caught on to technology quick, as he did most everything, and had been using his phone with relative ease for the last couple of weeks. However, when he swiped the unlock pattern across the screen and took a glance, his air of impassiveness slipped, right with the phone that he scrambled to catch. Your heart stopped beating. 'Oh god, what if everyone sees?!'
But Gale was quick. He recovered, laughed it off with the people around him, and excused himself. This time, your heart was battering for a new reason: the look in Gale's eyes as he locked onto you from across the room; intense. Dangerous. The distance between you seemed far shorter now, as he took stride after stride straight to you. You trembled in your seat, an excited thrill flying down your spine as a smirk graced one side of his lips.
He reached you in record time and hauled you to your feet, pulling you close, his hands traveling from your hips closer to your arse; so dangerously visible to the rest of the party. "Gallery," he whispered in your ear, breath hot, voice dripping with authority. "Now."
He slipped past you and you didn't even consider delaying. You were on his heels, abandoning your drink at the table without a second thought. Once the door to the auditorium closed, you followed Gale around the corner and into the abandoned gallery hallway. The lights had been dimmed far earlier in the evening; the only proof of life, the emergency exit signs over top of the double doors, and the light from the party emanating through the small stained glass window that shared a wall with the auditorium.
Gale disappeared into the shadow of the hallway, and your heels clicked more swiftly as you tried to keep up. But the moment you hit the wall of darkness where Gale lurked, you paused. "Gale," you whispered, attempting to peer into the blackness and catch a glimpse of him. Your eyes weren't strong enough for this.
"Come closer, my love," he purred, his voice low and dangerous.
A chill ran up your spine. "Gale," you warned, unsure of where he was taking this. At the sound of your alarmed tone, he leaned forward and you caught the mischievous gleam of his brown eyes.
"I won't hurt you, my love, you know that. But we mustn't be seen."
You nodded, your heart racing, and stepped towards him. His hand reached for yours, and the moment his fingers found your own, you wondered how you could have ever doubted him. He spun you around and pressed you against the gallery wall, his presence behind you warm and all-encompassing. "I certainly hope that what I find under this dress is what I found in that image," he murmured into the curve of your neck, "else we'll be leaving this party far earlier than intended."
You chuckled, the sound heavy and laden with effort. "You won't be disappointed."
"Oh, my beloved, you have so much yet to learn about me," he purred and nibbled on your earlobe. Heat roiled through you in strengthening ripples. "When I unravel you, no matter what awaits me beneath your garments, disappointment is not even a consideration. It is my singular honor to know you so intimately." He groaned when his traveling fingers found a hardening nipple beneath your lace bralette. "You are perfection," he murmured, his voice ragged. "I am merely here to see to it that such perfection is treasured appropriately."
His palms explored your sides and he pressed himself into your back. You gasped when you felt how hard he already was. "Gods, do you feel what you've done to me?" he whined, a low moan punctuating the end of his question. "So desperate for you, even a single image of your lush curves in that tantalizing lace sends me spiraling out of control. I am terribly thankful that our meeting was saved for after my Orb became stable. Neither one of us would have lived to tell the tale had it not."
He continued to mumble into your ear as he slowly rutted against your backside. You moaned, louder than intended, but before you could react, a hand clapped over your mouth and Gale leaned in close. "Let's see if we can't remain hidden, yes? I'd hate to walk away without satisfying my lover's desperate teasing."
You nodded quickly and he chuckled. "Very good." Yet, you still whined when his hands disappeared from your body. "Patience, my love," he soothed, his nimble fingers already working with the buttons down the back of your dress that he had so carefully done to perfection only hours prior. Taking a deep breath, you allowed him to work, and before long, you felt the fabric loosening around you.
However, instead of tugging it up over your head like you expected for him to do, Gale remained unpredictable, rucking the skirt up over your hips instead. You giggled at his impatience and he delivered the lightest, swiftest of smacks across your left ass cheek, a move you had been begging him to perform for nearly a month, and you yelped in surprise, the sound tapering into a low, needy whine. Your hips moved of their own accord, swinging back and forth as you jutted your backside towards him, aching for more. Your eyes clenched shut and your jaw dropped open as he delivered another, just as painless, to your right cheek.
"Mmmm, Gaaale," you whimpered, trying desperately to arch closer to him. You were embarrassingly wet from that alone, and you wondered - fleetingly - if you had remembered to buy laundry detergent last time you had ordered grocery delivery. But the thought was soon overwhelmed by the feeling of Gale's fingers teasing your slit through your lace undies. "Oh, God!"
"Take those sleeves off for me, won't you, love?" Gale said, the fingers of his other hand ghosting the skin of your upper arms where your draped sleeves still rested. You nodded, only able to pant in reply, and quickly tugged your arms free of the fabric. Once they hung at your sides, Gale dragged the top down to join with the skirt around your middle, then returned to your breasts, taking turns thumbing each lace-covered nipple with diligence. You groaned, the sensations short circuiting your thoughts and rendering you a mindless, quivering mess of desire.
All of the sudden, you were spun around in Gale's arms, now facing him. He backed you up against the stained glass window on the opposite side of the hallway and eased his way between your legs. The window sill nestled into the dip just above your backside, and you leaned back against the colored glass gingerly. His eyes raked you up and down and he hummed in approval, his cock twitching in his pants. "Tongue or fingers, my beloved?" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Fingers," you answered immediately, your arms wrapping around his head to bring him closer. You needed his mouth on yours. He groaned far back in his throat and laced his tongue with your own the moment you opened for him. He tasted like brandy and strawberries, remnants of the flavors from the party still on his tongue, and you grasped locks of hair between your fingers, tugging him closer still as his hand finally traveled beneath the lingerie to your sticky, wet heat.
"Mmnn I will never - mmm - tire - mmph - of this feeling," he mumbled between kisses, the pads of his fingers languidly massaging your slit, collecting the proof of your arousal on them. Your pitching whines were answer enough, and he smiled against your swollen lips, deepening the strokes his fingers were making. Your breath hitched when one of them slid into your hole and you whimpered, a high-pitched, stuttering sound that tapered into soft puffs of air. You couldn't breathe in anything but him, and each breath of him you took sent you spiraling closer to the edge.
He tugged your body into a new angle and you threw your hand back onto the window sill to steady yourself. Waves of tingling pleasure cascaded through you as he pumped his finger in and out in a slow drag that had your knees faltering. "G-Gale!"
"You're doing so well, my love," he cooed softly, barely audible over the squelch of wet skin. "Are you ready for another?"
You nodded, hard enough to make your neck hurt, but you didn't care. All you could fathom was the pleasure; god, he made you feel so good; so good, so full, so- You bucked as a second finger stretched you open and your mind blanked. He struggled to keep your hips in check as you writhed against him, undulating against his hand as he scissored you wider. You clenched around his fingers and he used the tension to press the heel of his palm against your clit as you came, hard, and cried out his name as your head dropped back against the window pane. Your body shuddered violently as your peak crested over you and you barely noticed Gale pressing kisses to your neck, jaw, temple.
Only when he reached your lips and you were robbed of the gulps of air you had been taking did you float back down to earth to rejoin your lover before you. You felt hot and delirious and you giggled when Gale pressed a light kiss to your nose. "Are you ready for me, my love?" he whispered. His voice cracked. He was trying so hard to stay in control of himself, but you felt the desperation; the ache for your heat engulfing him, and when you trailed your eyes down his front, you saw the proof in the way his pants strained perilously against his erection.
"My darling," you murmured, pressing your body up against his until he groaned. "I'm always ready for you. Allow me." You reached up to his collar and began popping the buttons of his shirt, just as slowly and teasingly as he had done yours.
"Mmph," he huffed, both hands now on your hips, gripping tight as if to contain what was left of his self-control there. "Please don't tarry, little dove. Ah, I fear- nggh - I won't last long this way."
"Oh, you'll last, my love," you hummed, taking a moment to run your palm down his chest and admire that tantalizing river of hair that traveled the length of his torso. It was for your eyes only, and that sent a special shiver up your spine. You gently raked your fingernails down across the orb scar and let them take you further and further down until they met your other hand at his last two buttons. By the time you slid the last button from its hole, his chest was heaving and your hips were most certainly bruising, but it was all worth it to see how riled up he was. Damn it all, the look on his face was hungry; as though he had been starved for a year.
"Each moment with you is nourishment," he strained, as though he had read your mind. "and each moment without is a drought. Please, my love. Do not leave me wanting."
"Never, my sweet," you muttered, your lips finding the dip in his collarbone like a moth drawn to a flame. The rest of his disrobing was done in silence, save for the panting, moaning, and grunting that bounced off of the stained glass window behind you and through the dark hallway. When he was finally bare before you, you began to drop to your knees, but he held you fast.
"No," he croaked, his voice hoarse and eyes wild. "need to be inside you; won't last. I want to be buried deep within you; need to be joined with you. Please, gods, please."
"As you wish, love," you chuckled. He didn't give you any time to recover or re-balance yourself before he was flipping you around and pressing you against the cool, textured glass of the stained glass window. You gasped and your hands slapped the pane sharply, the sound echoing painfully through the silence. "Gale!" you squeaked, praying that no one from the party on the other side had heard the sound and would come to investigate.
"On the bright side, my love," Gale chuckled quietly as he reached around to steady you. "if anyone happens upon us, no one will ever question who I belong to again." He nipped your ear playfully and you moaned, your possessiveness practically purring at his talk of claims and loyalty. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awful to be caught like this: your lover's cock leaking precum as he dragged it through your folds, teasing you both to the edge of insanity. "However much I adore these," he whispered, his voice ragged, "they must go for now." His fingers traced a delicate line across the band of your lace underwear before slipping beneath it and tugging them down.
"Step up," he urged, and you allowed him to pull them off of you completely.
"Will I ever get those back?" you teased.
"Only if you're good," he murmured back and you whimpered softly, the sound morphing into a giddy laugh. You couldn't believe you were doing this. This wasn't like you at all. But Gale had a way about him that inspired adventure, and you couldn't deny the excitement that came with something so... impatient.
His palms traced up your legs as he rose; hot, electrifying tingles followed their wake, and when he reached your arse, he squeezed, parting you enough to lick a stripe along your slit. You panted, the ache swelling in your core as he snuck a taste of you. "Gale, please," you stuttered, your legs shaking beneath you.
"Your taste is divine, my love, gods. How did I live without you? How did I live without this for so long?" he mumbled, nose still pressed against your hole as he angled his chin upwards to catch your arousal on his tongue. The vibrations of his voice reverberated through you and you braced against the window; shuddering as your sensitive nipples flattened against the cold glass.
"Ahh- ah! Gale, mmm - Gale, be a good boy and get up here," you growled softly, easing away from his mouth. All of that could wait. You needed him inside you; the throbbing heat was unbearable.
"Yes, yes," he rasped, pulling away only to rise to his feet and tug you back against him. "Of course, my love, anything you desire. I'll provide it for you," he babbled, lining his cock up to your entrance.
"Mmmf Gale, yes..." Your presence of mind was slowly slipping away and your tongue was heavy, almost foreign in your mouth. All acute sensation had narrowed to the place where you and Gale were joining and you groaned in bone-deep satisfaction when his cock-head stretched your entrance open. His forehead fell against your shoulder and he moaned, long and low, his breath hitching with each engulfed inch. His palm skated down one of your legs, finding purchase behind your knee and lifting your leg into the air. The new position widened you and you hissed as his cock reached new depths within you.
Your jaw dropped open in a silent scream when he finally sank to the hilt. His breath stuttered against the damp skin of your back, sending relieving puffs of cool air to ease the inferno, and he struggled to keep his hips from snapping. "F-fuck, Gale," you gasped. You breathed deep, forcing relaxation into your aching center; never quite remembering just how well he stretched you until he was nestled inside of you.
Your lover had no more words. His breaths came in short, labored gasps, while groans punctuated each near-failed attempt at stillness. It was a silent plea. He wouldn't move until you told him to. You smiled. "Darling Gale, you're so good to me," you cooed and a violent shiver ripped through his body; his cock pulsed inside of you. "Do you want to move?" you asked tenderly, looking over your shoulder. You saw him nod, the movement strained but quick. "Can you stay still just a little longer for me?" Another nod. "Good, my love." Slowly, you jutted your hips forward, pulling off of him ever so slightly, before rolling them in a circle and pressing back onto him.
A high pitched whine tumbled from your lips as you slowly rode him. You pressed your palms against the stained glass and pushed your back against his chest; his skin was sticky and hot - a good match for your own - and his muscles were drawn taut. "Y-You're doing so good, Gale - ngghh - so good for me." Your praise went straight to his cock and it twitched and bobbed as your hips rolled. You locked a hand around his neck and tangled your fingers into his hair. "Fondle me," you whispered.
"Ngghh," he groaned and his palms found your breasts immediately, kneading, squeezing, and flicking your nipples into pebbles. You cried out, the extra stimulation barreling you dangerously close to the edge.
"Move with me - ah - Gale, please!" you stuttered as your muscles shook and weakened. An arm locked around you before you could fall and his free hand pressed against the window sill in front of you.
"Hold - ah - hold on, little love," Gale grunted into your ear and your hand fell over his, lacing your fingers together; the other maintaining its grip on his locks. "N-Now be good for me," he pleaded brokenly, his hips bucking forward to meet the curve of your arse. His fingers stretched to the closest nipple and flicked. "Fall apart for me, love. Fall apart in my arms."
"I- Gale, oh - Gale!" You cried out and the bowstring snapped.
Pleasure; incessant waves of it. Moaning in your ear. A low growl of your name. You felt a creamy heat fill you and subconsciously clenched to keep him there, milking him for everything he had. He grunted into the crook of your neck, saying streams of words you couldn't understand. His thumb kept swiping across your abused nipple as if done in a trance. You were shaking. He was shaking. The party had gone quiet in the other room.
Wait.
Wait.
"Gale," you whispered, your eyes snapping open.
"Mm?" he hummed lazily into your skin, his lips dragging along the line of your shoulder as he pressed kisses there.
"The party," you murmured sharply, gesturing towards the stained glass window. "It's so quiet in there. Did they hear us?"
Gale's head lifted and he squinted at the glass, as though he could see through the colored panes. "Mmm, seems as though we may have to finish our little rendezvous at home after all." He straightened sluggishly, turning you around in his arms to admire you. "No matter," he murmured, taking you in. "I'm sure they've takeaway boxes."
You punched him lightly, stifling your giggles with your hand. "I let you get me into such trouble, Gale Dekarios."
"And don't you love every moment of it?" he asked, a brow quirked with the same cockiness that made your legs go weak.
"Every.. single.. one." Your hands found his shoulders and he surged forward, capturing your lips with his own. He smoothed your dress down over your legs and nipped at your bottom lip in playful finality. "You had better get your clothes on," you chuckled, eyeing him. "Else we'll be teleporting that beautiful body directly into Leda's* face while she's watching television." You trailed your fingers down his torso, appraising each dip and bump appreciatively as you went. "And I'd personally like to keep this sight all to myself."
Your lover chuckled, then murmured a spell under his breath and moved his hands into several positions, one right after the other. In the next moment, he was dressed; impeccably so, as though nothing had ever ruffled him. You tugged your sleeves back over your shoulders, somewhat miffed that he no longer wore evidence of how thoroughly you had ravished him, and he smirked.
"Don't worry, my darling," he purred, grasping your chin gently. "You can do it all again when we get home. In fact, I've some new ideas of my own." A thrill ran through you, all irritation forgotten, and you laced your hand with his.
"Well, in that case," you murmured, standing up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Lead the way."
He gave your hand a squeeze and readied his other hand to perform the spell. "Don't mind if I do."
(*Leda: Lyra's roommate and best friend)
~
More Fics 📚 | Buy Me a Coffee ☕
~
Tagging, Darlings: @senualothbrok @optimisticgrey @worfs-glorious-hair @serenaoffaerun @charlenestrawart @faerybella219 @fanon-and-canon @rafayels-bioluminescent-cumdump @micropoe10 @knightofmight01 @nerissa-dekarios @brabblesblog @nightlyrayne @whiskeyskin @shazzam76 @anadoce (if anyone would like to be added to or taken off this list, please let me know!)
Pairing: Gale Dekarios x Lyra Whitlock (Songweave)
Author's Note: This began as some late night thoughts, but just kept evolving! This scene will very likely be featured in my Songweave long-fic, "Ubi amor est, ibi es (Where Love Is, You Are There)" in the future. I hope you enjoy!
Summary: Gale and Lyra get caught in the rain. Lyra has some minor revelations, and Gale is already in so deep.
(Or read on Ao3)
The claps of thunder reverberating through the mall were good indicators of what awaited you both once you crossed the threshold of the automatic doors. The tree branches in the parking lot bent sideways in a unified dance routine as the dark clouds rolled in, and Gale turned to you, shopping bag in hand, a mischievous grin on his lips.
"Would you like for me to Misty Step us or shall we try our luck?"
You knew which answer he wanted, and you chuckled, shaking your head. "Let's see how well the Dekarios luck holds up in this world, shall we?" His grin widened, and his fingers closed around yours.
Your eyes snapped to his, and your face warmed. His forwardness with touch as of late was doing irreparable damage to your constitution. He held your gaze steady as he laced his fingers with yours and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 'Ready?'
You gave him a lopsided grin and squeezed his hand in return. 'Ready.'
Simultaneously, you turned to the open lot and broke into a run, daring the rain to catch you before you made it to your car on the far end. He slowed to keep your pace - you could tell - and you giggled; a lovesick, carefree sound that bounced off of every car bumper you passed. Gale's head turned to you as he ran, and for a moment, in your peripheral vision, you caught his eyes and your world nearly tilted on its axis.
He was beautiful, and he was looking at you like you were birthed from a star. No one had ever looked at you that way, and the air evacuated your lungs all at once. You coughed and slowed, and he followed, his hands already on you, steadying you; always steadying you.
It was then that the sky won the game, opening all at once to dump rain down onto you both, soaking you to the skin almost instantly. You yelped, your sudden revelation halted by the ice pelting your head, and instinctively raised your arms to cover yourself. Gale's arm was already around your back, propelling you forward, and you took his lead.
Soaked and breathless, you reached your car and practically catapulted inside, water puddling into your front seats in the process. The doors closed, and you both sat there, chests heaving, not speaking, for a countless number of seconds. Gale's hand had already found yours again somehow, and he clung to it—his own now freezing.
As your breath slowed, a laugh bubbled up out of you at the absurdity of it all: You just ran through the freezing rain with Gale Dekarios—the Gale Dekarios, while he held your hand and looked at you the way a blooming flower looks at the sun. Your eyes found his across the console, and you grinned.
He grinned back, and the rain, the chill from the cold, and your soaking wet clothes failed to matter. His sparkling brown eyes and heart-stopping smile were the only things that existed in that moment, and your heart was whole for the first time in your life. When he broke eye contact, you had to restrain yourself from reaching to guide his gaze back to yours.
"Here," he said quietly, pulling one of the sweaters he had tried on in the store out of the bag. Miraculously, it seemed mostly dry. "I can't have you freezing." He handed the blue bundle to you with one hand, his other still holding yours tightly. The chill in your body faded as you warmed from the inside, but you took the sweater nonetheless, gesturing sheepishly to your joined hands.
"Ah! Right," Gale’s fingers unlatched from yours, and his hand withdrew—and again, you nearly scrambled for it. But you turned your focus to the sweater instead and pulled it over your head, situating it snugly on your body. It fit Gale rather loosely, but you could hardly find it in yourself to care. When he looked at you like that, what did it matter what size you were? You inhaled and melted. It smelled like him already, just from the few moments he had worn it in the store.
Your cheeks were blazing, and you dared not look at him, instead playing with the tags on the sleeves and pretending to adjust the bottom again. "Thank you," you said gently, a smile creeping across your lips despite yourself.
Fingers found yours, and you giggled, allowing him to take your hand with him. You finally stole a glance in his direction, and - as you expected - he was already staring, a smile playing on his own lips as well. When he pressed his warm lips to the back of your cold hand, you nearly gasped aloud.
"Of course, Lyra. I will take care of you, always."
You were weighted; heavy; lethargic. Your mind was no longer your own. Thoughts drifted from your grasp, just out of reach. The sharp pin of focus had been lost to muddled exhaustion and moments of panic. "Gale, I don't feel good." It was all you could muster.
The illness plaguing your body was being treated, and the medicine that numbed your mind and confused your body was low in the bottle now. You were almost there, but it seemed to have been ripped away from you. It was back; symptoms from day one plagued you once more, and your hope of an end in sight slipped away just as easily as your thoughts.
You had refused a second helping of Gale’s spaghetti, eating only enough to sustain you before turning over in bed. Gale had laid down behind you some time ago and wrapped his arm around your middle. He gently thumbed the valley between your breasts. "I know, my dearest. I'm sorry. Had I known on that fateful day that I would be tumbling headlong into the love of my life and that her world was void of magic, I would have brought along my most trusted cleric."
You chuckled. You couldn't help it. He was so very good to you. "I mean what I say, you know," he said in response, and while you were certain he did, you could hear the triumph in his voice at bringing you a little joy.
"I know you do, Gale," you murmured, scooting back even more flush against him. "And I'm grateful for it—and for you. I think I truly would have lost my mind by now if it weren't for you being here."
His other arm burrowed underneath your body enough to curl around your body as well, and he gave you a gentle squeeze. "I will always be here for you, my love. You will never have to be alone again. I will care for you until you are well, and then I will continue to do so until both of our starshine burns out."
