“Pampered, Beloved”
Subtitle: What I wish I had for Mothers’ Day
Gale x f!Reader | E | 2.2K
Summary: Gale tends to your every need. His pregnant wife won’t dare to lift a finger… not even he’s around. Him and his Mage Hands and his simulacrum.
CW: Domestic Bliss, pregnancy (reader), Threesome (kinda) with Gale’s Mirror Image, lap riding and cunniligus, body worship, Needy Gale, praise kink, after care bath of my dreams
My Beloved Series ao3 | ao3 link | masterlist
A cool spring evening. A day spent readying your new home… planting in the garden, painting the walls of the rooms… even a little shopping in the markets of the City of Splendours.
And your day truly was… splendid. A far cry different from your days on the road, covered in dirt and smelling like musk.
Now it’s delightfully domestic.
One hand on your back, you huff and try to bend and straighten up from the sink. There were always dishes to be done with the sheer volume of how much Gale cooks, not to mention how often your tower plays host to his collegial gatherings.
Now that he was chair of the Illusionary Arts Department at Blackstaff, it was almost weekly. You rub out the aching muscles of your back with one hand whilst the other comes to rest where it does these days…
On the ever growing swell of your bump. Your belly. Where you have just started to feel the kicks and squirms of your child.
“Beloved, I—” you hear his rich voice from the library as he walks in, whatever monologue he had prepared ceases as he freezes in place. “My love, this will not do,” Gale approaches you, hand caressing yours at the top of your belly. “You are already undertaking so much for us, please. Allow me to pamper you as the mother you are,” he tilts you up by your chin. “Mother to be, anyway…”
Laughing at his own joke, he grins and pulls you back towards the table. As you do, a dozen Mage Hands pop into existence around the kitchen, filling the darkening space with a strange, soft blue glow.
“In your condition, my wife is going to come and…” he gives a cheeky smile as he pulls you into his lap, settled in a kitchen chair, “let me work my magic.”
Blue and purple light dances from his fingers, crackling in the evening quiet that enfolds your tower. Your eyes flare wide as he brings those sparkling fingers to your thighs, the tingle of lightning at his fingertips igniting your own excitement.
“My love, you are spoiling me,” you sigh, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. The clattering of dishes being washed and dried forms a sort of domestic symphony, the background rhythm to this tender moment.
“Oh, allow me to live dangerously,” Gale chuckles, his velvet voice tickling your ear. “These Mage Hands aren’t the only magic to lend a hand you know.”
Your eyes widen as a full simulacrum image of your husband pops into existence before you, clothed in the same leisurely tunic and pants as the devoted man on whose lap you are perched. You watch it bear that sultry, half-lidded gaze you suspect mirrors the real Gale behind you. It kneels before you, hands running up the backs of your calves, massaging them, those hands of magic cool. Soothing. And those identical brown eyes gaze up through his thick, dark lashes.
“What’s better than one wizard to indulge you and worship you for the goddess you are than two… maybe three…” he croons softly in your ear, Gale’s warm lips nuzzling the sensitive spot behind your ear. The one he knows makes your cunt clench. Warm, mortal hands caress the curve of your belly, his front warming the aching muscles of your back.
Those cool hands of magic slide up to your knees, pressing them apart as it slides between them. His mirror image is of course the same width of Gale’s shoulders, a span you are all too familiar with taking between your thighs. Ethereal hands send their tingling touch upwards, pushing your skirt to ruck around your waist.
But it’s Gale’s heat at your back and under your ass that has you clenching. One of his hands presses on your swollen belly to center you, his own something swollen prodding between your cheeks. He groans loudly right in your ear, “Oh, my love. Come here…”
Those two words have always made a mess of you since he murmured them before he first made you see stars. And stars do break across your vision as you feel him quickly opening the gusset of his trousers. Gods, you swear you can smell him, the scent of his own arousal. Maybe that’s your sharper nose now that you’re further along to your own pending due date.
“You're trembling, my love.” His chuckle tickles your ear almost as much as his beard does, face pressing against you. “They warned us this would happen. The increase of your appetites. Is my fertile wife hungering? Even after I made that sumptuous meal ....”
The simulacrum in front of you smiles, his face twisted in that hungry leer Gale always gets right before his practiced tongue gets to work. An illusion or not, this one is the same. It presses a kiss to your inner thigh. Chilled conjured fingers sweep up your underthings before hooking them to the side.
Your brain tries to reconcile the sight of glowing Gale pressing his face against your sex and the familiar warmth that grinds up and down your backside as your flesh-and-blood husband’s cock seeks its home beneath you. You shiver at the way the double’s tongue parts your folds just like he does, but it’s a cool lick that stimulates you. The double’s beard scores your thighs and your folds. It uses the same play of Gale’s mouth, the same rhythm of flicks on your clit and sucks around it.
You would comment on how uncanny it is… if your mouth could do anything but moan at this moment.
One of your hands reaches behind you, gripping into Gale’s scalp, taking a fistful of his soft, salt and pepper hair. The other hand grabs at your own knee, your nails digging into your flesh just to keep your thighs from shaking uncontrollably in pleasure.
Every sensation the duplicate conjures in your sex is Gale’s… the way those fingers slide and and tap and stroke your g spot, even his lips part to moan with his voice, to vibrate at his all too familiar pitch and timbre into your cunt.
A twin moan sounds in your ear. And warm lips suck and nip at the outer shell of it as Gale grinds his cock against your backside. “My only regret is that I cannot fuck you and devour you at the same moment, my beloved. Not with my real body, anyway.”
He groans, smacking his lips as if he recalls the exact taste of your slick on his tongue. “But today is about pampering you, my wife, my flower, and my goddess.” His hand at your back reaches to beat his length, the rhythm of his fist on his cock matching the sucks and slurps of his mirrored image between your legs.
His words alone make you keen and shake. You stand up slightly at Gale’s silent bidding. His warm mortal hands on your arching waist lift you, slotting you over the blunt, thick head of his cock, even as his mirror image laps and sucks at your clit.
The way he pushes into you, guiding you to sit on his lap between his planted and spread legs… The way his hands caress the curve of your small and yet ever-growing belly until his touch settles on your waist… It’s all you can do to wind your hands tighter into the hair on his head to keep your whole body from collapsing.
That cool copy of a tongue flicks against your clit faster and faster. As if you had a chance to let your walls stretch to accomodate his girth before you feel that heat in your belly burst, that coil snaring tight enough on itself to explode.
You come on that cool tongue and thick cock almost instantly, chest heaving as you feel that growing belly of yours pulsing and hard and all of you on fire.
“That’s one,” Gale’s silken voice whispers in your ear. “But the mother of my child will be spoiled rotten today. Well, spoiled more than usual.” His laughter in your ear, his beard scratching at your neck, he peppers your skin with kisses as he starts to guide you on his lap.
A gentle roll, a subtle bounce, and you arch back against his chest. The friction, the tightness of your muscles only moments after your orgasm, it brings tears to your eyes.
And his warm lips are there to kiss them away as they run down your cheek. “Shhh, my love,” he murmurs against your cheek, “all the bliss and worship you deserve, not to mention all the chores complete.”
You feel that cool tingling tongue and lips at your clit, following your body’s movement. Four pairs of hands roam your curved belly. Two warm, two cooler—the same adoring touch caresses over your heavy swell, worshiping you for the goddess you are.
You know he’s verbose. Loquacious. But there is nothing you love more than when he gets tongue tied with his anatomy buried deep in your cunt.
The highest praise indeed, making Gale of Waterdeep fall silent save the slurping of his mouth on your clit and his breath panting in your ear.
Wet, so wet, your thighs tremble as you ride him. Thick and hot, hands worshipping your swelling belly, you can tell he’s already close. His concentration starts to falter. That simulacrum before you flickers, those mimicking lips that suck around your sex and lap at your leaking slick disappear… reappear… then disappear completely.
He sighs your name on his tongue as your walls flutter. As they clench. As your belly goes taut and waves of bliss rack your whole body. “Fuck… Gale!” You cry out coming for him a second time already, heaving as he thrusts inside you, cock twitching and thick and spilling up into you as he huffs against your ear.
Sweat-slick, you feel his tongue licking the trickles on your neck, the curls of his beard giving you one last ripple of orgasm as your cunt molds to his cock. You can’t move, can’t think, can’t speak aside from his name on your breath.
“Gale…”
“My beloved wife,” he murmurs, voice rough from sex and exertion. He shifts you slightly, just enough to let a little of his seed leak from you. “Good thing my care for you is far from complete. Such precious cargo must be thoroughly attended to.” His hands, warm on your hips, gently help you stand. One hand laces with yours, fingers intertwined as he gently squeezes.
Then, his arm waves around your kitchen to direct your post-coital attention. Surfaces shine in the lantern light, a vase of fresh flowers sits on the perfectly cleaned table, and every dish is washed and packed neatly away.
Flawless.
Magical.
“Hells,” you whisper, realizing that even now Gale is waving his hand to magic the mess of your cum off the kitchen chair.
“Well, not every surface in the kitchen is clean,” he croons, hand sliding to cup your sex. His long finger parts your folds to scoop your slick, dark eyes locked into your as he brings it to his mouth. You swear you clench so hard, watching his lips close around it and suck loudly, that you’ve made another little puddle on the floor at your heels.
Gale chuckles, heavy lidded as he licks his lips. “Some messes are best cleaned the old fashioned way.” Your joined hands lift, his mouth kissing the back of it. So gentlemanly, contrary to the thorough fucking he just gave you.
Softly, he leads you down the warmly lit halls to your bathroom. Blushing as you walk past him, you feel his hand slide round your waist…
Only to grip your ass and give it a teasing pinch.
You yelp, laughing. “Mind those fingers, my wizard!”
“Oh, my apologies…” he laughs through his words. The most powerful Archmage in the realms, and for you, he waves his hand and summons you the warmest bath. Rose petals of softest pinks and vibrant reds flutter and fall from the ceiling. Candles appear and spark to life around the edge of the tub.
As you stand in wonder, you faintly hear the rustle of clothing being shed. Warm hands, warm breath surround you as Gale stands naked before you, all tanned skin and sweaty curls of hair on his body.
“Allow me, my love. The mother of the next future Dekarios will be treated in style, my rose. You shan’t lift a finger today… or any day if you wish,” comes his silken sentences, almost as smooth as the way he deftly strips you. He speaks so softly, just a tenor hush against the shell of your ear. “Now to make you clean after I’ve made you very, very dirty, my flower.”
True to his word, he scoops you up, settling you both in the warm, rosy waters.
You turn in his arms, smiling like a fool in love to feel the aches easing from your heavy laden body. The curve of your belly presses against him, and then you reach for his marking, ready to trace its intricate designs.
“Ah, ah,” Gale stops you, catching your hand midair. “I said no finger-lifting, wife.” He gives a rolling laugh as he kisses your hand to place it on its desired destination. He lifts his one pointer finger to boop you on the nose. “Tch. Naughty.”
Love to @nyx-knox for cheering me on and beta-ing
Love to @redisbetterr for infecting me with Gale
🎨 by @astarfruity ♥️🩵💜
