@weaverot sent: [ CHALLENGE ] : after the receiver teasingly suggests that the sender is a terrible kisser, sender immediately and fervently proves them wrong with a long, passionate kiss that leaves the receiver taking back what they said.
The night is painted in shades of magic——auroras rippling through a starry illusion, the vibrant hues reflected in Astarion's crimson eyes as he glances at Gale, who sits beside him on the conjured bed. The protection of Isobel’s spell wards off the chill of the shadow-curse, but Astarion feels none of it. In this moment, there are no creeping dangers, no sinister darkness pressing at the borders of the woods. It is just them, surrounded by beauty conjured from a wizard's imagination.
He leans back slightly, resting on one hand, his lips curling into that familiar mischievous smile. He can still feel the ghost of Gale's kiss——soft, chaste, a mere brush of lips that left him wanting. A teasing laugh bubbles up in his throat, a breath of sound that lingers between them. There was something endearing about Gale's restraint, but Astarion is no stranger to indulgence, and this——this was far too careful.
❛ Come now, darling, ❜ Astarion drawls, his tone playful but edged with a hunger that stirs deep within him, ❛ what are we? Thirteen? Surely you can do better than——❜
His teasing words never finish.
Gale's lips crash against his with an urgency that steals Astarion's breath, a fervent rebuttal to the playful challenge. For a moment, Astarion's eyes widen, caught off-guard by the sudden surge of passion. The kiss silences him, drowns him in sensation. His body stiffens, instinctively bracing against the flood of desire, before he melts into it, eyes fluttering closed, all pretense falling away.
There's a heat to this kiss that stirs something long dormant in him——something deeper than lust, something more than a mindless craving. It's not about control or manipulation, not about using or being used. This... this is something else entirely. This is want. This is connection. And Astarion leans into it, letting the pleasure wash over him like warm sunlight.
He shifts on the bed, twisting his body so he can fully face Gale, wanting—no, needing to be closer. The kiss deepens, his tongue seeking Gale's with a desperation he didn't realize was building inside him. There's no thought now, no careful calculation, just the feel of Gale's mouth against his, the taste of him——a taste Astarion covets, savors. His hands move instinctively, pale fingers threading messily through Gale's long hair, the silky strands tangled in his grip. He tightens his hold, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him grounded in this moment, enough to pull Gale closer still.
Astarion moans into the kiss, soft, breathless sounds escaping between their lips, as if his body can no longer suppress the need coursing through him. His free hand curls into Gale's robes, fingers grasping the purple fabric tightly, pulling the wizard against him, as if afraid that if he lets go, this fleeting moment of pleasure might slip away into the night. The sensation overwhelms him——Gale's warmth, the press of their bodies, the intoxicating rush of shared desire. For once, there's no fear, no cold dread coiling in his stomach. Just warmth. Just this moment. Just him and Gale.
When the kiss finally breaks, Astarion's chest heaves softly as he catches his breath, his lips tingling from the intensity of it all. His forehead comes to rest against Gale's, their breath mingling in the stillness between them. His fangs catch on his own lower lip, dragging lightly as if savoring the taste still lingering there——the taste of Gale, of something genuine, something real. His lips curve into a wicked, but satisfied smile, his voice a sultry purr.
❛ That's more like it, ❜ Astarion murmurs, his tone still teasing, but there's a breathlessness to it now, a rawness that wasn't there before. His thumb trails across Gale's lower lip, slow and deliberate, eyes hungry but filled with something softer, more intimate. The desire is still there, unmistakable, but beneath it all is a reverence——a deep, unspoken affection that lingers in the way his gaze softens, the way his touch lingers just a moment too long.
It's more than just hunger. It's more than just want.
Astarion tilts his head slightly, his lips hovering close to Gale's again, as if contemplating another kiss, another indulgence. But he waits, breathless, his heart pounding in a way he hadn't expected, savoring the closeness, the quiet intimacy that thrums between them.
