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Admittedly, Gale had not been Astarion's first choice for a bed partner.
Joining the little rag-tag group of so-called adventurers, he'd been quick to analyze the others and their willingness to trust him. Despite the danger each one posed individually, it was easy to see the cracks in their armor. Karlach had been in Avernus for a decade, but she still somehow saw the good in people who did not deserve it. Shadowheart was far from openly trusting, but she too showed signs of a deeper kindness.
Astarion ruled them out almost immediately. Too perceptive for his own good.
Wyll or Octavia (“just ‘Tav’, please”) would be perfect in an ideal world. Wyll, being the worst monster hunter he'd ever known, and Tav for the ease with which she took waking to a vampire hovering over her bedroll. And yet, they too wouldn't work. Both were too busy chasing after their own romantic desires towards Karlach and Lae'zel respectively.
And so. Gale.
Gale could be pedantic, arrogant, and long-winded. But Astarion would be lying if he said the man wasn't useful. His command over the weave was fearsome, and he could even get in a few strong hits with that quarterstaff of his. For all he complained of the aching of his mortal body, he was quick footed and at least matched Astarion in strength. Plus, he wasn't too bad on the eyes, and unfortunately his wit had been known to make Astarion hide a smile once or twice, lest he give the wizard an even larger ego.
All in all, Astarion felt that the pros far outweighed the cons. There was the whole issue of the orb, but as far as he was concerned, a power that great could also be to his advantage. There was something just delightful about imagining sending Gale into Cazador's palace, an innocent gift for his former master with certainly no ulterior motives whatsoever. The building erupting into a shower of debris and fire, it would be quite the sight to behold.
That was a last resort, of course. Should things go his way, Gale wouldn't need to be the ultimate sacrifice. But dealing with someone like Cazador, well, contingency plans were a must.
As it stood, Gale was fairly receptive to Astarion's manipulations. The beginning was a little rough due to their petty rivalry. But after traveling together for some time, things had settled down into a comfortable companionship. Astarion would even dare say that Gale was his favorite person to be stuck alone at camp with. They spent the time reading or talking about obscure bits of history, and Astarion noted with every passing day Gale seemed to be less on guard and more willing to entertain his moods.
Flirting was easy, seduction was like breathing. Astarion didn't even need to think for syrupy words to fall off his lips, and where once Gale would scoff, he now welcomed them and occasionally would spout some back.
Yes, Gale wasn't his first, second, or even third choice. But he was perfect.
After their successful assault on the goblin camp, the tieflings joined them for a party that was remarkably unlike any Astarion had experienced in the past 200 years. That is to say, with a lot less blood and orgies. No accounting for taste, he supposed. He watched Tav make her rounds checking on everyone before following Lae’zel away from camp, and he choked down another swallow of the vinegar that passed for alcohol in this part of the sword coast. Truly, no accounting for taste.
But, perhaps the two fighters had the right idea of it. This was a celebration after all, and what better way to celebrate being heroes and living to see another day than with a night of debauchery? The party was winding down and they had an early morning come tomorrow, so now would be the best time to make his approach.
Across from Halsin, Astarion could see Gale drinking from a goblet, book open in his lap as he rested on a plush purple pillow. Everything purple, with that man. Astarion sauntered over, kneeling down to sit beside him when Gale gave him a smile in greeting.
“Having fun, darling?" he asked, leaning into Gale's space to scan the contents of his book. It appeared to be a work of fiction, something they'd picked up in the blighted village. How droll.
“I must admit, I'm not normally one for large gatherings. But, we did a good thing for the tieflings, and we all deserve a moment of happiness before we head for the creche tomorrow." Gale closed the book, not bothering to mark his page. “And you? Are you having fun, Astarion?"
Astarion lifted his gaze to the wizard's face and gave him his best sultry smile. “I could think of a few things that would make this evening more… fun. If you're interested?” He trailed a finger down the length of Gale's arm, from shoulder to hand.
Gale watched in silence, taking Astarion's hand in his own and nodding. "I could afford a few moments with you, in my tent. If, ah, that's what you're asking?”
Perfect, perfect Gale. Astarion sucked in an unnecessary breath and agreed, following Gale inside. Once the man was on his bedroll, Astarion wasted no time pressing his lips to Gale’s, a soft noise escaping. This was easy, Astarion knew all the steps to this particular dance. He placed a hand at Gale's waist, and the other on the back of his neck. He could feel Gale shudder of excitement as the wizard pulled him closer.
Ever a tease, Astarion leant back and made Gale come to him, only moving to lay sweet kisses on his collarbone when Gale chased after him. A whine, and then Gale pulled him in for a long, hungry kiss that would have a weaker man panting. It was good to know that despite living in isolation for so long, Gale could give as good as he got. A little rusty, perhaps, but what he lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm.
Still, Astarion had a plan. He moaned lightly into Gale's mouth, his act drawing a more sincere response as he pushed Gale back a bit so he could climb into the man’s lap. He let his fangs catch on Gale's bottom lip, not enough to hurt, but enough to entice. His tongue soothed over the imaginary mark and he pushed deeper, his hands moving to the bottom of Gale’s shirt, toying with the hem of it.
Gale groaned as Astarion ground into his lap, feeling the hardness beginning to grow beneath him. His hands slipped under the shirt, feeling the warm expanse of skin as Gale moved his greedy kisses to Astarion's neck. Astarion's head was beginning to fill with the familiar fuzziness that would take him to safety the further along this went, and a small laugh came unbidden from his mouth as he welcomed the relief of disassociation.
But, then Gale stopped. He cleared his throat, pressing one, two more kisses to Astarion's clavicle.
“I'm sorry, but I really do need to stop here."
Astarion blinked, his mind returning to clarity. He could still feel Gale's hardness beneath him, and when he shifted, Gale swore.
“What's wrong?" Astarion asked, bewildered. Gale's hands rested on his waist, holding him close. The tent was dark, but Astarion could see the flush of his cheeks and the desire in his eyes. “Why are we stopping?"
Gale sighed, lifting a hand to rub his face before meeting Astarion's gaze once more. “It's the orb. In its current state any undue stress could set it off. I would love nothing more to continue, but if I were to become too… excited, let's say, it could have rather disastrous consequences.”
The orb. Astarion sat back, taking in the information. “We can't have sex because you'll blow up?"
Gale nodded, the blush darkening on the swell of his cheeks. “I hope you'll forgive me for being, well, a tease. I did not intend to lead you on. I was actually rather hopeful we could enjoy the night together, physical needs aside."
For a moment, Astarion is livid. His plans were once again thrown out the window, and he had nothing to show for it. However…
Gale wanted this, that much was certain. He even appeared to have real, genuine affection for Astarion, seeing as how he was so willing to share his tent for the night even knowing what Astarion was. And really, if he could have this, have Gale want him, need him, without having to sleep with him?
Perfect, perfect Gale.
Astarion rolled his hips, long and hard before placing a kiss on Gale's lips. “You'll simply have to make it up to me soon, darling. I can be patient, we'll see if you can as well."
“Gods save me," Gale whispered before kissing Astarion back slowly and sweetly.
Astarion removed himself from Gale's lap and settled next to him, and the two talked for a while as Gale cooled down and the noise outside dwindled to just the crackle of the fire. At some point, Gale fell asleep, the two facing each other and with an arm over the other's side. Astarion considered leaving for his own tent, but it would be morning soon and he had promised to stay. It wouldn't hurt to get some rest curled up in the warmth of Gale's blankets.
-
It's the day after Mizora had appeared in camp. Tav had taken Wyll, Karlach, and Lae'zel to the blighted village to go climbing into a well for some Gods forsaken reason, and Shadowheart was in the forest nearby looking for herbs. Astarion lounges on a log watching Gale chop some truly pathetic looking vegetable for a stew.
“Have you ever been outside Baldur's Gate, Astarion?"
Astarion likes to think that before becoming a vampire he could have been very well traveled. He doesn't remember anything beyond being a magistrate, however, and his knowledge of places beyond the lower city streets is laughable at best. “Not in 200 years time, I'm afraid."
Gale uses the knife to help transfer the vegetables into a simmering pot of broth. It doesn't smell like much of anything just yet, but vaguely Astarion wonders what it will taste like. A mage hand is conjured to aid in stirring as Gale fiddles about in his pack for spices. “When all this is over, you should join me in Waterdeep. It's lovely this time of year. So much to do and see, I think you'd fit in quite nicely among the locals."
When Gale speaks of home, Astarion pictures a tower in the middle of a vast ocean with nothing else to see for miles. He knows that Waterdeep is actually a bustling trade center, but the image refuses to leave him. He imagines a lone, rickety bridge leading to the tower from a muddy riverbank and a decrepit sign marking it as the last chance for rest before continuing on into the nothingness that the unknown world appears to be to someone who has never had a chance to experience it.
“What would I eat? Fish? Perish the thought, darling."
Gale laughs and douses the stew in enough salt to clog the blood of a thousand men. “There's a butcher in town that I think could be useful. I've often purchased blood from him before to make sausages, I doubt he'd ask any questions if I bought more than the normal amount."
"That easy, hm? And where would I sleep? I know that it's easy to forget, but we won't have these parasites forever. Soon I won't be able to survive the delicate morning rays of the sun.” And isn't that a depressing thought.
"Ah, I've thought of that, too!” Gale says, putting away his utensils and such and taking a seat beside Astarion. "My tower has plenty of room inside for guests, and I have plenty of spare cloaks and sheets that we could fashion into some black-out curtains for your room. You needn't worry about comfort while you're there.”
Astarion sits up, studying Gale's face for any signs of… anything. “You've certainly thought this through, haven't you? Expecting me to stay a while?"
Gale shrugs, looking away quickly. “I just thought it might be nice to have some company, and you'd be welcome to leave anytime you wished. I can imagine you'd have a lot you'd like to do once you're able, but I wanted you to know that you'd be welcome at my home should you ever want it. The same would go for the others of course, but I doubt any of them would be interested in my library the way I'm sure you would."
Astarion doesn't respond immediately, thinking it over. He has no idea what's going to happen to him in the coming days, and if there even is a future for him to speak of. Still, it's a nice thought. Free room and board with a surely grand library that could take another 200 years to get through. And Gale isn't terrible company, after all.
“Well, you've given me a lot to consider. I do admit, it would be nice to have something to look forward to after all this business is concluded." Assuming he's still alive. Assuming Cazador dies at his hands. Assuming this group of weirdos doesn't get him killed or hand him over to a vampire hunter for a pouch of coins.
Gale claps his hands together, smiling at Astarion. “Right! Well, the stew won't need tending to for a while, would you like to play a game of lanceboard? Unless that is you're still upset about losing last time?”
Astarion scoffs and makes a dismissive hand motion. "Set up the pieces, you wretch, and I'll show you exactly how I feel about last time.”
-
When Astarion woke up from his trance, he immediately knew something was off. A quick glance around reminds him that he'd slept in Gale’s tent. That's definitely one thing not right.
Gale was still asleep, and in his sleep he'd moved closer to Astarion, his head rested on Astarion's shoulder. For the moment, Astarion didn't particularly care, accepting the comfortable weight of the human against him.
Something was still off, though. Internally, Astarion took stock of the situation. All his limbs were still attached, he wasn't in any pain or discomfort. To be honest, as far as things go, he was pretty content. He felt well-rested and ready to go, and his hunger was at an acceptable level that wouldn't lose any problems on the road. He felt fine. That was pretty unusual for him after a trance.
The thoughts clicked in place, and if Astarion's heart could still beat it would be racing. His trance, it was fine. Over two hundred years spent under Cazador's thumb, and every reverie was a reliving of the absolute worst pain Astarion had ever experienced. But not last night.
Astarion sat up quickly, dislodging Gale from his shoulder. One night spent next to Gale, in his embrace, and Astarion had been given a temporary reprieve from the nightmares that haunted him. How did this happen? More importantly, how could he make it happen again? And why now? Why Gale?
Astarion wasn't a romantic, and he liked to pretend that he didn't really experience emotions beyond humor and bloodlust. But the proof was there. He'd spent a night curled around his favorite traveling companion, the person he trusted most out of their pack, and he'd had his first trance in centuries that didn't end with him hyperventilating in his tent.
Gale had grumbled at the movement but otherwise made no move towards wakefulness. Astarion watched him sleep, the rise and fall of his chest and the movement behind his eyelids. Slowly, Astarion felt himself smile.
He could work with this- these feelings that existed without name. He could handle it. This didn't have to change anything, his plan could continue. Sighing softly, Astarion pushed a lock of hair out of Gale's face.
Perfect, perfect Gale.