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Summary
Astarion holds his breath, fighting tears as Gale proceeds to take his pleasure, soft breathy moans spilling from his lips as his eyes squeeze shut in bliss. Behind him, Shadowheart bites down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to send a ripple of glorious pain up his spine.
“Don’t move,” Minthara commands. “Don’t you move.”
7000 souls, and all it took was a good fucking to bring him back to his knees again.
