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The hand removed itself from his forehead. “Temperature is normal,” Gale announced, before using its fingers to gather some stray drool that had trailed down Astarion’s jaw. Before Astarion could register the pitiful jolt of arousal at the sudden skin contact or the sheer absurdity of what Gale was doing, Gale had stuck its fingers in its mouth.
“What the —”
“No new bacteria detected,” Gale went on, “Ruling out food poisoning.”
“Oh, Gods,” Astarion groaned. “And to think that these things are what’s sending our workforce into a tizzy. What next, 'droid? Are you about to give me a rectal examination too?”
“There is no need for one at the moment,” Gale said, confused. “Unless you are seeking prostate stimulation—”
“No!”
Amidst the softly thrumming melancholy of a dystopian, cyber-punk city, former corporate-rat Astarion Ancunín, who has long since lost the will to live, finds himself in possession of a G-413 or "Gale" - an amnesiac android who, strangely enough, enjoys living.
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Bookmark Notes:
this is the sistine chapel of bloodweave fic (and fic in general tbh) to me