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Summary
If only Gale could see the way he looks right now—strands of dark hair clinging to his cheek, and pupils as wide as saucers. And they hadn’t even kissed yet.
Astarion huffs out a hollow, pitying laugh for them both. “Is that what’s got you all out of sorts, Gale?” He smooths a thumb across the wizard’s temple and Gale chases his touch on instinct. “A little sex spell?”