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There is a room in Waterdeep, where the walls are lined with art and shelves are filled with books, where the piano plays itself and the flickering lights from candles make the statues seem alive.
On one wall, a set of doors lead to a balcony overlooking the water and the warm glow of a setting sun.
It is there, on the settee, book in lap, that he finds you, basking in the last rays of the day, illuminated with something akin to a halo.
He is late, and you both know it, but it has allowed you time for studying this book of his. Yours now too, really. He showed it to you once, in a dream, in a vision, on the first night you spent together.
Back then, you had not been able to look at the pages within, only the ones he had shown you, but his words piqued your interest, and now here you are.
Learning. Growing. Eager to test what the pages show.
When he finally arrives home, you are ready for him, in more ways than one.
Tara is not at home, as you are both too afraid of her and too respectful to accept the company of the tressym. She is as much of a mother to Gale as his real mother, and neither of them should be anywhere near the premises when it comes to the night you have in store.
It is all too easy to seem innocent where you’re seated, a bit of your own magic obscuring the cover of the book from Gale’s eyes when he looks at you. For a moment, you pretend not to pay him any attention, allowing him to stare.
When you stretch, carefully, practiced, your outfit revealing a bare leg, a smile almost pulls at your lips, because even without looking at your beloved, you know very well the way he looks at you.
The same way he has since your first night together, or before that even.
It ignites something in you, fiercer than even Karlach’s engine after having spent too much time away from Avernus.
“You’re late,” you tell him, closing the book and putting it to the side. “I had to start without you.”
He sees the cover of the book, stunned for a moment, until you change position on the settee, your legs parting. Gale’s eyes flicker from the book to you, and you can almost see his knees buckling, before he rushes over to you.
“Are you alright?” you ask him, feigning sympathy. “Why don’t you sit down?”
He does, and you move to sit on his lap.
“Do you have any idea as to what I had to do while I waited for you? How not having you here meant I had to seek out… other entertainment? To take matters into my own hands.”
As you rub against him, the evidence makes the front of his trousers wet, and he leans his head back, a groan escaping.
“I want you to look at me,” you tell him. “Look at what your tardiness has caused.”
With one hand, you grab the back of his head to force him to look at you, whilst you take one of his hands in your other, guiding it down to between your legs, so that his fingers splay against your warm and wet flesh.
“Too bad I am fond of your clothes, or else I’d tear them off. Instead, I’ll let you be as you are, until you’re as soaked as me, aching for the touch of a hand. For skin.”
You lean in, making it look as though you’re going to kiss him, instead biting his lower lip as you rut against him with abandon. At this point, you have waited long enough, hot and wet and ready for all of him, but another part of you wants him to wait as you have, to be brought to the brink and back at least once.
“Tell me what you want,” you whisper into his mouth, before drawing him into a kiss, all the while grinding against his hips.
“I want inside you,” he says once you break the kiss. “Now.”
“Too bad,” you groan, as you hit a good spot. “You’ll have to wait, like I did. Now, I’m going to get up, and you’ll undress before you get to touch yourself. Once you’re close enough, stop. And know that I am watching everything.”
Before Gale can protest, you’ve risen to your feet, sinking onto a strategically placed pillow instead, feet spread and the fingers on one hand splayed just above your clit.
“Give me a show,” you instruct, watching as Gale’s eyes grow impossibly darker.
He struggles to his feet, and inside the room that leads to the balcony, the piano changes to a sultry tune, something more fitting Sharess’ Caress than this place.
Gale begins to slowly undress, leaving the soiled trousers for last, removing them to reveal exactly what you had suspected; that there is no cloth underneath.
You will never tire of seeing Gale naked, whether he’s changing, in the bath, asleep in the bed next to you, or erect as he is now.
He is beautiful, from the dark hair that covers parts of his body, to the soft belly, every scar, and the cock that fills you perfectly.
Then he takes himself in hand, slow strokes, because he knows you’re watching, that you’ll tell him to stop if he doesn’t listen.
Envy fills you, but not the way you expected. You thought you’d want his fingers on you, in you, but your focus is on the way his cock looks, and for a moment it’s like your hands are wrapped around the velvety skin.
Your fingers move lower, as you begin to stroke your wet and already overstimulated clit, matching your movements to his, before slipping three fingers in at once.
Damn him for making it difficult for you to stay focused. You refuse to climax until Gale is buried deep within you, but…
Removing your hand leaves you panting, but you cannot give in now, not after all this effort.
“Faster,” you tell him. “Tighter.”
You see his thumb twitch at your command, before he does exactly as you say. As you watch him, you think back to the numerous times you’ve looked between you as his cock slides in and out of you, and your whole body shudders.
The pillow you're seated on is long since soaked, like Gale’s discarded trousers.
As you watch him, you notice when he gets close before he can utter the words, as you are by this point so very familiar with all his tells. It’s all too tempting to reach forward and take him in your mouth, and for a short moment you allow yourself to do just that.
Gale’s breath hitches and his hand stills as you lean forward just an inch to take his tip into your mouth, a light flicker of your tongue.
Then you place your hands on his hips, pushing him back onto the bench.
“Enough,” you say, and Glae does not have the time to react before you finally sink down upon him, sheathing him to the hilt.
You both cry out, every nerve on your body on edge, even the light silk robe you’re wearing becomes too much. And yet you relish in the sensitivity, keeping it on as you place your hands on the back of the bench and begin riding Gale in earnest.
“Fuck you are wet,” he says, voice hoarse.
“It's all your fault. Now make it up to me.”
He feels so good inside you, familiar and comforting and hot. You clench around him, earning you another swear.
Thankfully, he takes the hint, placing his hands on your ass, cupping and spreading your cheeks, helping you ride him, hard and fast and so, so good. He is silk inside you, like the silk that surrounds you, and you know neither of you will last much longer.
“Claim me,” you whisper against his lips, before kissing him hard, teeth catching on his lip hard enough to draw blood.
His nails dig into you, leaving crescent marks and you delight in knowing how bruised you’ll be after.
You reach down with one hand to circle your clit, needing the extra friction, wanting to come first so you can clench around him as he comes inside you.
“I love you,” he whispers against your neck, and that is all it takes to push you over the edge.
As your whole body shakes, you cry out his name, not caring that all your neighbours and everyone in the harbour below hears. Your climax is just over the border of painful, after having denied yourself for as long as you have, but it is worth it, and you’ll gladly do it again.
Gale drives into you, chasing his own release, and you repeat his words back to him. “I love you. Come for me.”
Your name spills over his lips then, paired with praise and curses, a litany forever etched into your mind. Words, a prayer, meant only for your ears, though you harbour a secret hope a certain goddess will hear and regret what she has lost.
It has been a long time since the two of you were so worn out from sex, and this time you could not be more grateful for the both of you knowing prestidigitation. Not just to clean yourselves, but to remove traces from your clothes and the pillow as well.
Normally, you both love cleaning up the other afterwards, soft and warm cloths dragged over sensitive skin, peppered with kisses and words of love and comfort and praise.
Tonight, it’s all you can do to stumble into bed, where you made sure to place some light snacks in the form of grapes, cheeses and cured meats mostly. There is more food stored close by, but even nibbling on what you had prepared eats up the rest of your energy.
You fall asleep entwined, covers barely pulled up enough to cover you should Tara arrive back before you have time to wake.
“Sorry I was late,” Gale murmurs against your skin. “Though not too sorry with that present waiting.”
“Well,” you hum, “I’ll forgive you. Please do not make a habit of it, though I won’t turn down a repeat either.”
He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh with him.
“I love you,” you both whisper at the same time, then fall asleep.