Chapter Text
Astarion tapped his foot in irritation, as he felt his knees dig into the chair in front of him, the occupant reclining as far as they could go. Of course Cazador had been too cheap to pay for business class.
He fidgeted with the collar of his suit, wincing as his ears popped from the altitude. If he had his way, all of his meetings would be domestic or over Zoom, but his vampire of a boss insisted on sending him to the New York offices at any chance he could. He knew full well Astarion hated flying, given the number of terse emails Astarion had sent him on the subject. They were in a digital age, but of course, nothing was the same as good old physical meetings.
It wasn’t like he had a choice. Astarion knew full well his position as senior associate had been granted because he had fought for every opportunity, taken every chance to climb the corporate ladder. Up to and including fucking his boss, but that was only part of it. Cazador had been dangling a partnership in front of him for months. He just had to keep following orders and stay in line.
It would be so much easier to toe the line if his feet actually had room, he thought with a grimace, as the seat in front of him rammed painfully into his legs. Or if he could have dressed casually, but Cazador didn’t want to pay for any more nights at a hotel than necessary, so he would have to go straight from the airport to the office. His flight back, perhaps even more irritatingly, wasn’t until the next morning, so he’d be in some godawful hotel that would play havoc on his back.
He would grin and bear it, though. If he got that partnership, he could quit. He could go to any other firm that would take him. He wouldn’t, he was at one of the highest regarded law firms in the world, but he could.
He tried to open his tray table, but the seat in front was reclined so far back that he couldn’t get it open enough to take out his papers and work, so he settled for resting his laptop on his knees, trying to keep his elbows from jostling his neighbours.
To his left, a young woman in a tracksuit was snoring gently, eye mask and neck pillow in place. To his right, a man in a comfortable looking jumper and jeans was flicking through the in flight entertainment.
Astarion might be uncomfortable in a suit, but at least he wasn’t on a plane in jeans.
He found himself looking at the man’s screen, curious as to which film he would choose. He looked like the sort of man to choose some unbearably dull awards bait, while away three hours of the flight but make it feel like five. Or maybe he’d be the only person to ever willingly decide to watch a documentary.
But to Astarion’s surprise, the man selected Dirty Dancing, before settling into his seat. He tried to concentrate on his laptop, as the film opened, squashed onto the tiny airplane screen.
Then again, he knew all his materials inside out and backwards, but he did not know why this man would willingly choose to watch Dirty Dancing, of all things.
He closed the laptop, his curiosity piqued, and this time, he made a more obvious show of looking at the man’s screen, and then the man himself.
He was attractive, Astarion supposed, in a scruffy, hipster sort of way. He had oversized glasses that did not suit his face, long brown hair messily scraped into a bun, likely with his fingers instead of a comb. His beard had flecks of grey laced through, a little longer than perhaps it should be.
Well, if he was going to pass the time on this flight somehow, this was as good as any.
The man frowned slightly, noticing Astarion’s eyes on him, and paused the film, taking out an earbud. “Sorry, did you need to get past?”
“Oh, no,” Astarion said smoothly, stowing the laptop back under his seat and smirking, resting an elbow on the armrest between them and propping up his chin with his hand. “Just wondering what prompted your…intriguing choice in cinema.”
The man looked surprised, leaning slightly away to give Astarion space. “Oh. Um…my students have been giving me a hard time for my taste recently. I promised I’d watch something a little lighter before term started again.”
He held out a hand. “Gale Dekarios. Professor of Film Studies, Imperial College.”
Astarion took it to shake. “Astarion Ancunín, lawyer. I’m sorry, you teach film and you’ve never seen Dirty Dancing?”
“I specialise in science fiction and fantasy, I’m afraid,” Gale said with a laugh. “Although you sound like my students, they were scandalised.”
Astarion laughed, but from the look on Gale’s face, he was actually being serious. He composed himself, but his smirk was still fighting to escape.
“Well, it’s a classic for a reason,” he said, pulling his headphones from his bag under the seat. “I may just revisit it myself.” He clicked through his own screen, finding the film and scrolling through until he found the point that Gale had paused at, close to the beginning. His finger hovered over the play button, waiting for Gale to resume his own film.
Gale’s eyebrows shot up. “You’d watch along?”
“Well, you’re an academic, aren’t you? I’m sure you’re dying to discuss it as you go along, and I have nothing better to do with the next two hours of my time.”
Gale didn’t have anything to say to that, and instead, he silently pressed his screen at the same time as Astarion pressed his.
Astarion wasn’t about to admit it to a complete stranger, but he knew the film like the back of his hand. He had watched it in law school probably dozens of times, any time he’d needed a break from his studies, and then as respite from a particularly gruelling day at work. It gave him an odd sense of peace.
“So what’s taking you to the Big Apple?” Gale asked. “I’m assuming work, unless you’re enough of a psychopath to willingly wear a three piece suit on a long haul flight.”
Astarion snorted, caught off guard by the joke. “Says the man wearing jeans,” he pointed out with a smirk. “But yes, work. I’m a solicitor with Szarr and Associates, specialising in business crime. So, unfortunately, that’s all the information I can give you on the particulars of my purpose in New York.” Gale looked suitably impressed.
“And you?” Astarion asked, finding that, oddly enough, he was rather enjoying the conversation. Gale’s mouth set into a little line.
“Bad divorce,” he admitted. “Booked this trip rather on a whim. I thought perhaps some time in a different locale might help.”
It was a more personal answer than Astarion was really prepared for, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“My condolences,” he said rather stiffly. “If it helps, Dirty Dancing is quite the stereotypical film to watch in these situations.”
The pair sat in silence for a while, as Astarion felt deeply awkward, but Gale seemed to become more and more engrossed.
“Wait,” he said in surprise, as Baby offered to pay for Penny’s abortion, “this is what Dirty Dancing is about?! I thought it was just a lighthearted dancing film with a lot of awful eighties hair!”
“Seriously, how are you an actual professor in the field of cinema and you didn’t know there was an abortion storyline in this?” Astarion asked incredulously.
“I think I might owe some of my students an apology, this is really rather good.”
They lapsed back into silence. Astarion found himself watching Gale more than he watched the film. He looked quite young to be getting divorced, he thought to himself. The gossip in him was dying to know the full story, but he knew full well that it would be really stupid to start prying into a practical stranger’s personal life.
As he was about to ask, because fuck it, he was probably never seeing this man again, Gale reached below his seat and grabbed a notebook and pen from a satchel. A satchel. The man was going on what amounted to a mid life crisis of a holiday (or, to be fairer to him, a third of a life crisis, because he looked to be about Astarion’s age), and he’d brought a satchel?!
“Fascinating,” Gale murmured to himself, scribbling something completely illegible down, as Astarion stared at him. “Baby assumes Johnny is the father, but has to face the reality that it’s someone from her social class that has caused this. She’s already being taken out of her comfort zone by fraternising with the working class, seeing their sexual liberation at the dance party in the staff quarters –“
“Gale,” Astarion interrupted, watching as the man started drawing what looked suspiciously like a mind map, “what are you doing?”
Gale looked up from his notes, a sheepish expression on his face.
“Ah, apologies,” he said, though he didn’t stop jotting down notes. “An academic’s habit is hard to break. You should know that I only start to deeply overanalyse media when I’m very much enjoying it.”
“Right,” Astarion said, smirking. “I dread to think what you’re like watching Lord of the Rings, then.”
“I wrote my doctorate thesis on it,” Gale admitted with a sheepish smile, causing Astarion to bark out a laugh. The woman next to him stirred slightly in her sleep, and Gale looked mortified.
“Oh, please, she’s been passed out since we took off,” Astarion said with a wave of his hand. “I’m ninety percent sure I saw her pop a sleeping pill while we were taxiing on the runway.”
“Still,” Gale replied in a hushed tone, “we shouldn’t disturb the other passengers.”
Cute, Astarion thought to himself.
They lapsed back into a comfortable silence, Gale taking profuse notes, Astarion snorting a little with laughter every time he read one over his shoulder. He was clearly a smart man, judging from the observations he was making. Astarion hadn’t ever really thought about it too much, but when Gale scribbled an entire mind map’s worth of notes about the significance of Judaism to the film’s plot, he started to wonder if he’d missed the point in the dozens of times he’d watched it before.
He was so engrossed in reading Gale’s notes rather than watching the tiny screen that he almost didn’t realise the sex scene had started. Then the familiar notes of Cry to Me started, and Astarion noticed that Gale was blushing slightly.
“Don’t worry, you’re not about to be shouted at by the flight attendants,” he murmured, leaning over so he didn’t disturb anyone around them. “It’s all very tame. Just a shirtless Patrick Swayze and then a fade to black.”
“Thank you for the reassurance,” Gale said rather tightly, just as quietly. He wasn’t taking notes anymore, Astarion noticed. In fact, he seemed to be looking anywhere but at the screen.
“Weren’t you married?” Astarion smirked, as Gale huffed at him. He leant a little on the armrest between them, deliberately crowding Gale. “Come now, Professor, surely this isn’t so exciting for you that –“
“I’m going to stop you there,” Gale said rather tartly. “You’ll forgive me for feeling awkward about watching a scene of this nature with a practical stranger.”
Thankfully for Gale – and a little disappointingly for Astarion – the scene was over in a matter of minutes. Gale went back to writing his copious notes, but there was a definite blush to his cheeks.
Astarion, at this stage of his life, was generally rather adept at noticing when people were attracted to him. He used it to his advantage, of course – a little light flirting here, a smidgen of physical contact there, fluster an assistant into giving him an appointment or catch opposing counsel off guard. And, when needed, he’d taken it further. Gale, he noticed, seemed just as interested in both Baby and Johnny. Not to mention, his blush had been considerably more pronounced when Astarion had leant in to tease him.
He pondered for a moment as to whether he could persuade him into having a little more fun on this flight. After all, he was recently divorced, likely never to see Astarion again. It would certainly be a more entertaining way to pass the time.
Gale turned a page in his notebook, and Astarion noticed a piece of paper tucked into it. Gale swore quietly, plucking it out and stowing it back in his satchel. Astarion, however, managed to get a good look at it. It was hand typed, incredibly formal looking, and, Astarion realised with a start, had a very prominent lawyers’ letterhead at the top.
The apartment will be sold as agreed in mediation, with the initial contribution of the deposit returned to Dr Dekarios of seven thousand pounds. Any profit made will be split proportionate to contributions towards the mortgage. Our client requests that Dr Dekarios move out as soon as possible so that the apartment may be prepared for sale. There is also the matter of assets – our client is not willing to give up ownership of –
Gale shoved the letter into his satchel before Astarion could read any more. Astarion decided that it was probably wiser to look at the screen instead.
They watched the rest of the film in complete silence. Gale was still taking notes, though much less frequently than before. He looked incredibly troubled. Not that Astarion particularly cared about a stranger’s personal life, but annoyingly, there was something in Gale’s pathetic expression that made him feel sorry for him. It was a new feeling, and one that was altogether rather disturbing.
Not to mention there was still a good hour of flight to go, and he couldn’t sit next to this man looking that miserable the entire time.
“You clearly want to talk about it,” he said as the credits began to roll. “You’ve been quiet for the rest of this film. Not even an impressed gasp at the athleticism of the final lift.”
Gale sighed, closing the notebook and looking at it rather contemplatively.
“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said it was a bad divorce,” he said quietly. “She’s taking me for everything I have. Currently she’s doing her best to take the cat. Which stings, considering I’ve had Tara since my undergraduate days. I’ve managed to persuade my mother to look after her in the meantime while I try and get some space, clear my head. Plus I’m currently slightly homeless.”
“Slightly homeless?” Astarion said with a raised eyebrow.
“My rental agreement on my new place doesn’t start until the beginning of the month, and yesterday I left the apartment I’ve lived in for the past twelve years,” Gale explained. “So I figured I’d spend some of my meagre savings before she gets her claws into those as well. Thus – slightly homeless. More like between living arrangements.”
Astarion did his best to recall his family law training from what felt like a lifetime ago.
“The cat counts as property,” he said thoughtfully, which made Gale wince, but he brushed past it. “So if you have proof that you bought it as an undergrad, not to mention any proof that you primarily cared for it –“
“Her,” Gale said a little testily.
“Her,” Astarion amended, “then you shouldn’t have an issue with the court when it comes to the final division of assets. If her lawyers are saying otherwise, they’re just trying to browbeat you into giving up further.”
Gale was quiet for a moment, stowing his notebook back in his satchel.
“I’m representing myself,” he finally said, and quite a few pieces fell into place for Astarion. “I’m not doing a very good job at it, but she was dragging out the process so much I couldn’t afford the retainer anymore. Maybe it’s ridiculous to spend what little savings I have left on this holiday, but at least I’m doing something fun with the little money I have left.”
“Representing yourself against those sharks? You don’t stand a chance,” he replied matter-of-factly. He immediately felt a little guilty at the stricken look on Gale’s face. Astarion did always have a talent for being perhaps a little too blunt.
He managed to wrestle his laptop bag out from under his seat, digging through the pockets in search of his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he found the number he was looking for.
“Here,” he said, thrusting his phone towards Gale. “Give Dalyria Zervudachi a call when we land. Tell her I put you in touch, she owes me more than a few favours. Besides, she hates that firm with a passion. She’ll get a kick out of your case.”
“Your phone isn’t in airplane mode,” Gale said, clearly not listening as he looked at Astarion’s screen.
“Gale,” Astarion said exasperatedly, “I’m offering you an exceptional divorce lawyer on a plate.”
Gale looked up at Astarion with wide eyes, finally registering what he was being told.
“But –“
“I assume if you’re representing yourself, it’s because you can’t afford to hire solicitors?” Astarion said blithely. “Dalyria will give you a few hours on the house, help you get your affairs in order. Fuck, if she’s into it she’ll probably work the case pro bono. She always has been a bit of a bleeding heart.”
Gale stared at Astarion, then at his phone, then back to Astarion.
“Why are you helping me?” he asked him quietly. “I’m nothing but a stranger to you.”
Astarion didn’t actually have an answer to that question. It was incredibly unlike him to be this altruistic. In fact, he’d spent most of his career priding himself on being a cold hearted bastard. It was how he made it through most days, if he was honest with himself. But there was something about this man, with his in depth analysis in a tattered notebook and his hair that he clearly didn’t know how to handle and his stupid fucking uncomfortable looking jeans. It made him want to be nice, which was unsettling. He was never going to see him again, and for some reason that made him a little sad. So perhaps getting him in contact with Dal was a way to keep that connection, but Astarion didn’t want to think about it that hard.
He just shrugged in response.
**
Dal
star, don’t give strangers my number, wtf
you get a pass for this being the biggest slam dunk of a case i’ve ever had, but still
Astarion
don’t call me star
did gale message you then?
Dal
he texted half an hour ago, and it was the most formal text i’ve received in my career which is really saying something
did you know his ex is Mystra Rhyl?
Astarion
that tv physicist? I didn’t even know she was married
so you’re doing it pro bono?
Dal
it’s going to be the biggest media circus known to man when it reaches the courts, you bet your ass I’m working it pro bono, you can’t buy this kind of publicity
honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t been snapped up already, tho I suppose people wanted to work with Mystra more than some film professor and she’s bleeding him dry tbh
I owe you a drink when you’re back, but if you ever give a stranger my number again i’ll kill you in your sleep
Astarion
love you too Dal
Chapter 2
Notes:
Edited 24 June 2025 to add embedded commissioned art by the brilliant floweryanarchy! I love it so much. SO much.
Chapter Text
Astarion sighed as he splashed water on his face, trying to put off his feeling of fatigue. The meeting had been long, boring, and, as he predicted, could have taken place virtually. Hell, it really could have been an email. At least the flight had been more entertaining than he’d thought. He’d let Gale go on his merry way once they landed, not looking over his shoulder once they got through border control. It seemed like he really wasn’t his type, given that for the last hour of the flight Astarion had flirted shamelessly and Gale did not pick up on a single hint. Dal could deal with him now, anyway.
The plane had dehydrated the ever loving shit out of his skin, but at this point, he had planned for it. He fished out a pot of moisturiser from the bottom of his rucksack and applied it liberally to his face, biting back a moan of relief as it soaked into his skin.
His hotel was as dingy as he expected, but Astarion never planned to spend much time in the room anyway when he was on these trips. He would grab some dinner, on the company card, and head to some seedy little club to entertain himself – perhaps even have a little fun, now that he was away from London and didn’t have Cazador breathing down his fucking neck every five minutes.
Nights out in London usually involved going to some upscale wine bar, Cazador insisting on driving him home, and then further insisting Astarion come to his instead, because why wouldn’t he want to be with a powerful man who also happened to be the one responsible for his entire career? It wasn’t Astarion’s proudest moment, the first time he’d agreed to it, but he did like the benefits of their arrangement. A casual arrangement became a secret relationship, one that absolutely could not be revealed to HR. Astarion wasn’t stupid. He knew Cazador was fucking at least three other associates. It was why Dalyria had left in the first place – though it had meant spending an unholy amount of her time and money switching to family law. Astarion was not afforded the same luxury. He wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but Dalyria had family money to fall back on, and Astarion was still building his savings.
So he contented himself with a grossly inappropriate and rather toxic situationship with his boss, and Dal was nice enough to let him stay on with her as a flatmate even though she could easily afford to live by herself. There were worse trade offs. Or at least, that’s what he told himself to stop thinking about it too hard.
But on his trips abroad, even though his schedule left something to be desired, Astarion carved out time for himself. He had a port in every city, so to speak, reliable clubs and bars that he knew he’d at least enjoy a little flirtation at – and if he was lucky, a tryst on his own terms.
New York had a number of reliable spots, hunted down through word of mouth and Reddit recommendations. Astarion’s favourite, hands down, was The Eagle. Always packed, the staff didn’t care in the slightest what happened in the corners (or on one memorable occasion, on the pool tables), and he could easily get back to his shitty hotel in time to drag himself out of bed in the morning. It helped that the clientele were men his own age. He was starting to feel out of place in some of the trendier bars on his list. One girl at The Ritz had called him Daddy at the bar when he’d bought her a drink, and he’d immediately left.
He wasn’t exactly dressed for The Eagle, though, he thought with a grimace as he looked at himself in the mirror. He’d only brought hand luggage with clothes for the flight back, and he wasn’t risking having the TSA holding up a harness for the entire airport to see. He took off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt almost halfway down his chest. Wetting his hands in the sink, he quickly slicked back his hair, before pulling out his small makeup bag from its hidden compartment in his briefcase. With a deft flick of his wrist, he lined his eyes with a thin black gel, before slicking his lips with a dark purple gloss.
He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed again, leaning on the sink and resting his forehead against the cool glass. Well, if nothing else, The Eagle was dark.
It didn’t take long to get there – Astarion elected to take a cab, rather than risk walking the ten blocks by himself – and as he paid the cover charge and headed straight to the second floor, he surveyed the room for potential targets. It was still early in the evening, and he knew from experience the place picked up in an hour or so. He may as well get a drink and people watch until then.
The bar started to fill, the music getting louder and the lighting seedier. Astarion leant against the bar, surveying the room. Nobody had yet caught his eye, though that was more because he was being picky than anything else. He was just debating whether to lower his standards a little and let the bear staring at him from the other end of the bar buy him a drink, when a very familiar face appeared in the doorway, looking more than a little scared.
Gale was walking over to the bar, dressed in a button down and slacks, hair still up in his silly little bun. Astarion had to stop himself rolling his eyes. The man was a walking caricature of a professor. Astarion had had no choice but to wear what he was wearing, whereas Gale had had all the freedom in the world to dress up for a leather bar and had chosen his outfit. He could not have been more of a sore thumb if he tried. If he was here, and specifically, on this floor, either Gale was trying out looking to cruise for the first time, or he was so utterly clueless he was going to get eaten alive that it was laughable.
Gale fidgeted as he leant on the bar and ordered a whiskey. Astarion sauntered over, placing a hand right in the small of his back.
“Hello, darling,” he purred into his ear, causing Gale to startle and almost drop his whiskey. “Here to do the pachenga?”
“What – I mean –“ Gale spluttered as he put his drink on the bar, turning to admonish whoever had made him jump. Astarion watched as his eyes widened and his face flushed. “Oh. Astarion. Hello again.”
Astarion felt a little thrill go up his spine. Gale remembered him. And judging from the expression on his face, remembered him rather favourably.
“Gary, was it?” he said idly, sliding a ten dollar bill over to the bartender to pay for Gale’s drink.
“It’s Ga-“
“Gale, I know,” Astarion finished for him, as the bartender gave him his change. Gale looked at the money in surprise, then back up at Astarion. It was almost cute. “We had a whole five hours trapped in each others’ company, I’m not so impolite that I’d forget so quickly.”
He clinked his vodka and coke to Gale’s whiskey.
“So, in search of hedonistic debauchery, darling?” he teased, giving Gale’s side a light nudge with his elbow. “I’m surprised. I would have thought this place wasn’t highbrow enough for someone like yourself.”
“You’ve only known me a handful of hours,” Gale said a little defensively. “For all you know, I could enjoy the taste of chaos.”
Astarion gave him a very dry look.
“I could learn to enjoy it,” Gale amended with a sigh. “Fine. You read me like an open book, Astarion. Happy?”
“Very,” Astarion responded with a grin. He knocked back the rest of his drink, waving at the bartender for another. “So. What’s your plan for this evening, little love? Hang off the bar admiring the view? A cheeky smoke on the roof terrace? An even cheekier fuck in the bathroom stall?”
He laughed as Gale choked on his whiskey.
“I – that is to say – “
“Oh, so you are here to cruise,” Astarion said in delight. “I did wonder.”
Gale scowled at him. It didn’t suit his face. Astarion gave his cheek a little pat.
“Sorry, darling, I don’t mean to offend,” he said, faux innocence dripping from his tone. “You just look a little out of place, is all. I mean, you’re in a button down and slacks.”
“You’re in a button down!”
“Yes, but I only have the clothes I wore with me and a change for the flight back,” Astarion pointed out. “I couldn’t exactly wear a harness and a jock strap to my meeting, could I?”
From the look on Gale’s face, the mental image appealed to him. Astarion made a mental note to use that against him in the conversation where he could.
“I thought I should wear something I was comfortable in,” Gale said, circling the rim of his glass with a finger, “given that I am already leagues out of my comfort zone by coming here in the first place and – what was it you called it? Cruising?”
“Jesus Christ, Gale,” Astarion said, his eyebrow raising.
“Look, I’ve been married to a woman for twelve years, you’ll forgive me for not being up to date with the latest lingo,” Gale snapped back. Astarion simply smirked back, mimicking a cat’s claws with his left hand. Gale just looked down at his whiskey again, swirling it in his glass.
“You’re clearly better at this than me –“
“You’d better not be slut shaming me, Gale –“
“I’m not – for the love of –“ Gale took a deep breath, holding it for a second before releasing it slowly. Good Lord, but it was easy to get under this man’s skin, Astarion thought as his second vodka and coke arrived. “I’ve been out of the loop for most of my adult life, alright? I’m asking for a little grace here. Maybe some friendly advice, if you’re capable of such an endeavour.”
Astarion decided to give Gale a break. Just a small one, of course. He did look delightful with a light flush on his cheeks. He’d look even more so red faced and breathless, come to think.
“My advice to you is try and relax, Professor,” he said with an easy smile, reaching out to deftly unbutton the top buttons of Gale’s shirt before Gale could react. His face broke into a delighted smile as his actions revealed a fine line tattoo. A perfect circle with greyscale lines snaking across his collarbone and down onto his chest, slightly faded with time. “Oh, now, see? Hiding little details like this. Who’d have thought a buttoned-up academic like yourself would do something so rebellious as brand himself with a tattoo?”
Gale batted his hand away with a scowl, quickly doing up a button to hide the lines, though he did follow Astarion’s advice and leave the others undone.
“It was a foolish decision intending to impress someone who was long past impressing,” Gale said rather cagily.
“Mystra?” Astarion guessed, and smirked as Gale looked more than a little shocked. “Sorry, darling, Dal’s already let that cat out of the bag.”
“Yes, fine, it was to impress my ex wife,” Gale said through gritted teeth. It did not escape Astarion’s attention that Gale was yet to actually refer to Mystra by her name. “It was supposed to be an artistic rendition of a black hole, given that that’s one of her areas of expertise.”
“And you teach science fiction and fantasy, so I imagine Interstellar was a real factor in your decision,” Astarion said, taking another sip of vodka. The small huff Gale let out seemed to confirm his suspicions. “What did she think of it?”
“It was her idea, actually,” Gale responded, suddenly finding his whiskey very interesting indeed. “She said it would prove that I cared. That I loved her. And then she filed for divorce three months after I had it done.”
“See, I always thought Mystra Rhyl was secretly a bitch,” Astarion said casually. It made Gale laugh, a genuine, throaty baritone that carried across the bar. It caught the attention of a few of the other patrons, and Astarion suddenly felt oddly possessive.
“So,” he continued, putting his drink down on the bar and facing Gale properly. “You’re in the midst of finalising your divorce to a D list celebrity –“
“I don’t know if you’d necessarily call her D list,” Gale protested rather feebly.
“-who is clearly a manipulative psychopath,” Astarion continued, not listening to a word Gale was saying, “and now you’re out here sowing your wild oats, so to speak. I suppose you were married young, given you said you were married twelve years and you’re, what, mid thirties now?” He eyed Gale with a critical gaze, his expression slowly morphing from thoughtful into smirking. “Actually, have you been with a man before, Gale?”
“Coming here was a terrible idea,” Gale grumbled, running a hand over his face. “Yes, I have been with men before. Though I have been monogamous with my ex wife for fifteen years now, so in some ways I am starting over. The world seems to have moved on without me in the meantime.”
“Delightful,” Astarion said. “Let me help you out.”
Again with the altruism, but this time Astarion had a definite motive. He decided in that moment that Gale was his prey for the night. Clearly, the universe kept throwing this poor, hopeless man at him for a reason. Astarion had never been a big believer in fate, but he also knew an easy mark when he saw one. He would need to go back to his hotel earlier than he’d like if he had any hopes of getting a good night’s sleep before his flight the next morning. The Eagle usually picked up at about midnight, and he would prefer to leave by one at the absolute latest, which gave him limited time to find a decent option. But if he could persuade Gale into something, he had a guarantee. He could probably even get to bed and get a solid six hours afterwards, which was something of a luxury.
Was he old, now that going to bed early seemed more appealing than an all nighter in the greatest city in the world?
Astarion put that thought from his mind and focused on Gale, who was staring at him like he’d grown an extra head.
“Not with me, of course,” Astarion said smoothly. He had a plan, one that would have Gale practically begging for him in an hour. Perhaps a little manipulative, but that was part of the fun of it. “Think of me as your guide to the seedy underbelly you’re trying to get back into. Firstly, stand up straight. You have a good body hiding under that jumper of yours, show it off a little. Look like you know you’re the shit.”
Gale drew himself up to his full height, growing almost an inch, Astarion noticed with a smirk.
“Confidence is key,” Astarion told him, “and you clearly have all the confidence of a potted plant, so you’re going to have to fake it.”
Gale deflated a little. Good. Build him up, break him down a little bit so he’d seek more of Astarion’s approval.
“Take your hair down from that god awful bun,” he said, reaching behind Gale’s head to innocently take out the hair tie. “You look like the worst sort of hipster. Half up suggests something to hold on to, all down something to pull on. Which do you prefer?”
“Half – half up,” Gale managed to stammer out, clearly flustered by Astarion’s proximity. Oh, this was almost too easy.
“Turn around, darling,” Astarion said, fishing his travel comb out of his pocket and flashing a dangerous smile at Gale. He obeyed, immediately – he was good at following orders, that was good to keep in mind – and Astarion started combing his hair back, leaving a few tendrils around his face as he carefully tied half of Gale’s hair into a bun. He fiddled with it a little, making it look artfully messy rather than the actual mess it had been.
Gale’s hair was surprisingly soft. Tying it up revealed more greys laced through it, a little rougher texture than the browns and blacks. Astarion had gone grey at seventeen and immediately dyed it platinum white to make it look like a choice. He envied Gale a little for how comfortable he seemed to be with his own signs of aging. Even if, for the day he had known him, the man had the oldest soul he’d ever come across.
“Done,” he said softly, pointing at Gale’s reflection in the mirror. Gale looked at himself with a critical eye, but Astarion saw his face soften a little.
“Nothing I can do about the glasses, though,” Astarion added. “I suppose you didn’t bring contacts?”
“No,” Gale said, “but they’re not too bad with the hair, right? I think they go quite well, actually.”
That surprised Astarion, who was ready for Gale to deflate a little again. Gale did have a spine, then. It just took a little coaxing for him to show it.
“Whatever you say, darling,” he said instead with a shrug. He made a show of toying with the pieces of hair he’d left loose. Gale was starting to attract a little attention, and he could certainly make it look like he was here with him. “Now, what’s your type? If I’m to be your wingman, I should really know what it is we’re looking for here.”
That question seemed to stump Gale, or maybe it was Astarion’s hands still playing with his hair that was throwing him. Either way, he was silent for a moment.
“I’m not really sure how to describe it,” he said finally. “I don’t have a particular affinity for any physical attributes. I’m more drawn to a person’s mind than their body.”
“Gale,” Astarion said exasperatedly, giving the hair he was holding a playful tug, “that is entirely counterintuitive to what you’re trying to achieve here.”
Gale huffed, batting away Astarion’s hand, but he couldn’t stop the smile that was fighting to make its way onto his face.
“I never really had a type before I was married, is probably a better way of putting it,” he amended. “I married quite young.”
“Oh, excellent,” Astarion said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s play ‘what’s your type’, then.” He made a show of looking over the bar, which was starting to fill up. “Are you looking for a top or a bottom?”
Gale blushed.
“For fuck’s sake, man, we’re looking for someone for you to take into the bathroom and do unspeakable things to,” Astarion said with an exaggerated sigh. “How do you have a hope of asking if a simple enquiry throws you for a loop?”
“I’m looking for a bottom,” Gale said, the answer clearly paining him.
Good, Astarion thought. He wasn’t wasting his time with Gale, then.
“Obviously you can’t always tell that from looking at someone,” Astarion said, looking back out over the crowd again. “But it’s a start.”
“Why did you ask, then?!”
“I was curious,” Astarion said with a grin. Gale sighed and took a deep drink of his whiskey. “Anyway, I’ll point out some potential targets, and you tell me what works for you and what doesn’t.”
“Fine,” Gale said, in a tone that suggested it wasn’t fine, but he didn’t have much of a choice.
Astarion made a show of checking out the other patrons, leaning his elbows against the bar so his shirt strained slightly against his skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gale’s eyes flick down to his chest and back up.
“Let’s start with someone I think you’ll rule out straight away… What about him?” Astarion said, nodding subtly to an enormous man near the pool table. He had to be at least six foot four, muscles on muscles, a deep scar over one eye. “I’m going to guess immediately he’s not your type, but I want you to tell me why.”
“He looks like he could break me in half,” Gale said. “I don’t think they necessarily have to be shorter than me, but that’s…a lot.”
Astarion snorted.
“What about him?” he said, pointing out a scruffy looking man further down the bar, shirtless save for a complicated looking harness, a pair of tight leather trousers completing the look.
“He looks like he hasn’t washed his hair in a week,” Gale said a little disdainfully. “And that he never grew out of his early 2000s emo phase.”
“For a man without a type, you’re being awfully picky, Gale.”
“Shut up.”
They played their odd little game for a good ten minutes, Astarion pointing out various different men, Gale offering his opinions. Gale preferred men who were well groomed, about the same height as him, and had an air of confidence about them.
In short, Astarion thought with a smirk, he ticked a lot of Gale’s boxes. He was just clearly terrible at noticing people were attracted to him in return.
He noticed Gale take a small intake of breath, and looked over in the same direction. At the other end of the bar, a shy, sweet looking man with long blonde hair was ordering a drink, looking almost as out of place as Gale did.
“What do you like about him?” Astarion murmured in Gale’s ear, leaning against his back and draping an arm over his shoulder. “The hair? The naïveté, perhaps?”
“He has kind eyes,” Gale said softly, and Astarion wanted to vomit.
“If you’re bending him over the pool table, you won’t be able to see his eyes, darling,” he drawled instead. Gale huffed loudly enough for the man to look in their direction. As Astarion caught his eye, he scowled, a possessive expression written all over his face, keeping his arm around Gale.
Thankfully, Gale didn’t notice, too busy rolling his eyes at Astarion.
“So how do I approach this?” Gale said, and Astarion quickly snapped to attention. He was going to have to play this next part carefully.
“Go and speak to him, of course,” he said silkily, adjusting Gale’s shirt collar for him. He made a show of tucking the pieces of hair around his face behind his ear. “But be very blunt about what it is you want. This is the place for it, after all.”
It was single-handedly the worst piece of advice Astarion had ever given. The man at the bar was clearly new to the scene, easily scared off. Gale going in all guns blazing would likely send him crashing and burning into a terrified rejection. Especially if, with the way Astarion was currently basically hanging off Gale, it looked as though he was inviting him over for a threesome.
Oops.
He gave Gale a quick pat on the arse as he started to make his way over, earning himself a furious and quite flustered scowl. Astarion rested his chin on his hands as he watched Gale go over to speak to the man.
He couldn’t hear the conversation, but he saw Gale offer a handshake – who does that, he thought with a roll of his eyes – say something with a deep blush on his face, and then look absolutely mortified as the man at the bar squeaked and hurried off to a different spot.
“Oh dear, darling,” Astarion said, a mock pout on his face as Gale scurried back over, “what happened?”
“What happened is I made a complete fool of myself, that’s what,” Gale said, grabbing his whiskey and throwing it back in one gulp. “God, the poor man couldn’t have gotten away from me any faster.”
“You’re just rusty,” Astarion said smoothly. “Here, practice on me. You clearly just need a refresher course in flirtation. You do remember how to flirt, don’t you?”
“Practice on you,” Gale said flatly.
“Exactly. Pretend we’ve just met for the first time. It’ll be fun.”
“I only met you a handful of hours ago, Astarion – “ Gale protested, but it was too late. Astarion turned his back on him, leaning against the bar and popping out one hip. He sighed.
“Goodness me, but it is dull tonight,” he said dramatically. “I wonder when a recently single and rather stuffy film professor will come into this bar and sweep me off my feet?”
He heard Gale sigh exasperatedly behind him and grinned. He flashed him a coquettish grin over his shoulder.
“Oh, but it seems my prayers have been very coincidentally answered,” he said with a wide, fake smile, turning to lean his elbows on the bar. “Hello there, beautiful. Aren’t you a sight?”
“You cannot tell me that works on anyone,” Gale grumbled, but Astarion could see the now almost ever present blush spreading over his cheeks again.
“You’d be surprised, darling,” Astarion said in a sing-song voice. “Now come on, play along. It’s no fun solo.”
Gale let out a very long suffering sigh, and leant one arm on the bar next to Astarion.
“Good evening,” he said, very stiffly. “I like your shirt.”
Astarion burst out laughing, earning him a shove and a very disgruntled noise from Gale.
“I’m sorry, but you are absolutely hopeless,” Astarion said through his giggles. “Maybe we should switch roles, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Gale sighed, but he didn’t protest or decline the offer, so Astarion pushed himself away from the bar, turned round with a flash of a smile, and leant right into Gale.
“My name’s Astarion,” he introduced himself, even though they both knew full well they had no need to at this point. “I’d love to know yours so I can scream it later.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Gale muttered under his breath. “Gale, it’s Gale, you know it’s Gale –“
“A beautiful name,” Astarion interrupted, running a finger along the part of Gale’s collarbone that he could reach. “I hope you blow as well as your namesake.”
“Alright, now you’re just taking the piss,” Gale said grumpily, taking hold of Astarion’s wrist and dragging it out of his shirt with some difficulty.
“Oh, lighten up, darling, I’m just having a little fun –“
“Well, I’m not,” Gale snapped. “Heaven forbid I think you were actually trying to help me, Astarion, but you apparently seem intent on mocking me the entire evening. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here. This was a mistake.”
And with that, Gale swept from the bar in what Astarion considered a very dramatic fashion, which coming from him was really saying something.
He didn’t know why he followed him. The hornier corner of his brain insisted it was because he was convenient. The newly discovered altruistic side suggested he shouldn’t have pushed him quite so far just to get a quick fuck.
Astarion shoved that thought as deep as he could get it to go as he followed Gale out of the Eagle.
Chapter 3
Notes:
The tags updated for a reason…
Content Warnings/Smut Tags:
Referenced dubious consent, fingering, handjobs, oral sex, anal sex
Chapter Text
Gale was clambering rather inelegantly into a cab just as Astarion left the building.
Swearing quietly under his breath, he pushed past the people on the pavement, catching the door just as Gale was about to close it and sliding into the seat next to him.
“Hey – Astarion, get out this instant – “
“I will give you fifty dollars on top of the fare if you ignore whatever this man says and take us straight to his destination,” Astarion said to the driver as he shut the door behind himself. The driver shrugged, and began the journey to wherever it was Gale had told him.
“Astarion,” Gale spluttered, “you cannot just commandeer another man’s taxicab and expect him to have no issues with it –“
“I want you to fuck me,” Astarion said bluntly. If manipulation wouldn’t work, perhaps he could try honesty. Gale seemed to value honesty. Which might make him more amenable to fucking him.
Okay, so it was still manipulative, but in Astarion’s eyes it was an improvement on his slightly more morally dubious tactics.
Gale was staring at him as though he had grown an extra head.
“You said you weren’t interested.”
“I never said that.” Technically, he hadn’t used those exact words.
“You were trying to help me pick up other men!”
“Oh, come on, Gale,” Astarion said exasperatedly, “I couldn’t have given you worse advice if I tried, and trust me, I was trying pretty fucking hard.”
“Why would you give me bad advice?!” Gale said, looking rather adorably irritated at him as well as confused. Astarion idly considered licking the corner of his mouth.
“Is that really what you’re going to focus on?” he said instead. “Not the fact I ran to your taxi, jumped in the back of it, and told you honestly that I want to have sex with you?”
“You and I have very different definitions of the word honest,” Gale said tersely, just as the driver piped up from the front with, “Could you at least wait until you get to where you’re going? Otherwise there’ll be a cleaning charge.”
Pointedly ignoring the driver, Astarion slid a little closer to Gale on the backseat. Gale, in turn, moved right to the far side and put on his seatbelt.
“Gale,” Astarion said, leaning closer and trying to look remorseful, “come on, I’m trying to make it up to you here –“
“It’s illegal to not wear a seatbelt,” Gale interrupted him with a scowl. Astarion opened his mouth to protest, but the driver glared at him as well, so he sighed and settled into the middle seat, buckling himself in.
“Gale, please,” Astarion said in an almost pathetic tone, leaning over to run a finger along Gale’s collarbone yet again. It had not escaped his notice that the man shivered every time he did it. “Let me make it up to you. I’ve been simply beastly. And we’re both just looking for a little fun, right? We can just skip the awkwardness and all your worrying and get to the good part.”
There was a flicker of desire in Gale’s eyes. Just for a moment, almost imperceptible, but Astarion had gotten extremely good at spotting those signs over the years.
“I’m not that easily won over, Astarion,” Gale said, folding his arms. “Perhaps I’m simply not as cut out for a casual encounter as you are.”
“How would you know?” Astarion countered. “You said it yourself, you’ve been monogamous for fifteen years. And I’m willing to bet money that the last few years of those were practically celibate.”
The conflicted look on Gale’s face spoke volumes in his silence.
“So here I am,” Astarion continued, sensing that now was the time to push, “a beautiful stranger, offering you an experience. A night of passion, where you can be free to be selfish. Where you can demand whatever you desire, with no consequences. Isn’t that what you want?” he asked silkily. “Because I think it is. And I think you want to be known. To be tasted.”
The flicker became a spark, and Astarion knew he had him right where he wanted him. He dragged his finger lazily up along Gale’s neck to his chin, a finger and thumb carefully leading his face forward towards him. There was enough give in his seatbelt to lean in closer.
“At least let me taste you, Gale,” he murmured, letting his breath ghost over the other man’s lips.
With Astarion, there was always the illusion of choice. Whoever he was seducing would think they were making the decision to close that final gap. That they were being offered an out, right at the last minute, when Astarion would pretend to hesitate, looking into their eyes with a false sense of vulnerability. A vulnerability that was exceedingly difficult to not take advantage of.
He might seem sweet, but Astarion was willing to bet that Gale was no different.
As Gale closed the gap to press his lips to his, Astarion closed his eyes, acting as though he was savouring his taste for just a moment. He tasted like whiskey, obviously. He’d also clearly had some terrible pizza for dinner. But as Astarion carefully traced the seam of his lips with his own tongue, coaxing it open to deepen the kiss, he could taste something else. Something intangible. Not unpleasant, necessarily, but…intriguing.
He licked into his mouth, earning himself a much louder groan than he was ready for. Then he felt a hand on his cheek.
Christ. Gale was caressing his cheekbone with his thumb like they were two love struck teenagers necking behind the bike sheds. This wasn’t supposed to be romantic or sweet or anything that Gale had clearly gotten stuck on in his fifteen years of what Astarion assumed to be bullshit heteronormativity.
Astarion needed to break him, and he needed to break him fast. This was not a man who would let a one night stand go, and he did not have space or time for Gale to get attached. Especially if Dalyria was taking on his case - he needed Gale to see this the way he did, as a selfish, one off experience. Then he could go on his merry way. Maybe even feeling a little bit better, given that he’d managed to get him some help. That would be enough good deeds for a while.
He bit Gale’s lip, hard.
“Ow – fuck – “ Gale pulled back, wincing as he lifted a finger to his lip. A little blood settled onto his fingertip.
Astarion snorted.
“Has anyone ever told you you sound ridiculous when you swear?” he asked, as Gale wiped at his lip again. “So prim and proper.”
“Nothing wrong with proper elocution,” Gale grumbled under his breath as the taxi pulled up outside a nondescript looking apartment building. Astarion opened the door, grabbing Gale’s hand and tugging him along behind.
“It seems I have a challenge on my hands, then,” he said, as Gale dug in his pockets, retrieving a key fob and letting them both into the foyer. Astarion felt a stab of satisfaction that he wasn’t being told to go back to his own hotel. “By the end of tonight, Professor, you won’t even manage a full sentence.”
Gale had apparently rented a studio apartment on AirBnB for his stay. It was clearly intended as a place to sleep in and nothing else. His suitcase was pushed against one wall, his pyjamas laid out neatly on the double bed as if they were waiting for his return. Everything was painted landlord white – it even looked like the windows had been painted shut. It was tragic, really. Astarion preferred when a room had a little more personality, so he had something to be distracted by if the sex was terrible. Cazador had a rather delightful set of glass paintings on the opposite wall to his bed.
This part, Astarion found easy. He knew how this would go. Gale would let them in, and they would head straight to the bed, probably shucking their clothes along the way. Gale would shove him down – they always shoved him down, it felt like –
“Do you want some tea? Seems a little late for coffee.”
Astarion blinked, coming back to reality as Gale unlocked the door, opening it for him and waiting for him to enter first.
“Gale, you do realise I’m here to be fucked, right?” he said, managing to regain a little of his composure as he headed into the apartment. “You don’t have to act all gentlemanly.”
“I know the purpose of your presence here, Astarion,” Gale said with a huff. “I simply thought you might like a moment to get your bearings, feel a little safer. You’re in a stranger’s rented apartment in a different city, after all. Oh, speaking of which –“
Gale dug into his pocket, pulling out his passport and opening it to the identification page. He laid it on the counter and looked at Astarion expectantly.
“I think I’m aware that you’re over the age of consent, Gale,” Astarion said dryly, peering at the photo. It was a few years old. He looked slimmer, his beard much closer shaved and his hair a little shorter.
Gale huffed again (he seemed to huff a lot in Astarion’s presence.)
“It’s so you can take a photo of it,” he explained, sliding it insistently towards Astarion. “For safety’s sake.”
“So if you murder me and dump me in the Hudson, there’s a photo of your passport on my phone to identify you with?”
“So that you have reassurance that I won’t murder you and dump you in the Hudson,” Gale said, clearly fighting back a smirk now.
Astarion couldn’t help himself; he was oddly touched by the gesture. And yes, he had to admit it did make him feel a little safer, as he dug his phone out of his pocket and took a quick photo of the passport. He’d delete it later, of course. He didn’t need any questions.
Throwing his phone and wallet on the counter, he stalked back over to Gale, running his hands around his waist.
“Now,” he murmured, leaning in once more, “I believe you were saying you knew the purpose of my presence?”
There was that intangible taste again. Astarion chased it thoughtfully with his tongue, trying to place it as he led Gale by the hips towards the bed. Something close to cinnamon, maybe? Or some sort of warming spice, he considered, as he fell backwards onto the mattress.
Gale landed heavily on top of him, breaking the kiss to make sure their teeth didn’t clack together from the impact. He took off his glasses, placing them carefully on the nightstand next to the bed, before Astarion dragged him in by the shirt to kiss him again. He was determined to figure out that infuriating taste, and he was nothing if not single minded on a task. If anything, it stopped him thinking too much about what Gale might want to do to him.
He started to undo Gale’s shirt, fingers practically flying over the buttons as he shoved his tongue in his mouth. Gale was propping himself up over him, clearly worrying about putting too much weight down. As soon as his shirt was undone, Astarion ran his hands around his waist, over the soft skin to the small of Gale’s back, and pulled him down harder.
But for every aggressive action of Astarion’s, he was met with softness. As he dug his nails into Gale’s back, Gale started to kiss gently at his neck. When he peeled Gale’s shirt off him completely and tossed it to the floor, Gale stroked his hand along his jaw. And when he insistently tried to undo his belt and push down his slacks, Gale caught his hand, intertwining their fingers and pinning it gently by his head.
“Gale,” Astarion muttered, staring up at the ceiling while Gale pressed another light kiss to his pulse point, “we haven’t been married twelve years. You could at least hurry up and suck my cock or something.”
He felt Gale laugh against his skin and smacked his shoulder a little harder than he probably should have. But it was infuriating. He just wanted to get on with it, to be fucked, to find his release and go back to his hotel and get some damn sleep.
“So impatient, Astarion,” Gale murmured against him, and as Astarion tried to pull his hand away, Gale held it in place on the pillow. His other hand went to Astarion’s cheek, and his stupid thumb started stroking the line of his cheekbone again. This would not do.
Gale might have been heavier than he was, but Astarion was pretty sure he was stronger. With a grunt, he pushed him over, rolling them both so he was straddling Gale’s hips. The little squeak of surprise Gale made was quickly muffled by Astarion’s mouth.
Astarion managed to get his hand out of Gale’s grip long enough to sit upright, tearing his own shirt off over his head. Tossing it on the floor next to Gale’s, he grabbed his wrists, pinning them firmly above his head with one hand as the other started to wander down his chest.
Gale’s torso was covered with hair, the same salt and pepper running through it that Astarion had admired earlier in the night. He toyed idly with it as his hand meandered downwards, stopping along the way to tweak his nipple as punishment for being so god damned nice to him.
Gale grunted at the sudden shock, grinding his hips upwards as his one form of protest. Astarion took great pleasure in feeling just how hard the other man already was underneath him.
“Not one for pain play, then?” he asked innocently, rolling the quickly stiffening pebble between two fingers.
“Ngh – not particularly, no,” Gale said through gritted teeth, trying to pull his hands free, but Astarion held him down fast. Every arch of his back sent his hips up deliciously against Astarion’s, and he ground down on him in return, drawing another stifled grunt from him.
He was holding back, Astarion realised. He leant forward, his hand now smoothing over the expanse of Gale’s stomach.
“I can tell you want to make more noise than this,” he murmured in his ear, deftly undoing Gale’s belt buckle. “Why so quiet, darling? You hardly shut up the rest of the time.”
He unzipped his trousers, gaining just enough room to shove his hand down Gale’s boxer briefs (purple, he noted, and already with a small wet spot staining the front) to see what he had to work with. Gale’s cock slotted nicely into his palm. It wasn’t particularly large – at least, not as large as the dicks that Astarion had had in the past – but it had a good girth to it, and Gale had clearly groomed for his foray into cruising, which was always appreciated.
As Astarion gripped him, Gale finally let out a long moan that he’d clearly been holding back. It was a deep baritonal rumble that felt like it echoed into Astarion’s chest.
“Much better,” Astarion said with a smirk, wiping his thumb teasingly over Gale’s slit, earning himself another whimper. “Was that so hard?” He squeezed him at the base of his shaft to punctuate that last word, not yet moving his hand any further.
“Astarion – nnnn –“ Gale whined, dragging out the last syllable of his name, feebly trying to thrust into his grip. Astarion leant forward and nipped at his lower lip again, stubbornly keeping his hand still, pressing down at the base.
“I bet she told you to be quiet, didn’t she?” he said, a cruel edge to his voice. He watched as Gale’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and somehow, he grew harder in Astarion’s hand. Like he was getting off to the humiliation of his words. “While she laid back and let you do all of the work. Poor Professor Dekarios and his poor, neglected dick.”
Astarion found he was thoroughly enjoying being in charge. There was a power, a control he’d never known before, so used to being tossed around or pinned face down. But Gale was letting him do this. Enjoying it, even, judging by the noises he was making and the attempts to fuck into Astarion’s hand.
“Now, now, darling,” he cooed, beginning, finally, to stroke up and down Gale’s length with a tight grip. “I want to hear you. I want to hear how much you’re enjoying this.”
Gale closed his eyes, his head tilting back into the pillows as he moaned again. Astarion rewarded it by letting go of him, spitting into the palm of his hand, and returning to the task at hand with more vigour than before.
“There’s lubricant in the nightstand,” Gale said in a pained voice, his eyes flying open to look up at Astarion in shock. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m saving time, poppet,” Astarion replied with a dangerous grin. “But I will keep that in mind. Unless you’d rather I use yours rather than mine?”
“I would rather be pleasuring you, if it’s all the same to you,” Gale managed to gasp back, his back arching almost entirely away from the bed at the new sensation of Astarion’s wet hand around him. “As enjoyable as this is, it feels rather self indulgent and – fuck –“ He cut himself off as Astarion squeezed his balls in a vice like grip.
Astarion was getting a little tired of Gale’s seemingly never-ending chatter – although he had encouraged him to be more vocal, so that was probably on him more than anything – and let go to start undoing his own trousers. Gale’s trembling hands tried to assist, but he batted them away. Astarion was in charge, and he was going to take every opportunity to keep it that way.
“So impatient, Gale,” he mimicked in a sing song voice. He wriggled out of his trousers, tossing them to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. Gale’s eyes widened as he looked down. Astarion was wearing what he always wore to nights like this – a faux leather jockstrap, tight to him and barely concealing his rapidly hardening erection.
He crawled up Gale’s body to straddle his face, and was delighted to feel Gale’s hands grip onto his thighs to hold him there.
“When did you last have a cock in your mouth, darling?” he asked, and as Gale opened his mouth to respond, Astarion ground the leather against it. Gale’s hands immediately went to the waistband of the jockstrap, earning another light slap to his wrists. “Answer the question first.”
“That is hard to do in our current positions,” Gale retorted, his voice muffled by the fabric that Astarion was shamelessly grinding against his lips, but his hands settled on the globes of his ass instead and began to gently massage them, encouraging his hips’ movements. “About sixteen years, give or take.”
“Oh, you’ll be taking,” Astarion said with a smirk. He didn’t even bother moving to take off the jockstrap, instead pushing it to the side, his cock falling free and landing on Gale’s bottom lip. With his other hand, he gripped the metal bedframe, bracing himself. “That mouth of yours certainly looks like it needs stuffing with something –“
He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Gale wrapped his mouth around him and took him right to the base. His head lifted slightly off the pillow, using his hands to direct Astarion, thrusting him into his throat.
An action Gale immediately seemed to regret, as he loudly gagged and pulled off to start spluttering and coughing, which gave Astarion a moment to recover from the jolt of pleasure that had stabbed through him.
“Oh, dear, pup,” he murmured, trying not to think about how it was the first time in years that someone had done that to him, rather than expected it from him. “Maybe let’s not deepthroat before we can walk, yes?”
He reached down and positioned himself against Gale’s mouth again, but this time, Astarion held the back of Gale’s head once he’d let go of his cock. His fingers grazed his hairline, tilting the other man’s head so he was at a different angle, one where Astarion physically couldn’t go very deep. His tip brushed along the roof of his mouth as he started with small, shallow thrusts. Astarion couldn’t help but shudder at the sensation.
When was the last time someone had willingly done this? He couldn’t quite remember, and the thought was the wrong sort of distraction. Gale seemed to pick up on it, and swirled his tongue around Astarion’s head just as he pulled out for another shallow thrust.
All distracting thoughts went straight out of the window, and Astarion yanked on his hair in shock, almost losing his balance and thrusting in more than he meant to. Gale moaned around him, the vibrations adding a whole new sensory level, and his hands started massaging Astarion’s ass again.
“So – so hair pulling is a yes,” Astarion managed to get out, tangling his fingers into the bun that he’d tied up for Gale earlier. He looked over his shoulder; Gale was leaking onto his stomach, his shaft twitching with every small thrust of Astarion’s into his mouth. “As is – is oral, by the looks of things. You continue to – Jesus, do that again,” he mewled, as Gale slid his tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing the vein he’d found.
He felt Gale smile, and was about to make a snide comment about how he was the only man he’d ever met to find romance in a blowjob when he saw Gale’s hand reach blindly for the nightstand, knocking his glasses from it.
“What are you doing?” he asked, puzzled, pulling out of Gale’s mouth. Gale chased after him, trying to catch him between his lips again, but Astarion simply pinned him back to the bed by sitting back on his chest, his ass right over his tattoo.
“Trying to reach the lubricant,” Gale replied, his voice a little ragged. “If this is headed in the direction I suspect, I would like you to be prepared and comfortable.”
He was so fucking earnest. It was horrifying and endearing in equal measure.
“I am begging you, Gale, just call it lube like everyone else,” he said with a sigh, leaning over to open the nightstand drawer. Inside was the bottle Gale was after, along with an unopened box of condoms. He tossed the bottle to Gale, who squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers, and ripped open the box to take out a few foil packets.
“I, um, I think you might be overestimating my refractory prowess there,” Gale said rather sheepishly, as Astarion tossed the packets onto the bed beside them before settling back into his seat on Gale’s chest.
“Who says they’re all for you?” Astarion teased with a shrug, shuffling forward and tapping his dick on Gale’s chin. “My flight’s in less than twelve hours, I might find someone more willing than you were to join the mile high club with me.”
As Gale opened his mouth to protest, Astarion pushed his cock back into its warm confines. He was careful not to trigger Gale’s gag reflex again, though; if Gale was going to suck him off with this much care and attention, he supposed it was only polite for him to return the favour by not aggressively humping his face, no matter how much he wanted to.
He felt Gale’s finger start to toy with his hole, warm and slick from the lube. Gale was looking up at him, a slight frown on his face, as if to ask permission. Astarion had already noticed his eyes were brown – it was one of the first things he’d noticed about him – but the pupils were so dilated he could barely see their true colour anymore. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying focusing solely on Astarion’s pleasure. Astarion nodded, and as Gale carefully pushed his index finger inside of him he whimpered, his hand tightening in Gale’s hair once more.
Gale was so attentive, taking note of every moan, every clench of muscle around his finger. He found Astarion’s prostate alarmingly quickly for someone who hadn’t done this in over a decade, a fact that Astarion took great delight in pointing out while Gale’s mouth was too full to make any sort of retort.
Gale’s revenge was to add a second finger and start carefully scissoring Astarion open, curling against his walls with every other stroke.
“Fuck – shit – oh, you little bastard –“
Astarion yanked Gale’s head back, his cock falling out of his mouth as he focused on the fingers fucking into him. The dual stimulation was too much, too overwhelming when he’d only just adjusted to being this in control, and he wasn’t about to lose that and come too soon.
“Are you alright?” Gale asked, a little line of precum still connecting his mouth to Astarion’s cock. He stopped moving his fingers, holding them inside. “I know it’s been some time since I’ve done anything close to this, you are more than welcome to tell me if I’m doing something wrong –“
“If it weren’t for the fact you’d gag again I would shove my cock so far down your throat you wouldn’t talk for a week,” Astarion interrupted, his words leaving him in a rush as he rocked his hips back in an attempt to get Gale to move. “My god, man, what do you want me to say? Your mouth has been wasted for the past sixteen years? You’re God’s gift to sucking dick?”
“It helps to have perfection to bring me up to speed,” Gale replied.
Astarion couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
“Your fingers are literally inside me,” he told him, fumbling to grab one of the condoms by the pillow and tear open the foil. “This is a one night stand, Gale, you don’t have to act the romantic.”
Before Gale could say anything, Astarion pulled off his fingers and turned around. He heard Gale inhale sharply, and cursed inwardly. He’d completely forgotten to tell him about his scarring.
He braced, ready for the questions.
“Do you want me to ask about it?” Gale said softly, running a hand carefully over the back of Astarion’s thigh.
Astarion’s head whipped round to look at Gale over his shoulder, unable to keep the surprise off his face. He managed to school it enough to look unbothered.
“No.”
Gale nodded, his hands once again resting at his sides, and Astarion returned to the task at hand. He couldn’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief.
He shoved Gale’s trousers and boxers inelegantly down his thighs, on all fours above him. Gale’s cock was as hard as steel, the head swollen and flushed, a puddle of precum on his stomach.
Astarion had the impulsive urge to lick it off.
He carefully rolled the condom over Gale’s cock, lifting the shaft out of the way so he could bury his face into his soft stomach. The liquid had stuck a little to the hair there, but Astarion found he didn’t mind all that much. He inhaled deeply as he ran his tongue through it, collecting the mixed salt of the precum and sweat.
Behind him, he heard Gale groan louder than he had all night.
“You had better not keep those moans from me,” Astarion purred, repositioning once more to face Gale and straddle him just below his hips, finally taking off his jockstrap, his own erection nudging against Gale’s latex covered one. He reached over to grab the bottle of lube, generously applying it to Gale with long, slow strokes. “I want to hear all those pretty little noises you’re going to make while I ride you.”
“Lord have mercy,” Gale muttered under his breath, his hands bunching into the blankets by his sides. Astarion grabbed his wrists again, putting his hands insistently on his waist.
“You have to put in some work, darling,” he said with a smirk, reaching underneath him to notch Gale’s dick in place. “I can’t be expected to do everything here.”
As he slowly started to sink back onto Gale, he closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of finally being filled. This was what he’d been waiting for all night. Chasing away that feeling of emptiness, if only for a little while.
He felt Gale’s fingers dig slightly into the skin of his waist. Opening his eyes, he looked down to see him staring up at him in something close to wonderment. As Astarion took him deeper and deeper, the lube and Gale’s attention helping him slide down with relative ease, Gale’s eyes widened.
“You’re so beautiful,” Gale whispered, almost as if he didn’t know what he was saying.
Astarion sat still for a moment, staring down at the man between his legs. He’d never felt this exposed before. Then again, he supposed, he didn’t often have sex in this position. He wasn’t even sure why he’d chosen this position. Maybe it was because he’d been allowed to choose it.
“Touch me,” he whispered back, and Gale obeyed, one hand letting go of his waist to start gently stroking Astarion’s cock.
Astarion started to rock back and forth, matching the rhythm of Gale’s hand. His hands rested on Gale’s stomach for purchase, nails digging into the soft flesh. The little voice in his head that usually took over at this point was, for once, blissfully quiet. He was enjoying this. He was in total control, and Gale would do whatever he told him to.
He couldn’t even thing of the last time he’d fucked someone so singlemindedly focused on his pleasure, and not their own. He had a feeling that Gale would have been content to suck his dick and finger him all night, leaving himself untouched, if Astarion had only asked.
“Your ex wife – is an idiot –“ he panted, running a hand through his own hair to get it out of his eyes. It was starting to plaster to his forehead with sweat, his thighs burning with the new sensation of being on top.
“If it’s all the same to you, I would really prefer you not talk about her right now,” Gale gasped back. “Not when I have the most beautiful man in all of creation tight and hot around me.”
Any other time, any other person, Astarion would have scoffed, or rolled his eyes, or simply let himself slip into a dissociative state and ignore it completely. But with the very little he knew about Gale, he knew he absolutely meant every word. So instead, he leant forward, arching his back slightly so that Gale’s hand still had the space to move, and kissed him.
He could feel his balls tightening, feel himself start to spasm and clench around Gale’s cock. He wasn’t going to have to fake any of it. This was going to unravel him completely.
“Gale,” he whimpered against his mouth, “please – don’t stop – don’t stop –“
“That’s it, Astarion,” Gale murmured, his breath ragged and heaving, “fuck, you’re stunning, you’re amazing, look at you – I can feel how close you are – God, I can’t believe this is happening – please, Astarion, please look at me –“
It was glorious. To be held, to be taken care of, to know that this was what he wanted and he was being given it in abundance.
Astarion looked at him, not because he was being told to, but because he was being asked.
His voice cracked as he came, over Gale’s hand and his stomach and shooting a little up to his chest. He felt himself tighten impossibly around Gale, the extra stimulation dragging out his orgasm even further. He couldn’t manage words, just cries and whimpers and soft little whines with every desperate thrust of Gale’s hips.
Gale followed him almost immediately, their foreheads knocking together as he bucked erratically, moaning Astarion’s name over and over, all self-consciousness apparently forgotten for a moment.
Sex wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sex was supposed to be a distraction, or a tool to get what he wanted. Not…whatever had just happened.
Astarion could barely breathe, his forehead still against Gale’s. Gale was looking up at him like he meant something. Like he meant everything.
Clearing his throat, Astarion sat up, grabbing the other condoms he’d tossed onto the bed earlier. He clambered off of Gale, ignoring the sharp gasp the other man made and his own discomfort as he started to pick his clothes up off the floor. His legs wobbled, not yet ready to take his weight again, but he pushed past it, leaning on the mattress for balance.
“What – what are you –“
“Well, that was fun,” Astarion said, not looking at Gale as he pulled on his trousers, not bothering with his jockstrap and instead stuffing it into his pocket along with the condoms. “You’re wasted on women, you know. The dicks of the Big Apple aren’t going to know what hit them by the end of your little holiday.”
“Astarion, you don’t have to leave,” Gale said, out of breath as he propped himself up on his elbows. His chest and stomach were glistening with cum in the dim light that filtered through the blinds from the city outside. “Your flight isn’t until the morning –“
“Darling, I’m not really the cuddling type,” Astarion cut him off harshly, shrugging on his rather crumpled shirt. “We’ve had our fun, best to leave it there. You didn’t actually think I wanted anything more than that, did you?”
The look Gale gave him was, for lack of a better word, absolutely pathetic. For a split second, Astarion considered stripping off and climbing back into bed with him. But if he did that, he would never want to leave. He’d definitely miss his flight, for a start.
He picked up his phone and wallet where he’d left them on the counter, and headed to the door. But for some reason, he hesitated just as he was leaving.
“This is for the best, Gale,” he said softly, staring at the floor instead of the naked man he was leaving behind. “You can trust me on that, at least.”
And with that, he slipped out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.
Chapter Text
Dal
WHY has Gale just called me to tell me there’s a conflict of interest and that he’s firing me from his case
Answer the phone
ANSWER THE PHONE RIGHT NOW
Astarion
Jesus woman I was on a plane
On the tube back now
He’s just being precious, don’t worry about it and ignore him
Dal
What did you do
Astarion
Why do you always assume I’ve done something?
Dal
Fuck off star, just tell me what happened
Astarion
we fucked and he’s probably somehow caught feelings
Dal
You did WHAT
Call him right now, you little shit, I’m not losing this case because you couldn’t keep it in your pants for five fucking minutes
Astarion
No
He’s an adult, tell him to get over it
It’s not a conflict of interest if he fucked one of his lawyer’s friends
It would be a conflict of interest if you fucked him, which, by the way, 10/10 would recommend
Dal
You are the worst
I’m not getting involved in whatever bullshit you’ve put him through
You can apologise to him when he comes over for our first consultation once he’s back
Astarion
Wait he’s coming to the apartment? Our apartment?! Why is he not coming to your office?!?!
Dal
My office flooded last week, which I told you, so it’s nice to know you pay attention to the things that I say
We’re discussing some really personal shit Astarion I can’t just sit him down in a Starbucks
He doesn’t want to meet at his new place because he’s got flatmates he doesn’t want hearing
Astarion
I’ll be back at the flat in an hour
He is not coming to the apartment and that’s final
Dal
Name one time I have ever listened to you
At the very least you need to text him and tell him there isn’t a conflict of interest if you’re going to avoid him when he comes over, because I don’t think he’ll listen to it if that comes from me
Astarion
Fine
Can you text me his number? I don’t have it
Dal
You really make me question why we’re friends sometimes
**
Unknown Number
It’s not a conflict of interest if you keep Dal on as your lawyer. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, darling
Gale
Who is this?
Unknown Number
Seriously? I thought you had a doctorate, was there not enough context there to give you some semblance of a clue??
Gale
I see. Hello, Astarion. Apologies, I’m still a little jet lagged and didn’t realise it was you. It doesn’t seem right to take advantage of your friend’s kindness on top of everything else.
Astarion
What in the actual fuck are you talking about
Gale
I don’t think this is a particularly conducive conversation to be having over text. Do you have a moment for me to call?
Astarion
Jesus Christ you really are an old man
Don’t fire Dal, you moron. You can call me in an hour.
**
Astarion threw his rucksack onto his bed with a huff, collapsing next to it and staring up at the ceiling.
He was exhausted. The flight had had some of the worst turbulence of his entire life. Border control at Heathrow had taken forever. The man sat next to him on the Elizabeth line had decided that being in an enclosed space was the perfect time to eat a tuna melt.
He hadn’t gotten any sleep either, entirely because of the terrible mattress at his shitty hotel and definitely not because every time he’d closed his eyes he’d seen Gale’s sad, pathetic expression, his chest still coated with Astarion’s cum as he’d run away like he always did.
But he wasn’t thinking about that.
Thankfully, Dalyria was such a neat freak that the apartment was spotless when he’d got back. The pair of them liked an orderly living space – and with their flat being as small as it was, it benefitted both of them to keep it as tidy as possible. Their shared living space consisted of an open plan kitchen and living room, almost entirely furnished by Dal. Sometimes it felt like he was living in an edition of Ideal Home.
His room was just as he left it. A double bed, a desk in the corner, a small built in wardrobe and a chest of drawers. The only sign of personalisation was a framed poster of Dirty Dancing that Dalyria had bought him as a present when he’d moved in.
Astarion had never been one for personalisation or trinkets, but it was his space, and he liked it that way.
He heard the vibration of his phone in the pocket of his jacket, draped over the back of his desk chair. He should just let it go to voicemail. Let Gale get all of his pesky feelings out, text him to tell him to leave him alone, ghost him and move on with his life. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ghosted people before, or given them fake numbers, or snuck out in the middle of the night while they were still asleep.
He shouldn’t have given him Dal’s details. They had a connection now, and it made it harder to leave the night before as what it should have been – just a memory. And this was an out. If Gale fired Dal, he’d never have to hear anything about him again except for when the divorce eventually made the news as some gossip puff piece.
But he was going to get eviscerated in court if he represented himself, and the thought made Astarion feel a little bit sick, despite himself. Not to mention Dal would kill him for losing such a good case because he couldn’t handle someone being a little bit – ugh— nice.
Dragging himself off his bed, he dug his still buzzing phone out of his inside pocket. Just as he thought.
“I’m genuinely shocked you aren’t sending me a telegram,” he said as he accepted the call, instead of any formal sort of greeting. “Or a carrier pigeon.”
There was a long pause at the other end of the phone.
“About last night,” Gale said tentatively, and Astarion audibly groaned.
“It’s fine, Gale, Christ,” he said a little grumpily, sitting back down on his bed. “Dal doesn’t give two shits who you have sordid trysts with, it doesn’t affect your divorce in the slightest.”
“That isn’t why I’m calling,” Gale said, and Astarion could hear him shuffling around that sad little apartment. “I – I just wanted to check you were alright. That I didn’t hurt you, or upset you in some way, or do something that you didn’t actually wish to do. You left so quickly that I thought –”
“My god, man, you are not cut out for casual sex,” Astarion said with a long drawn out yawn. “No, you did not do anything I didn’t want to. You had my full consent or whatever it is you want to hear. Hell, I’ll send you a signed affidavit if you want, Dal can even fucking notarise it if it’ll get those lovely purple boxer briefs of yours out of the twist you have them in.”
He heard Gale laugh, the sound a little crackled through the speaker.
“In that case, I will call her once we’re done speaking to let her know I’m an idiot and apologise profusely to her,” he said. Astarion could hear a mug clinking in the background. “Thank you, by the way. Despite your abrupt exit, it was certainly quite a spectacular reintroduction into the freedom of single life.”
There was the sound of a teaspoon tapping against ceramic, and then a sipping noise that reminded Astarion a little too much of what Gale’s mouth was capable of. He didn’t quite know how to respond to being thanked for sex.
“Why aren’t you out and about exploring the city?” he said instead, flopping back onto his bed. “It’s only, what, mid afternoon for you?”
“I’m adjusting to the time difference, so I’m just putting the final touches on my sightseeing itinerary,” Gale replied, and more sipping noises came through over the phone. “I’m still deciding whether to visit the Leslie-Lohman Museum or take a walking tour tomorrow morning.”
“Gale, you’re on holiday,” Astarion said with a sigh, putting the phone on speaker and resting it on the pillow next to him. “You’ve already done one questionable spontaneous act. Why not keep the ball rolling?”
“Ah, but the fun is in the planning,” Gale said earnestly, and Astarion knew he actually thought that. He closed his eyes. He could see Gale in his mind’s eye, in an open shirt and those purple briefs, leaning against the kitchen counter while he cradled a mug of freshly brewed coffee.
“Go to the museum, then,” he said, stretching out. His body was aching, but he found he didn’t mind it so much. It was a satisfying sort of ache. “I’ve seen the clothes you’ve brought. You don’t have anything you’d be comfortable walking more than a mile in.”
“An excellent point,” Gale mused, and it was almost as if Astarion hadn’t left, as if they were lying side by side in Gale’s shitty AirBnB planning their day together. “Well, I should let you get back to whatever it was you were doing. You must be exhausted after all that travel.”
“I am,” Astarion said, eyes still shut. “And very jet lagged. Thank fuck it’s Sunday tomorrow and I can sleep.”
Gale laughed. It was surprisingly easy to get Gale to laugh.
“I apologise for keeping you up.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he replied offhandedly, before grimacing. No, he shouldn’t be flirting with him. The whole point of this call was to get Gale to back off. At least Gale couldn’t see his face.
With the spluttering sounds that came from the phone, it was obvious that Gale had been halfway through a mouthful of coffee.
“Enjoy your holiday, Professor,” Astarion said quickly. “Thursday is BDSM night at the Eagle if you manage to brave it again. Just a heads up.”
And he hung up before Gale could say anything else.
He stared at the ceiling for a while – he wasn’t sure how long. His mind was swimming far more than it usually did after a one-night stand. Normally, he could compartmentalise. He could take his pleasure and go. Gale wasn’t the first person Astarion had discarded afterwards, and he likely wouldn’t be the last.
But being given pleasure appeared to be another matter entirely. And what was worse was that it made him question if he’d ever really taken pleasure like that before.
What was wrong with him?! It was one night. One incredible, unbelievable night, but one night nevertheless. Astarion didn’t do attachment, he never had. Nobody had ever really been worth the trouble.
He rolled over onto his side, digging into his briefcase for his laptop. Opening it and balancing it next to him, he clicked through his files until he found what he was looking for.
Patrick Swayze was perhaps the exception to the rule, at any rate.
Be My Baby floated through his room as he settled into his slightly scratchy duvet. He felt his stomach settle already. There was comfort in repetition. He knew what was going to happen, he knew every story beat, every line. For a few hours, he didn’t have to worry about any surprises.
About twenty minutes in, there was a loud knock at his door.
“You cannot be watching that film again,” Dal called through. “Surely you can just close your eyes and see it by now?”
She let herself in – he really needed to start locking his bedroom door when he was at home – and flopped down on the bed behind him.
“Thank you for apologising to Gale,” she said. She propped herself up on one elbow to watch over Astarion’s shoulder. “I just got off the phone with him. This case could bring in a lot of work for me. I’m still shocked you put him in touch.”
She left that last sentence hanging, waiting for any kind of response.
Astarion just grunted in a non-committal way in lieu of response. Despite the fact he’d seen it dozens of times, he really would rather just watch his film than try and explain any of this to Dal. Especially because he could barely explain it to himself at the moment.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Dal pressed, poking Astarion lightly in the side.
“You know what happened,” Astarion replied, swatting at her hand. “We slept together. I bounced. Tale as old as time, darling.”
“Yes, but I’ve never had any of your other holiday flings as a pro bono case and then had them call me to apologise if they’ve upset my flatmate,” Dal said. She settled back down behind him, putting her chin on his shoulder. She was one of the few people Astarion trusted to be affectionate with him. Actually, the only one, if he really thought about it. “Why did you even give him my number in the first place? He must have made a hell of a first impression.”
Astarion let his silence answer for him.
Notes:
I have a tumblr now! It’s entirely BG3 based so swing by and say hello ☺️
Chapter 5
Notes:
Once again, the tags have updated!
CW/Smut Tags
Masturbation
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Astarion hadn’t meant to keep in touch with Gale. It had just sort of happened.
It started while Gale was still in New York. He’d texted him a picture of a painting he’d found in the Leslie-Lohman museum that he thought Astarion might like. Then a terrible selfie outside of Katz’ Diner. A picture of the Manhattan skyline at night from the Brooklyn Bridge. An even more terrible selfie outside of the Eagle on Thursday evening, followed by a long winded explanation that he was just passing by and had no intention of actually going in.
Astarion left him on read, until he got the essay about how he wasn’t going into the Eagle. He couldn’t resist texting him to ask if he was sure, because he suspected Gale might actually enjoy himself if he got his head out of his ass for five minutes.
He began to reply to the messages Gale sent him after that. Never anything particularly serious, of course. He joked about looking up the Statue of Liberty’s skirt when Gale sent him a picture from Staten Island. When Gale spent an entire day in The Strand, sending a text at the start of the day about how he’d found the Mecca of bookshops, Astarion texted him at the end of the day to make sure he hadn’t gotten buried under his own purchases. He didn’t even complain when Gale sent him a very in depth and rambling review on Rigoletto at the Met. He just asked if that was the one that the “that is embarrassing” football chant came from, which earned him no less than five angry face emojis.
Truth be told, he was more than a little jealous of Gale’s holiday. It sounded like total anathema to everything he would have done with a week in New York, but Gale seemed to have had a blast.
He was, despite himself, almost disappointed when Gale texted him a picture of his final dinner in New York. It meant he didn’t have a reason to message him anymore.
A few days after, he was sat in the living room poring over some work documents. It was raining, the sound of water drops tapping against their flat windows acting at white noise and helping him concentrate. As he flipped through yet another folder of papers, Dalyria stuck her head around her bedroom door.
“Gale’s coming in an hour for his first consultation,” she said casually. “In case you want to hide in your room before he gets here.”
Astarion flipped her off without looking up.
“I can survive seeing a man who had my dick in his mouth once,” he said. “I’ve just got into the swing of things with these. I don’t particularly want to stop and move all of it at the moment.”
“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug, going back into her room. “But when he gets here you’re going to have to go in your room anyway. You don’t need to listen to all the sordid details.”
“I still think it’s weird you invited him here,” Astarion called after her.
“We’ve been over this,” she called back through the door as she closed it. “I’ll be back in my office from next week.”
“That doesn’t explain why he’s coming here so late,” Astarion grumbled, trying and failing to focus on the work in front of him. Damn it. He’d lost his train of thought.
By the time their doorbell rang, Astarion had given up all pretence of work, and was lounging on the sofa. He could have gone into his room, but truth be told, he at least wanted to say hello to Gale first before he had to disappear.
He’d ended up watching a Mystra Rhyl documentary that was being rerun on BBC2, more out of a morbid fascination than anything else, and Astarion couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had brought her and Gale together.
She was clearly intelligent (or at least, she had mastered the art of appearing intelligent on camera) and she was attractive, though not particularly Astarion’s type. She had a permanently smug expression that he’d always found a little grating. The documentary he was watching was about a decade old – Astarion noticed that there were some lines beginning to form on Mystra’s face that had mysteriously disappeared in recent years. Her hair was also a more natural brown than Astarion remembered it being in her latest shows.
Dalyria emerged from her room, shooting him a scowl as she went to answer the door.
“If you could maybe not traumatise my client by having his ex-wife plastered across our television screen when he comes in,” she hissed at him, waiting for him to turn it off before she buzzed Gale up. Astarion sighed dramatically, making a show of turning it off before starting to collect his papers.
A few moments later, and Dalyria opened the door to reveal a quite windswept and very drenched looking Gale, his battered satchel slung over his shoulder. His hair was piled on the top of his head in a messy topknot, his glasses covered in tiny droplets.
“Dalyria! A delight to meet you in person,” he said genially, leaning in to kiss her on both cheeks. “I cannot thank you enough for your help in this. Is there somewhere I can hang my coat? I chanced walking from the tube instead of taking the bus and somewhat regret –“
As he looked round for a coat stand, Astarion caught his eye. He waved coquettishly at him from his seat on the sofa.
“Hello, darling,” he said with a smirk. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just be heading into my room.”
“Astarion,” Gale said politely, though Astarion saw a little red flush start under his collar as he took his coat off to hang it up by the door. “Thank you, I appreciate it. My apologies for commandeering your living space.”
“Yes, how dare you,” Astarion said, gathering his papers with a dramatic sigh. “I did tell Dal you weren’t welcome here –“
“Astarion!” Dalyria chided, as Gale started to sputter yet more apologies. Astarion cackled as he picked up his pile of documents, standing up from the sofa.
“I’m teasing, poppet,” he said, winking at Gale over his shoulder as he elbowed his bedroom door open. Why was he flirting with him? He didn’t really mean to say half of what he was saying, but it came so naturally that he could hardly stop himself.
It was seeing him again that was throwing him, he realised as he closed the door. Seeing Gale after semi-flirting over text for a week and playing that night on repeat in his mind day and night. Seeing his hair in that stupid bun because he clearly didn’t know what else to do with it, that ridiculous blush on his face when Astarion had winked, the look on his face when he thought he wasn’t welcome – he was just so… Astarion couldn’t even put a name to it.
He sat at his desk, sifting through his own papers. He could hear Dalyria and Gale’s muffled voices from the kitchen table, though he couldn’t tell what they were talking about. Astarion tried his best to focus on his own work, but it was proving a difficult task when he desperately wanted to know what they were discussing.
He leant back in his desk chair, closing his eyes as the sounds washed over him. As much as it pained him to admit it, seeing Gale in person had dredged up the familiar feeling of lust in his stomach. Nobody had ever fucked Astarion like that. Nobody had ever looked at him like that.
There was no way around it. He had to have him again. Yes, he was breaking his own rules about one night stands, but Astarion deserved good sex, god damn it, and he wasn’t about to let it slip from his fingers.
So Gale was terrible at casual sex. So what? He had also purported not to be someone for one night stands, and yet he’d taken Astarion back to his AirBnB within a few hours of meeting him. His incessant yapping might have been somewhat endearing before he plugged his mouth with his dick, but Astarion was in no mood to tolerate it any more than necessary. He wasn’t looking for anything more than sex with him, and if he could talk the man into taking him home for a night, he could probably persuade him into an arrangement. Gale could very clearly be taught. Clearly, he just needed someone to guide him into the wonderful world of being a friend with benefits.
And Astarion wanted those benefits, because his hand was no replacement for the beautiful sin that was Gale’s mouth.
His cock twitched in interest at the thought of that mouth being one room away.
He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. It wasn’t like he could go out and proposition Gale right in front of Dalyria. Not to mention that a consultation with his divorce lawyer wasn’t exactly going to put the other man in the mood. No, if he was going to make this happen, he would need a little patience. Patience and a plan.
In the meantime, he just had to get through the next hour until Gale left.
He stared at his work for a while, but he was so utterly distracted that he found himself reading the same sentence over and over while absentmindedly palming at his crotch for just a little relief. It wasn’t working. He needed to deal with this, and he needed to deal with it where he couldn’t hear the two of them talking.
Astarion stood, heading into his en-suite and starting the shower. They wouldn’t question why he was taking a shower in the evening, right? Plenty of people showered in the evening. And they were hogging the living space, so clearly he had to fill his time somehow.
Besides, they didn’t need to know that how he chose to fill his time would also make for an easy cleanup.
He stripped slowly. His t-shirt slipped over his head as he imagined Gale’s palms splayed over his stomach. His sweatpants dropped to the floor as he imagined Gale hooking his thumbs into them and kneeling to fall with them. The thought of Gale clumsily mouthing at his clothed erection hardened him further.
Turning on the shower, he discarded his underwear before climbing in. The water was scaldingly hot, just the way he liked it (he always did run a little cold.) Steam began to fill the little bathroom, sitting heavy in Astarion’s lungs as he took a moment just to breathe, the water hitting his chest.
Astarion loved the sensory overload of his shower. It was hard for him to focus on anything else when his whole body was slick with running water and the sound filled his ears. It let him focus on what he really wanted to, which at this point in time was keeping quiet enough that Gale and Dalyria wouldn’t know what he was up to in here.
Spreading his legs slightly and bracing himself against the wall with one hand, Astarion wrapped his other around his shaft.
He had vastly underestimated just how horny he was, because just taking hold of himself was enough to draw a little whimper from him, thankfully drowned out by the sound of running water.
He tried to start slowly. He really did. He was trying to pass the time, after all. But with every torturous stroke of his cock, he found himself speeding up without realising. All it took was the thought of Gale’s mouth around him again, or the look on Gale’s face when he’d been riding him, and his hand would start to move a little faster of its own accord. The friction of the water was forcing him to keep a steady pace, at least. Going too fast was too uncomfortable.
When he fucked Gale again – and at this point, he’d accepted the inevitable, he was going to fuck Gale again – maybe he should get him to branch out and join him in the shower. Gale struck Astarion as the sort of man who only had sex in beds on principle. But he would look so wonderful pressed up into the corner of the tiles. He could have him on his knees, that long brown hair plastered to his neck and dripping wet.
He really could not stop thinking about Gale’s damn mouth, could he? It seemed such an innocuous thing, to masturbate to the thought of one blowjob when Astarion had taken part in much more complicated and depraved acts in his time. The image of it, the memory of the sensations of it, though, occupied his thoughts far more than it should. Perhaps it was how he’d used his tongue. Perhaps it was how he’d combined it with his clever fingers.
Who was Astarion kidding? It was because of the way he’d looked at him. People didn’t look at him that way. He needed him to look at him that way again.
Fuck, he was close.
He grunted, holding back the noises he wanted to make as he stroked himself harder. He could hear Gale’s praise echoing in his head, mingling with the white noise of the shower around him, all encompassing, louder and louder until –
Astarion’s legs nearly gave out with the force of his orgasm as he managed to keep himself upright by a sheer miracle. He could barely breathe from the effort of holding back a shout, and the steam certainly wasn’t helping matters. His normally racing mind was blank, pleasure and a slight feeling of suffocation holding court instead.
He let go of his cock to steady himself, leaning against the glass and trying to catch his breath. Slowly, his sense of self returned, aided by the water falling over him. His body was pink from both the effort and the heat, his hair stuck to his forehead.
He turned off the shower, but he stood in place for a while. He couldn’t face moving, and breathing was still somewhat of an obstacle. As the steam slowly cleared, the shitty extractor fan overhead whining from the effort, Astarion finally managed to get his mind clear enough to contemplate getting out and drying off.
He was still sensitive, flinching a little from the feel of the towel as he carefully dried between his legs. Wrapping himself completely in it, he left his bathroom and sat on the edge of his bed.
Now that he had a little clarity, he was surer than ever that he needed to talk Gale into sleeping with him regularly. He just had to figure out how he was going to do that first.
He could hear Gale and Dalyria still animatedly talking, none the wiser of his activities. Finishing drying himself off, he threw on a pair of sweatpants and set about drying his hair. At least that would fill a good twenty minutes of time.
When Astarion finally heard the front door close, he stuck his head out to make sure Gale had actually gone.
“Good shower?” Dalyria asked with a raised eyebrow, not looking up from the papers strewn over the kitchen table. “I thought you usually did your hair in the morning.”
“I had to fill my time somehow,” Astarion replied, emerging from his room to look over her shoulder. She tutted at him, swatting him away.
“Oh, Gale left that for you,” she said nonchalantly, nodding towards the kitchen counter. “He said it was as a thank you for putting me in touch with him.”
Astarion frowned as he saw a small paper bag from The Strand propped next to their fruit bowl.
“You’d think the fucking was thanks enough,” he said, grinning as Dalyria groaned at him in lieu of response.
As he pulled a small, bright pink book out of the bag, he burst out into genuine laughter.
“What?” Dalyria asked, finally looking up from her work. Astarion showed her.
Gale had bought him a film theory book on Dirty Dancing.
**
Astarion
Thank you for the book, darling. You continue to surprise me.
Gale
Surprise you? How so?
Astarion
My one night stands don’t normally thank me and then buy me souvenirs
Gale
The book was meant as a thank you for introducing me to Dalyria. I did tell her that’s what it was for. Did she not pass on the message? I’d hate for you to think it was some sort of payment for our tryst? I can assure you that was not the intention.
Astarion
I would pay good money just to see what it’s like to think like you for a day
Actually, no, I would pay money to make sure I NEVER think like you for a day
Gale:
A wise move. I would not particularly recommend it.
Notes:
This fic hit 150 kudos this week and I’m very grateful, especially for the lovely comments people have left too! Vastly enjoying writing porn with plot (the next chapter is actual filth and I will not apologise for it.)
Chapter 6
Notes:
Click for CW/Smut Tags
Verbal abuse, implied dubious/nonconsensual oral sex, panic attack, oral sex, humping
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It had been three days since Gale had come to the flat, and Astarion could not get him to take a fucking hint.
They’d been idly texting back and forth about Astarion’s book. It was all very safe, and very tame, despite Astarion’s best efforts to steer the conversation into dirtier waters. It was truly impressive how oblivious to flirting Gale could be at times. He thought texting him at nearly two in the morning asking if he was still awake would have cinched it, but Gale sent him recommendations for sleep aids because he, too, suffered dreadfully from insomnia and he was so sorry to hear the affliction plagued Astarion in turn. Astarion had nearly thrown his phone at the wall.
He was turning said phone over and over in his hands, sat at his desk, when a shadow fell across it.
“Surely I couldn’t trouble you to do your actual job, Mr Ancunín?”
Cazador was stood, arms folded, looking down at him.
“Sorry, Cazador,” Astarion said, quickly stowing his phone in his pocket. “I was just waiting on a response –“
“Do you have the defence statements I asked to be put on my desk?” Cazador cut him off with a glowering stare. Astarion could do nothing but stare back. “I emailed you, Astarion. Don’t tell me you missed it.”
Astarion would have remembered if Cazador had emailed him something like that, he was sure of it. He never missed a single missive from his boss.
“Are you sure? What day did you send it?” he asked, frowning slightly as he scrolled through his email on his work computer, searching through the inbox.
He immediately regretted asking as soon as he heard Cazador suck air through his teeth.
“That had better be a joke, boy,” Cazador said softly, and Astarion felt his stomach drop in an instant. They both knew he had royally fucked up. “I do not make mistakes. I specifically requested those files to be on my desk by this lunchtime. If you have deleted the missive through your own idiocy that is hardly my concern.”
Cazador reached out, tilting Astarion’s face up towards him.
“Such a pretty face, and yet sometimes I wonder if there truly is anything of note behind those eyes,” he said casually. “Bring them to my desk in the next hour and perhaps I can find a way to forgive you, yes?”
Astarion swallowed as he felt Cazador’s fingernails dig slightly into the soft flesh of his neck.
“Of course,” he said hoarsely. “I’m sorry, Caz. I’ll be right through.”
When Astarion left the office that evening, papers delivered and a sour taste in his mouth, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Gale.
“I’m coming over,” he said when Gale answered, not giving him time to give his customary long winded greeting. “Tell me your address.”
“I – you’re – what?” Gale stammered back.
“Your address, Gale,” Astarion said with a sigh, looking out over the road to flag down a taxi.
“My flatmates are in!”
“So? You’re an adult. You’re allowed to have people over.” As a black cab spotted him and pulled up to the kerb, Astarion climbed into the back. “Gale, I need your address or this driver is going to be very mad at me.”
Gale managed to stiltingly give his address, which Astarion relayed. He leant back into the leather seat, closing his eyes.
“I’ll be there in half an hour. Do you have wine?”
“Yes, I have wine,” Gale replied, and Astarion heard him rattling through cupboards and the telltale sound of glasses clinking together. “Red or white?”
“Red,” Astarion said, and promptly hung up. He loosened his tie, undoing his top two buttons. The taxi was warm, stiflingly so. He tried to take a few breaths, winding down the window to let the crisp evening air in, but it didn’t seem to be helping. The lights were moving too fast outside.
He was dimly aware that he was trembling, his hands shaking against his thighs where they held tightly to the fabric of his trousers. He felt as if he was displaced, like his body was six inches to the left of where it should be. He swallowed over and over, fighting the rising panic in his chest when it did little to help his breathing. If anything, the choking sensation was getting worse with every gulp of air he took, his mouth so unbelievably dry to the point that it physically hurt. His throat was still sore.
The driver was trying to make some inane small talk, but Astarion closed his eyes, mumbling something about being tired from a long day. Anything to stop him trying to talk. Anything to try and stop the ringing in his ears.
His eyes pricked with tears, which he did his best to blink away. He was an adult. He wasn’t going to fucking cry just because his boss had demanded a little too much of him once again.
Fuck, why did he keep letting Cazador do this? Was it really worth it?
Astarion rubbed at his sternum with his knuckles. The pain helped to ground him a little. Cazador would never deliberately hurt him. Sure, he was pushy, and he didn’t always listen. And there was the accident – Astarion closed his eyes, blocking out the memory as soon as it began to resurface – but he knew what he was getting into when it came to his boss. He never said no, he did what he was told. He had agreed to the arrangement, after all. It benefitted them both.
So what was another arrangement? And this time, one that he was in charge of, that he was calling the shots in?
Actually, if anything, this was what Astarion deserved. A way of balancing the scales of the shit show that was his life. Gale was his little treat to himself. Something that was entirely his, his to control and dictate.
His breathing eased at the thought. He would be the dominant one for once in his damn life.
The taxi pulled up outside of a tower block, austere and grey and not at all what Astarion would have pictured Gale living in. He stepped out, looking up at the imposing structure. Gale must have really been scrambling for a place to live if this was what he had settled for. A battered sign on the patch of grass outside proclaimed it to simply be called The Tower. Astarion wondered just how long it had taken the original architect to come up with that inspired a name.
He rang the buzzer for the flat number that Gale had given him and was immediately let into the building. Gale was waiting for him in his doorway opposite when Astarion stepped out of the lift, a glass of rich looking red wine in each hand. For once, he wasn’t dressed in his customary jumper and slacks; instead, he was in a plain black shirt and grey sweatpants, clearly getting ready for bed. He led him silently through the flat to his room, closing the door behind him so they had a little privacy. Astarion noticed there was only a kitchen to act as a communal space.
Gale’s bedroom was cosy, if Astarion was to put it politely, and a shoebox if he was honest. A double bed was shoved tight into the corner, a desk pushed in next to it with just enough room for the chair. Gale had shoved a suitcase haphazardly under his bed that he appeared to be living out of in lieu of any storage for his clothes.
“I’d say it’s good to see you again, Astarion, but I’m a little perplexed as to the nature of your visit,” he said, handing over one of the glasses as they sat side by side on his bed. “If you’ve had a bad day at work, surely you’d want to commiserate with Dalyria? Or your friends?”
Astarion threw back the entire glass of wine in one go, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and put his glass down on the desk. His actions were mechanical, methodical, and he took Gale’s glass from him with the same detachment.
“I didn’t come here to talk,” he said bluntly, and pulled Gale forward by the shirt collar to kiss him.
What the fuck was it that Gale tasted like? It had been bothering him ever since he’d returned from New York, and he still couldn’t place it, even masked as it was behind red wine. He could feel his senses returning to him, now that he had something to focus on that wasn’t his earlier panic. He frowned slightly, grabbing the back of Gale’s neck to stop him pulling away, doing his best to ascertain just what exactly it was –
Gale pushed him back with more than a little force, his hands firm on Astarion’s chest.
“Astarion, what are you doing?” he asked, and if Astarion didn’t know any better, he’d have thought Gale looked angry with him.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Astarion replied, his hands still fisted into the fabric of Gale’s shirt.
“Astarion, I am still in the middle of a divorce,” Gale said heavily, trying and failing to pull Astarion’s hands off him by his wrists. “I am not in the headspace for anything like this. I was barely in the headspace for our night in New York, honestly. You’re captivating, certainly, and I cannot deny that there is a certain chemistry, but –“
“Gale, I’m not asking you to marry me here,” Astarion interrupted, feeling more than a little irritated at Gale’s rejection. “This is just sex. That’s it. No different to what it was in New York, except on a regular basis.”
He was going to have to seduce him again. Jesus, why was this man so difficult to bed? And why was he trying so hard?
Well, he knew why, really. Because the sex was phenomenal, and he had to have more of it.
“Gale,” he said softly, starting to unbutton his shirt, leaning forward to kiss at his neck, “not everything has to be as serious as you make it out to be. We were good together that night, weren’t we, darling? Why deny ourselves that pleasure any longer?”
The soft whimper Gale made as Astarion carefully nipped at his pulse point told him he was winning this particular argument.
“You could have me whenever you wanted,” he continued, trailing feather light kisses up to his jaw, Gale’s beard coarse against his lips. “No strings, no attachments. No worrying over whether you’d be hurt again. Owing nothing to each other. Knowing you or I could simply leave whenever we wish once we’ve had our fun.”
Astarion took a chance on what to say next. It was a risk. It could backfire. But he suspected it would prey just enough on Gale’s insecurities to get what he wanted from the man.
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” he whispered in his ear, “not to have to think about whether you were enough, Gale? To know that I do not need you to be the perfect partner, or the trophy husband? That I just need you?”
He punctuated the last word with a sharp bite on Gale’s earlobe, earning himself a surprised yelp before he surged forward again, pushing Gale onto his back. His lips met the other man’s in a crushing kiss – but this time, Gale didn’t push him away.
Instead, he pulled Astarion closer, his hands wrapping around his waist to pull him onto his lap. Astarion followed easily, his knees either side of Gale’s plush thighs. Gale was so solid, a stark contrast to Cazador’s slender frame. Astarion felt laid open, the way his legs had to spread to fit over Gale’s, and yet there was a comfort in it. It was as though Gale could surround him, keep the world at bay if only for a few minutes, cover him instead of leaving him exposed.
“You said yourself,” Gale muttered against Astarion’s mouth, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, “that I’m not cut out for casual sex. Why me? What do I have to offer you that a stranger couldn’t in my stead?”
“Safety,” Astarion said immediately, breaking the kiss to pull Gale’s jumper over his head, his shirt coming with it. “A guaranteed good fuck. Your steadfast focus in getting me off instead of any sense of selfishness. And that mouth of yours, Gale,” he sighed, running his thumb over Gale’s bottom lip. “God, do you know how much I’ve been dreaming of your damn mouth?”
“Really?” Gale asked in a hushed, almost reverent voice, as he looked up at Astarion, his hands stilling on his shirt. “You left so quickly last time, I thought – I thought perhaps that I had disappointed you in some way.”
Astarion had to laugh at that. He pushed his thumb slightly into Gale’s mouth, biting back a moan as Gale eagerly sucked at it.
“You have quite the oral fixation, don’t you, Professor?” he said with a smirk, letting Gale run his tongue over his fingertip before roughly pulling his thumb from his mouth.
“I, er, have to admit, that was somewhat of a rediscovery,” Gale replied, blushing a deep crimson. “It had been so long since I had done anything of the sort, I’d quite forgotten how much I enjoyed it.”
He was waffling again. Astarion fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“Anything else you’ve missed?” he said instead, replacing his thumb with two fingers against Gale’s tongue, holding his mouth open. “Perhaps there’s another way we could put that tongue of yours to good use.”
Astarion thought Gale said something like “god, please,” but it was rather muffled. He casually began to fuck his fingers into his mouth, savouring the little whimpers and moans each pump was drawing from him.
“At least you’ve learned to be a smidge more vocal,” he said with a smirk, pressing his hips a little firmer into Gale’s lap and feeling his moan vibrate around his fingers. “Just in time to make a terrible impression on your new flatmates.”
He felt Gale’s cock twitch in his sweatpants between his thighs.
“Oh, unless you want them to hear you? Naughty.”
Astarion ran his free hand over Gale’s chest, across his belly, twirling the fine hair in his fingers. Gale was soft in so many ways. It wasn’t normally what Astarion went for – a number of his partners, for want of a better word, had been in peak physical condition, Astarion wanting nothing less than perfection. But he was beginning to realise that attractive people, or at least the ones that took him to bed, often didn’t try very hard to please him, because honestly, they didn’t have to. There would always be someone trying to bed them. Maybe he had never broken his one night stand rule before because they hadn’t been worth a second go.
Gale, though? Gale was grateful for any scrap of attention thrown his way. Gale should, by all accounts, have tossed Astarion out the moment he had suggested this. His self-esteem must have been at rock bottom if he was going along with everything this readily.
With Gale underneath him, his tongue lathing over his fingers, Astarion had never been surer that he wanted at least another ride.
He dug his fingers slightly into his flesh, his nails leaving little crescent shape marks in the skin, just visible through the hair. He made Astarion feel so small. Not like Cazador did, though. Instead of feeling insignificant, he felt treasured, worshipped like an idol hidden away in a crypt from prying eyes.
Gale was sucking on his fingers like his life depended on it. His hand wrapped around Astarion’s wrist, and for a moment, Astarion felt that rising panic in his throat again.
“Ah, ah, darling,” he said sharply, pulling his hand away entirely and wiping his fingers nonchalantly on Gale’s thigh. “Don’t be greedy.”
Gale frowned slightly, but he let Astarion go, running his hands slowly up and down his thighs instead.
“Would you like me to avoid holding your wrists, Astarion?” he asked softly, in a tone of voice that made Astarion feel simultaneously protected and nauseous.
“I would like you to stop talking,” Astarion replied in a much sharper tone. He grabbed Gale’s hair, tugging it back to get him to stop fucking yammering and make those noises he preferred out of him.
Gale gave him exactly what he asked for. The needy little whine was enough for him to ram his tongue practically down his throat.
He wrenched his own shirt off his body, tossing it haphazardly to the floor. Grabbing Gale’s hands, he placed them very firmly on his own ass.
“I’m going to have you on your knees,” he said, grinding hard into Gale’s lap, “with that darling mouth of yours drooling all over me, and then you’re going to stand up and fuck me until I can’t think anymore.”
“You’ll have to get off me first for that,” Gale said with some effort, his hands carefully massaging the muscles of his backside. Astarion reached for his chest and tweaked his nipples in response. “Ow, Astarion! I told you before not to do that!”
The grumpy look on Gale’s face was awfully endearing, and Astarion giggled to himself before leaning down to kiss the lines of his forehead.
“Now, darling, your face will stick like that if the wind changes,” he teased, but he let go of his chest all the same, shuffling back off him to sit on the edge of the bed next to him instead. “Fine, fine. There you go.”
He leant back on his hands, practically kicking his feet as Gale knelt on the floor in front of him. He heard the crack of his knees as he went, which only made him giggle more.
“Want a cushion, pet?” he asked with a smirk, earning himself a swat on the thigh.
“I swear, I forgot how much of an insufferable little shit you were in New York,” Gale muttered, though Astarion didn’t miss the little bob of his Adam’s apple when he called him his pet. He’d have to remember that in the future.
“I rather thought you enjoyed it,” he retorted, taking hold of Gale’s chin in his hand and making him look up. “In fact, I think you enjoy being told what to do, don’t you?”
“A please wouldn’t go amiss,” Gale said, but Astarion could feel his pulse racing under his fingers. He did like this. He was so obvious. Running his hand along the scruff of Gale’s beard, he took hold of the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged his head backwards once more.
“Please, pet,” he grinned at him, as Gale yelped in surprise, “use that mouth for its god given purpose, would you?”
Before Gale could say anything in response, Astarion used his free hand to unzip his suit trousers, gesturing at the other man to pull them out of the way. He earned himself a little scowl, but Gale obeyed, thumbs hooked into the belt loops. Astarion stood slightly to let Gale shimmy them down his body, before taking a seat again, never letting go of Gale’s hair.
“Tell me, Gale,” he said idly, as Gale’s pupils dilated of their own accord, eyeing the very obvious tent in Astarion’s briefs, “has there been anyone else since our first little dalliance? Had any chance to hone those skills of yours?”
Gale swallowed, looking up at Astarion looming over him, and shook his head. Astarion felt a thrill shoot down his spine. Sure, this was just a casual arrangement, but knowing that he was the only one in Gale’s bed, the only man in years who Gale had been with like this, was…he didn’t quite know the word for it. It made him feel almost possessive, the knowledge of what Gale’s tongue could do his very own secret to keep.
“That’s okay, darling,” he purred, pulling Gale’s head down towards his clothed erection, just like he’d imagined. “I’ll be sure to help you practice.”
Gale’s expression was swinging between annoyed and desperate, and Astarion closed his eyes with a soft sigh as he began to mouth at the fabric, his teeth catching on the waistband. He seemed to be trying to decide on what to say next, from the odd pattern of his breathing.
“I have been thinking of your taste,” he heard him say, the words slightly muffled, and Astarion’s eyes immediately snapped open. “I fear I have drifted closer to dreaming of it, if truth be told. The salt of it, mixed with your inimitable musk. It has haunted my fantasies, night and day, day and night.”
“I – what do you mean, musk?!” Astarion managed to reply, though his cock twitched hard at Gale’s words. Maybe he should let him run his mouth more often.
Gale just laughed softly in return, taking hold of the waistband of his briefs properly with his teeth and tugging them out of the way. His eyes focused on their prize, and Astarion could have sworn he was drooling.
Oddly, though, Astarion didn’t feel particularly objectified by it. If anything, it turned him on more. And his body was in agreement, as they both watched a bead of precum form at his tip. Gale watched it in vulgar fascination, his hands tightening on Astarion’s thighs.
“Go on, then,” Astarion said in a slightly strangled voice. “Taste me again.”
This time, Gale took his time instead of launching forward. That infuriating tongue of his swiped a circle around his head, collecting the fluid at his slit with a long, low moan. Then he took just the head of him into his mouth, and sucked, his cheeks hollowing, his tongue still lapping at the top.
Astarion swore, loudly. Gale looked up with reproachful eyes, silently telling him to keep it down, but thankfully his mouth was too full to really do anything about it.
“Don’t – fuck, don’t look at me like that,” Astarion panted, trying to glare back, but the sensation of Gale’s tongue turned his expression more into a strange grimace. “It’s not my fault you’re apparently some sort of blowjob wizard now – ah, fuck me,” he groaned, as Gale chuckled, the vibrations doing unholy things to his cock.
Gale’s lips inched further and further down his shaft, taking his time. For every inch he descended, he’d bob up half, and the slow insertion was absolute torture. Astarion felt his hand grip tighter and tighter of his own accord on Gale’s hair.
He knew from experience, though, just how unpleasant – not to mention unpredictable – pushing his head down would be. Despite how much he wanted to, he managed to control himself enough for Gale to set this initial pace.
Gale finally reached his base, and the fucker paused. Paused. Looking up at Astarion with a self satisfied smirk, even with his mouth full.
“What, you want – you want a gold star or something?” he gasped out, barely keeping his composure as the warmth of Gale’s wonderful, wet mouth enveloped him completely. “Fucking move, damn you –“
Gale made a noise in his throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl, but it was enough to have Astarion whimpering as he obeyed, bobbing up and down, his hands on his thighs to help with the leverage.
The noises he was making were pathetic, but Astarion didn’t care. After the day he’d had, this was exactly what he needed. Someone attending to him, someone focusing only on him, nothing for him to do but sit back and relax and –
He felt a pressure on his left foot. Light at first, but then with every bob of Gale’s head, it increased.
“Oh, dirty boy,” Astarion breathed, as he realised just what that feeling was. “Are you rutting against me like some depraved animal? Does having me fuck your throat like this make you desperate for anything I can give you?”
The moan, and the increased pressure on his foot, confirmed his suspicions.
Astarion tilted his ankle up slightly, feeling what he now knew to be Gale’s crotch rub a little harder on the top of his foot.
“You want to come like this, don’t you?” he asked, and he couldn’t stop his voice from shaking slightly. “With my cock down your throat, without my hands even touching you, without you even taking off your clothes – oh, I’m right, aren’t I?” he continued with a gasping laugh, as Gale started to hump him, clearly unable to hold back. “Far be it for me to stop you, darling. You just rut against me like a good little pup –“
Gale’s moan was clearly far louder than he meant it to be, because he started moving like a man possessed. There was a determination to every movement, his knuckles almost white from where they held onto Astarion’s legs. His hips were grinding hard onto Astarion’s foot, seeking friction, seeking relief.
“That’s it – that’s it – good boy –“ Astarion gasped. He could feel his breath getting faster, the tightening sensation in his groin growing harder and harder to control. “You’re going to swallow every drop I give you, aren’t you? And you’re – ngh – you’re going to thank me for it after, you’re not even going to get to fuck me and you’re so god damned grateful –“
He was looking at him again. In that way that Astarion had found so captivating the first time. Here he was, practically bullying the man, and he was staring up at him like he was God’s gift. It was strangely beautiful, and he found himself falling silent, just staring down at him in return.
Until Gale’s eyes screwed shut, and he felt a moan reverberate practically through him as the other man’s hips bucked erratically against his foot.
Gale was coming, coming without Astarion even having to lay a hand on him, just from pleasing him and doing what he wanted – what he wanted –
He didn’t have time to warn Gale, his own orgasm tearing through his body, his release coursing down Gale’s throat. Normally, he would close his eyes, make some performative noise for the sake of it, but there was nothing fake about the noises he was making. His hand at Gale’s nape clutched on for dear life as he rode out the waves on Gale’s tongue, the pair of them gasping nonsense at each other.
Gale hadn’t had the presence of mind to swallow properly. Cum drooled down over his lip and into his beard as he sat back, his hands on Astarion’s thighs shaking with effort. His eyes were bloodshot, his breath ragged.
Astarion collapsed onto his side, his head hitting one of Gale’s surprisingly comfortable pillows. He felt Gale shuffle backwards off his foot, before helping him get his legs onto the bed and clambering up next to him.
“Can I entice you into staying for more than thirty seconds this time?” he asked, his voice rasping as he wiped at his mouth with his fingertips. Astarion couldn’t help but moan slightly as he licked them clean.
“That depends, darling,” he replied, chuckling slightly breathlessly. “Do you have another round in you? You were saying something about your old man refractory period the last time we did this.”
“Do you?” Gale shot back, nudging him over so he could lie down next to him on the bed. The wet stain on his sweatpants was spectacular.
Astarion actually wasn’t sure if he did. He felt sated, which, sad as it was, was a real rarity. A niggling thought in the back of his mind whispered that he should push through, that Gale was going to take what he wanted anyway, that the security was going to come crashing down around him –
“Because not to toot my own horn,” Gale said idly, staring up at the ceiling, “but you seem rather down for the count, Astarion. And I’m not sure I have the strength in me to get you ready if we were to continue. Perhaps it’s best left until the morning?”
The relief Astarion felt was palpable, but he did his best not to let it show.
“Darling, you know friends with benefits don’t usually sleep over,” he said, stretching out on top of the covers. “Am I really going to have to teach you everything about this?”
“I’m afraid so,” Gale said, finally turning his head to look at Astarion once more. There was still a little strand of white in his beard. Without thinking, Astarion reached out, brushing it away with his thumb.
Then he pulled a face in disgust, because it was cold and sticky and why the hell had he just done that –
“Allow me,” Gale murmured, opening his mouth once more. He reached up to take hold of Astarion’s wrist, then seemed to catch himself, running his hand up and down his arm instead. Astarion let him take his thumb in his mouth once more to clean it off. The thumping in his chest calmed to a more manageable rhythm.
“Thank you, poppet,” he said softly, wiping at Gale’s bottom lip. He had to admit, it was nice to take a moment to lie back and bask in his afterglow, rather than have to get dressed and leave. Not that he was going to stay any longer than necessary, of course. It wasn’t even that late.
“So, friends with benefits,” Gale said, the words a little stilted as he tested them. “Is that what you want?”
“That’s what I want,” Astarion confirmed, settling into the soft blankets underneath them, his eyelids starting to droop. “That’s what’s best.”
Notes:
I’m taking a week off from posting after this chapter as life is about to get very busy! I’ll be back to posting every week from Thursday 14th November at the latest.
Still a little bit in shock that this fic hit the 200 kudos mark - thank you so much to everyone that’s left comments, or a kudos, it’s really made my little smutty heart happy.
Chapter 7
Notes:
CW Tags
References to sex, brief references to forced intimacy/oral
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Astarion woke, bleary and disoriented, Gale was snoring softly next to him, an arm draped over his stomach.
He didn’t remember falling asleep. It wasn’t like him at all – he was usually still on edge afterwards, especially somewhere he hadn’t been before. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so comfortable after any kind of sex that he’d let himself drift off like that.
Gale hadn’t even done anything more than come in his pants, but that hadn’t seemed to bother him, which was really rather perplexing.
He carefully lifted Gale’s arm off him, sliding out of the bed to hunt down his clothes. Gale grunted a little in his sleep, his hand searching for something. Astarion watched as he pulled a pillow close to his chest, snuggling into it with a content little sigh.
Astarion felt something clench in his gut. It was almost sweet, seeing Gale like this. It wasn’t something he could ever see Cazador doing.
He shook his head to dislodge that particular thought, dressing as quietly as he could. His phone had fallen out of his pocket at some point onto the floor, face down. Astarion bent to pick it up, and as he turned it over, he winced. He had an unholy number of missed calls from Dalyria.
He usually messaged her when he went home with Cazador. Just in case.
He quickly typed back an apology, deliberately not telling her where he was. She would assume he was with some stranger from some bar, not the client he had found for her. Fuck, she was going to kill him if she ever found out. Firing off the missive, he then opened Uber to see how long it would take him to get home. It would be a while before it arrived, and it was going to take at least forty minutes to get to the flat once it did. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he carefully closed Gale’s bedroom door and padded softly into the kitchen. He’d kill time beforehand, maybe make himself a drink –
He stopped in his tracks as he realised there was already someone in the kitchen. Someone who was halfway through chugging orange juice straight through the carton, frozen as she realised she was caught.
She was tall, a good four or five inches taller than Astarion was. She was the only person he’d ever seen that could pull off a mullet, which was sticking up at slightly odd angles at the back – she must have just got out of bed before he had. He couldn’t help but stare a little at the defined muscles of her arms in her tank top. There was so much of her dark skin on show, taut and smooth, practically rippling in the dim light that was coming through from the street lamp outside.
“Friend of Gale’s?” she whispered, offering him the carton, and stifling a snort when Astarion pulled a face at her. “You two were terrible at keeping quiet earlier. Wyll and I were taking bets on whether we’d be able to work out your name or not.”
“What did you come up with?” Astarion whispered back, pointedly ignoring the carton. The woman put it back in the fridge with a shrug.
“Well, I said it sounded like he was calling you a stallion – props to you, by the way, if he was – but Wyll reckons it’s Star.” She looked at him expectantly, waiting to see if he would correct her. Astarion didn’t particularly want to give her his name, but the silence was starting to feel uncomfortable.
“It’s Astarion,” he said very begrudgingly, looking down at his phone again. Damn it. The Uber had cancelled, and the wait was now even longer.
“I’m Karlach,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake. “And you’re not getting a taxi from here until the morning, mate. None of them come near the place past midnight, idiot kids make it not worth the hassle.”
Astarion groaned, resting his head on the table. Karlach withdrew her hand, surprisingly unbothered that Astarion had ignored it.
“So I’m stuck here until then?” he asked.
“‘Fraid so,” Karlach said cheerfully. “No sneaking out on the poor magic man.”
“Excuse me?”
Karlach grinned at him.
“You think I didn’t hear you calling him a blowjob wizard?” she asked, and Astarion almost choked on air. “I’m never letting him forget that. Or you, if you stick around long enough.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. She grinned back.
“What are you even doing awake, anyway?” he said accusingly, leaning back on his chair and making a show of looking her up and down.
“Ticker keeps me up sometimes,” she said, tapping her chest, and Astarion noticed a long, thin scar starting just below her neck and disappearing below the neckline of her tank top. “I used to work private security, but I took a hell of a blow to the chest – long story – and it’s never really been the same since. It gets a bit jumpy sometimes.”
“I’m sure drinking juice at three in the morning will do it wonders,” Astarion said drily.
There was a pause. Internally, he winced. He didn’t even know this woman, she’d just told him something clearly traumatic had happened to her, and this was his first reaction? God, Gale was going to kill him.
Kara laughed far too loudly for someone trying not to wake their roommates.
“Shit, you really go for the jugular, don’t you?” she cackled. Astarion tried to scowl at her to get her to keep her voice down, but he couldn’t help but return her smile.
The door to the other bedroom opened, and a man in maybe his early twenties appeared, dreadlocks tied in a loose, low ponytail, wearing only his boxers.
“Love, please, it’s too early for – oh, sorry,” he said quickly, hiding himself behind the bedroom door. “Friend of Gale’s? You won’t get a taxi at this time, you know.”
Astarion was going to have to stay until the morning, wasn’t he? He gave Karlach a helpless look, but she just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Go back to bed, stallion,” she said, standing up and stretching. “Maybe you can get one more of those wicked sounding blowjobs before you head off in the morning.”
“Karlach,” Gale’s other housemate hissed at her as Astarion tried to hide a laugh behind an indignant snort.
“Oh, lighten up, Wyll,” Karlach said, heading back to her bedroom. “If we have to listen to it I think I’m entitled to poke a bit of fun at Gale apparently being some sort of throat goat.”
“Please never say that again,” Wyll said in a very pained voice, stepping to one side to let her in. “I don’t need to know that about the guy.”
As their door shut, Astarion was left alone in the kitchen to ponder silently. He rested his chin on his hand, staring into space as his mind roiled.
He was stuck. He had no choice. Why did it always come down to him not having a choice? And why was London such a shithole that an apartment wouldn’t have a god damn sofa he could sleep on?
But he was tired. Gale had taken him apart effortlessly, as he had done before, but he had stopped before Astarion even had to say he was too tired for more. He supposed there were worse people to sleep next to. And he doubted Gale was so rude as to wake him up with a hand down his boxers or shoving himself down his throat.
He dragged himself away from the kitchen table, quietly opening the door to Gale’s bedroom. Gale was snoring lightly, his face buried in the pillow that had replaced Astarion in his arms. One of his hands was stroking gently up and down the fabric.
Idiot.
Astarion undressed again, laying his clothes carefully over the back of Gale’s desk chair to try and stop any more wrinkles developing. He wouldn’t have time in the morning to go home and change before work. Maybe Gale had a shirt he could borrow.
The thought wasn’t as awful as it should be.
He slipped back under the covers behind Gale. He was unbelievably warm – or maybe Astarion was cold, he wasn’t sure – and despite himself Astarion found himself gravitating towards him, his chest against the other man’s back.
He wasn’t used to this. The times he’d stayed over at Cazador’s, his boss insisted Astarion be little spoon, even though it made the scars on his back crawl and itch. It felt like a false intimacy, a parody of a loving relationship. Astarion knew there was no love there. Only possession and the tilting of scales in Cazador’s favour.
But this felt nice. Gale was a grounding presence. His quiet snores broke through Astarion’s thoughts, filling the silence with comforting white noise. His back, he noticed, had a dusting of freckles over his shoulders, hidden slightly by coarse black hair that Astarion hadn’t seen before. He supposed he hadn’t had Gale at this angle.
He reached out a hand to trace a line between the dots. Gale murmured, but didn’t stir.
Astarion’s hand moved of its own accord, over Gale’s shoulders, the knots in his muscles tight under his fingers. He supposed this was the most relaxed Gale was capable of being. The freckles led his hand from his shoulders, down his spine, to the small of his back.
He was so tired.
His head leant forward, leaning against the nape of Gale’s neck, as his hand settled on the dip of Gale’s waist. There was something about Gale’s body that he found fascinating. He could feel the slightly raised texture of stretch marks under his hands. Not quite the same feel as Astarion’s scars, but he felt a strange sense of connection anyway.
Gale still smelled like sex and sweat, but Astarion couldn’t draw himself away now that he was this close. His own body was finally starting to warm up, Gale’s heat another blanket to envelope him. He would have to borrow Gale’s clothes in the morning, he was spooning him, for Christ’s sake, but the casual intimacy of it all didn’t even register. It just felt normal. Normal wasn’t exactly something he was used to, admittedly, but his skin wasn’t crawling, he wasn’t having to fight a tremble.
He didn’t even struggle to fall asleep, once he was flush against Gale.
He woke to the blaring of his phone alarm, far too loud for this early in the morning. Gale was wrapped up in his arms, face buried in the pillow he was hugging tightly. Astarion rolled onto his back, groaning, as Gale cracked one eye open, looking blearily at the pillow in front of him, then over his shoulder at Astarion.
“How’d you teleport?” he asked, slurring slightly, his voice cracking from Astarion’s misuse of his throat the night before and hours of snoring following it.
Astarion just released a light breath in lieu of laughing, sitting up and stretching. He could feel Gale roll back over, grumbling about being woken up.
“Sorry, darling, I’ve got to get going,” he murmured, aware that he didn’t particularly want to disturb Karlach and Wyll again. “Where are your shirts?”
“Why do you want a shirt?” Gale spoke into the pillow, muffled, his words almost indecipherable.
“Because I have to go to work, Gale, and my job would take exception to me turning up in last night’s clothes,” Astarion replied, pushing himself up to start rifling through Gale’s drawers. “Good lord, man, one person does not need this many graphic tees.”
“Fuck off,” Gale mumbled. “Dress shirts are in the bottom drawer.”
“Not a morning person, are you?” Astarion said, amused, as he found the shirts in question. He picked out the one white shirt he could see. It was too big on him, but hopefully it wouldn’t be too obvious once it was tucked into his trousers and his suit jacket was over the top of it.
“I teach film,” came the muffled reply. “No classes before 2pm. No point.”
Astarion finished buttoning the shirt, tucking it in. He checked himself in the stick on mirror on the back of the door. Not ideal, but better than obviously looking like he hadn’t been home. He could use the showers at the office once he got there.
“I’ll let myself out,” he said, running a hand through his hair to try and at least tame it a little. “Last night was fun, darling. Let’s not leave it too long until next time, alright? We have unfinished business to attend to, after all.”
Gale managed to drag himself upright, his hair stuck straight up at the back. He rubbed at his eyes.
“I’ll walk you to the door, at least,” he said with a yawn.
“Gale, again, I am not your wife,” Astarion said, amused. “I can manage to navigate your very, very small flat without getting lost. Go back to sleep.”
“A kiss goodbye, then,” Gale said stubbornly. “So I’m not so terrible a host as to send you on your way without so much as a by your leave.”
Astarion sighed, but he sat back on the edge of the bed, offering his cheek to Gale. Gale leant forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheekbone. His beard scratched slightly against the skin. His breath was musky and hot, and Astarion suddenly felt the urge to tear Gale’s too big shirt from his own body and spend the day taking him apart instead.
“Now you can go,” Gale said quietly, tapping a finger to Astarion’s nose. It broke through Astarion’s thoughts, and he slapped the hand away with a laugh at his audacity.
“Ridiculous man,” he said, and without realising it, his tone was laced with affection as he got up to go, leaving Gale to flop back into the pillows and fall straight back asleep.
**
Astarion
Last night was fun. Same time next week?
Gale
Scheduling a rendezvous? You really know how to appeal to my sensibilities.
Astarion
Call it a rendezvous again and I will never let you near my dick for the rest of your days
Gale
Oh, god, a fate worse than death!
Unfortunately I have university business until late that Wednesday, but if I could beg a favour? I have final mediation on the Friday and suspect I will need to let off steam?
That came off much more demanding than I meant it to, apologies.
Astarion
What are friends with benefits for
Notes:
The schedule has calmed down finally and I can get back to posting every week (hopefully!) I had an outline for this, but the plan has gone out the window…
Chapter 8
Notes:
CW/Smut Tags
Flu, nausea, vomiting, anal fingering and sex
Chapter Text
Astarion was going to slowly murder every single person in London who thought it was socially acceptable to get on the Tube without a mask when they were sick, if whatever plague he had didn’t kill him first.
He was being buffeted backwards and forwards on the Central line where he stood in a packed carriage, which was unbearably hot at the best of times and even worse when he was dying. He’d normally be on the Elizabeth line, but a track fault had necessitated the change. The mask over his nose and mouth was suffocating, but he wasn’t about to take it off. He would keep his germs to himself, thank you very much.
He shouldn’t have gone into work, but there was so much to do, and Cazador had made it very clear in the past that sick days were for the weak and foolish.
He just had to get home. He’d feel better after a shower and a good night’s sleep –
Fuck. It was Friday. He’d told Gale he could come round after his mediation.
He audibly groaned, and a few surrounding people glared at him for daring to speak on London public transport.
He couldn’t cancel. Gale had made it very clear he needed this, that he needed Astarion for the night. They’d been texting back and forth all week, riling each other up with mere words. Gale was a poet once he’d gotten into the swing of sexting. Gone were the stilted responses, replaced with paragraphs of vulgarity that Astarion read and reread, utterly captivated.
Astarion wanted this. He wanted it badly. He could push through feeling a little ill if it meant having those words whispered in his ear while Gale’s hands ran over him the way he’d promised.
If he cancelled, when Gale was so obviously in need, he’d lose interest in the one thing Astarion was good for. And Astarion would lose the one person he actually enjoyed having sex with.
The train ground to a halt, and Astarion shoved his way out onto the platform, his legs heavy as he stumbled slightly towards the escalator. He’d feel better once he was in the fresh air. He’d feel better once he was home. He could do this. He could power through.
He chose to walk home from the station, the cool evening air helping with how hot he felt under his suit. Dalyria was staying in the city centre tonight, something about going for drinks with some of her colleagues from her firm, and then crashing at one of their apartments in the City so she could stay out later. It was all lining up to be a perfect night, if he could just keep it together.
He yanked the mask off as he made it inside the apartment, throwing it into the bin and collapsing onto the couch. He was sweating through his shirt. He really needed a shower before Gale arrived, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up now that he was finally sat.
His head was pounding – he could practically feel his pulse in his temples as he wriggled his jacket off and threw it over the back of the sofa. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, to get up the energy to sit up and go and have that blasted shower. He needed to get ready, he needed to prepare, for god’s sake.
He woke up to the blare of the flat buzzer.
Shit.
He was drenched in sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt practically see through at the armpits. He could feel it sticking to his back as he managed to pull himself upright. He couldn’t answer the door looking like this.
He managed to unbutton his shirt enough to yank it over his head, stuffing it behind the cushions. He ran his hands through his hair to push it off his head, hoping it looked more like he was anticipating Gale than sweating his ass off from a fever.
Maybe he could get Gale to join him in the shower. Yes, that would work. Just like in his fantasies, with the added bonus of the steam and the heat masking the flush of his skin.
He picked up the phone for the intercom.
“Hi darling, I’ve just got back,” he lied smoothly. “Come on up and join me, will you? Just follow the sound of my voice when you get here.”
He managed to fight down a hacking cough, his throat tickling with every word, as he unlocked the front door so Gale could get in. The steam would clear it. Stumbling through the flat, he held himself up on the wall as he set his shower running, the temperature scalding.
He remembered the last time Gale was here, what he’d imagined in this shower. He just wished he felt a little more like he was going to enjoy it.
The sound of the front door opening broke him from his reverie. His hands shook from the effort, but he managed to strip off the rest of his clothing, tossing it to one side before stepping into the shower.
God, the water felt like heaven on his aching chest.
“Through here,” he called, the steam easing the crackling sensation in his throat. “How was mediation?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” came the very terse reply. Gale appeared moments later, already pulling his jumper over his head. He looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot. He’d clearly been running his hands through his hair. “Mediation broke down. Over the bloody cat, of all things. It’s going to court. Dal’s staying on and I’ll pay her from whatever financial settlement gets agreed on.”
“Doesn’t sound like not talking about it to me, Gale,” Astarion said, waggling his eyebrows at him from behind the glass of the shower door.
Gale shot him a scowl as he tugged at his tie’s knot around his neck.
“In any case,” he continued, managing to wrestle the tie off and starting on the buttons of his shirt, “I’m immensely grateful that we scheduled this. The thought of it was practically the only thing keeping me going at one point.”
The room was starting to swim, but Astarion managed to keep himself upright by leaning against the wall in a way that he hoped looked casually provocative.
“I live to serve, darling,” he said, watching as Gale stripped the rest of the way. That beautiful cock of his was already half hard, bobbing between his legs. “Though you should know, I do have the teensiest case of the sniffles. Best to avoid your usual habit of lavishing my face with kisses.”
“Are you alright?” Gale asked, his face creasing with concern as he stepped into the shower. “Astarion, you should have said, if you’re not feeling well –“
“It’s just a cold, darling, I’m fine,” Astarion cut him off, turning around quickly and bracing himself against the wall. He was too ill to care about Gale seeing the scars. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and for a moment, he thought he was going to stop him – but then felt Gale’s hands gingerly cup his rear and massage the muscle there. “Nothing an orgasm or two won’t fix.”
With his back to him, Astarion was finally able to drop his façade a little, screwing his face up as his head pounded. Gale’s hands were running up and down his back now, feeling the tension in the muscles. He felt him press against him, his hands on his shoulders, starting to squeeze.
Gale laid a soft kiss to the back of his neck.
“You feel as tense as I do, Astarion,” he murmured softly. Astarion could feel his cock, stiff and primed, slide against the cleft of his arse. “Was it a particularly grating day for you as well?”
“Something like that,” Astarion said, his response a little more clipped than he’d meant it to be. “Lube’s on the shelf just there.”
He mentally thanked himself for remembering to buy a bottle of Sliquid the day before. He really could not have powered through what they were about to do without it. He expected Gale to reach past him for it immediately, but instead, he continued massaging Astarion’s shoulders, seemingly content with that for the time being. Even if his body suggested otherwise.
“Gale, you can dispense with the foreplay,” Astarion grumbled. He was starting to feel nauseous on top of everything else.
“This is just as much for me as it is for you,” Gale replied softly, apparently undeterred. Astarion did have to admit that the repetitive squeezing of the man’s hands were relieving a little bit of the headache that had plagued him for most of the afternoon.
His hands started to wander. Over Astarion’s back (mercifully avoiding the scars, which he was very grateful for, because he really didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that particular issue right now), around his sides, up and down his torso. Astarion felt as though he was being mapped out, ready to be consumed.
Which, normally, he would have found incredibly arousing, but as Gale’s hand reached for his cock he felt another wave of nausea, and he moaned a little pathetically instead.
Gale’s hands stopped, resting on Astarion’s hip bones.
“Are you alright?” he asked gently, thumbs brushing up and down the ridges there. “That didn’t sound like one of your usual exclamations.”
“It was a moan, Gale, Jesus,” Astarion said, swallowing hard. “I didn’t realise I was being assessed on the authenticity of my noises when we’re about to fuck.”
“Right,” Gale said dubiously. He reached around to cup Astarion, and Astarion willed his treacherous dick to harden, but it stayed traitorously soft instead. “It’s just usually, when you make a noise like that, there’s a little more physical evidence –“
“It’ll get there, Gale, alright?” Astarion snapped. “Now stop overanalysing my erections and fuck me already.”
He felt a gust across the back of his neck as Gale stifled a laugh, and finally, he saw his hand reach past him for the bottle of lube on the shower shelf.
“Perhaps a little preparation will help you relax, then,” Gale murmured in his ear, the words soft and honeyed. Normally, that would have sent a frisson down his spine, knowing that Gale was about to take care of him, drive him to the heights of pleasure only he could help him reach.
God, he wished he was enjoying this. Perhaps once Gale’s fingers were inside him, the nausea would go away.
He felt the first one brush against his hole, working the lube over it, slickening him up as the water from the shower continually hit his chest. Gale was murmuring something in his ear, but his head was pounding harder now, and he was finding it harder and harder to concentrate. He closed his eyes, arching his back just so, the way they always liked.
Gale was being more careful, if that were even possible, than the last time. Astarion huffed, and just as Gale prepared to push a finger in, Astarion snapped his hips back, burying his index finger into him a little faster than he probably should have.
It made his lungs burn with the need to cough, but the sting distracted him, and he heard Gale moan softly behind him. He felt the man start to kiss at his neck again, moving his finger in delightful little circles inside of him. Astarion closed his eyes, trying to focus on that sensation instead.
Gale worked him open slowly. A little too slowly, for Astarion’s tastes. His other hand was holding Astarion’s hip, stopping him from pushing back like he was trying to do. Having Gale behind him afforded the other man a lot more control than he’d had in their previous trysts.
Astarion hated it, but in this position, Gale couldn’t see how ill he actually was, and was more likely to follow through. So he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the pleasure of Gale slowly fucking him open with one – oh, that did feel good, though, now two fingers, teasing and hooking into him.
“Are you quite ready for me?” Gale murmured in Astarion’s ear. Astarion just nodded. He could feel a tickle in his throat, and he didn’t trust himself to speak without hacking up a lung.
Gale withdrew his hand, letting the water run over his fingers to clean them before taking hold of himself and getting into position. Astarion bent forward slightly, his hands still braced on the wall of the shower.
As Gale slowly pushed forward, Astarion let out a ragged moan. This was what he had wanted. This was going to make all of it worth it. He maybe should have let him use his fingers for a little bit longer, but the tight stretch was doing wonders to distract him from how hideous he felt.
Of course, his stupid lungs chose that exact moment to try and dislodge the crap that was lodged in them.
Astarion tried to stop the cough, fighting it down as best he could, but the nausea and the headache and his aching muscles were no match for it. His body shook with the effort of suppressing it, and it was immediately obvious what he was doing, given the way it was making him clench around Gale.
“Astarion.”
Gale’s hips stilled. Astarion reached behind himself to try and encourage him to keep moving, but it was no use.
“You’re ill.” It wasn’t a question. Astarion turned his head with some effort to look over his shoulder. Gale was looking at him, hands back on his hips, a crease between his brows as he studied him.
“I told you, it’s nothing,” Astarion said, wiggling his hips enticingly at him. “It’s not like you’re going to catch it from sticking that delectable cock in my –“
“Astarion. I’m not having sex with you. Not when you’re this sick.”
“I’m fine,” Astarion protested. He was so close to having him. He hadn’t had sex with the man since New York, and that was an age ago, and fuck, he wanted to feel like that again. He could push through a little bit of flu. He’d pushed through worse.
He tried to rock back against Gale, but the man was stepping away. Astarion had never felt so empty in his life.
“Gale, please,” Astarion said, hating how pathetic and small his voice sounded. “Please, I want this.”
“And you’ll have me some other time, I promise,” Gale replied, stepping out the shower and wrapping one of Astarion’s plush towels around his waist. “But oddly enough I prefer my partners to be hale and hearty when having sex with them. I don’t want you to push yourself on my account.”
“Gale –“
Just as Astarion was about to argue that he was fine, and he didn’t need Gale to fuss over him like a mother hen, he just needed him to keep fucking him, Astarion felt a gargantuan wave of nausea threaten to overcome him.
He stumbled out of his shower, almost falling over in the process, and landed hard on his knees by the toilet just in time to violently expend the contents of his stomach into it.
Well. This was it. He was going to die of embarrassment, wet and still sticky from the lube and naked on the floor of his bathroom.
He should push his hair out of his face, he thought dimly, though his mind and body were mostly preoccupied at that point. It felt like every muscle was trembling, tensing with effort at every retch. His arms felt like lead, and besides, they were wrapped so tightly around the bowl of the toilet he didn’t think he could move them if he tried.
He felt warm hands at his temple.
“Don’t even try and tell me this is just a cold, you fool,” Gale said gently, scooping Astarion’s hair back with his hands and holding it at the crown of his head. He managed to get it secure enough with one hand to rub comforting circles between his shoulder blades with the other. “That’s it. Get it all out.”
Astarion wanted to tell him to fuck off and stop being so nice, but that was a little difficult to do at the moment.
Once the nightmare was over – it could have been hours, it could have been a minute, Astarion had no idea – he felt his hair flop forward as Gale got up off the floor to find something. He heard his knees pop as he groaned, using the bathroom counter to help him stand.
“You’re such an old man,” Astarion mumbled into the toilet seat, leaning his forehead against the cold porcelain for a modicum of relief.
“I know bullying me is probably going to make you feel better, so I will let that slide for now,” Gale said, and Astarion felt him wrap a soft towel around his shoulders, starting to dry him off. Gale was methodical, careful in his movements. Astarion couldn’t quite bring himself to do anything but sit still as he worked.
Gale paused as he reached Astarion’s hips, then stopped drying him off.
“I’ll leave the last of it to you,” he said instead, draping the towel over Astarion’s back. Astarion heard himself whine at the loss of touch, too tired to even try to pretend he didn’t want Gale’s hands on him still. “I’ll go and get your bedroom ready for you.”
Astarion heard the bathroom door click softly shut, leaving him alone once more.
Using strength he didn’t know he possessed, he lifted his head off the toilet seat – he was so full of germs he didn’t really care about acquiring any more, at this point – and pushed himself back to sit on his haunches, towelling off his legs and crotch. With a grunt, he grabbed the counter, summoning just enough power to get himself sat on the toilet and finish cleaning himself up.
Now all he had to do was brush his teeth and walk twenty paces to his bed. Easy. Probably.
By the time he’d finished rinsing his mouth and stumbling over to open the bathroom door, he was sweating as much as he had been before the bloody shower debacle.
Gale had made himself at home, clearly. He was laid out on Astarion’s bed, legs crossed at the ankles, reading some dreadfully boring book on money laundering Astarion had picked up for a case months ago and never bothered to move from his bedside table. He looked up at the sound of the door opening.
“Here, let me help,” he said, moving to stand.
“I’m fine,” Astarion replied through gritted teeth, walking very slowly over to his bed to make sure he didn’t keel over. By some miracle, or maybe his own stubbornness, he made it to the foot of the bed before collapsing face down onto it, towel still wrapped around his waist. “Go home. Tonight was a waste of time.”
Gale put a pair of pyjama bottoms by Astarion’s head. When Astarion didn’t move, Gale made a small tutting noise (an exceedingly irritating one, at that) and got up off the bed.
“Roll over,” he said, giving Astarion’s hip a tap. Astarion groaned, but obliged, and Gale pulled the towel off him so he could slide the flannel trousers on. “Lift your hips.”
“We’re never going to have sex again,” Astarion groused, just about managing to cant his hips enough that Gale could get the trousers the rest of the way up. “I don’t think I can even look at you.”
“Has anyone ever told you that if law doesn’t work out, you’d have an exceptional career in the dramatic arts?” Gale asked, a smug tone to his voice that Astarion really didn’t like. He managed to lift his arm just high enough to flip him off. “Come on, under the covers with you.”
“Prick,” Astarion mumbled, but he let Gale manhandle him up the bed, sighing in relief as his head hit the cold pillow. Gale pulled a spare bedsheet over him that he must have found in the top of his wardrobe instead of his thick duvet, before producing a cooling gel strip – where the hell had he found that?! – peeling off the backing and sticking it onto Astarion’s forehead.
The moan Astarion let out was far more authentic than any he’d made in the bathroom that evening. He was too busy revelling in the feeling of finally cooling down to see the look of amusement on Gale’s face at the noise.
“There’s water on your bedside table, and paracetamol once you’re sure you’ll keep it down,” Gale said, using his fingers to brush gently through the sweat and water soaked strands of hair that kept falling into Astarion’s eyes.
Astarion supposed, if he really had to admit it to himself, that it was a lot nicer to be taken care of than it was to try and suffer through this plague alone. Gale made quite the nurse.
His flu addled brain considered Gale in a tiny nurse’s uniform for a moment, that delectably plump ass poking out from under the skirt. He’d have to remember that particular fantasy for when he felt better.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Astarion said, his eyes already heavy. “We’re not friends or anything.”
“Oh, I apologise, I didn’t realise that the F in ‘FWB’ stands for ‘fasual acquaintances’,” Gale said tartly. “Just because we have an arrangement, it doesn’t mean I’m particularly keen on using you when you’re clearly sick. Neither does it mean I’m going to leave when you need help. Do you know how awful I’d feel if you aspirated during the night and I’d abandoned you to your fate?”
“I’d haunt you forever,” Astarion mumbled, before falling into a feverish sleep, Gale’s hand still in his hair.
Chapter Text
The blare of Astarion’s alarm wasn’t enough to wake him up, but the sound of his bedroom door opening, and Gale’s footsteps coming through to pick up his phone and turn off the alarm roused him immediately. He flung an arm out to snatch his phone back, rasping something incoherent. He felt a little better than the night before, but that wasn’t saying much. His throat felt like it was on fire, swollen and sore. Every muscle ached from the effort he’d put himself through vomiting. At least his head hurt a little less.
Gale handed him a fresh glass of water, and he took it gratefully, practically downing it. He was then handed two paracetamol to take.
It all felt horrifically domestic, but he found he didn’t actually mind that much.
“Do I want to know why you set an alarm to wake up at this ungodly hour?” Gale asked him.
“Work,” Astarion said, massaging his throat with his hands to try and make it easier to speak. It didn’t achieve much. “Emergency meetings today. Loads to catch up on.”
He unlocked his phone – he already had multiple Slack messages from the office to sort through. If the paracetamol kicked in fast enough and the Elizabeth line was back up and running, he could probably get through the rest of the day with little issue, so long as he didn’t talk.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for the idiot professor currently glaring daggers at him.
“You’re not going into work,” Gale said firmly, plucking Astarion’s phone out of his hand. “You are sick, Astarion. You need to sleep.”
“I have – “ Astarion cut himself off with a coughing fit as he tried to snatch the phone back. “I have cases – Cazador needs – “
“You let me handle whoever that is,” Gale said, scrolling through Astarion’s contacts to search for that name. Astarion blanched as Gale started to call him.
“Gale – what are you – don’t call my boss – “
“Ah, hello, sir,” Gale said cheerfully, holding Astarion at arm’s length. “My apologies for calling so early. My name is Doctor Dekarios, I’m calling on behalf of your employee, Astarion Ancunín.”
Astarion grabbed for the phone feebly, but Gale just put his hand on his forehead to keep him back.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he rasped, before falling into another coughing fit. Gale patted his forehead in the most patronising way he could have possibly managed.
“Yes, sir, unfortunately I must insist that Mr Ancunín remain at home for the day,” he continued, ignoring Astarion’s spluttering. “It would hinder his recovery to travel, not to mention he should be on strict bed rest for the next 48 hours, given the severity of his symptoms.”
Astarion managed to push his hand off his forehead, flopping back with an indignant huff.
“The symptoms? Oh, I wouldn’t want to ruin your breakfast,” Gale said cheerfully, “but suffice it to say that Astarion’s presence in the office would probably cause a number of your staff members to suffer.”
Astarion tried to throw a pillow at Gale, but he dodged it effortlessly, the pillow thumping against the bedroom door instead.
“I quite agree, sir,” he said, leaning over to pick up the pillow. He fluffed it with his spare hand, before gesturing for Astarion to sit up. Astarion dragged himself upright enough for Gale to slip it behind him. He did have to admit, it was a little easier to breathe at the newer angle. “Best for Mr Ancunín to stay home until Monday. Perhaps even Tuesday, just to be on the safe side.”
Astarion stared at Gale. Had he actually just managed to get Cazador to give him time off? How the fuck had he done that so effortlessly?
Gale caught his eye and winked back, cheerfully bidding his goodbyes before hanging up and handing Astarion his phone back.
“You’re not a doctor,” Astarion said, narrowing his eyes. Now that he was a little more awake, and in a better position, the coughing had eased up, but his throat was still very sore.
“I think you’ll find I’m in possession of a doctorate, actually,” Gale said far too smugly.
“Yes, in fucking film studies,” Astarion shot back. His phone buzzed in his hand – Cazador had sent him a direct Slack message.
I expect you back in the office Tuesday morning fully recovered. In the meantime, I assume your malady does not render you illiterate – I have sent you encrypted files for you to work on today. I expect them fully finished and annotated by EOD.
He showed Gale his phone with a sigh.
“No rest for the wicked, I suppose,” he said, pushing himself a little more upright. “Pass me my laptop, it’s on the desk.”
“A please wouldn’t go amiss, you know,” Gale replied, but he went to the desk to bring over the laptop. As he handed it over, he studied Astarion closely, reaching out a hand to brush his hair back off his forehead. Astarion felt his palm, cool and soft, against his sweaty brow. “You still have a fever. I’m going to pop out and get you some more cooling strips, that was the last one. Where are your keys?”
“Hanging by the door - why in the fuck do you need my keys?” Astarion said, trying to ignore the little flip in his stomach as he logged into his remote work account. Clearly it hadn’t settled yet from the night before.
“So I can let myself back in, obviously,” Gale said, looking at him like he was an idiot. “How else am I supposed to get you what you need today? You’re sick, Astarion, and if you’re going to push yourself and work today the least I can do is ensure your other needs are met.”
His stomach flipped again. It wasn’t quite the same feeling as the previous nausea, but there was nothing else it could be.
“Could you get me the washing up bowl from the kitchen before you go, then?” he said quietly. “Just in case.”
“I am at your service, my liege,” Gale replied, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, before thinking better of it and moving away. Another stab in Astarion’s gut. “Anything else you need from me? Or anything in particular you want me to pick up while I’m out?”
“Maybe something for my throat,” Astarion said, trying to swallow again to stop the rasping it made anytime he spoke.
“I’ll make a run to the pharmacy.”
“Thank you.”
He all but whispered the words, not quite able to look Gale in the eye. He wasn’t used to this at all. Yes, Dalyria was helpful enough when he was sick in the past, but it rarely stretched beyond bringing him a glass of water. And whenever he was ill around Cazador, he was treated like an inconvenience, especially if it stopped the man getting what he wanted.
He didn’t know what Gale was after with this. It wasn’t sex, because he’d offered that last night and Gale had turned it down. He didn’t really know what else it could be. Most likely it would be a favour owed in the future.
Gale headed to the kitchen, fetching the grey washing up bowl from the sink, before coming back in and putting it on the floor by the bed.
“I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he said gently, sitting on the edge of Astarion’s bed, tucking a stringy curl behind his ear. “Will you be alright until then?”
“I have the flu, not consumption,” Astarion muttered. Gale just laughed, standing and planting a kiss on the top of his head before leaving his bedroom once more.
As he heard the door click shut, Astarion tried to concentrate on the documents Cazador had sent him, but his mind kept drifting back to the night before. It didn’t make sense. Gale had come over to have sex with him. That was the whole point of him coming over. That was the arrangement they had made.
Gale was also the one that had stopped it. He was the one that had rubbed his back while he made an absolute fool of himself, who had helped him into bed, who had called his boss for him. He could have just left as soon as sex was off the table. Hell, it’s what Astarion would have done, if the tables were turned.
Was it what he would do, though? If Gale had been the one coughing with his head halfway down the toilet, would he have just left?
Yes, he would have done. It would be a waste of time to stay if he wasn’t going to get what he wanted. Gale was just a better person than he was.
God, his head hurt thinking about this.
He had finally managed to get focused on his work (though it was a very loose definition of the word focus, he was almost certainly going to have to redo most of this on Tuesday) when the front door opened.
“What treats did you get me, darling?” he called out, coughing slightly at the end of his sentence.
“Don’t shout,” a woman’s voice groaned. “I’m never drinking tequila again.”
Astarion froze. It was Dalyria’s voice, not Gale’s.
He scrabbled for his phone.
Astarion
DO NOT COME BACK
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared again.
Astarion realised that perhaps his message could use a little more context.
Astarion
Dalyria just got home
Don’t really fancy explaining why you have my keys
Gale
Ah! You had me worried for a moment there.
I’m assuming you also haven’t told her about our arrangement, given that it hasn’t yet come up at our meetings.
I can’t just abscond with your keys, though. Do you think you can bear to come down and meet me at the door? I’m almost back.
Astarion
Oh my GOD why do you text like this
Yeah I’ll tell her I ordered some stuff for this bug
Gale
Now would probably be a good time to tell you I picked up some breakfast for you, then. To help sell the lie.
Astarion blinked at his phone for a moment. He’d bought him breakfast? He didn’t need to do that, he had food in the house.
Astarion
What did you get me?
Gale
I figured you might still be feeling a little queasy and your throat was still causing you trouble, so I popped into that smoothie place next to Boots while I was there. I think they do delivery so it’s plausible you would have ordered it.
And I also got you a bacon sandwich and a hash brown from McDonalds. But if you didn’t want them I was going to have them.
Astarion would have murdered an entire village for a bacon sandwich, now that Gale had mentioned it.
His bedroom door opened, and Astarion quickly stuffed his phone under his pillow. Then he wondered why on earth he’d done that, because there wasn’t a chance in hell that Dalyria could read the screen from where she was, and it just made him look like he had something to hide.
Thankfully, Dalyria didn’t notice. She looked even worse than he did. She was still in last night’s clothes, a good amount of her mascara under her eyes.
“Fun night?” he asked, stifling a cough.
“Don’t ask,” she groaned, rubbing her face. “You okay? You sound like you’ve been chewing glass.”
“Caught something in the Petri dish that is the Tube,” he replied. “I’ve ordered some stuff from Boots and some breakfast that’ll get here soon. I didn’t think you’d be back until later.”
“Yeah, well, I have a ton of work to do on the Rhyl vs Dekarios case,” she said with a yawn. “Yesterday didn’t go too well, I don’t know if he said.”
Astarion coughed in lieu of a reply, only partly faking it so he didn’t have to answer.
“Anyway, I’m going to bed until the afternoon,” she continued. “Try and die quietly, please.”
He gave her a thumbs up as she disappeared from his doorway, staggering into her own bedroom before closing the door behind her. He heard her groan as she shut it a little louder than she meant to.
Grabbing his dressing gown from the back of his door, Astarion left the door of the apartment on the latch as he dragged himself into the lift. The lurch of the rickety mechanisms made him feel queasy again, but he managed to keep himself together enough to make it to the bottom floor still standing.
Gale was waiting in the entrance hall, holding a large Boots bag, a takeaway smoothie cup, and the most delicious McDonalds bag Astarion had ever smelled.
“I only got you a few things,” he said, handing Astarion the Boots bag. Astarion immediately opened it to look inside. “Paracetamol, some cough syrup, cooling strips, Night Nurse in case you struggle to sleep again –“
“Were you watching me sleep?” Astarion interrupted, digging through the bag. It seemed as though Gale had bought half the damn pharmacy.
“No, I could hear you coughing from the living room,” Gale said defensively. He held up the smoothie and the McDonalds bag. “Now, which of these do you want?”
“Both?” Astarion said hopefully. Gale laughed.
“Both it is,” he said genially, giving him everything else. He took Astarion’s keys from his jacket, slipping them into the pocket of his dressing gown now that Astarion’s hands were occupied. “Get well soon, Astarion. I’ll see you some other time.”
“Gale,” Astarion said impulsively, just as he turned to go. Gale stopped, looking back at him. His eyes looked almost hopeful. Astarion felt himself flush slightly. From the fever, of course. “What do I owe you?”
“You don’t owe me anything, Astarion,” Gale said. Astarion knew he was telling the truth. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
Astarion wouldn’t have done all of this for Gale. Probably.
“Right,” he said instead. He would just have to think of some other way to pay him back.
Notes:
Trying to get this back on a regular Thursday posting schedule - fingers crossed it’ll be there by next week!
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
As it turned out, recovering from the plague was a lot easier when you stayed home and actually recovered. Astarion spent the rest of the weekend either working slowly on his laptop or asleep, occasionally surfacing from his room to refill his water or order delivery. He could have gone back into work on Monday, but after a very long text from Gale making it explicitly clear that he was to do no such thing, he spent it in bed instead. Gale rewarded his good behaviour with an essay’s worth of filth.
He’d even managed to figure out how to send a voice note. Astarion had been very grateful that he’d had his AirPods in when he played it. And replayed it. Twice.
He had been dreading returning to work when Tuesday came around, but Gale’s ploy seemed to have worked. Cazador only gave him a mild telling off, and because Gale had played up Astarion’s symptoms over the phone, his boss stayed well away from him. It was a blessed reprieve that he hadn’t been expecting. Another thing to add to the list to thank Gale for.
When Astarion got home, the first thing he noticed was the cat carrier on the breakfast bar.
He eyed it suspiciously as he hung his coat and keys by the door. Their apartment allowed pets, according to Dalyria, but they’d both agreed a while back that it would be irresponsible for them to get one. So the presence of such an object as the one in front of him was unnerving, to say the least.
“Dal?” he called out, not taking his eyes off the carrier as he kicked off his shoes. He could just make out two amber eyes staring back at him. “I have some questions.”
Dalyria emerged from her room, looking more than a little harried. She must have been changing out of her work clothes; she was now in a pair of leggings and an old shirt.
“Mystra’s lawyers are the fucking worst,” she said irritably, pulling a large knit cardigan around herself. “Apparently, even though Tara’s been Gale’s cat for god knows how long, Mystra’s been paying her vet bills and argued that meant she has just as much of a right to keep her. Because they couldn’t settle on who gets full custody, her lawyers argued it was biased to have her living at Gale’s mother’s. I managed to get them to agree to have her fostered somewhere else while this all gets sorted.”
“Wait, what?!”
Astarion took a closer look at the carrier. The cat inside was an elegant calico, currently eyeing him with a haughty disdain. There was significant greying around her muzzle, but her coat was smooth and shiny. She was clearly very well cared for.
“She must be ancient,” Astarion said. He could have sworn the cat scowled at him. “Surely that’s more stressful for her?”
“I know,” Dalyria replied with a sigh, folding her arms. “I’m seeing if Gale and Mystra have any mutual friends that they can both settle on. I think Gale’s still close with Mystra’s agent. At least it would be a familiar face.”
“Right, and certainly not biased in Mystra’s favour,” Astarion scoffed.
“I know, but I have to get her to agree to someone,” she said, pinching her nose. “Elminster’s probably my best bet.”
Tara made a grumpy little meowing noise from inside the carrier.
“I think Tara disagrees,” Astarion said with a small laugh, sitting at the breakfast bar next to it. He’d never been much of a cat person – or a pet person, really – but he was starting to see what people meant when they said animals had character. Tara certainly had it in spades.
“Listen, if you have any bright ideas, I’m all for them at the point,” Dalyria said. She came over and opened up the carrier, taking off the lid. Tara eyed them both suspiciously, curled up in the back corner. Her hackles were raised, fur on end, as she trembled slightly. “Poor thing. She’s so stressed.”
Dalyria fished a metal bowl out of a plastic bag Astarion hadn’t noticed on the countertop. She filled it with water from the sink, putting it next to the carrier. The cat tentatively stood, putting one paw on the counter, but didn’t seem to want to advance any further. Astarion carefully held out a hand for her to sniff. Her tiny black nose buffed against it for a moment as she sized him up, decided he wasn’t a threat, and shoved her head into his hand.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Dalyria said, watching as Astarion gave Tara a scratch behind the ears. “She ruined my Chanel jacket when I was trying to get her out of Morena’s house.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, darling, she clearly has taste.”
Tara was purring like an engine, stretching out as Astarion stroked her. She felt thin, he noticed – he wondered if she had been eating.
“Has she got any food in there?” he asked, gesturing at the bag, and Dalyria reached in and tossed him a sachet. Astarion grimaced as he tore open the packet – some sort of jellied meat – but as he held it out to Tara, she devoured it, making soft little noises as she licked greedily.
“Oh, thank God,” Dalyria muttered, as Tara made quick work of the treat. “That’s the first thing she’s eaten since I picked her up this morning.”
She hadn’t eaten all day. She must have been starving. Astarion felt a pang in his chest at the thought of this helpless creature being passed from pillar to post.
“Why doesn’t she stay here?” he said impulsively.
“There is not a chance in hell Mystra’s lawyers will agree to that,” Dalyria said with a sigh.
“So tell them I’m an impartial foster.” He scooped Tara up in his arms, and the cat immediately flopped over his shoulder, her purring vibrating through his chest.
“You aren’t, though,” Dalyria pointed out. “You’re my roommate.”
And I’m fucking the respondent, Astarion thought, but he kept that to himself.
“Look, I appreciate the offer, Astarion, but I really think Elminster’s going to be the best way forward,” Dalyria continued, reaching out to pet Tara. Tara hissed, swiping at her hand from her vantage point.
“Tara disagrees,” Astarion said with a smirk.
“Tara doesn’t have to deal with Mystra’s bloody lawyers,” Dalyria replied, managing to pull her hand back before the cat could do too much damage. Tara gave her a reproachful look, before beginning the important task of kneading Astarion’s shoulder with her paws.
Astarion ran his hand over Tara’s back as she worked. He could feel the bones in her back. She was an old cat, he knew that. He vaguely remembered Gale saying something about how he’d had her since he was an undergrad. He supposed that would make her at least sixteen or so, if his guess about Gale being in his mid thirties was right.
It didn’t seem fair that the poor thing was having to suffer without knowing why.
“Aren’t you a darling little love?” he said softly, and Tara somehow started to purr louder, her paws pressing a little harder into his shoulder. “No wonder they’re fighting over you.”
Dalyria sat down on the sofa next to him, watching him thoughtfully.
“Cazador won’t let you take her to work, you know,” she said.
“She’s an old lady, she’ll probably just sleep under my desk all day,” he argued. “Besides, I have a private office. I’ll just lock the door and say I’m trying to increase my productivity, give myself a heads up before he comes in so I can hide her.”
Dalyria hummed sceptically, propping her elbow on the back of the sofa. Tara was starting to fall asleep on Astarion’s chest, her head nodding as she fought it. He could feel her purring buzz through him, straight to his heart.
“Dal, look at her,” he said a little pathetically, gesturing to the cat. “You know that Mystra’s putting her through hell. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“Not like you to be such a soft touch,” Dalyria said with narrowed eyes. Astarion just looked at her in a way that he hoped would persuade her. He really should ask Gale how he’d perfected his hangdog look, because he doubted his was quite as effective, but he could see Dalyria was considering relenting.
“What are you doing with your face?”
Perhaps not. He rearranged his features to look a little more normal.
“You said yourself she wasn’t eating,” he argued, slowly stroking over the cat’s back. “This is in her best interests.”
Dalyria studied him closely, and Astarion tried to look innocent, like he didn’t have his own ulterior motives. Then she sighed.
“I could say that I’ve found an anonymous foster,” she said, leaning her head on her hand. “And I can arrange visitation for both of them on neutral ground. Neither of them have any cause to come here, after all. Besides, it’s the least stressed I’ve seen her since I picked her up.”
Astarion should come clean. He should tell her that Gale would be coming back. It was all very well and good that he was sleeping with the man in secret, but this could bite both Gale and Dalyria in the arse if Mystra found out. She seemed petty enough to use the excuse.
But Tara had fallen asleep now, was snoring in a manner that was absolutely adorable, and Astarion couldn’t help but feel that this was a way he could pay Gale back for everything he had done for him. What was one more secret?
“Sounds like an excellent idea to me, darling,” he said smoothly, idly scratching behind Tara’s ear as though he wasn’t plotting his own scheme. Tara snuffled, drooling a little on his cashmere jumper. He found he wasn’t even angry about it.
“Just for now,” she said firmly. “If either of them disagree, she’s going straight to Elminster’s.”
Astarion waved his other hand dismissively at her. There was something incredibly soothing about having the cat on his chest, warm and soft, trusting in him completely.
“And besides, you’re barely in contact with Gale, from what he’s told me, so it’s not like it’s that biased,” Dalyria said, reaching for the remote and scrolling through the channels for something to watch.
Astarion stopped scratching.
“What he’s told you?” he said, trying to sound casual.
“I mean, it’s not like we really talk about you in our meetings,” she replied, settling on a rerun of Say Yes to the Dress. “You text a bit, right?”
That was hardly how Astarion would describe it.
“A little,” he said cagily, trying to get more comfortable on the sofa without waking the cat who was now passed out on his shoulder. “We haven’t spoken much since New York. I’m surprised he’s mentioned me at all.”
“He asks after you sometimes,” she said with a shrug. “Mostly to be polite, I think.”
Astarion couldn’t help but bristle slightly at how casual she was being about the whole thing. Not to mention, Gale clearly didn’t seem to hold much regard for him if he was just asking after him to be polite. Then he remembered that it was supposed to be casual in the first place and he was acting anything but by offering to foster the man’s cat in secret.
“That’s nice of him, I suppose,” he said instead. “Tell him I said hello next time you see him.”
**
Gale
How are you feeling? Did you make it through work without incident?
Astarion
Why do you type like a man in your nineties
Feeling fine, work was also fine
Gale
Your charm is truly unmatched.
If you’re fully recovered, I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow evening? I have tickets through work to an event I think would interest you.
Astarion
If it’s some black and white art house snoozefest it’s a no
Unless you’re inviting me for some fun in the back row
I haven’t forgotten about that danger kink of yours you know
Gale
Very funny. No, it’s a series of immersive dining experiences based on films. I normally gift the tickets to my students because they’re quite expensive, but I suspect tomorrow’s will be of particular interest to you.
Astarion
Gale
Is this TasteFilm
Gale
Oh, you’ve heard of them? Yes, it’s TasteFilm. They’re showing Dirty Dancing tomorrow. I can send you the menu if that will entice you any further?
Astarion
Are you telling me you got free tickets to the Dirty Dancing TasteFilm and I don’t even have to fuck you to go
Gale
Your flagrant disregard for grammar astounds me every time, Astarion.
Yes, I’m telling you I got free tickets. No, you do not have to barter for them with sexual favours.
Although if you would like to thank me with them afterwards, I would be amenable.
Notes:
I remembered to link my tumblr in the notes! I pretty much just use it to let people know I’ve posted and reblog BG3 memes, but come say hi if you’d like :)
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Astarion arrived first.
He’d been to this restaurant before, a decent enough place in Kensal Green, but the main room was laid out differently than usual – instead of tables around the room, there were long trestle tables, the seats facing a large wall at the back. Astarion gave his name to the host, who led him to his assigned place. Set up for a full dining experience, a neatly printed menu sat on top of the plate, a glass of Prosecco already poured.
He took a sip, savouring the bubbles fizzing on his tongue as he looked around. There were a few people filing in already, mostly his age. He supposed with the cost and the film on offer, this would be the main clientele for the night.
He needed to tell Gale about Tara, he knew. He had never been particularly good at keeping a secret, and it certainly didn’t seem fair to put him through more misery. Besides, the man was giving Astarion some of the best sexual experiences of his life, loathe as he was to admit it. He held so much control in this, the least he could do was be a benevolent master to him.
They hadn’t had sex since New York. Well, technically there was that disaster in the shower when Astarion was ill, but that didn’t count. Astarion found himself craving it in a way that surprised even him. He’d never really considered it something to look forward to before. It had always been like scratching a moderately annoying itch. But that night in New York, he had to admit, he thought about it more than he should.
Perhaps he could persuade Gale into a tryst in the bathrooms here? Give him the good news about Tara, accept the praise and admiration due to him, and hey presto, Gale would be filling him again in no time, whispering those beautiful songs of praise in his ear once more. The thought made him shift in his seat. He surreptitiously checked his wallet to make sure he still had the condoms and travel packets of lube in there.
‘There’s a merengue class in the gazebo in the next few minutes’
Dominican Coco Loco
It occurred to Astarion, as he was brought the first cocktail on the menu, that this might be a date.
It had all the makings of one. The menu, the drinks, the event very specifically tailored to Astarion’s interests. Not to mention he was planning on ravishing the man in the bathroom once he arrived, which was probably going to send mixed messages if Gale thought it was a date. He really should have checked beforehand to ensure Gale’s feelings didn’t get hurt.
“Stallion!”
Wait, that wasn’t Gale’s voice –
Two very muscular arms wrapped round him as Karlach bent over to hug him from behind where he was sat.
“Good to see you again,” she said cheerfully, sitting next to him. Wyll was following, looking more than a little embarrassed by her behaviour. “Gale’s running late, classes went long. He’ll be here in about ten minutes.”
Astarion really should say something, but he was too busy trying to figure out why on earth they were here.
“Right,” he managed to say, trying not to look too disappointed that the two of them were here too. “So did you book this separately, or…”
“Oh, no, Gale invited us,” Karlach replied, tossing her coat over the back of her chair.
What was Gale playing at? Astarion had plans for this evening. Namely dragging Gale off to the bathroom before the main course to have his way with him, which was fine if it was just the two of them and a roomful of strangers who would never suspect, but very suspicious if they were with Gale’s friends. Although it did mean Gale hadn’t thought of this as a date, which he supposed was a comforting thought.
At least, it should have been a comforting thought.
Why was he annoyed they were here?
“They’ll bring you your welcome drink in a minute,” he said, holding up his cocktail. Karlach’s eyes lit up.
“Oh, aces, that looks lush!” she said excitedly, plonking herself down next to Astarion and staring expectantly at the door to the kitchens. “Can’t believe he managed to swing extra tickets for us. I’m definitely going to get his money’s worth out of it.”
“They were free tickets, darling,” Astarion said, and he heard Wyll stifle a snort behind his girlfriend, before quickly pretending that the menu was the most fascinating thing he’d ever read.
‘You just put your pickles on everybody’s plate, college boy, and leave the hard stuff to me’
Whipped Portobello Mushroom Pate with a Plethora of Pretty Pickles
Gale, it turned out, was going to be much longer than ten minutes. It took him a further twenty to sneak in, whispering apologies to the three of them as he took his seat the other side of Astarion, thankfully just in time for the first course. He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes visible even in the dim light of the projected film.
“I didn’t realise there would be company,” Astarion murmured in his ear as he leant over, under the pretence of greeting him.
“Ah, yes, sorry about that,” Gale murmured back, reaching under the table to pat his thigh. “I didn’t get a chance to text you and let you know they’d be here. Today has been more than a little manic.”
Astarion did his best to tamp down the irritation in his chest. The sound of the film playing in the background helped to calm his nerves.
“Quite alright,” he whispered, stabbing a little too aggressively at the pate with his fork. “There were just some things I wished to discuss with you without these two present, that’s all.”
Gale opened his mouth to respond, but Wyll coughed lightly to let them know they were disturbing other patrons, and Astarion felt a little satisfaction at seeing the man silenced.
He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket – thankfully, the event was very lax on phone use, so long as it didn’t disturb anyone else and nobody took any video of the screen itself.
Gale
Have I upset you? You seem tense.
Astarion couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder if he tried. He looked at Gale, his expression withering, before putting down his fork to text him back.
Astarion
No, darling, everything’s fine
Just had a few things planned for this evening, that was all
Gale’s phone pinged obnoxiously loudly as his reply came through. The people at the table in front turned to scowl as Gale quickly apologised, fumbling to put his phone on silent.
He started to type a reply, and Astarion tried not to tut too audibly, because he could see Gale was writing a veritable novel back to him.
Gale
If you’re sure.
Astarion’s phone vibrated (because he’d had the common sense to put his on silent) and he saw the very short text, but he could see the three dots on screen continue to appear and disappear after the initial message. He looked from his phone to Gale, who was still typing haltingly, seemingly writing paragraphs and then deleting them and starting over once more.
Gale
To clarify, I invited Karlach and Wyll because they asked me if this was a date. I panicked in my response, because I know it isn’t, but I didn’t have the time to explain the complexities of our arrangement to them this morning. I realise I should have given you some notice, but it slipped my mind with everything that happened today.
It’s not been good, if I’m honest, Astarion. Could you please grant me some grace? Or at least take it out on me some other time?
Astarion tried to fight the guilty expression that was threatening to overcome him. Damn it.
Astarion
Let’s pop outside and talk after the next course, there’s a long gap then
I carried a watermelon
Watermelon ‘Pizza’ with Feta, Olives, Mint & Crispy Bits
Astarion made his excuse first, heading to the bathroom and splashing water on his face. He should have known something was wrong. He was usually good at picking up on body language and expressions; it was what made him such an excellent lawyer. Instead, he’d only upset him further.
Gale followed not two minutes later.
“I hardly think our arrangement is that complex, you know,” Astarion said, leaning on the counter as Gale checked to make sure they were alone. “It’s sex, Gale, not rocket science.”
Satisfied that they were able to have the conversation in peace, Gale sighed, and to Astarion’s surprise he came to stand next to him and leant his forehead on his shoulder.
He had the feeling he was supposed to do something comforting, but he had no idea what, so he just awkwardly put his arm around the other man’s shoulders and patted it in a way that he hoped didn’t come across as too patronising.
“It’s Tara,” Gale said glumly. “I got word from Dalyria this morning that she can no longer stay at my mother’s. She’s to be shipped off to some anonymous foster and it’s all my fault.”
“How on earth did you come to that conclusion?” Astarion said, trying to keep the smirk off his face. “Mystra’s the one who won’t let the matter drop.”
“I should have just let her take her while the courts decide,” Gale said, clearly not listening to a word Astarion was saying. “At least Tara would be with someone she knows, rather than with some stranger she’s never met.”
“Firstly, you absolutely should not have done that,” Astarion said, poking Gale’s forehead. Gale grumbled, standing up straight so he could bat Astarion’s hand away and fold his arms with a little harrumphing noise. “That would have strengthened Mystra’s case against you when it came to awarding custody. And secondly, I’ve met them, you know. Your mysterious anonymous foster.”
It was almost comical how quickly Gale’s eyes widened. Astarion couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease the man a little before his big reveal.
“You have?” he asked, gripping onto Astarion’s sleeve. “Were they nice? Did Tara like them? Did they seem like they would treat her well? What experience do they have with senior felines –“
“One question at a time, Gale, fuck,” Astarion laughed, patting his hand. “He was devilishly good looking, for starters, though I’m not sure I would stretch to nice. Tara took to him immediately, of course, smart girl. She got fur all over his best cashmere, though, he’ll be charging you for the dry cleaning.”
“But what credentials does he have?” Gale said, frowning at him. “It’s all very well that Tara took a shine to him, but Dalyria told me she’d personally vetted him. Did he seem qualified to you?”
Well, shit. Astarion should have known Gale would want something like credentials. He was really starting to second guess himself now. What did he know about taking care of a pet? He could barely take care of himself some days.
Gale took his hesitation as something completely different.
“Oh, god, he’s just some stranger, isn’t he?” he said, clearly catastrophising as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling Dalyria right now and telling her I don’t agree to this, I knew I shouldn’t have in the first place.”
“Wait –“ Astarion quickly snatched Gale’s phone out of his hand before he could click her contact. “Don’t. Just let me explain first.”
“Astarion, give me my damn phone back,” Gale snapped, somehow looking even more stressed than before.
“I will,” Astarion said, holding it behind his back as Gale tried to reach for it. “But will you just listen to me first, it’s not what you think –“
“I’m not letting some handsome imbecile look after the one creature that has unconditionally loved me for almost two decades –“
“It’s me, alright?!” Astarion burst out. “I’m the anonymous foster. I’m the handsome imbecile.”
It would have been funny how quickly Gale froze, if it weren’t for how annoyed Astarion felt.
“You – what?” Gale was staring at him, those big, stupid eyes of his magnified further by his glasses. Astarion decided right there and then he hated those glasses. They were too big for his face, and decades out of fashion, and they framed his eyes so perfectly he couldn’t tear his own away.
“I said I’d look after Tara,” Astarion admitted, trying to keep his voice cool and aloof and failing miserably. “Dal brought her to the flat, she was going to see if Mystra’s old agent would take her in –“
“What, Elminster?” Gale interrupted. “God, that never would have worked, Tara’s hated him ever since he dropped half a raclette wheel on her at the Secrets of the Universe wrap party we hosted –“
“But,” Astarion said exasperatedly, “Tara settled right into our flat with me, and we decided it would be less stressful on her if she stayed. Dal decided it would be easier if she told you and Mystra it was an anonymous foster, rather than risk Mystra demanding Tara be moved again. And I’m supposed to have a casual texting relationship with you, so in her mind, it’s a pretty fair decision to make.”
“Of course,” he continued, pulling Gale closer by the tie around his neck, “Dal doesn’t know that you’re keeping my bed warm. And actually, it’s terrifically biased, and of course you can come by whenever she’s out to see Tara. And me, though we’ll have to put the cat in the living room for that. Now, you can thank me however you see fit.”
He closed his eyes, expecting to be kissed passionately for all the hard work he’d put into his quite frankly brilliant plan. But his lips went unkissed. And when he opened his eyes, Gale was scowling at him.
“You should have told me,” he said, his hands braced against the sink either side of Astarion’s hips. “You shouldn’t have done this without speaking to me first.”
“I’m speaking to you now, aren’t I –“
“My Tara is not some bargaining chip you can trade in for sex, Astarion,” Gale snapped. “She has been stressed enough with everything I’m putting her through.”
He tried to pull away from him, but Astarion gripped a little tighter to his tie.
“That wasn’t why I did it,” he said defensively.
“Then why did you?” Gale asked, his brow furrowed in a harsh glare. Astarion didn’t know what it said about him that he found it extremely arousing, but even he had the sense not to mention it at this moment in time.
“Because – I – “ Fuck, he was going to have to be honest with the man, because the alternative was having him be angry with him, and as hot as that was it wasn’t something he wanted to last for long. “Because I owe you, alright? The ledger is extremely imbalanced right now, and I owe you. And besides, like you said, Tara was stressed, but she settled with me. She fell asleep on me, for Christ’s sake. She keeps falling asleep on me, too, I swear I haven’t gotten that blasted cat of yours to do anything but eat those silly little meat tubes and then drool all over my nicest jumpers.”
He was still holding onto his tie. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of it. It was keeping Gale close to him, after all.
“She’s picky, you know.”
Gale’s voice was so quiet Astarion almost didn’t hear him at first. His hands moved from the counter to Astarion’s hips.
“I’ve had her since she was a kitten,” he continued, his hands tightening slightly at Astarion’s belt. “Nearly eighteen years, give or take. And in all that time, I’ve never seen her make a judgement about someone that wasn’t bang on the money. She never liked Mystra all that much. I should have paid attention to that.”
The silence between them stretched for miles as Gale considered his next words. Astarion could feel his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He didn’t move, in case it made Gale shout at him again. He didn’t know just how much that would hurt.
It shouldn’t have hurt. Plenty of people had been angry at him in his life. Plenty of people had left.
“What do you mean, the ledger is imbalanced?”
The question caught Astarion a little off guard, and he had to look away for a moment, trying to brush off the moment with a light laugh.
“Oh, you know,” he said breezily. “Dealing with me when I was sick, putting that mouth of yours to good use, all that sort of thing.”
“Our friendship isn’t transactional, Astarion,” Gale said sincerely. “You don’t owe me anything. If anything, I owe you.”
Astarion scoffed.
“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” he said, and it came out more bitter than he meant it. “What could you possibly owe me?”
Gale let go of his hips, and put his hand over Astarion’s on his tie.
“Well, for starters, our night in New York was transformative,” he said gently. “I was so sure nobody would ever look my way again after Mystra, let alone a beautiful stranger like you. Plus you put me in touch with Dalyria, and god knows what mess I would find myself in without her. You’ve given me a confidence that I’ve never known. And to top it off, now you’re fostering my cat, despite not having a clue what you’re doing.”
His thumb was brushing over the back of Astarion’s hand, gentle and slow. His other hand came up to cup Astarion’s cheek. Why did he always do this? Treat Astarion like he was a relic, not a toy?
And why was he leaning into his touch as if he would combust without it?
He tugged Gale forward by his tie to kiss him, because it was simpler than answering.
This time, Gale tasted of watermelon and feta. The perfect mix of sharp and sweet. Just like them, he supposed. He felt the cool marble of the bathroom counter press into his back as Gale stepped forward, pressing his hips into him. The soft noise Gale made was addictive, and Astarion would do anything to hear it again.
“Do you think the counter could take my weight?” he said with a slight laugh as Gale broke away from the kiss to start mouthing at his neck instead.
“As much as I’d like to test that particular hypothesis, I’m not willing to risk potentially having to pay those damages,” came the muffled reply from his neck.
“Right you are, darling, right you are,” Astarion murmured, wrapping his arms around Gale’s shoulders and holding him close. “We’ll just have to do it in a stall, I suppose.”
Gale made a delightfully scandalised squawk as he straightened up, looking very flustered.
“Our friends are waiting –“
“Your friends –“
“Oh, please, Karlach would trade me for you in a heartbeat, she’s obsessed with you –“
“If you’re quite finished,” came a third voice from the doorway, and Astarion peeked over Gale’s shoulder to see Wyll stood, arms crossed, trying desperately and failing to fight down a laugh. “Karlach sent me to make sure you weren’t defiling the men’s bathroom and to tell you the next course is about to be served?”
‘Singers, dancers, actors, this is your lucky day!’
Kelleman’s Leftover Steak, Fried Onions and Eggs
Karlach was grinning at them knowingly when they both took their seats at the table again. Astarion waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, causing her to bark out a laugh that had the table in front tutting and Gale suddenly looking very preoccupied with the steak they’d been brought.
“You just missed the sex scene,” Karlach whispered a little too loudly to Astarion as she started on her own steak. “Though considering I had to send Wyll to go get you it sounds like you were about to recreate it in the stall –“
“Love, please,” Wyll murmured, as the woman in front of them spun in her seat to glare at the four of them. “Don’t get us thrown out.”
Astarion was very grateful that they’d been in the bathroom for it, because Gale had almost died of embarrassment watching it on a plane with only Astarion able to hear, and he knew full well the man would have likely just up and left if he’d had to watch it with a room full of strangers and his flatmates.
He cut himself a piece of steak, idly watching the film even though he could quote it line for line, when he felt something rub against his left ankle.
He moved his foot. The something followed.
He turned his head. Gale was concentrating far harder on his steak than any normal person would.
He couldn’t help the smile on his face as he pushed back a little with his leg.
‘Bring me a pineapple that doesn’t sting, a bird that swims, a fish that sings, I want ‘em, I really want ‘em’
Hula Hannah’s Pineapple Upside Down Cake with Vanilla Whipped Cream
Dal
star where are you? Just got back to the flat and you aren’t here?
Astarion
out, darling, nowhere scandalous I promise
Dal
will you be back soon? Only I was going to go to Petras’ tonight but don’t want to leave Tara by herself for too long
Astarion
gross
get better taste
but yeah I’m not staying out, feel free to go and I’ll be back in a bit
Astarion grinned as he switched text conversations. Next to him, Gale caught the look on his face, and raised an eyebrow quizzically. Astarion just gestured to his phone.
Astarion
Dal’s going out
Will have the place to ourselves
Let’s just go early and make an excuse
This cake is fucking delicious though so I’m finishing it first
Gale
Did you know pineapples contain an enzyme called bromelain that breaks down the protein in your mouth?
Astarion
WELL NEVER MIND THE CAKE THEN
I’m never eating pineapple again and you only have yourself to blame
Notes:
This was a real event with this exact menu that I shamelessly stole and used for my own purposes.
I plan on posting on Thursday as usual next week but I also have two exchange fics that I’m working on that have deadlines and are fast spiralling on me, so if I don’t, that’s why and I’m sorry in advance. If it helps the next chapter will be smut 😈
Find me on tumblr here!
Chapter 12
Notes:
CW/Smut Tags
Rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, references to past dubcon
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
They decided to split a black cab back to Astarion’s. Gale was itching to see Tara, not even pretending to be casual about it, and Astarion didn’t want to risk dropping his box of cake anywhere on the Elizabeth line.
Gale flagged one down outside the restaurant, Astarion blowing a kiss through the window to Karlach. Gale sighed as they watched half the people still watching the film turn and scowl, Karlach clearly laughing her head off. Wyll looked suddenly very preoccupied with his cake.
“She’s a doll,” Astarion said with a smirk. Gale opened the door of the taxi for him, and he clambered in, sliding over to the far seat with his cake box in his lap. Gale gave the address to the driver before sitting next to him. “How did you end up with those two, anyway?”
“Karlach’s a friend of a friend,” Gale said, doing up his seatbelt. He gave Astarion a pointed look. Astarion huffed, unceremoniously dumping the cake box in Gale’s hands to secure his own. “When news of my impending homelessness spread at the university, one of the other professors put me in touch with her. She and Wyll used to live up north, but she needed to be closer to London.”
“Because of her health?” Astarion asked, taking the cake back. The taxi pulled away, beginning the drive back to his. Gale’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“When did she tell you about that?” he said. Astarion noticed his hands were laid very sensibly in his lap. That simply would not do.
“The night I came over,” he replied, lifting one of Gale’s arms and putting it around his shoulders so he could lean into his side. Gale was always so warm, both physically and in his spirit. Considering Astarion was always freezing, having his own personal radiator was a fun new luxury.
“Ah, yes,” Gale said, a little spark of mischief in his voice. “When you tried to abscond in the middle of the night. Karlach told me,” he clarified as Astarion spluttered indignantly, not really able to defend himself but making the attempt anyway.
He pressed a small kiss into Astarion’s temple, which made him completely forget what he was saying.
“I wouldn’t have blamed you for leaving that night,” Gale said softly, leaning in so the words were just between the two of them. “But I am terribly grateful you stayed.”
“Don’t you start getting sentimental on me, professor,” Astarion said grumpily, elbowing him slightly in the ribs. “As I recall, taxi rides are for you to attempt to ignore my advances until you relent and fuck me into the mattress.”
That startled a laugh out of Gale. He shifted away from Astarion’s sharp arm, pretending to scowl at him.
“And as I recall, it was rather the other way around,” he said, tapping the end of his nose. Astarion grimaced at him, but not with any real irritation. “Though I’m hoping this evening doesn’t end with you running out the door without so much as a by your leave.”
“Of course it won’t!” Astarion replied, elbowing him a little harder this time. “For one thing, it’s my apartment we’re going to! You’ll be the one that has to leave!”
Gale laughed a little louder. Something in the pit of Astarion’s stomach flipped.
It felt nice to bicker with him in person. Most of their barbs were exchanged over text. It meant he missed the sound of Gale’s laughter when he took potshots at his age, or his hair, or his stupid little sweater vests he’d started wearing now the weather was turning colder. He missed the slight crinkles at the corner of his eyes, magnified by his glasses. He missed how Gale laughed with his whole body, as opposed to Astarion, whose laugh usually was confined to his mouth.
He had a sudden urge to kiss the dimple hidden by Gale’s beard, as Gale was finishing saying something or other about how long they had left to torture each other on the taxi ride. Astarion was never one to ignore his impulses.
As he pulled away, Gale stopped laughing, breathing a little harder instead.
“What was that for?” He asked, his face still close. Astarion just shrugged.
“Do I need a reason?” he asked, reaching out with his spare hand to fiddle once more with Gale’s tie. “Perhaps I’m just trying to warm you up before I get you into our bed.”
It didn’t immediately register with him what he’d said. Not until Gale cocked an eyebrow at him, starting to laugh again, did he realise his slip.
“Our bed, is it?” Gale teased, the hand around Astarion’s shoulders tightening, his other hand cupping his chin and turning his face up towards him. “Why, Astarion, I had no idea our arrangement was becoming so serious.”
“No, shut up, you know that wasn’t what I meant, you prick,” Astarion replied defensively – and, oh, god, why had he said that?! He was the one that was supposed to fluster Gale, not the other way around!
He was about to keep protesting when he was stopped by Gale’s mouth on his. The kiss was soft, the leftover taste of pineapple cake still on his tongue. Gale’s hand ran fondly from his chin to the side of his neck, holding him in place. Not that he needed to. Astarion found he didn’t particularly want to move away.
“My bed,” he said petulantly when Gale broke the kiss to breathe again. “I meant to say my bed.”
“Of course you did,” Gale said smugly. Astarion fought the urge to shove his leftover cake in Gale’s face. He settled for shoving his tongue in his mouth instead.
The rest of the drive passed in a blur. Considering what Astarion had planned for when he got him home, he was surprisingly chaste with Gale, though that was more because he was trying not to drop his cake on the floor and needed his hands to achieve that goal. He had to admit, it was nice to kiss someone just to kiss them. The hackney carriages and private cars of London had been absolutely defiled in his time, and yet with how Gale held onto his neck, it made him feel strangely treasured. He never had a problem with acting the whore, but maybe there was some merit to being the Madonna once in a while.
Gale, for his part, didn’t push for more either, which was a novelty in itself. His hand stayed where it was instead of grabbing at him or forcing his hands where he wasn’t ready for them to go. Astarion had never lost himself in a kiss before, but the longer it went on for, the further his mind slipped into a blissful serenity.
So serene, in fact, that it took both of them a few minutes to realise they had arrived and the meter was still running.
“He could have stopped it,” Astarion grumbled under his breath as they both tapped their cards to the reader. He smacked Gale’s wrist as he spotted him reaching to press the button to add a tip. “Don’t you dare!”
“Oh, for god’s sake, Astarion, the man’s had to sit and deal with us acting like teenagers for most of that drive,” Gale said, managing to press the button for a fifteen percent tip despite Astarion’s best efforts.
“And a privilege it was too,” Astarion huffed. Both Gale and the driver scoffed.
When Astarion let them both into his flat, he made Gale wait in the hallway for a moment to make sure Dalyria really was out. Only when he was satisfied they had the place to themselves did he graciously allow him entrance.
“Tara’s shut in my room when we both go out,” he said, locking the front door and double checking it to make sure the cat couldn’t bolt. Once he nodded at Gale, the professor beelined straight for Astarion’s room. As he opened the door, Astarion saw Tara was fast asleep on her new favourite spot, his pillow.
Ugh, he was going to wake up with fur in his hair again.
“Hello, Tara,” Gale whispered reverently, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently petting behind her ears. The cat stirred, grumbling about being woken from her nap. She shifted to give whoever had dared commit such a crime a nip, before catching his scent.
Astarion could hear her purring from clear the other side of the flat. He came into the bedroom, sitting next to Gale. Tara wasn’t quite spry enough to move from her spot just yet, but she was insistently pushing her head into Gale’s hand.
“How did you even get up there?” Gale asked her, looking around. Then he spotted the makeshift set of steps at the foot of Astarion’s bed, built out of archive boxes. He turned to look at the lawyer, eyes wide and a little misty.
“Oh, no, don’t you get emotional on me,” Astarion said in a huff. “She screamed at me until I’d pick her up and put her on the bed, awful animal. That was for my sanity, not out of any sense of –“
Gale cut him off with a soft kiss. There was no tongue, no teeth. Just his slightly chapped lips against Astarion’s.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For taking care of her. I shouldn’t have been quite so cross about your actions.”
Tara woke up enough to get up off Astarion’s pillow. She stretched, before padding over to the two of them. But to both their surprise, she walked right over Gale to sit on Astarion’s lap, looking with baleful eyes up at her owner.
“I think she’s cross with you,” Astarion said with a small laugh, as the cat started kneading at his thighs, now steadfastly ignoring Gale.
“She’s rather capricious,” Gale said, sighing as Tara spun on Astarion’s lap, her back to him. “I suspect she’s now awake enough to remember I’ve all but abandoned her over the last few weeks.”
“She doesn’t think that,” Astarion said. He picked up Tara, who flopped in his arms. “She just has a new favourite.”
“You are not Tara’s favourite,” Gale replied in a very pained voice. Astarion shrugged, though his face clearly showed that he didn’t believe him. Tara was now doing her best to chew on his fingers.
“Now, Miss Tara,” Astarion said, looking down at the cat, “firstly, my fingers are not for you to nibble on. That’s rather your father’s forte.”
“Oh, for the love of God,” Gale groaned, flopping back onto the bed with a sigh.
“Secondly,” Astarion continued, stifling a snort at Gale, “you know full well he didn’t have a choice about leaving you at his mother’s. Do you think you could ever forgive him?”
He held the cat over Gale’s chest, before carefully depositing her there, still holding onto her front paws.
“I don’t know, Mr Dekarios, you’ll have to make it worth my time,” he said in his best Cockney accent (which wasn’t saying much.) He puppeted her paws, giving Gale’s cheek a little pat with them. Tara grumbled at being manhandled in such a manner, but the cat was quickly becoming used to Astarion’s antics. “Buy me some tuna, ya vagabond.”
Gale squawked indignantly, sitting up and cradling Tara to his chest, so Astarion had to let go of her.
“Tara does not sound like that,” he said, scratching her behind her ears. Tara seemed to forgive him, grateful for no longer being puppeteered, resuming her loud purring.
“What does she sound like, then?” Astarion laughed, reaching to pet her back.
“If you must know,” Gale muttered, “I’ve always imagined her to talk like Mary Poppins.”
Astarion cackled at that, as they sat together, fussing over Tara. Soon, the cat had fallen asleep once more in Gale’s arms. Gale stroked her back, lost in thought, his fingers occasionally brushing against Astarion’s.
“Why did you do this?” he asked quietly.
“I told you, I wanted to do something for you,” Astarion replied. “And besides, Tara doesn’t deserve to be passed from pillar to post. Through no fault of yours,” he added firmly, seeing guilt etch itself into Gale’s features again. “This is all on your ex-wife, and don’t you forget it.”
“At least I have you and Dalyria to remind me of that fact,” Gale said wryly. “If I hadn’t met you on that plane, I’d probably have drowned in my own self pity by now.”
“Precisely.” Astarion reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Gale’s ear. “Not to mention you’d be incredibly pent up. Probably ready to explode. Although it’s been some time anyway, I’m sure you’re aware.”
Gale chuckled, though he was careful not to jostle the sleeping cat in his arms.
“Not your most subtle hint, Astarion,” he said, standing up and walking slowly to the living room to put her down on the sofa.
“What can I say?” Astarion replied breezily. He hoisted his legs up properly onto the bed, settling on top of the blankets and propping himself on one side to wait for Gale to return. “That’s the joy of our arrangement. No need for subtlety.”
Gale took one last long look at Tara, curled up and snoring quietly on the sofa, before closing the bedroom door and sitting on the edge of the bed once more. He reached out, starting to brush through Astarion’s hair in much the same way as he’d been petting the cat moments before.
“Just because we have this agreement, Astarion,” he said quietly, “doesn’t mean I expect anything of you. You do know that, don’t you? You aren’t obligated towards me in any way.”
“Fucking Christ, yes, Gale, I know that,” Astarion groused, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him down next to him. He plucked his glasses from him, tossing them haphazardly onto the bedside table, ignoring the irritated noise Gale made at their maltreatment. “Now shut up and kiss me, it’s a much better use of your time.”
He didn’t need yet another lecture on consent from the man. It reminded him of everything he did with everyone else, made him feel like a fool. He just wanted to lose himself again. As Gale’s lips met his once more, his hands instinctively went to his hips, pulling their bodies flush against one another.
He felt his mind drift once more. This time, he knew the kiss was leading to more, but there was a security with Gale he didn’t feel with anyone else. It was the knowledge that wherever this was leading to, Astarion was in charge of it. The rush of it was intoxicating.
This time, he ran his tongue over Gale’s lips, languid and unhurried. He was in his own space, in his own bed. He could take all the time he liked before Gale took him apart.
Gale whimpered slightly, opening his mouth to him, but he didn’t deepen the kiss just yet. Instead, he continued to tease, his tongue occasionally darting to meet Gale’s. Gale matched him, his hands slowly moving around Astarion’s torso until they rested on his back. Astarion’s hands were fisted in his sweater vest.
God, it felt good to be held like this.
He pulled at Gale’s vest impatiently, though he wasn’t quite willing enough to break the kiss just yet. He felt Gale chuckle against his lips, before he leant back, letting Astarion yank it over his head and start working on his buttons.
“Why the rush?” he whispered, his hands smoothing up and down his back.
“I want to feel your skin against mine,” Astarion replied, efficiently popping open each button before raking his nails over Gale’s chest. They caught slightly in the hair on his torso.
“I swear to god, if you tweak my nipples one more time I will never let you take off my shirt again,” Gale said. He went to grab Astarion’s wrists, but seemed to catch himself, rolling them both so Astarion was on top of him and intertwining their fingers instead.
He remembered. Of course he remembered.
Astarion rewarded him by finally deepening the kiss, grinding down slightly on his hips as he pinned his hands to the bed. There was a satisfaction to drawing the small gasps and whimpers out of Gale that he always did. It was so simple to do, yet he always sounded so excited, so eager. Like he hadn’t yet figured out that Astarion wasn’t worth the effort he put in.
“Take off my shirt,” he murmured into Gale’s mouth, letting go of his hands. Gale pushed himself upright, not stopping the kiss to do so. Astarion held onto his shoulders and wrapped his legs around his waist. He could feel Gale start to harden just from the anticipation as the other man started to unbutton his shirt. His hands were much more inelegant than Astarion’s, but the care he took was tenfold.
He liked being undressed by Gale. For one, he was careful. There was no need to have to worry about sewing on a button or fixing a ripped seam. For another, once his shirt was off, Gale didn’t touch his scars. He didn’t have to remind him or fight the anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He could just focus on feeling good, on being made to feel good.
Shirts discarded on the floor, Astarion tangled his hands in Gale’s hair, running his fingers through it. He gave it a light tug – not hard enough to hurt, but just enough that Gale moaned, the rumble resonating into his chest.
Astarion started to move his mouth away from Gale’s, trailing kisses along the line of his beard, down his jaw, settling at a spot at the crook of his neck. He nipped at the thin lines of his tattoo where they ended, a wave of some odd feeling in his chest as he did so.
He was going to mark Gale right there, he decided. Show that bitch that he was no longer her possession.
“Astarion,” Gale gasped as he felt him bite down a little harder, “what are you doing, that’ll –“
Astarion cut him off by reaching between them and palming at Gale’s crotch, refusing to be interrupted from the task at hand. Or mouth, as it were. Gale bucked instinctively into the touch, jostling Astarion in his lap. His teeth sank a little too hard into his flesh. When he sat up a little straighter to inspect his handiwork, there were definite teeth marks.
“Oops,” he said with a self satisfied smirk. His hand still rubbed at Gale, who was clinging onto him, panting slightly, his face a contorted mess of pleasure and slight irritation. It suited him.
He pushed Gale onto his back, kissing down his chest on instinct. It didn’t even occur to him that he was doing it. Normally, there would be a hand fisted into his hair, or gripping onto his shoulders. But he was moving of his own accord, his lips fastening around one of those sinfully tempting nipples that honestly, he was becoming rather obsessed with.
He toyed with it with his tongue, debating whether to leave another bite mark. Gale’s hands flew to his hips.
“I can tell what you’re thinking, and don’t you fucking dare,” he said breathlessly. Astarion giggled, resting his chin for a moment on his chest to look up at him.
“Whatever could you possibly mean, poppet?” He flicked at his nipple again with his tongue, and Gale’s eyelids fluttered almost coquettishly. “I’m being so nice to you. I’m about to be even nicer.”
He resumed his journey down, relishing the slight swell of Gale’s stomach. Fuck, but his body was a luxury. The treasure trail down his navel was decadence after years of toned bodies blending into each other. He could no longer count the number of people he’d been with, but Gale was the first person he felt he had shared himself with.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and for a brief moment it seemed like his safety was going to crash down around him, that Gale was going to be like all those other bodies despite everything he thought. But the hand was stopping him, not pushing him.
“Astarion, I appreciate the thought, but that’s never really been very…pleasant for me,” Gale said, his face flushed with embarrassment.
That simply would not do.
“Whatever do you mean, darling?” Astarion said, propping himself up with his elbows on Gale’s plush stomach. He kicked his legs merrily behind him, quite enjoying that he was still in control of the encounter.
“Well, um, I’ve just always felt a little awkward receiving,” Gale admitted, his hand stroking nervously over Astarion’s shoulder. “I overthink –“
“Shocking –“
Gale tutted, flicking at Astarion.
“As I was saying,” he continued, scowling down at him, “I overthink, which leads to disappointment when I can’t keep as…let’s say, enthusiastic about the activity in question.”
“You can’t keep it up during blowjobs, then,” Astarion said matter-of-factly. “There’s a very simple solution to that, you know. I just have to stop you thinking.”
“I don’t know why I keep agreeing to this,” Gale said with a sigh, letting go of Astarion’s shoulder to cover his face with his hands. “Must you put everything so crassly?”
“It’s part of my charm.”
Astarion made light work of Gale’s chinos, shoving them inelegantly down along with his boxers. Gale’s cock twitched in the air, but it was softening rapidly, and Astarion was determined to rectify this.
Sitting up, he tugged off his own trousers and briefs. Gale still had his face covered, which made it easy to position himself how he wanted, on his hands and knees, facing down the bed. His scars were on display again, but Astarion found he didn’t mind. They weren’t going to be a shock to Gale, after all. It seemed he really did have no shame around Gale anymore. It was quite liberating, really.
“Move your hands,” he ordered. “You’re going to put that mouth to work. That should act as enough of a distraction.”
Gale’s eyes flew open, looking up to suddenly find Astarion’s pert ass hovering over his mouth. The squeak he made had Astarion laughing, looking over his shoulder at him.
“Prop yourself up with some pillows, darling, it’ll make you more comfortable,” he said, wiggling his hips at him with a smirk.
“Astarion, I – I haven’t done that before,” Gale said in a strangled voice, his hands shaking slightly as he tentatively ran them up the back of Astarion’s thighs.
“Oh, wonderful,” Astarion said lightly, rocking slightly back and forth, grinning as he saw Gale’s pupils immediately blow out. “You’re a professor, you love a bit of research. Figure out what I like. That should act as a distraction. Besides, it’s the added bonus of preparing me, which I thought you’d be leaping at the chance for considering how you’re always blathering on about the importance of it.”
He was sure Gale didn’t realise when he licked his lips. He took the opportunity to bend forward, licking around the head of Gale’s limp cock in order to get its attention.
When Gale moaned, it sent a stream of warm air directly over his hole. His thighs twitched in anticipation under Gale’s hands.
“You’ll – ah – you’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like?” Gale whispered, leaning in to press nervous kisses around him.
“I’ll stop sucking you off if you do something I don’t like,” Astarion replied with a breathless laugh, trying to resist the urge to grind back. “But yes. And same to you.”
To show his assent, Gale licked a long, slow stripe up him. It was a delicious sensation, but a little dry. Gale was clearly nervous.
“More spit, darling,” he instructed. “Like this.” He gathered saliva in his mouth before sucking at the tip of his cock, lathing his tongue around it. Gale did his best to copy him, and Astarion sighed in pleasure as his tongue circled him slowly, much wetter than before. He made sure to moan right onto Gale, taking him a little further into his mouth.
Gale grew in confidence with every bob of Astarion’s head, his hands moving up his thighs to spread his cheeks and give him better access. Once the initial awkwardness had passed, Astarion felt him harden almost immediately, growing in his mouth with every new movement of his tongue.
His beard scratched pleasantly against him, Gale clearly being careful not to move around too much and cause too much friction. Instead, his tongue ran over and over, sometimes in circles, sometimes in long slick stripes, and once in what Astarion was pretty sure was Gale spelling his own name against him.
In return, Astarion gave the most enthusiastic blowjob he had ever given in his illustrious career. He lathed his tongue along the top of his shaft, he played with Gale’s balls with every pass, he took him as deep as he could. And he found he wanted to, because with every move he made, Gale rewarded him, and vice versa.
He could feel his hole start to flutter against Gale’s tongue, and Gale started to push his tongue inside. He had to stop what he was doing to brace himself, gasping out a noise he was certain he’d never made in his life.
He could feel Gale smile against him as his tongue worked him open, pointing and curling and doing things he didn’t know tongues could even do.
“Fuck off have you never done this before,” he groaned, his hands fisting in the sheets. Gale drew back, blowing another gust of air across him, simultaneously blazing hot and freezing cold as his spit dried on him.
“How do you want me?” he asked. Astarion had to admit, it was glorious to be asked.
“Well, since you’re so hell bent on putting in the effort, I think it’s only fair I lie back and relax,” he said, though his stupid voice betrayed just how eager he was to be taken by him again.
There was some awkward shuffling, Astarion almost clocking Gale in the face as he swung his leg over right as Gale sat up, but Gale just laughed it off. The idea would have been abominable to him even a few months ago, would have stopped him in his tracks, but with Gale it felt different. Everything felt different with him. Fun. Light. Easy.
Was this how it was always supposed to be?
He pushed the thought from his mind as he settled into the bed, the blankets and pillows warm from where Gale had laid there before. His bed had never felt so comfortable.
“Top drawer,” he said to Gale, closing his eyes and savouring the feeling as Gale leant off the bed to rummage through for lube and condoms.
The click of a lid, and Gale’s fingers were against him instead of his tongue, two sliding easily inside of him and crooking just the way he needed him to. Gale knew him so well. Knew what made his body sing and his heart thrum. He kept his eyes closed, his mouth slightly parted as the sound of Gale’s fingers slicking in and out of him filled the room.
Everything was warm, and nothing hurt.
“If you’re falling asleep on me,” Gale said, and Astarion’s eyes flew open as he pushed a third finger in, stretching him perfectly, “I really will be offended.” A curl of his fingers, and Astarion’s vision practically whited out from pleasure.
“That’s playing very dirty, you bastard,” Astarion hissed, his arms grabbing around Gale’s shoulders, his nails digging into his flesh. “Jesus Christ.”
“Too much?” Gale asked, leaning down to kiss at Astarion’s neck.
“No, no, it’s good, it’s good,” he found himself babbling, his hips rocking in pace with Gale’s hand. “Fuck, it’s been too long since you were inside me, Gale, please.”
He felt a light breeze over his neck as Gale chuckled, sending a shiver straight down his spine. Gale drew his fingers from him, sitting up between Astarion’s legs to tear open the condom packet and put it on. Astarion let his arms fall by his head, unable to tear his eyes away.
It had been a long time since he was on his back without having to worry about performing his pleasure. He knew he was going to enjoy this. He knew he was going to be taken care of.
Gale took himself in hand, dragging his tip into place as he propped himself above Astarion with his free arm. Astarion reached up, instinctively cupping Gale’s face with his hands.
“Are you alright?” Gale murmured, his forehead dropping to rest against Astarion’s. “Would it be alright to kiss you?”
“Please,” Astarion whispered, swept away in his cocoon of safety. Gale’s lips met his as he entered him, capturing his gasp easily. He didn’t care that he could taste himself – his taste mixed with Gale’s, after a few moments, and it was too tempting to resist anyway.
Gale was moving slowly, his hips rolling, his stomach brushing against Astarion’s cock with every thrust. Astarion hooked his ankles behind his back, his hips tilting upwards to allow Gale in as deep as he could go.
“Jesus,” Gale moaned, his hand suddenly at the side of Astarion’s neck. His thumb ran along his jawline, and Astarion found himself mirroring the gesture, brushing over Gale’s spit soaked beard.
“It’s Astarion, actually,” he said, and Gale let go of his neck to swat at his ass, lifting his head to frown down at him. Astarion laughed breathlessly – and both of them groaned in pleasure as it caused him to contract tight around Gale’s cock.
“Insufferable,” Gale panted, thrusting to punctuate his point.
“And yet you keep coming back for more,” Astarion retorted, biting back a mewl as with every thrust, Gale angled perfectly into him. “What does that say about you?”
“That I’m a glutton for – ngh – for punishment? That I can’t resist your siren call?” Gale leant forward once more, his hips moving faster, his hand back at the side of Astarion’s neck. “That you are a sin I would gladly commit, every time?”
It was so much more intense than Astarion was used to, and yet he found he couldn’t bear to lose those honeyed words.
“And me?” he found himself whispering. “What does it say about me?”
Gale began to pepper his cheek with kisses, moving along his cheekbone to his ear.
“That you are as desperate for connection as I am,” he whispered, his hips beginning to piston faster, Astarion’s cock trapped between them and leaking more with every thrust. “That I may answer the call each time, but you cannot resist making it.”
His whispered words were sending Astarion spiralling, because he couldn’t deny the truth of them.
“Don’t stop,” he gasped, holding on for dear life. “Fuck, please, Gale.”
“Are you going to come like this?” Gale murmured, his breath ragged and hoarse. “Untouched by either of our hands? God, you would be such a beautiful sight, Astarion. You have no idea how much I crave bringing you to completion with my body alone.”
If he had any presence of mind, Astarion would rib Gale absolutely senseless for talking like that, but he had to admit that in the moment it was sending him closer and closer to his climax.
“Please,” he begged instead, “keep going – god, Gale, your cock, it’s perfect – I want you to fill me, I want to come with you, please, please – “
With every word that fell from his mouth, Gale moved faster and faster, the air thick with sweat and sex and gasps and moans. Astarion felt like he was about to fall apart, but that would be alright, because Gale was here, inside him and around him, ready to put him back together.
He could feel his climax building in his gut. But it felt different, like this. With every press into him, it built, the warmth starting as a flicker and building to an inferno. He couldn’t manage words anymore – not that it mattered, because Gale was still pouring that beautiful poison into his ear as he held onto him, his beard brushing against his neck, his thumb still delicately stroking along his jaw.
“Gale,” he cried out, as his body no longer felt like his own, as his muscles tensed with impending release that he was powerless to stop.
“I have you, Astarion, I have you, that’s it, you’re doing so well,” Gale gasped into the shell of his ear. “Let go for me – oh, fuck, you’re so tight –“
The praise was what did it. He couldn’t see it, but he felt his release rush between them, sticky and hot on their skin. His head snapped back, his back arching up into Gale, so close he may as well be subsumed into him. For a moment, he forgot everything. He just floated in a pleasurable haze, his eyes closed, his body no longer only his. In the distance, he heard Gale’s cry, felt his stuttering hips against him.
When he finally managed to open his eyes again, Gale was doing his very best not to collapse forward. They were both hideously sweaty, and yet Gale managed to find the presence of mind to very softly kiss Astarion’s cheek.
“Sap,” Astarion said hoarsely. His throat was a little sore. He must have called out when they’d come together, though for the life of him he couldn’t remember doing it. Gale chuckled, rolling off him to one side, gingerly peeling off the condom and tying a knot in it before depositing it in the bin by the bed.
“I don’t want to know why that’s right there, do I?” he said, flopping onto his back and running a hand through his hair.
“Let’s not talk about that now,” Astarion replied, staring at his ceiling, eyes half lidded.
He felt Gale’s hand brush against his, before carefully lacing his fingers between Astarion’s. He was too tired to pull away. At least, that was what he told himself.
“Gale?” he murmured, the pair of them both resolutely staring at the ceiling.
“Yes?”
“I…I’m grateful I stayed too.”
Notes:
Hey gang, thanks for bearing with me! It was my birthday last week (I was spoiled rotten by my husband, it was top tier) and I have two exchange fics I’ve been working on. One of them is done, the other one will be done in the next few days. There’ll be two weeks between the next update because of Christmas plans, but I’m hoping to get back into the habit of weekly updates until after the holidays. I have the outline for the next chapter already and my overall plan is currently on track!
You can find me on Tumblr here !
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Astarion’s alarm went off at 5am, but this time, it was accompanied by the long, low grumble of the man passed out next to him.
“This is not a real time,” came the muffled protestations as Astarion dragged himself into the shower. “You’re a psychopath.”
“You’re fucking me,” Astarion retorted, starting the water as hot as he could bear. Last night was still on his skin, cold and sticky.
“This is making me seriously reconsider my decision to do so,” Gale muttered into the pillow, face down – before squawking as Astarion came out the bathroom to dump a glass of water over his back as revenge.
“You need to get up too,” Astarion said, grabbing Gale’s wrist and trying to drag him upright. “Dal will be back soon, and I’m not dealing with that particular headache. You need to go when I do.”
“You are a cruel, heartless monster and I should have expected nothing less from a lawyer,” Gale said. He tried and failed to yank his wrist out of Astarion’s grip. “Can I at least jump in that shower with you?”
Why did he have to pull that stupid face? It made him so hard to say no to.
“Only because you asked so nicely,” Astarion said sarcastically. They had both fallen asleep naked the night before, so thankfully it was little effort to make their way to the shower, Astarion shoving his head under the spray as Gale leant against the shower wall to wait his turn. He looked as though he was about to fall asleep standing up.
He was starting to get used to seeing Gale in the mornings. He quite liked seeing this side of him. Pliable and sweet, quiet for once in his life. And being naked in front of him in this way was oddly soothing, too. No expectations of anything, just a comfort.
He hadn’t meant to fall asleep spooning him again, but it had felt so natural, Gale’s radiator body heat a contrast to Astarion’s almost permanently cold skin. He found he kept gravitating towards it, even when he deliberately rolled away from him when his eyelids had started to droop. It seemed his body had been determined to betray his mind.
He noted, with some pleasure, that Gale had a very obvious bruise in the shape of his teeth by the edge of the tattoo, the lines a signpost to it. Astarion was here. Probably unnecessary given that as far as he knew, Gale wasn’t getting naked with anyone else right now, but still.
Astarion lathered clarifying shampoo through his own hair, before taking pity on Gale. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he manoeuvred him unceremoniously under the water, massaging his scalp. Gale groaned happily, letting Astarion move him wherever he wanted.
“This is very expensive shampoo, I hope you realise,” he said, squirting a small amount into his palms before working it through Gale’s hair. “But I’m certain there’s a curl in that mop of yours, and I will be coaxing it out.”
“It’s hair, Astarion,” Gale replied, closing his eyes and swaying slightly. “Usually I just throw some 2 in 1 on there and call it a day.”
“You wound me.”
It was strangely therapeutic, using his own hair routine on Gale. Not all of his products were quite right, given that Astarion bleached the ever loving shit out of his hair and he was almost positive the most adventurous Gale had ever been with hair care was shampooing twice.
But the soft little noises he was making as Astarion’s fingers carded through his hair, the way he was clearly putting his faith in him, however misplaced it may be – there was an intimacy to it that he was unaccustomed to.
“Do not touch it,” Astarion warned as he finished smoothing conditioner through Gale’s hair, before adding it to his own. “It needs to sit for five minutes at least.”
Gale rolled his eyes, rubbing at them to try and get the sleep out before resting his forehead on Astarion’s shoulder. Reflexively, Astarion’s arms draped around him.
“I shouldn’t have joined you,” Gale said grumpily into Astarion’s wet skin. “I could have slept for a few more hours, given how needlessly complicated this whole endeavour is turning out to be.”
“Charming,” Astarion laughed, lightly punching his arm. “You’ll thank me when you have half of London drooling over you on your way home.”
He felt an odd pang of something at the thought of Gale being leered at on the Tube, but he decided to pay it no mind, as they took it in turns to wash out the conditioner. He stepped out the shower first, grabbing the tub of leave-in by the sink and raking it through his hair before scooping some onto his fingers and looking at Gale expectantly.
“You cannot be serious,” Gale said incredulously. “More?”
“And the gel, yes –“
“Gel?! On wet hair?!”
It took a great deal of persuasion (and a few well placed kisses) to get Gale to let him finish the whole affair. Astarion diffused his hair as Gale hunted down his clothes, grousing the whole time about having to be awake at such an ungodly hour and then subjected to an entirely new routine.
By the time he was finished with him, Gale had a wave that Astarion was more than a little jealous off. It brought out the greys, spiralling through the dark brown in the early morning light seeping through Astarion’s thin blinds. He needed more moisture than this, Astarion thought, arranging his hair just so, careful not to disturb the curl pattern.
“I’m taking you shopping next weekend,” he said impulsively. “You could have such nice hair if you just made a little effort. Besides, you’ll look more presentable to the court if we can get this rats’ nest under control.”
“You sound like my mother,” Gale sighed.
“Well, maybe you should listen to both of us,” Astarion said, poking Gale in the stomach. Gale flinched, protectively covering himself with his hands, scowling at Astarion.
“God help me if I ever get the pair of you in the same room,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head and almost ruining all of Astarion’s hard work.
“In the habit of introducing your fuckbuddies to your mother, Gale?” Astarion said, tutting as he pulled Gale’s hair out from under the collar of his t shirt. He felt the back of Gale’s neck heat up under his fingers.
“No,” Gale said defensively, looking at the floor instead of Astarion. “And must you use such a vulgar phrase to describe…this? I’ve only just adjusted to ‘friends with benefits’, and even that feels rather juvenile.”
Astarion snorted, giving Gale’s nose a small tap before buttoning up his own shirt.
“Could you get Tara into her carrier for me?” he asked as he gathered the various papers spread over his desk.
“You’re taking her into the office?”
“No, I’m going to leave a decrepit senior cat in my flat, unattended, for an entire day,” Astarion said sarcastically. “Of course I’m taking her in.”
Gale headed into the living room, where Tara was drooling steadily onto a cushion as she slept. Astarion leant on the doorframe and watched him very carefully lift the cat into his arms.
“Love you,” Gale whispered as he deposited her into her carrier, planting the smallest of kisses in between her ears. “I’ll see you soon, alright?”
For a split second, Astarion wanted Gale to look at him the way he looked at Tara. He shook the thought from his mind as they left the apartment together, walking to the station shoulder to shoulder, their breath foggy in the early morning air. Gale had stolen one of his scarves to cover up the obvious bite mark that poked out from under his jumper. It suited him, rather annoyingly.
“I’ll see you this weekend?” Gale said hopefully, as they went through the ticket barriers, their platforms in separate directions.
“I’ll text you,” Astarion said with a nonchalant shrug. He played with the end of the scarf around Gale’s neck. Would it be weird to kiss him goodbye? Friends kissed each other goodbye, right?
He didn’t have time to contemplate it further, because Gale made the decision for him, leaning in to brush an innocent kiss against his cheek.
“I look forward to it,” he said softly, before kneeling to put a finger through the bars of the carrier, scratching Tara’s chin. “See you soon, sweetheart.”
Astarion’s heart thumped in his chest until he realised he was talking to the cat.
“See you at the weekend,” he said gruffly, quickly pulling the carrier away from Gale and stomping towards the escalator.
So far, Astarion’s plan for taking Tara into the office was going off without a hitch. He had access to Cazador’s calendar, so he was able to time getting to the office ahead of him, Tara’s carrier smuggled under his coat past reception. He had a small area set up for her under his desk. She slept most of the day anyway, so all he had to do was slip her treats and keep her water dish filled from his own bottle.
He was almost caught with her once or twice by the other associates, but he’d taken to hiding her carrier in large archive boxes, playing it off as though Cazador was heaping work on him (which was the truth anyway.)
Tara didn’t appear too stressed by being carted around in such a manner. Astarion found he was much less agitated at his desk, too, given that she’d often settle on his lap while he worked, a warm and fuzzy cushion. She was starting to fill out even after the few days he’d had her.
She was purring softly on his lap when there was a sharp rap at his door.
“Just a moment,” he called out, carefully slipping the cat from his legs and into the carrier under his desk. Brushing the fur from his trousers with the stashed lint roller in his top drawer, he stood, answering his door.
“You do not normally keep your door closed and locked,” Cazador said, eyebrow arched.
“I’m trying to see if it will improve my productivity,” Astarion replied. He did his best to sound nonchalant. “The associates have stopped interrupting me nearly as much as they used to. It’s good for business.”
Cazador narrowed his eyes at him, but nodded, seeming to accept the excuse.
“Follow me to my office,” he said, turning on his heel and marching away, expecting Astarion to trail behind him as he usually did.
Astarion tamped down the nerves roiling in the pit of his stomach as he dutifully obeyed. It had been a few weeks since Cazador had summoned him in such a manner, clearly waiting for whatever bug he’d had to clear his system. He should have known the reprieve was too good to last.
The problem was, he was now accustomed to being treated nicely in bed, and it was making it harder to accept whatever the fuck he had with his boss was.
“Cazador, I think we need to discuss –“
Cazador held up his hand to silence Astarion, gesturing for him to enter first. Astarion had to fight very hard not to roll his eyes as he opened the office door. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was for someone to already be sat at Cazador’s desk.
“I assume,” Cazador said, closing and locking the door behind them, “that you have at least heard of Mystra Rhyl?”
He hated to admit it, but Mystra was strikingly beautiful in person. She was dressed in a blood red suit, tailored perfectly to her trim figure, the black silk blouse underneath showing just the right amount of slightly too perfect cleavage. Her hair was ramrod straight, a black so deep it shone. She normally had it tied into a severe bun for her programs, but she was wearing it loose now, cascading around her shoulders and down her back. He recognised the earrings – compasses, modelled after the title sequence of the series of documentaries that had put her on the map. They were small, but Astarion had spent enough time around people with money to know that they were expensive.
Cameras didn’t do her justice. But they did hide the disdain she seemed to hold for anyone beneath her, as she looked Astarion up and down, a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised.
“Mr Ancunín, I presume,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake. Her nails were like talons, the same blood red as her suit, and they grazed slightly against his wrist where he shook her hand. “Mr Szarr here says you can be trusted with quite a delicate matter.”
“Astarion is one of my best employees,” Cazador said, his hand lingering on Astarion’s shoulder for a little too long as he stood behind him. “He can and will be utterly discrete.”
“Good,” Mystra said, withdrawing her hand and surreptitiously wiping it on her trouser leg. “I require your expertise, Szarr, Ancunín. I have certain assets that need to be protected.”
Oh, fuck.
“I have managed to keep it out of the press so far, but I am currently in the process of a divorce,” she continued, crossing her legs where she sat. “I was hoping that my ex husband would simply accept the terms laid out in mediation, and he almost did, but he has somehow dug out some bitch of a lawyer pro bono who actually knows what she’s doing.”
Astarion was fighting hard not to have a panic attack where he stood. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, feel his throat constrict under his tie.
“Ah, yes, Zervudachi was an associate here,” Cazador said, steeping his fingers where he stood. “I keep tabs on all my former employees, heard she took on your ex husband’s case. It’s why I reached out to your legal team to see if I could offer any assistance. The woman is a hound, but she’s a bleeding heart. Never willing to do what needed to be done.”
He kept tabs on them? How? Did he know he lived with Dal? No, he couldn’t possibly, or he’d be in so much more trouble right now. Fuck, this office was warm. Had it always been this warm in here? He shouldn’t have tied his tie this tight, his noose for the gallows that was this god damn office.
“And I am grateful you did. I have worked hard to get to where I am today, and I’m in no mind to simply hand over what is rightfully mine to him instead. So that’s where you would come in,” Mystra said, both her and Cazador oblivious to Astarion’s impending mental breakdown. “I need your help to set up a shell corporation that in no way can be tied to me. I understand this happens with production companies and the like. I would need complete and utter discretion in the matter. With an upcoming court case, my reputation is on the line. Bad enough Gale nearly ruined me. I don’t want him getting a penny from a career he almost blew up. He does not deserve to walk away from this marriage with anything.”
That caught Astarion’s attention. Gale had never really gone into much detail as to why his marriage had failed so spectacularly, and Dalyria wasn’t about to break confidentiality to tell him, especially when she didn’t know how close they were becoming.
“Wouldn’t you have had to disclose those assets at the start of mediation?” he blurted out. Both Cazador and Mystra’s heads whipped towards him, Cazador with a face like thunder for his talking out of turn.
“Elminster is currently holding money for me in his accounts,” Mystra said, folding her arms. “As my agent, it makes sense for him to do so, given that it was earned when I was under him. But Zervaduchi is starting to make noises about him, something about hiring a forensic accountant, of all things.”
“Yes, because –“
“Ms Rhyl is only asking for our advice, Ancunín,” Cazador said sharply. “She is entitled to do so. Might I remind you that this is a closed meeting, and there are legal privileges in place about oral discussions?”
Astarion dropped his head, nodding mutely. What they were suggesting was illegal. There was no legal privilege, Astarion knew that. But that didn’t account for what Cazador could – and would – do to him if he didn’t get in line.
“I will have NDAs drafted before we start,” Cazador said smoothly, taking his seat and snapping his fingers for Astarion to stand next to him. “Astarion and I will do everything in our power to keep your assets safe, Ms Rhyl.”
How the fuck was Astarion supposed to take Gale shopping for hair care now? How was he supposed to even look at him? He moved to Cazador’s side, his feet as heavy as his heart.
He was never going to escape this job. Cazador would make sure of that. He had too much influence, too much power for Astarion to ever escape his clutches. And now he was going to work to ruin Gale on top of everything else. Not like he had a choice.
But Gale would be alright, surely? Dal would make sure he at least got to keep Tara, he was sure of that. At the very least, he could get Dal to find an actual anonymous foster until it was all sorted. Petras would do it at a push, probably. Karlach and Wyll would get Gale through the worst of it all. He’d land on his feet after all of this. This was only temporary for him.
He should have known. Astarion didn’t get to have nice things. He didn’t get to be happy.
At least he had kept things casual. Nobody would get hurt if he cut things off now.
Nobody but him.
**
Gale
What day would suit for our excursion this weekend? I could meet you at Stratford?
Karlach and Wyll are away for a spa weekend so you are of course welcome to come to mine afterwards if you so wish.
Gale
Not that I’m expecting you to if you don’t want to.
Gale
Astarion?
Astarion
Messages are unable to be sent to this recipient.
Notes:
I’m apologising here for finally getting back to the plot in this ‘porn with plot’ fic and doing this to all of you immediately after Christmas.
(Yell at me about it in the asks of my Tumblr if you’re so inclined.)
Chapter 14
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was truly astonishing how quickly Astarion fell into the deepest pit of self loathing he had ever dug for himself, as soon as he blocked Gale’s number.
He turned his phone over and over in his hands, sitting on the couch. Beside him, Tara meowed indignantly in her carrier. He couldn’t bring himself to let her out, not if he was about to ask Dalyria to move her on.
“Sorry, old girl,” he said softly, “but Dal will be home soon and it’s best if you find a new place to stay for a while. She’ll probably head straight out with you.”
Really, though, he just couldn’t bear seeing yet another reminder of how good he’d had it.
The door rattled, and Dalyria came in, her hands full with plastic bags.
“You owe me fifty quid for the weekly shop,” she said, hauling them onto the kitchen counter. “I got the usual, plus I figured on Friday I could finally use the slow cooker and see if it’s any good –“
“Tara has to go,” Astarion interrupted, staring resolutely at a spot on the wall. He could feel his chest tightening, but he pushed it down. He made himself numb for so many other reasons. He could do it again for this. “Take her to Petras’ or something. Find a foster through Battersea, I don’t care.”
He heard the fridge door slam shut as Dalyria turned on the spot, ready to shout at him. He didn’t look round. The paint was peeling slightly at the spot that he’d picked.
But then there was nothing. Just a long, empty silence.
Then he felt Tara’s claws kneading a little reproachfully at his thighs. Dalyria was leaning over the back of the sofa, holding the top of the carrier where she’d unclasped it.
“What’s going on?” she asked bluntly. “First I get a phone call from Gale asking if your phone was broken, now you’re trying to get rid of the first animal I’ve ever seen you actually like. Don’t tell me the two aren’t related.”
“Of course he rang you,” Astarion muttered. Tara nipped at the back of his hand, and he sighed heavily, lifting it to scratch her behind her ears. “I blocked him, okay? He was getting needy. And it feels a little much keeping someone’s cat when you’ve blocked their number.”
It was a half truth at best, but it was certainly easier than trying to explain the absolute clusterfuck he’d gotten himself into.
Dalyria frowned slightly at him, squatting so she was leaning on the back of the sofa.
“Do you actually want me to find another foster for Tara?” she said. “Because I don’t have to tell Gale you’re the foster, I haven’t yet, and she can stay here. I don’t particularly want to lie to my own client, but I also don’t want to move her again.”
He was lying to Dal about so much these days. He had been fucking Gale, he’d told Gale Tara was here, now he was actively working against her, and all she knew was that they texted sometimes and by the sounds of it Gale was lying just as much as he was.
He was lying to everyone.
But he didn’t want to lose Tara too, not if he was being honest with himself. The stupid cat liked him for some ridiculous reason. Probably because she was just a cat, and she didn’t come with all the strings and stipulations that people kept choking him with.
“Fine, I want to keep the fucking cat,” he said, letting himself pet her properly.
“Something is going on with you, Star,” Dalyria said suspiciously, standing up to get two cans of Diet Coke from the fridge. She handed one to him as she plopped herself down next to him, cracking open her can and taking a long swig.
“Just…you know. Cazador stuff.”
He’d used the phrase often enough for her to simply nod knowingly and not press the subject. The stupid thing was, he wanted her to press him this time. Even though he was stuck, even though if he told her what he was doing he’d never work in law again, let alone get that partnership, he wanted her to needle and pick at him, because at least he wouldn’t have to carry all those god damn lies with him anymore.
Had the flat’s walls always been this claustrophobic?
“We should go out,” he said impulsively, sitting up a little straighter. “You and me. We haven’t in an age.”
“What, on a school night?” Dalyria said with a laugh. “Astarion, you know how much work Mystra’s making for me at the moment –“
“And no work talk,” Astarion interrupted. “God, please, no work talk.”
He wanted a stranger. One that he had no ties to, one that he could use. That was why he was upset, that was why he was struggling. He’d let Gale create too many links between them. He was missing the control, the power over another person, the dominance in sex. If he could find that again, with someone he didn’t have anything with outside of a bed, that was what he needed.
It would be hard to find someone so kind – no, so submissive. Not kind. People weren’t kind. Gale wouldn’t have been kind, given enough time and opportunities. Astarion might have hurt him now, but it was only a little, surely? And nowhere near as much as he would have done if he kept fucking him while also fucking him over. He really should only do one of those things at a time.
Anyway, he wasn’t thinking about Gale, he was thinking about who he could replace Gale with.
“So where should we go, then?” he asked, scooping Tara up and depositing her gently into her basket by the television. “Comptons? Friendly Society? If you say G-A-Y I will disown you.”
His voice was deliberately light, the mask he was so used to slipping back over his face a little too easily for his liking.
“Seriously, you want to drag us into Soho and back?” Dalyria said with a sigh. “Star, I already took my shoes off.”
“Well, there’s nothing good near us,” Astarion argued, heading into his bedroom to pick an outfit. He felt himself relax into the familiar routine of costuming himself. It was all a performance, really, wasn’t it? Anyone that said otherwise wasn’t fooling anyone.
He wanted to lose himself in the music, in the lights, in the body of literally anybody at this point. Anybody who wouldn’t hold him down and take. He should get to take. He’d been allowed to take, and he didn’t have that anymore, and damn it, he wasn’t losing that.
It was a quiet journey to Friendly Society, Astarion’s coat wrapped tight around himself to hide his very tight shirt and corset on the Elizabeth line and Dalyria occasionally glancing at him with concern. When they got out at Tottenham Court Road, she caught his sleeve as he was about to walk into the crowd.
“Astarion, do you want me here?” she asked, her eyes slightly creased in the corners.
He sighed, turning round to take her hand.
“Look, you know better than anyone I can be…let’s say a smidgen self destructive,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “You’re my best friend, Dal. I don’t want to do something stupid. You’ve got my back, I’ve got yours, right? And with all this Cazador stuff, that I do not want to talk about, I just need someone for the night that isn’t going to be a dick. I know it’s not healthy, I know. But I just need something.”
For fuck’s sake, Gale had made him soft, hadn’t he? He felt the need to be honest with her about something, anything, just for once.
Dalyria squeezed his hand, before linking his arm with hers and steering them towards the bar they’d settled on.
“You let me vet them first,” she said, as they fell into step with each other. “And you don’t go anywhere without telling me. And you’re bringing them to ours, not going to theirs.”
“Oh, god, no, I’m not bringing someone back to ours, are you mad? I don’t want Tara seeing.”
“Astarion, she’s a cat,” Dalyria said with a laugh, nudging him in the side with her elbow.
“She’ll judge me!”
By the time they reached the Friendly Society, they were laughing, Astarion trying to do the silly walk they’d invented in college and Dal nearly falling over in her sky high heels. It was almost enough to make him forget everything.
He made his way to the bar, already busy even on a weekday, flicking through the cocktail menu. They wouldn’t stay here long. Just enough overpriced alcoholic fruit juice to get them relaxed before they moved on to Freedom, Dal always loved a drag show –
“OI!”
A very familiar voice echoed, somehow, over the din of the really rather shit playlist. Astarion looked up from the menu, and made eye contact with a furious looking Karlach.
Jesus, he really couldn’t catch a break.
She was further down the bar, dressed (if one could call it dressed) in a complicated looking harness that called attention to every muscle of her torso and leather trousers that were more holes than fabric. Had she always been that muscular? Oh, fuck, she was going to kill him. This was how he died. Pounded to a pulp in Soho, and not the way he had been so many times before.
“We have to leave,” he said quickly to Dalyria, tossing the menu to one side and dragging her towards the exit. “Now.”
“But we only just got here –“
“You’ve always hated this place anyway –“
“Don’t you fucking move, Fangs, I’ve got several bones to pick with you!”
Karlach moved through the crowd as though they weren’t even there, and nobody stopped her, because who would stop six feet of muscle with a face like thunder from reaching her target? He’d never felt so short in his life as he looked up at her, feigning surprise as he frantically backed up.
“Oh, Karlach! What a lovely surprise, but terrible shame, Dalyria and I were just leaving –“
“No you bloody well aren’t, Fangs, you’re going to sit that flat arse of yours down and tell me why the fuck you’ve dumped the magic man!”
“My arse is not flat!” Astarion said indignantly, forgetting for a moment that he probably shouldn’t piss off Karlach more than he already had.
“Fangs?” Dalyria asked, looking completely lost. “And who’s the magic man?”
“Fangs because of the full set of dental records your little pal here left on my flatmate,” Karlach said, putting a hand on Astarion’s shoulder and forcing him into a booth. “And he’s the magic man because the last time Astarion came over he called him a blowjob wizard.”
Please keep using the nicknames, Astarion thought in a panic, as Dalyria snorted despite herself. You never use anyone’s name, please, don’t blow everything up now –
“Well, Fangs? What do you have to say for yourself?” Karlach said, tapping her foot as she towered over him.
“Astarion, what is this about?” Dalyria asked. “Have you been seeing someone? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Yeah, he’s been seeing someone, though they’re both fucking morons and they keep saying it’s casual when it’s clearly bloody not,” Karlach said with a huff, plonking herself down next to him. “Friends with benefits don’t go on fancy dates with curated tasting menus, friends with benefits don’t force them to take time off when the other is sick, and friends with benefits definitely don’t foster –“
“Karlach, let me introduce you to Dalyria, my flatmate,” Astarion said quickly. “Dalyria is a family lawyer who I used to work with. Specialises in divorce.”
“But I thought you did, like, crimes law – wait,” Karlach said, as Astarion tried to figure out how to sign at her not to talk about Gale. “Oh. Oh, you’re Dalyria.”
Jesus Christ, he was going to throw himself in front of a taxi. Karlach was putting two and two together in her head, and was grinning maniacally when she realised she had four that could absolutely bring everything crashing down on him.
“What has Astarion said?” Dalyria said, looking between them.
“I have heard so much about you –“
“Karlach, a word, if you would,” Astarion said quickly, grabbing her wrist and dragging her towards the exit.
“Oh, mate, really?” she said with a huff as they stepped outside. “I’m not exactly dressed for this weather –“
“Dal doesn’t know,” Astarion said frantically, “and you absolutely cannot tell her, because she’ll kill me.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that, seeing as Gale has already had multiple meltdowns at the kitchen table about you keeping Tara there in the first place and fucking his lawyer’s flatmate while keeping it a secret. I’m just making you sweat,” Karlach said, rubbing her arms to try and keep warm. “Seriously, we couldn’t have done this in the toilets?”
“Karlach, please, I’m asking as a –“
“Do not even think about saying friend,” Karlach snapped back, apparently remembering she was angry at Astarion. Damn it. “What the fuck did you ghost Gale for?”
“I can’t say,” Astarion said with a sigh, taking his jacket off so he could offer it to Karlach.
“Don’t be fucking daft, you idiot, that’ll cover one of my shoulders,” she said, pushing it back towards him. “And what do you mean, you can’t say?”
“I mean, I can’t say!” Astarion didn’t mean to be quite so sharp with his reply. Karlach folded her arms tight across her chest, which had the unfortunate side effect of really popping her biceps. “Look, Karlach, it’s complicated, alright?”
“Just be honest with me, Fangs,” she said, fixing him with a hard stare. “Did Gale ever mean anything to you?”
“It was just casual.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He scowled back at her. It really wasn’t fair of her to back him into a corner when they were outside.
“We had an arrangement,” he said stiffly. “That’s it.”
“Oh, come off it, mate,” Karlach said with a scoff. “My heart’s fucked, not my eyes. I saw the way you looked at him when you dipped on me and Wyll at dinner. You have it so bad. I just don’t get why you’d suddenly ghost him out of nowhere.”
Astarion’s face felt like it was burning.
“Alright, fine,” he said in a rush, because saying the words very quickly might make them easier. “I did not mind spending time with Gale. In fact, I rather liked spending time with Gale. But things are complicated, for reasons I actually cannot talk about, not because I don’t want to but because if I do, my life is completely and utterly fucked and I can’t take someone as wonderful as he is down with me.”
“Astarion, you’re talking to someone who has a pacemaker in their twenties,” Karlach said. “Your life can’t be that fucked.”
“Trust me, darling, it definitely is,” he said heavily. He really wished he’d taken a drink out with him. “Can you tell Gale I’m sorry, at least? Because I am. Sorry, I mean.”
“I still don’t understand why you can’t tell him yourself,” Karlach said, but to Astarion’s surprise, she put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed him to her side. She was somehow so warm, even though she was wearing what amounted to lingerie on her top half.
“Don’t pity me,” he said gruffly, but he leant into the hug anyway. “What are you even doing here? Where’s Wyll?”
“Wyll is currently at the flat with a very mopey professor drinking expensive whiskey,” she said with a dry laugh. “Bit depressing, to be honest, so I came out here with some mates.”
“To a gay bar?”
“What, I have to be straight because I have a boyfriend? I expected better of you, Fangs.”
“Oh, fuck off, Karlach,” Astarion groaned, burying his face in her shoulder. “I’m going through something of a personal crisis here.”
She snorted, ruffling his hair before he could swat her hand away in time.
“Promise me you’ll talk to Gale,” she said, giving him one last squeeze for good measure. “For closure, if nothing else. You know he doesn’t deserve to be ghosted. And you’re too old to be ghosting people.”
“First you call my arse flat, now you insinuate I’m old,” Astarion said in a pained voice. “Kick a man while he’s down, don’t you?”
**
Astarion
1 missed call
I’m sorry for blocking you.
I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually.
Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.
Gale
Greetings! Gale Dekarios is currently in lectures and cannot respond to any messages. He will reply to your text at his earliest convenience.
Astarion
I cannot believe you have an auto response to text messages
It’s 11pm why is your auto response even on
And who is even texting you that you need that
God sorry
Just call me when you get these
Please
Notes:
He’s learning. Very slowly, but he’s learning.
Find me on Tumblr !
Chapter 15
Notes:
CW Tags:
References to previous dubious consent/no consent.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Astarion woke up disgustingly early, as usual, when his alarm blared. He groaned as he picked it up to look at the screen, pretending he wasn’t hoping beyond hope for a missed call. Nothing. Figured.
Tara was snoring loudly at the foot of the bed on top of his clothes from the night before. He hadn’t bothered to put them away, simply throwing his clothes and corset off and sleeping in his jockstrap. Not the most comfortable four hours’ sleep after a night out, or the most exciting bedmate he’d ever had, but he was far less hungover than he normally would be. Though Tara was the only one he was sharing his bed with these days, he thought grumpily as he dragged himself out of bed to the bathroom.
To be fair, he and Dal had actually had a fun night. Karlach had come with them to Freedom, mostly to torture Astarion by lying her arse off answering Dalyria’s questions about her mysterious housemate. Her answers had gotten more and more ridiculous – by the end of it, it was established that he had been dating an ex-Mormon with a thing for feet who he’d met when he’d tripped over him on the Tube. At one point, Astarion had ended up with a drag queen perched on his knee lip syncing the living daylights out of Drunk in Love, Dal taking pictures as Karlach roared her head off. He probably still had the queen’s lipstick on his cheek where she’d planted a kiss.
He looked at himself in the mirror to check, and chuckled. He had three different colours of lipstick all over his face from where Karlach and Dal had joined in afterwards, even when he tried to bat them away.
It was the most fun he’d had in months. And when he’d poured Dal into a taxi at midnight, promising Karlach he’d text her when they got home, he’d realised that he would much rather have had that night than have taken anyone home with him for a mediocre lay and an awkward conversation before he kicked them out.
He could have done without obsessively checking his phone every minute in the bar, though, after he’d sent the string of messages to Gale in a tipsy panic. Or lying awake for another hour to see if anything came through before finally giving up and going to sleep.
He should figure out what he was doing about Mystra first. He knew that. But if he didn’t give Gale some sort of reason, Karlach would probably track him down and rip him apart with her bare hands, and now that she had his number it was probably a better idea to try and appease her first.
His phone buzzed sharply on the nightstand.
He lunged for it, immediately awake. Tara grumbled as his movements jostled her makeshift nest.
Karlach
Slight problem lol
Wyll put Gale’s phone on dnd and hid it, but they got so shitfaced he’s forgotten where
Gale is passed out and won’t be up for another few hours anyway if you were trying to get hold of him
She followed up with a photo of Gale, sprawled onto his bed in a jumper and boxer briefs, glasses askew in his hair and cradling an empty bottle of whiskey. He must have left his bedroom door open. Astarion could see Karlach’s shadow looming over him, and snorted to himself. He had a feeling Karlach had taken a number of photos of Gale in this state just to torture the man with at a later date.
Karlach
In case you needed proof
Astarion pinched the photo to zoom in on Gale’s face. He looked even more tired than usual. There were bags under his eyes, his skin a little pale for his complexion. It had only been a few days, but Astarion had to admit, he didn’t like the idea of not ever seeing that face in person again.
His arse did look good in those boxer briefs, though, Astarion thought, as he shifted the photo down. Was it awful of him to fixate on that? Maybe, but that wasn’t going to stop him. Karlach clearly knew what she was doing. If anything, this was on her that he was being a little perverse. She was practically presenting Gale to him on a silver platter.
Astarion
Why are you even awake?
Karlach
Got a pt client who likes to work out stupid early
Astarion
You’re a personal trainer? Explains the muscles
Karlach
Aww, you noticed? Thanks, Fangs, I worked hard on those
Left a note on the fridge to tell Gale to call you once he finds his phone
Astarion made it to work, once again, before Cazador, stowing Tara under his desk in her now slightly sprawling system of cardboard boxes. He had the day to work solely on Mystra’s case, Cazador clearing his calendar with the not at all ominous “PRIVATE MATTER” blocked into the system.
They were leaving no stone unturned. Astarion was to set up a shell company, completely untraceable. It couldn’t have any links to Mystra or Cazador. He was trying his best not to have his name attached anywhere, either, but that was proving harder than he thought. It needed a named director, and he had no idea where to start on that. He had a horrible feeling it was going to be his name that went on the paperwork.
It was going to have to be set up abroad, too. Astarion was good at his job – no, he was great at his job – and setting up a company in the UK was going to be nigh on impossible to hide. He was reverse engineering his job at this point, doing everything that he usually worked so hard to uncover and expose.
It wasn’t like his job was morally black and white, he knew that. He worked for companies that would pay him and his associates truly disgusting amounts of money to take out their competitors. He’d tracked down countless companies like this; he knew how they worked intricately and he knew he could work that backwards into a solution. Somehow, though, it felt worse applying all that knowledge against just one person that he cared about.
No, not cared about. Was friends with. Had been friends with. Could be friends with again, except he was about to help financially ruin him.
He sat back in his chair, massaging his temples. So his choices were get fucked by Cazador (which was nothing new) and ruin Gale’s life or get fucked by the British Government if the plan fell apart. Wonderful.
Mystra was going to unbelievable lengths to hide this money from Gale. Admittedly, it was a hell of a lot of money. Astarion could almost understand why she was so protective of it, considering it was her empire that she’d built. But it wasn’t like Gale was fighting to take it, and it certainly didn’t explain why she was also trying to take him to the cleaners. He knew from both Gale and Dalyria that he didn’t actually have that much interest in her assets, as much as Dal tried to push him to take at least something to compensate what a nightmare Mystra had been. And there was the mystery of whatever Gale had done to make her this vindictive in the first place.
Tara chirped under his desk, and Astarion absentmindedly scratched behind her ear as he stared at his computer screen.
“Oh, the secrets you must hold in that little furry head of yours,” he said softly. Tara climbed into his lap, a little unsteady, before settling down and kneading his thighs with her paws. He tried not to flinch as her claws dug through the fabric. “What did your father do, darling? Do you know?”
Tara just purred in response.
Mercifully, Cazador didn’t come into his office the entire morning, just knocking once when he arrived and checking that he was focusing solely on Mystra’s work for the day. Clearly, he’d threatened everyone in the building not to approach him either, because Astarion didn’t have a single interruption.
Not that it helped, because the more work he did, the more he realised he was almost certainly going to be the fall guy for this stupid fucking case.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Tara grumbled as Astarion had to shift her slightly to take it out. His heart leapt – no, it just rushed slightly, that was all, from the adrenaline and nerves of working on this case – when he saw who it was from.
Gale
Can’t call. Sore throat.
Astarion
Yes, I hear you had quite the night last night. Lectures are going to be fun for you today
Gale
What do you want, Astarion?
Astarion could feel the irritation just holding the phone in his hand. The fact that the fastidiously erudite man was replying with short sentences rather than paragraphs was a sign in itself. He wished Karlach could have given him a little bit of a heads up.
Astarion
To apologise. Properly. Preferably in person and not through the medium of text.
Fuck, you’ve got me texting like you now
Could we maybe go for coffee at the weekend and talk? When you’re not hungover as shit?
Gale
That depends. Are you going to block me before we even arrange a time and place? Because once was enough.
Astarion
I probably deserved that
Saturday, 4pm, the Costa near your place
I’m buying
Gale
Obviously.
Astarion tried not to scowl at his phone. Not that it mattered, because it wasn’t like Gale would see it. But he was trying his best here, and Gale was just being a prick.
Fine, maybe he had been a prick first, but Gale didn’t have to do it back.
Astarion
Look, I have my reasons, alright? They’re complicated, but Karlach shouted at me a lot last night and I realised I should have at least talked to you first
I can’t really go into it over text, but I am sorry
Three dots. Appearing and disappearing. Over and over.
“And he likes to call me dramatic,” Astarion said to Tara, who simply dribbled on his leg in response.
Gale
Fine. Costa on Saturday. But you owe me an explanation.
What’s wrong with my auto response? It serves its purpose perfectly well when I’m in lectures.
Astarion
It’s the fact you HAVE an auto response
Where did Wyll end up hiding your phone
Gale
In Karlach’s protein powder tub. I don’t think I will ever rid it of the smell of salted caramel.
A harsh knock on Astarion’s door drew his attention. Astarion quickly stowed Tara back in her carrier, the cat now snoring and drooling happily, and brushed the cat fur from his legs as he went to open it. He really needed to stash a lint roller in a drawer if he was going to keep sneaking Tara in here.
“Locked again?” Cazador said with a sneer, looking past Astarion into his office, as if he was hiding a fugitive.
“You were the one who blocked out my calendar,” Astarion replied. “I’m just making it extra clear to the office I’m not to be disturbed.”
Cazador nodded in approval.
“I’m glad to see you working hard, then,” he said. “Lunch in my office. We have much to discuss.”
Cazador motioned for Astarion to follow him, turning on his heel without waiting to see if he would. Astarion trailed behind him, feeling a little as though he was walking to the gallows. Though to be fair, if he had taken a stranger home last night, he would want to do this even less.
He didn’t want to do this. He was doing enough for Cazador, and he couldn’t take being asked for another pound of flesh when he had so little to spare these days.
He almost wished he didn’t know what it was like not to be pushed to his knees, not to have his hair yanked. It was so much simpler before. When he simply lay back, or knelt down, took what he was given and tolerated it. Now, though, he was starting to realise what a gift he had lost, and he just didn’t want to go back.
He wasn’t going to go back. He was done bowing to the whims of others.
“So is lunch what we’re calling it now?” he said a little cattily as he closed the door behind him, Cazador leaning against his desk. A sudden wave of bravery overcame him, and he straightened up, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Because I’m not particularly in the mood.”
It was like all the air was sucked out of the room in an instant. Cazador’s hands were already on his belt, but they were still, the slender fingers stopping in their tracks.
“Are you refusing me, Astarion?” he said, his voice dangerously low.
He should say no. He should go along with it, the way he always had. But in this moment, with the promise of nothing but coffee on the horizon, Astarion couldn’t bring himself to whore himself out yet again.
He had had a taste of being cherished, and it had spoiled him.
“For anything more than food? Yes,” he said, leaning against the door in an attempt to look nonchalant. In reality, being close to the door meant he could make a quick escape if he needed to. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a case to be working on.”
One betrayal at a time. That was all he could handle right now. And letting Cazador use him again, being an object, not a treasure? He couldn’t think about why that felt like a worse betrayal than the legal trap he was setting, but that didn’t mean he had to go through with it.
Cazador crossed his arms, looking Astarion up and down in the way that always made him want to tear at his skin.
“You’re seeing someone,” he said in a flat tone of voice.
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me, boy, you have never been able to.”
It wasn’t a lie. There wasn’t anyone else. Astarion’s brow furrowed, but he stayed silent. He wished he was better at reading Cazador’s facial expressions.
“You wish to bring an end to our arrangement, then?”
He nodded.
He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, fast and fluttering. He couldn’t have another panic attack. Not here, not now. He had to stand strong. He had to show Cazador that he was serious about this.
There was that feeling again, as though his soul was six inches to the left of his body. He tried to breathe deep. In through his nose, out through his mouth, picturing the stupid little expanding and contracting box that Dal always swore by.
“A shame,” Cazador said curtly. “I must have misinterpreted our situation. Consider our arrangement terminated. I will remind you that the specifics of it are not to be discussed outside of this office, even now it has come to its end. And all the best to your new…paramour.”
Astarion blinked. That was it? That was it?! Fucking years of torment, and Cazador would let him be, just like that?
Something was wrong. This would come back to bite him thoroughly on the arse later, he knew it. The way that Cazador assumed there was someone in his life was ringing every alarm bell possible. But then again, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“I appreciate your understanding,” he said, his words a little stilted. “I’ll email you an update on the Rhyl case by end of day.”
Cazador nodded, waving a hand to dismiss him. Just as Astarion turned to go, he cleared his throat.
“You will be nominating yourself as director,” he said, his tone leaving no room for disagreement. “It will make the set up much swifter. Ms Rhyl needs the company in place by next Friday.”
Ah.
“Having my name leaves a trail to this company, Cazador.”
“Then you had better make sure the shell corp isn’t found, shouldn’t you?” Cazador said with a raised brow. “Because my firm will not be responsible for your mistakes, Mr Ancunín. Not to mention my reputation.”
And there was the catch. He had to make this airtight, because he would not be protected if shit went south. That was the unspoken punishment, hanging like the sword of Damocles over his head. It was going to be like this from this point forward, too, Astarion knew. He was always going to be the person for Cazador to pin it on. He could kiss that partnership goodbye too, for certain. Though, honestly, he wasn’t that upset. He would have always wondered if he’d reached that peak by his own merits, or if it was because of all the times he had flirted and cajoled and bedded the right people.
He could live with that.
But if Gale found out what he’d done, it would look as though Astarion had used him. Not that Cazador knew that, but it was an extra layer to Astarion’s torment that he would probably revel in if he only knew. He wanted Gale to find out, as stupid as that was, so that all this would be over. But if Gale did find out, Astarion was done. Probably looking at jail time, definitely getting kicked out by Dal for working against her, and Gale would hate him.
Gale was a good person. Astarion had always seen himself as morally grey, but if Gale hated him, he couldn’t pretend that was the case any longer. He didn’t know why that was how he saw it when he was committing multiple crimes for a fucking divorce, but apparently that was the line he drew.
He could figure this out, if he had more time. No. He would figure this out. He was Astarion, for fuck’s sake. He’d gotten himself out of worse.
He just had to figure all of it out in a week. Simple.
God, he wished it was more fun to be absolutely fucked.
Notes:
Little bit later than I meant, oops, sorry! I hope the smutty oneshot I posted on Sunday made up for it, or failing that, the fact that I’ve put plot into this.
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Chapter 16
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Gale was late.
Astarion picked at the cinnamon whirl in front of him, bought as a peace offering of sorts as his americano rapidly cooled. He had a suspicion that Gale was doing this deliberately, making him sweat even more than he already was. He hated him for it, but he couldn’t deny that it was working.
For all he was telling himself that he was doing this to get to fuck Gale again, the truth was he missed him. He missed the paragraphs of text Gale would send as soon as his lectures were done. He missed sharing photos of Tara doing such extraordinary feats as falling asleep on his pillow or dribbling on his suit jacket. And yes, obviously he missed the sex, but it wasn’t so much the act itself as the way he felt during, the way he felt afterwards. He liked that Gale stayed. He liked that he wanted to stay, too.
He was watching the door like a hawk, he realised, and quickly looked down to pick up his coffee. It wasn’t like it meant anything. It was just that he didn’t have that many friends, if he really stopped to think about it, and he couldn’t afford to lose the ones he’d suddenly found.
His coffee was firmly lukewarm by the time Gale walked in. His hair was loose, and a little more textured than usual – he must have actually listened to Astarion and bought something for his hair that wasn’t multifunctional. It made the greys stand out more than they did before. Astarion couldn’t help but wonder if a curl of it would be softer around his finger than it was before.
He liked it down. It made him look more relaxed. Unfortunately, that effect was slightly ruined by the irritated expression on Gale’s face.
He cleared his throat, waving a little awkwardly to catch Gale’s attention. Gale’s expression somehow darkened further when he caught Astarion’s eye. He really had his work cut out for him to get him to look at him like he was a diamond and not shit on his shoe.
“I haven’t ordered for you yet,” he said as Gale approached, digging in his pocket for his wallet. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want.”
“And isn’t that a delightful turn of events?” Gale muttered, just loud enough for Astarion to hear him as he handed over a ten pound note. Astarion did his best not to scowl at him as he turned on his heel to go to the counter and order. He was here to apologise, he had to remember. Gale was allowed to be cross with him. He had, after all, been a bit of a prick.
Gale returned a few minutes later with a chai latte and change, which Astarion did his best not to judge. As he sat, he slid the cinnamon whirl over the table towards him as Gale passed him the leftover cash. It did not escape Astarion’s attention that he’d gone for the largest size possible.
“You’ve been picking at this,” Gale said, turning the plate to inspect the damage.
“You were late,” Astarion said a little testier than he intended. “And you’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you,” Gale sniped back, sliding the plate back towards Astarion. “And I don’t like cinnamon.”
“You don’t – Gale, you’re drinking a fucking chai latte,” Astarion said. He really was determined to test him today, wasn’t he? And he wasn’t even sure he had angry sex to look forward to to make up for it either.
“That’s different. There’s cardamom, cloves, the tea itself, of course.” Gale took a sip, his brow furrowed as he kept eye contact with Astarion to prove his point. “The cinnamon enhances the flavour profile.”
Had he always been this insufferable?
They sat in silence, the offending cinnamon whirl between them as Gale glared at him over the top of his tea and Astarion stared down at his coffee. He knew it had to be him that broke it. He broke everything else he touched, after all.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Things are complicated.”
“Things are always complicated,” Gale replied harshly. “Especially with you, apparently. You had me worried sick, Astarion, I thought something had happened to you. Or to Tara! Do you have any idea what went through my head when I couldn’t get hold of you? And then Dalyria tells me that you said I was needy and perhaps I should take a step back from messaging you so often –“
“Dalyria said what?!” Astarion interrupted, almost dropping his mug. “That is not what I said.”
He realised as soon as he said it that it was exactly what he’d told Dalyria, but she didn’t have to tell Gale that. He’d just said that to cover up the real reason. And what was she doing, snitching to Gale? She was supposed to be his friend!
“I’m a little more inclined to believe her at the moment, especially given that she didn’t know the nature of our arrangement,” Gale said. His mug clinked against the saucer as he put it back down, clearly no longer in the mood to drink it. He had a really rather cute crinkle between his eyebrows that Astarion was doing his best not to focus on. “But do enlighten me. What did I do that warranted such cold treatment, Astarion? I thought –“
He broke off, sighing as he absentmindedly stirred his latte, finally looking away.
“I am under no illusions that this is more than…this,” he said a little lamely. “But at the very least, I thought we were friends. Though I suppose I can only apologise if I have given you any indication that I wanted for more. I know where we stand in that regard.”
“No, don’t you apologise,” Astarion said quickly, reaching out to stop his hand. The clinking was already driving him insane on top of everything else. “Look, there are things you don’t know about. Work things. I can’t say more than that, I really can’t. But I promise it wasn’t anything that you did or didn’t do. You’ve been wonderful.”
And he meant it. Gale had changed everything. Astarion was finally learning to enjoy sex, learning to enjoy sharing his bed. He even liked part-owning a cat, for fuck’s sake. He had never been so honest in his life, but it felt so easy to tell Gale that, even if he couldn’t tell him everything.
Gale’s hand was unbearably warm under his. Astarion had no idea where he got all his warmth from. The world had beaten it out of him a long time ago.
“Would you have apologised? If Karlach hadn’t bumped into you?” Gale asked, and while he had stopped stirring his drink, he didn’t pull away from Astarion. Instead, he let his hand rest on the slightly sticky table, Astarion’s resting lightly on top.
“Maybe? I think,” Astarion said slowly. He was in uncharted waters, every word the difference between Gale staying or walking straight out the door. “The threat of being smashed into a pulp certainly helped, though.”
“Karlach would never,” Gale said, and finally, finally, the corners of his mouth began to twitch upwards. “She likes you too much for that. Wyll, however, is not your biggest fan right now.”
“Wyll?” Astarion said incredulously. “He’s said maybe five words to me the entire time I’ve known him!”
“What can I say?” Gale replied, and he gingerly turned his hand over so that he could hold Astarion’s. Not quite properly, just the tips of his fingers, his thumb shifting over them slightly. But it was still an improvement. “The man likes his sleep, and so far you’ve kept him up twice.”
“Both of you drowning in a bottle of whiskey was not my doing,” Astarion pointed out.
“Perhaps, but it was very much your fault.”
He was laughing now, as much as he was trying to hide it, the cadence of his voice breaking a little. Astarion could feel the vice around his chest loosening ever so slightly. He was fixing this. It was still completely and utterly broken in ways Gale would hopefully never know about, but at least he was fixing this tiny part of it.
Gale’s thumb was swiping back and forth, still. Astarion was almost certain he wasn’t aware he was doing it. He gave his affection so freely.
“In that case, I can only apologise once more, not to mention replace the whiskey you simply had no choice but to drown your sorrows in,” he said, downing the rest of his coffee. He couldn’t ever be as open as Gale was, but he could get him a gift, small as it was, and surely that would count for something. “There’s a Tesco near here, right?”
“Oh, you mean now?” Gale looked down at his barely touched chai latte. “But I haven’t finished this yet.”
“So get a to go cup,” Astarion said, grabbing hold of his hand properly and trying to drag him out of his seat, swiping the cinnamon whirl with his other hand. “Come along, darling, we haven’t got all day.”
He had a quickly formed plan now, nice and simple. Buy Gale whiskey. Persuade Gale to share said whiskey. Have drunken, passionate sex, where he was finally in control for once in his life, and forget about everything, just for an afternoon.
He could practically hear Gale’s eyes rolling as the chair scraped back. No matter. He was getting his way again, and the world was righting itself just a little.
He didn’t let go of Gale’s hand, even once his paper cup had been acquired and they made their way down the high street side by side. He didn’t remember the last time he had held someone’s hand like this. With interlaced fingers, rather than having someone wrap theirs like a vice around his wrist. It felt nice. Natural.
Heading straight for the till once they arrived, and taking a wolfish bite of the cinnamon whirl, he ran his eyes over the small collection of whiskey on offer behind it.
“It was Jack Daniel’s you were drinking, right? Because I’m telling you now, I’m not replacing that swill,” he said idly through the mouthful of pastry.
“How did you know that?” Gale said, narrowing his eyes.
“Karlach sent me a very sweet little snapshot of you the morning after.” He grinned at Gale. “Those briefs always were my favourite.”
Gale blushed a little, trying to pull his hand away, but Astarion hung on tight.
“I will settle for buying you Jameson’s,” he said, finishing off the whirl before nodding at the cashier. “If I had the choice, though, it would be a Talisker Skye. Or perhaps a nice Japanese whiskey.”
“Oh, now you’re speaking my language,” Gale said, a twinkle in his eye that Astarion knew was about to precede a lecture. “You know, people who say they like whiskey think that single malt whiskey is the be all and end all, but they fail to realise that a good blended whiskey can be just as delicious. To say anything else is snobbery, quite frankly.”
“Are you capable of enjoying anything casually?”
“Are you capable of letting me tell you about something I’m interested in without being a complete and utter twat?” Gale shot back, with a surprising amount of venom. The twinkle disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. The crinkle between his brows was back again in its place. Damn it. “I’m trying to share this with you, Astarion, because it’s something I like, not to put you down or pretend I’m better than you. Not to mention, you aren’t entirely forgiven yet. It might put you in better stead not to immediately shoot me down.”
The cashier did her best to stifle a snort. Astarion glared at her, dropping Gale’s hand as he tapped his phone against the machine.
It annoyed him more than anything else that Gale actually had a point.
“Fine,” he said shortly, grabbing the whiskey and shoving it into Gale’s hands. He knew he was being childish, but he was doing his best to apologise, and Gale was just not being as pliable as he should be. He just wanted things to go back to how they were before. This was not how the plan was supposed to go.
No. He shouldn’t do this. He should just go home.
He didn’t have to take this. This attitude from a man who normally just did what he was told. He had apologised, hadn’t he? He’d said sorry, bought Gale a stupid tea he was being a fucking snob about and a whiskey that he’d probably share with Wyll and bitch about him more while he drank. And he was still giving him a hard time.
If he couldn’t forgive him for something as small as this, what hope did he have of being forgiven for the literal crimes he was committing? He should just fucking quit while he was ahead.
“Astarion, come on,” he heard Gale say with a deep sigh as he turned to leave. “Don’t be like this. Come back to the flat and open this with me, at least.”
That caught his attention.
For a moment, he was rooted to the spot. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To be forgiven. To wheedle his way back into Gale’s flat. Especially because it was all too easy to sweet talk his way into his bed once he was through that door.
But he still had so many questions, even if Gale would let the things he knew about go. Why was Mystra so hell bent on hiding her money? What had Gale done that was so terrible she was trying to rake him over the coals? And, really, could he go back to how they were, letting Gale think everything was dealt with, knowing just what he was doing to him in secret?
But if he could have him again, even just for a day, wasn’t that better than nothing?
“Fine,” he found himself saying. He had to know. Gale held out his hand again, but he didn’t take it. “Let’s go.”
**
Astarion
you and wyll aren’t in, right?
Karlach
no, we’re away this weekend, why
ooh you getting busy with the magic man???
Astarion
you are strangely obsessed with his sex life, darling
Karlach
i’m obsessed with his love life, there’s a difference
Astarion
har har
we just have to have a private conversation and i’d rather you weren’t eavesdropping, that’s all
Karlach
”private conversation”, that’s a new euphemism
just be nice to him, Fangs, he’s been through enough as is
Astarion
i know
i wouldn’t normally do this, you know
you and he are making me soft
Karlach
too much info, mate
Astarion
fuck off
Notes:
Gotta be honest, gang, writing this chapter was like pulling teeth. It was supposed to be a quick conversation and then smut, but Gale was like okay but what if I was a contrary sarky bastard and suddenly it makes more sense to push the smut back and have more conversations? So next time (in probably two weeks rather than one because it’s going to be a chunky chapter) I can promise you that instead.
I have been enjoying all the theories/panicking in the comments this week though 😈
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Chapter 17
Notes:
CW/Smut Tags
References to past emotional manipulation and abuse, references to past dubcon, anal fingering, anal sex, frotting, unprotected sex
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The flat looked a little more like Gale lived in it now.
There was a painting hung in the kitchen, next to the photos of Karlach and Wyll together. Astarion didn’t recognise the artist, but he did recognise the subject. Piccadilly Circus, in bold black and white lines, a splash of red and blue detailing.
It looked expensive. Astarion wondered if it had come from before, and if so, how Gale had managed to smuggle it into here. It didn’t seem like something Mystra would part with particularly willingly.
The boxes that had lined the kitchen when Astarion had first come here were nowhere to be seen. As he took a seat at the little kitchen table, Gale fetching glasses from the cupboard, he noticed a few more appliances now cluttered the surfaces. A slightly battered looking air fryer, a few more pans hanging above the oven, a rice cooker shoved haphazardly next to the kettle.
He was drawn out of his reverie by Gale brushing his arm to put a glass down in front of him. His cologne was familiar, slightly musky, and Astarion found himself closing his eyes and breathing deeply just to savour it for a moment after going so long without.
Ridiculous. It had only been a few days since he’d last seen him. He needed to get a hold of himself.
”I like the painting,” he said to fill the silence, gesturing to the wall.
”It’s my mother’s,” Gale said as he took his seat opposite. “She came by the flat the other day for a coffee and decided the place was too drab. She always said it would be mine someday anyway.”
“Smart woman, your mother.”
Astarion unscrewed the Jameson’s, pouring a generous measure before offering it to Gale.
“Nice glasses,” he said, inspecting the cut pattern before knocking back half of it.
“They were a wedding present,” Gale said, pouring himself a little less. “Dartington crystal. From some producer at the BBC, I think.”
“And you kept them?” Astarion asked. “Why?”
Gale shrugged. “They’re nice glasses. It felt like a waste to leave them behind, and my ex-wife doesn’t drink whiskey. I doubt she’s even noticed they’re gone.”
He still wouldn’t use her name, it seemed.
“You’ve never told me what happened,” Astarion said softly, testing the waters. “Between you and her. I mean, most people didn’t even know she was married, right? I certainly didn’t, before we met.”
Gale was silent, looking at the pattern in the glass as if he’d never seen it before.
“No, most people didn’t,” he said. “That was my doing. I had no desire to be famous.”
Astarion knew Gale well enough to sense the man was being more than a little economical with the truth, but he was on thin enough ice as it was, and he wasn’t about to call him out for it.
“We met when I was an undergraduate,” Gale said.
He was going to tell him, Astarion realised. Despite everything, despite Astarion being so awful to him, Gale was going to open up to him. He had no idea what was prompting this, but he wasn’t about to stop him.
“Mystra was just starting out,” he continued. “She was creating a documentary series on science in film. It was going to be her break. I was part of an intern team put together by the university for the BBC, film students to help with her cinema research and to look good on our CVs. Mostly providing clips from the archives that backed her up, grunt work, really. And I was smitten immediately. I never could resist intelligence.” He took a sip of whiskey. “Present company excluded, obviously.”
Astarion nearly choked on his own drink.
“Ouch,” he said, laughing. Gale tilted his glass at him with a smirk of his own.
“I kept finding excuses to see her. Finding out her coffee order and bringing it to her at meetings, offering to do the materials runs for her. It was so obvious what I was doing, fawning over her like a teenager with a crush.”
“Weren’t you? You must have been barely twenty –“
“Anyway,” Gale cut him off, pouring him some more whiskey. “She flirted a little back and forth with me, but I thought nothing of it. But one night, I stayed late to track down a particular clip, and she found me in the archives, and one thing led to another.”
“You didn’t,” Astarion said, a little floored. Especially given how shy Gale had been about public sex at the Eagle. “In the BBC archives? Aren’t there cameras? Security?”
“Surprisingly lax,” Gale replied. “Obviously it was a secret between the two of us during that project. It wouldn’t do to have the star of the show sleeping with the intern, after all. But I knew it was love. The way we were in private, it was as if nothing else mattered.”
Even now, after everything, Gale looked almost wistful. It made something stab at Astarion’s chest. He couldn’t quite put words as to what.
He couldn’t be jealous, could he? Of a marriage that had already ended?
“When we did announce our relationship, it was only to people who we trusted,” Gale continued. “Elminster knew, obviously. He kept a string of stories in the press about Mystra focusing on work, or keeping her private life private. He and I grew quite close, really, before he retired. We used to joke that we were one of the privileged few who really knew her.”
He took another long drink of his whiskey, closing his eyes for a moment.
“It was my idea,” he said, eyes still closed. “We’d been married for some time. I thought I knew how everything worked, and I thought I knew how it could be better for her. How foolish of me, to think I knew her world better than she did.”
“What did you do?” Astarion asked. His drink was all but forgotten on the table, and he leant forward without thinking, listening intently.
Gale nodded.
“I went behind her back,” he said softly. “Set up meetings, pitched a new series for her. All about the physics of fantasy, a sequel of sorts to our first project, whether science and magic could be two sides of the same coin. I lied and said that she knew what was going on, that everything was on board. What I didn’t realise was that she had a very strict exclusivity clause in her contract with the BBC. I almost cost her everything. Her reputation, her working relationships – her management nearly dropped her when they heard she was shopping around. She was furious with me. And who could blame her? It took her weeks to iron everything out. When the dust settled, she said she couldn’t even look at me anymore.”
Gale’s voice finally petered out. The only sound was the tick-tock of the clock on the wall by the oven.
Astarion couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“That’s it?” he said a little incredulously. “Seriously? That’s why she’s being such a twat to you?”
Gale looked up sharply from his glass.
“Astarion, I almost ended her career –“
“Oh, please, that’s not how any of that works,” Astarion said. “She could have cleared up in a heartbeat. It’s not like they could have done anything without her say in the first place, right? She would have to sign contracts, have her management look everything over. In fact, if she’d just said you were her husband from the start, things would have been clearer for everybody. Not to mention you’d probably be more involved and know about the clause in the first place.”
“But –“
“Gale, she would have recovered from this,” he interrupted. “Even if she had been ‘ruined’, it’s not like she would have been cancelled forever. It just feels like that to her because she realised she didn’t have total control over you.”
Gale held his gaze. For a moment, he looked defiant, as though Astarion’s appraisal of the situation was completely off the mark.
Then the fight seemed to go out of him.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, pouring himself more whiskey. “But what does it matter?”
“No, don’t do that, it does matter,” Astarion said, snatching the bottle away from him. “Come on, Gale, today is the first time I’ve seen you show a little spine. Granted, it is not the most comfortable feeling in the world to have your ire directed at me, but if you have any chance of winning this damn case you have to grow a backbone.”
“I have a backbone,” Gale said, his voice starting to rise just a little. “I have plenty of backbone.”
“So admit she was wrong!” Astarion downed his whiskey in one go before swigging from the bottle. “Jesus, Gale, just admit that the sun does not shine directly from that cunt’s arsehole –“
“Don’t call her that!”
“She’s not my ex-wife, I can call her what I like,” Astarion said cattily. “Call a spade a bitch, Gale.”
“That –“ Gale stared at Astarion, before the corners of his mouth twitched, and he couldn’t stop a snort. “That’s the most stupid thing I think you’ve ever said.”
Astarion raised his middle finger at Gale as he swigged once more from the bottle, but he couldn’t help but smirk back at him.
“It wasn’t your fault, that’s all I’m saying.”
Gale rolled his eyes, but he held his hands up in surrender before taking the Jameson’s away from him.
“Alright, maybe I was less at fault than I thought,” he acquiesced. “But I still could have handled it with a little more honesty.”
Given that Mystra was lying through her teeth to fuck over Gale in their divorce, and using Astarion to do so, Astarion thought that Gale didn’t have to do anything of the sort, but he kept that to himself.
“So the tattoo,” he said instead.
“Tied into the whole sorry affair,” Gale said with a sigh. “Our marriage was having problems by that point, even though I didn’t want to admit it at the time. I struggled with being a secret, even after we were wed. She took it to mean I did not support her in her endeavours. She suggested it in a fit of pique in the middle of yet another argument, and I decided to show her just how serious I was. The tattoo and the project were supposed to be my grand gestures and prove otherwise. To be fair, the tattoo did work for a spell.”
“You really don’t do things by halves,” Astarion said, leaning on his hands. Gale shook his head ruefully.
“Neither do you,” he pointed out. “I still cannot believe you ghosted me like that.”
Another little stab in his chest. Another reminder of why he did what he did.
“There are only so many times I can apologise, Gale,” he said heavily. “Especially when I can’t tell you why. Truth be told, it would be better if this was our last meeting.”
He could feel Gale’s eyes on him, trying to look for any sign or reason, but Astarion busied himself with reading the warning labels on the Jameson’s instead.
“Because of work? I fail to see what that has to do with me,” Gale said, reaching out to pour himself yet another whiskey. “Astarion, you don’t have to lie to me. As you said at the beginning, both of us were free to leave whenever we wished.”
But I don’t want to leave, Astarion thought frantically to himself. I don’t want you to leave, either.
The whiskey was getting to him faster than he’d thought.
“I wasn’t lying about that,” he said instead. “I’m not lying about that now. I am not a good man, Gale. I’ve done a lot of stupid, terrible shit, and it’s only going to get worse. I just…I really thought it would be better to break things off this way.”
“I take it back,” Gale said, shooting his whiskey. “That’s the most stupid thing you’ve ever said.”
“No, you aren’t listening,” he said exasperatedly. He put his drink down, steepling his fingers. “I’m trying to be a better person because of you, alright? You’re the best person I know, and…and it’s putting a lot of things in a different light for me.”
Gale’s stupid eyes softened. God, he hated him sometimes.
“How was ghosting me supposed to help?” Gale asked, reaching out to catch his hand in his. “I’m not going to pretend I understand this, Astarion, but at the very least I could be a listening ear.”
His hand was so warm. Maybe it was because Astarion’s was always freezing.
“I would,” he whispered. “I would tell you, I swear. But I can’t.”
“Alright.” Gale sighed, but he squeezed Astarion’s hand anyway. “If you say you can’t, you can’t. But that doesn’t mean this has to stop, surely? I’ve grown a little accustomed to it, to tell the truth.”
Astarion didn’t know what that meant, let alone how he felt about it. So Gale knew this was just an arrangement between them. But he didn’t want it to stop. So he was happy with how they were? Or he was using Astarion just as much as Astarion was using him?
That was fine, wasn’t it, if he was? Because it wasn’t like he was using Astarion the way that other people did. He seemed to like following his orders.
“Why?” he asked, before he could stop himself.
“Why? Because – well, because when you’re not ghosting me, you’re the one person who’s actually honest with me,” Gale said, looking a little confused. “You’ve never been anything but upfront with me. I know where I stand with you.”
Jesus, that was the absolute worst answer Gale could have given him.
“No, I’ve lied to you plenty,” he said, drawing his hand away from Gale and planting it firmly on his leg instead.
“Like when?” Gale asked, sliding off his seat and shuffling over to Astarion on his knees. “Tell me.”
“Well, for starters, that first night in New York,” Astarion said. He did his best to ignore the thumping in his chest as Gale knelt next to him. “When I said I would help you cruise. I did it entirely to get in your pants.”
“Oh. Well. That’s rather flattering, in a way.”
“You’re not supposed to think that,” Astarion said, leaning back in the kitchen chair. “And I lied about why I first came to your apartment. I didn’t just turn up on a whim. I did it because – because my boss –“
He couldn’t put it into words. That would mean admitting to Gale what he’d been doing.
“You said you wanted safety, that time,” Gale said softly, his hands slowly running up and down Astarion’s thighs. “Can I assume something about the nature of your relationship with your boss?”
“It’s over,” Astarion said quickly. He didn’t know why he told Gale. It felt important to tell him for some reason. “Cazador and I had an agreement. I ended it.”
“Seems wise,” Gale said softly. “From the little I can glean, it wasn’t the healthiest.”
“And ours is?” Astarion said defensively.
“Ours could be.” His hands paused a little too high on his thighs. “Any other fibs you’ve been feeding me?”
“I did tell Dalyria you were being needy,” Astarion admitted in a small voice. “But it was only because I didn’t want to tell her what we were actually doing. She’d kill me if she knew.”
“Somehow I doubt she’d be thrilled with either of us,” Gale said. His hands squeezed the muscle of his thighs slightly. “Well, I think that clears all those up.”
It didn’t. It really didn’t. But it was nice to feel Gale’s hands on him again. He was addicted to them. The whiskey was warm in his chest as Gale looked up at him with those wide wet eyes of his.
“I suppose it does,” he said instead. He could think about that after. Right now, he just needed Gale.
He leant forward, pressing his lips to Gale’s, the whiskey sweet on both their tongues.
He could feel Gale melting under his touch. He put his hand on Gale’s neck, holding him in place as he deepened the kiss. He had control, sweet, all encompassing control over the man at his feet, and for the first time in days he felt the fear hanging over his head abate for just a moment.
Even though it wasn’t the only thread of control he held over Gale.
No, he couldn’t think about that. Not now.
He pulled Gale up to his feet, holding him at his nape. Gale leant over him, hands on the back of the kitchen chair. His knee found its way between Astarion’s, keeping his balance. His body blocked the harsh kitchen light as Astarion’s eyes closed, as he pulled Gale closer, his warmth seeping into his very bones.
“This cannot be comfortable for you,” Gale mumbled against his mouth, not quite willing to break the kiss. “My knee is already grousing.”
“So considerate,” Astarion replied, grinning as Gale’s kisses moved from his mouth to his neck. “You’re right, there are much better surfaces to make use of. I’d always thought you’d look very fetching on your back on a sturdy enough table.”
“This is a shared apartment, Astarion, I can take you to bed or you can go home,” Gale said, mouthing at his neck.
“The bed is fine –“
With a strength Astarion didn’t know Gale possessed, he suddenly hoisted him up out the chair, hands under his thighs. His legs automatically hooked over Gale’s hips as he grabbed onto his shoulders.
Then his assumptions about Gale’s lack of strength proved correct, because Gale staggered slightly, slamming Astarion back down into the chair with a groan.
“You’re heavier than you look,” he said defensively, as Astarion burst out laughing, legs akimbo from his graceless landing.
“Don’t worry, darling, I’m sure I can make the arduous walk to your bedroom by yourself,” he said, getting to his feet and giving Gale’s cheek a little pat. “Unless you’re concerned I might swoon? Faint before I even arrive?”
“Is this what I get for trying to impress you?” Gale said with a sigh, trailing behind Astarion.
“You don’t have to impress me,” he said a little more earnestly than he meant to, reaching out to grab Gale’s wrist and drag him round to sit in front of him on the bed.
“Because you are already impressed?” Gale said, which would have been notably more seductive for him if his voice hadn’t cracked on the last word when Astarion sat right in his lap.
“Something like that, poppet.”
He kissed him again.
There was nothing like Gale’s taste. He should really stop trying to discern it and let it be what it was. There was something bittersweet to it now, he realised, as Gale’s hands pulled him in at the small of his back. This was going to be the last time he tasted it, if he had any sense.
Then again, when it came to Gale Dekarios, sense was something he seemed to lack entirely.
He didn’t realise just how tenderly he was cradling Gale’s face until Gale sighed happily into his mouth, lips parting to let him in. It was something he would have mocked Gale for when this sordid affair started, yet here he was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held someone like this. And the only person who had ever held him that way in return was sneaking his hands under his shirt to touch the skin of his sacrum.
“Eager little pup,” he teased, pushing Gale’s face back away from him.
“You are not allowed to judge me,” Gale said, looking up at him. “For the past few days I was under the impression that this was lost to me forever. Who knows when I would find another like you?”
“What, another broken down and tired old slut –“
“Don’t.” He felt Gale’s hands tighten slightly on his back. “You are none of those things.”
Did he have to be so honest all the time? It did nothing but put Astarion on the back foot. He settled for kissing Gale again, because shutting him up was better than making him see the truth.
He pushed open his cardigan, his fingers beginning to work on the buttons of his shirt. If he could get to the warm expanse of his chest, he could lose himself in that as well.
“Touch my nipples and I’ll throw you out the window,” Gale muttered a little petulantly.
“You’re no fun,” Astarion teased back, slipping his hands under the shirt and wrapping his arms under Gale’s. He felt Gale’s hands pause at his waist, fingers just brushing against the top of his slacks. “Go ahead, darling. You don’t have to ask permission every time.”
Gale gave him a look that Astarion pretended he didn’t understand, before sliding his hands below Astarion’s clothes.
“God, you have such a nice arse,” he murmured to himself.
Astarion snorted, wiggling his hips slightly so Gale could get a good handful. Gale’s eyes snapped up, his cheeks blushing furiously.
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he said quickly.
“Darling, you had your face buried in it not that long ago, I did assume you were a fan,” Astarion replied lightly, brushing his nose against Gale’s. Gale sighed, smiling sheepishly up at him.
“Yes, well, that was quite the experience in itself.” He leant in, kissing lightly at Astarion’s neck. Then the kisses grew a little warmer, a little more desperate. “I have thought about it every night since.”
“Even when you were mad at me?” Astarion asked, his hands gripping slightly at the back of Gale’s shoulders.
“Especially when I was angry with you,” Gale murmured. Astarion felt him suck slightly at his neck, and he shivered, a jolt of heat firing down his spine. “I considered calling you over here earlier so I could throw you down onto this bed and show you just how wrong you were for casting me aside.”
“I wasn’t casting –“
Whatever lie Astarion was about to tell was lost in a moan as Gale grabbed hard at his backside, rolling him in a smooth motion onto his back. The bed creaked alarmingly underneath them. Gale pulled his hands out to grab at Astarion’s thighs, forcing his hips up, pushing his legs apart to make room.
He shouldn’t like this. He shouldn’t like Gale manhandling him. But damn it if he didn’t trust every move he was making.
“You will stop lying to me, Astarion,” Gale said quietly, propping himself up by his arms and looking down at Astarion. “Please. I cannot take anyone else I thought cared about me lying.”
Astarion’s breath caught in his throat.
“No more lies,” he replied softly. Which was technically true.
Gale’s mouth was on him again, tongue running over his as they stripped each other down. Gale laughed as Astarion got his arm stuck in his sleeve, the sound deep and rich in the quiet of the flat. It helped Astarion lose himself in the feeling of it once more.
But then Gale moved away from him, reaching for the top drawer of his bedside table, and Astarion didn’t want him to for even a moment. He grabbed at Gale’s arm.
“There isn’t anyone else,” he said. “Not, um, not anymore.”
Gale blinked at him, held in place by his hand and his thighs around his hips.
“Ah. Right. Well.” Gale cleared his throat. “You already know there isn’t for me either. And I assume you’ve been tested recently, if you’re…if you’re bringing this up?”
Astarion nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.
“Excellent. I mean, good. I myself had a complete panel done just after New York –“
“Because of me?”
“Condoms aren’t always completely effective,” Gale said a little evasively. “They only functionally provide eighty-six percent protection, when you account for human error. Not to mention we have never used any form of barrier protection during our oral activities.”
Astarion was really starting to question his taste in men.
“Gale,” he said with a sigh, “I’m asking you to fuck me raw, please don’t make me change my mind.”
“Right. Of course. Consider my mouth sealed.” Gale managed to free his hand from Astarion’s, retrieving the lube (and to Astarion’s relief, only the lube,) from his bedside table. “Until you have use for it, of course.”
That drew a sharp laugh from Astarion, as Gale smirked, popping the cap of the bottle and drizzling a generous amount over his fingers. He was about to retort when Gale kissed him again, drawing the slicked finger over his rim, and every thought he had went flying out of his mind in an instant.
There was an anticipation to this that Astarion had not felt in months. Years, even, if he was being honest. He had made some stupid decisions in his time. Had a few scares, a few close calls. But he had grown out of those. He insisted on protection, even when Cazador had wheedled and cajoled, because the fact of the matter was that he didn’t know who else was in his boss’ bed, and he was not going to put his health at risk for that prick.
And it wasn’t like he was innocent, either. He’d taken enough people home to know that.
But he didn’t want to bring anyone else to bed anymore. He and Cazador were done, at least in that regard. He had Gale. Sweet, soft, pliable Gale, and that was enough not to seek this from anyone else.
Perhaps soon he could get Gale to see for himself that he was enough, too.
Gale’s index finger breached him, pushing in just up to the first knuckle, and Astarion whimpered, trying to sit up just a little to kiss him again. He needed him close. He needed his weight on his chest, the curl of his finger, his hot breath on his ear.
Gale leant forward, pushing Astarion’s legs a little higher in the air as he kissed him again, his finger sliding in completely. Astarion moaned into the kiss, grabbing for Gale’s face to keep him close. He could feel Gale smiling, he knew he was being too needy, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to lose this. He could lose everything else and hang the consequences.
He could feel Gale’s cock harden as it brushed against his, and impulsively, he reached between them, wrapping his hand around both of them at the same time.
“Jesus, Astarion,” Gale groaned out, his finger curling a little harder. “I am trying to concentrate on the task at hand here.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Astarion replied. Gale’s slit was leaking already – he did like pleasing Astarion more than anything, didn’t he? – and Astarion’s hand slid along both of their shafts together. He watched with a detached fascination for a moment. They did look good together, for all their differences. Gale really was just the right length. He gave another experimental stroke and groaned at the friction, just as Gale pressed against his wall with his finger.
“Astarion,” Gale said through clenched teeth, “keep doing that and I won’t get to what you actually planned for us.”
“Hmm? Oh,” and he let go, absentmindedly lifting his hand to his lips to lick his palm. Gale retaliated by pushing in his middle finger as well. It punched out a shout from him, feeling his hole tighten from the shock of the sudden intrusion.
“Too much?” Gale said, suddenly looking worried, holding his hand still. Astarion shook his head, trying to grind down onto his hand, but Gale wasn’t moving.
“No, you’re good, you’re so good,” he said, his breath catching in his throat. “Keep going. Please keep going. I’m ready.”
“I told you to stop lying,” Gale said with a soft laugh, but his fingers started moving again, and Astarion moaned once more. He loved that he didn’t have to fake those noises with Gale. For all his lies and schemes, he could just let go and feel.
How could he have ever thought he could give this up?
He felt the muscle give around each expert scissor and hook of Gale’s fingers, felt himself open a little more each time.
And then he made the mistake of looking into Gale’s eyes.
Gale trusted him. He could see it. He was open and honest and everything that Astarion wasn’t, and suddenly being on his back felt too open, too vulnerable.
“I’m ready,” he said, trying to pull back. “Let me turn over. It’ll be more comfortable. You’ll get deeper.”
Gale frowned slightly at him, and Astarion felt himself tense up, just a little bit too tight.
“Astarion –“
“Let me,” he said softly, and Gale acquiesced, drawing his fingers out carefully. He kept them on Astarion’s hips as he got on all fours. This was fine. He’d still feel good this way. He just wouldn’t have to look at Gale and his stupid big eyes for a moment.
For a moment, he was empty, and he buried his head in the pillow just to centre himself, to prepare. Then he felt the familiar pressure against his hole – but it was still Gale’s fingers.
Astarion lifted his head to look over his shoulder at Gale, scowling.
“That was not what I meant,” he said.
“You aren’t ready,” Gale replied simply, beginning his maddeningly slow pumps of his fingers again. Astarion closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore just how good it felt.
“I know my body better than you do, Gale –“
A sharp curl at his prostate had Astarion groaning, gripping hard at the pillow under his head. And then Gale leant forward, and licked at him, once, twice, before pulling out his fingers and setting to work with his tongue.
“Fuck – fuck –“ He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped that might happen. Gale’s beard felt softer than the last time he’d done this, and Astarion couldn’t help but push his hips straight back into Gale’s face. He hated this position usually, but this? This was redeeming it very quickly in his eyes.
For a man that had only done this once before, Gale had apparently taken very quickly to rimming. He thankfully wasn’t spelling his name with his tongue this time around, Astarion just about had the presence of mind to notice. Instead, he had his hands on the muscles of Astarion’s arse, keeping them spread open as he licked and lapped, dipping his tongue into him in a way that made Astarion’s toes curl.
Gale pulled back, gasping for air as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Gale – please –“ Astarion panted. Jesus, he needed this. When did he start needing this so badly?
Gale leant over him, and Astarion felt a little of the panic that he always felt in this position rise in his chest. Gale wouldn’t hold him down, he knew that. Gale would listen if he told him to stop. But he didn’t have control like this, and the point of this was to have control –
“I’ve got you,” Gale said softly, pulling Astarion up so his back was flat against his chest. “Come here.”
He felt Gale pull him to sit on his lap, and looked over his shoulder. Gale was sitting back on his heels, hands on Astarion’s thighs to shift his legs, his feet resting either side of his knees.
“Like this,” he said softly. “I researched some more comfortable positions for us to experiment with. This is apparently called the Ice Cream.”
“You – Gale, did you Google this?” Astarion said, and the sheer absurdity of that notion snapped him from the budding fear in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m not answering that.”
“So, yes.”
Gale’s breath tickled in his ear as he laughed softly, one hand cupping Astarion’s chest as the other one reached to position himself.
“I suspect I won’t be able to hold this position for long,” he said softly, as Astarion felt his tip start to push inside. It drew a low moan from him as he realised he was far more in control like this. His hands clutched as Gale’s thighs as he gingerly lowered himself down, inch by inch.
Gale groaned right into his ear, and once Astarion was fully seated, wrapped his arms firmly around his midsection to hold him close.
Fuck, he had no idea this could be so intimate. Whenever anyone had taken him from behind before, Astarion had usually just drifted off, or looked at the walls, or made lists in his head to pass the time. But Gale was running his hands along the lines of his abdomen. Gale was kissing at his neck. Gale was keeping his hips still, letting Astarion set the pace.
And it was fucking glorious to feel him, hot and hard, nothing between them. Astarion very quickly found that rocking his hips kept the tip of Gale’s cock right on his prostate, and Jesus, he wasn’t prepared for the pleasure it afforded him like this.
He had no idea what noises he was making, and he didn’t care.
And then Gale’s hand wrapped around his cock, slick with lube and his own precum, and Astarion knew he was completely and utterly lost.
He spent himself over Gale’s fingers with a broken shout, shuddering against him, his hands holding so tight onto his thighs he was bound to leave bruises.
Gale carefully guided him onto his side, still inside him, wrapped around his back as he spooned him on the bed.
“Keep going,” Astarion said in a small, breathless voice. “You haven’t finished yet, keep going.”
“In a moment,” Gale murmured back. “It’ll be too much for you. I can wait.”
Thank fuck he was facing away from him, because a rogue tear broke loose and rolled down Astarion’s nose. Was it really that simple? After all these years? That someone would wait for him to be comfortable?
“Fine,” he said thickly. “But you have to finish in me. It’s only fair.”
He felt Gale twitch at that, tried his best not to wince at the overstimulation. Gale managed to still his hips, still kissing gently at his neck, still holding him close.
“A bargain I can get behind,” he replied, “if you’ll pardon the pun.”
“I hate you.” He didn’t.
Astarion lost track of how long they laid together like that, but when he regained a little bit of his senses, when it felt good to move rather than overwhelming, he pushed back against Gale.
“How do you want me?” came Gale’s response.
All the time. Every way imaginable.
“Let me get on top.”
Gale held onto his hips to pull out, excruciatingly slow, and Astarion’s cock twitched. As Gale laid back, Astarion quickly straddling him, he reached to take Gale’s hand and placed it firmly on his shaft.
“Again?” Gale said, looking up at him with an adorably surprised expression.
“Some of us are still young and virile, what can I say?” Astarion replied, his confidence returning with the power of his new position.
Gale didn’t retort. He didn’t smack at him. He just groaned as Astarion sank his hips back down.
“God, you’re so tight,” he moaned. “Did I prepare you enough? Please tell me if it’s too much –“
“You’re perfect,” Astarion said without thinking, eyes closing as he rocked his hips, letting Gale thrust up into him.
“I think – hah – I think that’s your sex addled brain talking,” Gale replied, starting to pant as he stroked Astarion’s shaft in time to their movements. It only occurred to Astarion then what he’d said. But he had no desire to correct himself.
“No, you’re perfect,” he gasped instead, because he wanted to say it again, as Gale’s hand moved faster, his hips starting to buck more erratically. “You’re kind and you’re sweet and you’re finally growing a spine – and god, your cock feels so fucking good – and I need you to come, Gale, I need you to come inside me, please –“
He was begging, riding Gale harder than he’d ever tried with anyone before, and he didn’t care. He had to feel it. He had to finally have someone who thought he was worth a damn, because then he was worth something.
“I can – I can come in you, I can do that,” Gale said, holding tight to Astarion’s hip to fuck up into him as his other hand stroked faster and faster. The lube on his cock was drying out, and Astarion was about to reach over to toss it to him, but Gale just let go and spat into his palm, the way he’d chastised Astarion for the very first time they’d done this, and it was filthy and raw and perhaps Astarion had influenced him as much as Gale had in return –
As soon as Gale’s spit slick hand pumped at him once more, he came again, barely anything coming out as he jerked erratically. He felt his hole grip so tight onto Gale’s cock he could barely move, and Gale followed him into his own orgasm, with a harsh cry of Astarion’s name.
Astarion fell forward, his head resting in the crook of Gale’s neck. He could feel Gale’s release slowly dripping out of him as the movement caused them to shift apart, and he couldn’t help but smirk slightly against the other man’s neck as he felt just how much of it there was. He shifted, lay horizontally on Gale to stop it, clenching slightly. It was probably daft, but he wanted to keep it inside of him for as long as he could.
Gale groaned as Astarion flattened himself on top of him, but he wrapped his arms around him all the same. They were both hideously sweaty, the room thick with the scent of sex, but Astarion didn’t care.
“Perfect, am I?” Gale asked breathlessly.
Astarion nodded. He had promised to stop lying to him, after all.
Notes:
Yeah, this chapter got away from me in the best way. I swear Astarion’s going to come clean (hah) soon. Ish. Probably. 60k words and he’s only marginally less of a disaster.
Find me on tumblr here.
Chapter 18
Notes:
CW
Astarion has a panic attack. Starts at “the things that I’m doing” and ends at “Astarion’s heart started to slow.”
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“You have to let me go, Gale.”
Gale’s response was a muffled groan of disagreement, his face buried into Astarion’s neck. They hadn’t moved for a solid twenty minutes, Gale’s hands smoothing over Astarion’s back as Astarion played lazily with his hair. He was still lying on top of him.
He was starting to doze off, and that was dangerous. He’d stayed too long already. Thankfully, Gale had already provided him with the perfect excuse to leave.
“I have to feed your cat,” Astarion continued, trying to push himself upright, but Gale held on a little tighter. “Gale. You’re starving poor Tara. Think of her, darling.”
“Ah. My one weakness.”
Gale very reluctantly released Astarion from his clutches. Astarion stood on shaking legs, clenching his buttocks as hard as he could as he waddled to his bedroom door. It thankfully wasn’t too far to the little bathroom, and considering it was just the two of them, Astarion had no qualms about padding naked through the flat.
He heard Gale chuckle softly behind him.
“Shut up,” he griped, swiping Gale’s towel as he closed the bedroom door behind him. “I’m just trying to be a good houseguest and not dribble on your kitchen floor.”
“Must you always be so crass?” Gale called out, but Astarion could hear the fond tone laced through the words.
He had cleaned himself up to the best of his abilities and was washing his hands when he heard the front door open.
“Gale?” An unfamiliar voice called out. She sounded older, a hint of an accent that Astarion couldn’t quite place. “Could you give me a hand with these bags? I brought you a few things ahead of next week and Karlach said you’d be in.”
“Mamá?!”
Oh, shit.
“Gale, please hurry up, I’m an old woman and these bags are heavy,” the voice that was apparently Gale’s mother sighed. Astarion knelt on the floor, peering through the gap at the bottom of the door to try and catch a glimpse.
He could just about make out some expensive looking boots under a long, flowing skirt. Some Waitrose bags appeared in his line of vision, filled with what looked to be various sized Tupperware.
“I, ah, I’m not dressed, Mamá.”
“How can you not be dressed? It’s only 6! You cannot be getting ready to sleep already.” There was a pause, and a beautifully manicured hand reached down to retrieve a few of the containers. Astarion heard the fridge open. “Oh, kalé mou. You haven’t spent another day in bed, have you?”
“No, Mamá,” and Gale’s bedroom door opened, Gale’s feet now appearing in Astarion’s vision. “Now just isn’t a good time –“
“Have you been working out? Why are you so sweaty?”
Astarion had to try very hard not to laugh at that, quickly standing up and stuffing the corner of a towel into his mouth. He could hear Gale spluttering a terrible excuse.
“Put these away, I’m going to use your bathroom.”
“Ah, Mamá, you can’t,” and he heard Gale quickly running to stand in front of the bathroom door. “It’s, um, broken.”
There was a very long pause.
“Be honest with me, kalé mou,” his mother said in a hushed whisper. “Is there a girl in your bathroom you don’t want me to know about?”
“Not exactly,” came Gale’s sheepish response.
“Is there a boy?”
Nothing got past Gale’s mother, it seemed.
“Well, so long as you’re being safe,” she continued, as she took Gale’s silence as confirmation. “How did you meet this one?”
This one?!
“Mamá, contrary to the lies Karlach tells you, there is not a parade of people in and out of my bedroom.”
“Don’t change the subject, Gale.”
Astarion heard Gale heft a beleaguered sigh that was usually reserved for him.
“It’s a long story, but we met in New York –“
“Gale Dekarios, you have been seeing someone since your trip to New York and it hasn’t occurred to you to tell me?!”
Astarion snickered audibly this time. Gale’s mother knew he was there. No point trying to stay quiet any longer. And any embarrassment he felt, Gale was no doubt feeling tenfold.
Not that he really wanted to meet Gale’s mother at this precise moment in time, but with all the grief Gale had given him earlier, it was fun to hear him squirm.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Gale’s mother said rather haughtily. “Hopefully you’ll deign to let me meet this mysterious friend of yours in future?”
“It’s not like that, Mamá,” Gale said under his breath, but Astarion still heard it as two sets of feet walked away from the bathroom door.
For some reason, the words stung. Astarion didn’t even think he’d ever meet Gale’s mother. He didn’t know anything about her. He was just sleeping with her son, that was all. He had no reason to meet her. But hearing Gale categorically dismiss the idea was more painful than he wanted to admit.
“Is it safe to come out, darling?” he called out as he heard the front door to the flat close.
“Just about,” Gale replied, and Astarion unlocked the bathroom door, Gale’s towel wrapped snugly around his hips. Gale was in a pair of basketball shorts (why in the hell did the man own basketball shorts?) and an Imperial t-shirt pulled haphazardly on. There were already small sweat stains forming under his arms.
I did that, Astarion thought a little possessively.
“Nice shorts,” he said instead, taking off the towel to flick it at Gale’s leg. Gale tutted as he dodged the impromptu attack, but Astarion caught the little blush on his face. “Really, Gale? You’ve seen me naked enough times now, surely. You’ve had this dick in your mouth just as often –“
He was cut off by Gale grabbing the end of the towel, tugging Astarion into his arms.
“You are a terrible man,” he said, firmly wrapping the towel back around Astarion’s waist. “Did you have to be so obvious? I will never hear the end of this from my mother.”
“Well, as we previously agreed, you wouldn’t introduce a fuckbuddy to her,” Astarion replied, trying to wriggle out of Gale’s hands, “so what do you have to worry about?”
The words came out a little bit more spitefully than he meant them to. Gale frowned slightly at him.
“I’m sorry, did you want to meet her? In this state?”
“Obviously not, but I – it’s not – oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m not having this conversation naked,” Astarion said, pushing Gale back so he could stomp into his bedroom and retrieve his clothes. Gale trailed behind him, leaning on the doorframe as Astarion hunted for literally anything that would make him feel less exposed. “Make yourself useful, darling, find my briefs –“
“No.”
The short answer seemed to surprise Gale as much as it did Astarion. They both stared at each other across the small space, Astarion frozen as he reached for his shirt that had somehow been thrown over the lamp.
“Gale, pet, I’m not going commando on the Tube,” he finally managed to quip. “It’s filthy enough as it is. God knows what you’ll pick up off me in future.”
“Astarion, stop it,” Gale said heavily, running a hand through his sex-mussed hair. “You’re deflecting and you know it.”
Gale was clearly going to be no help, Astarion decided. He tutted and resumed looking for his clothes.
“I don’t understand you,” Gale continued, Astarion steadfastly refusing to pay any attention to him. “You want something casual, then you tell me not to leave. You block me out of nowhere, you won’t tell me why, and then you reappear as if I’m just supposed to forgive you, no questions asked. You’ve told me time and time again this isn’t serious, now we’re exclusively sleeping together and you’re disappointed you didn’t meet my mother? What the fuck do you want from me?!”
“I don’t know!” Astarion burst out, finally turning to face him. He spotted his briefs on the desk just by Gale’s hip. Snatching them up, he pulled them on with a scowl on his face. “But isn’t it nice? Not to know?”
“No! No, it isn’t!”
Astarion scoffed at that, sitting on the bed to pull on his chinos.
“It doesn’t have to be anything, Gale, it can just be whatever this is,” he said, as if that solved everything. Buttoning up his shirt, he rescued his phone and wallet from under the bed. “We don’t have to go steady or whatever old-fashioned nonsense you’re daydreaming of.”
“That is not what I’m asking for,” Gale said, blocking the doorway to stop Astarion leaving. “I am asking for some clarity. I don’t think that is too heinous a request.”
“I told you, I don’t know,” Astarion said, trying to shove past him, but Gale had both a height and size advantage and held fast. He huffed, sitting heavily down on the bed. “Like I said, you make me want to be a better person. Do you know how terrifying that is? With the things that I’ve done – the things that I’m doing –“
Fuck. Fuck. He was not going to cry. He had control over this. What they had was casual. He was just emotional from the sex, from the shock of almost being walked in on by Gale’s mother, from all the secrets he was keeping for his own benefit.
He screwed his eyes shut as his throat began to constrict. Not now. He was going to breathe through this, he was not going to have a stupid fucking panic attack in front of Gale of all people, he was fine, he was fine.
He felt the bed sink slightly next to him.
“What can I do?” Gale asked quietly. He sounded too far away.
Astarion tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“Alright, alright, just focus on breathing for now,” Gale said. He didn’t try and touch him. Thank god, because Astarion didn’t know exactly what was where on his body right now, and the thought of being touched made him feel sick. “Can you do that? You aren’t in danger here, Astarion. When you’ve grounded yourself a little, you can go. I won’t make you stay.”
Anyone else and Astarion would have punched them for being patronising, but something about the tone of Gale’s voice eased the tightness of his chest.
“Is this helping?” Gale asked him. “You can nod if you don’t want to speak yet.”
Astarion nodded, rubbing at his chest as the panic began to fade.
“Thanks,” he croaked out. “Just…just don’t touch me yet. Please.”
“I won’t,” Gale said softly. Reaching behind him, he grabbed his pillow, handing it to Astarion. He immediately clutched it to his chest.
“I need to feed your stupid cat,” he mumbled into it.
“Tara will survive another few minutes without her dinner,” Gale said. “I’ll order you an Uber back to yours. Take your time.”
Astarion’s heart started to slow, his breathing evening out. He didn’t look up from the pillow.
“Stop being so nice to me,” he said petulantly. “It makes me want to be nice back.”
That drew a chuckle from Gale.
“Shan’t,” he said, and he shuffled a little closer. Still not touching him, but enough that Astarion could feel his body heat. “Let’s talk about this properly another time. Perhaps after the hearings are done and we’re both in less emotional places.”
Like you’ll still want to talk to me then. Astarion nodded.
**
Gale
I see from the tracker you made it home with no issues.
Astarion
Stalker
I know the hearing is on Friday, but you’ll be alright if I don’t come with you, right?
Might look a bit odd and Dal would definitely ask questions
I don’t mind coming over the night before if you’d want though
Gale
Of course I understand. I do not particularly relish the idea of an interrogation from Dalyria either.
And I would appreciate it, thank you. But if it’s all the same to you, given our last conversation, I would prefer if you came over as a friend. I am not in the headspace for benefits right now. And if you don’t mind me saying, I don’t think you are either.
Astarion
You are such a big girl’s blouse
Thanks.
Notes:
This chapter took a little longer because my full intention was to have Astarion talk about his feelings and instead he had a breakdown. The writing does what it wants, I guess.
Find me on tumblr here.
Chapter 19
Notes:
CW
Astarion remembers when he obtained the scars on his back. Veiled reference to sexual assault attempt and injury/burns. Starts at “tentatively, Astarion stood, walking over to kneel at her feet” and finishes at “ “Dal,” he said, his lip quivering.”
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Astarion rubbed at his eyes as he stared at his computer screen. He’d finished the last of the set up with time to spare. It had been arduous, and he was bound to basically double his month’s salary with the amount of overtime he’d put in. But he wasn’t going to get caught. Nobody was ever going to know what he’d done. He wasn’t going to risk being struck off.
Across his desk, Mystra was sat ramrod straight, looking at him as if he was about to solve all of her problems. She was in an all black suit today, tailored perfectly to her slim frame, a slinky bralette in place of a shirt. Her hair practically blended into the velvet.
He finished saving everything to a USB, and handed it over to her.
“The details of everything are on here,” he said, his tone flat. “It goes without saying that nobody can know the contents of this drive.”
More for his sake than hers, really, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.
“You have my thanks,” Mystra said, tucking the USB into the side pocket of her purse. “Mr Szarr tells me you’ve worked overtime on this. I appreciate your hard work.”
Below the desk, in her carrier, Tara sneezed.
Astarion did his best to cover it with a cough, but Mystra raised an eyebrow at him. Right as he finished his very unconvincing spluttering, Tara chose the ensuing silence to meow very loudly. She clearly recognised her old mistress’ voice.
“Keeping an illicit stray under there, Mr Ancunín?” she asked, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. At least, Astarion thought it was. It was hard to tell when he’d never seen any emotion on her face but condescension.
He gave her a noncommittal shrug.
“You’ll have no judgement from me,” she said, holding her hands up as if in surrender. “I used to sneak our cat onto set on difficult days. She was a tremendous comfort to me.”
“Wasn’t she Gale’s cat?” Astarion asked, unable to stop the stab of irritation in his chest. The nerve of her, to sit here and pretend like she cared at all, when she’d spent weeks trying to steal Tara for herself and practically giving Gale a heart attack over it all.
To her credit, Mystra didn’t take offence to Astarion’s words or tone. She just sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair. She suddenly looked rather tired.
“Gale had Tara first, I grant you,” she said. “But we were together going on fifteen years. She was part of my life for that long too.” She started looking a little wistful. “And she has so many problems. I think I spent more on that cat than I did anything else in our marriage.”
“You know, if you weren’t trying to take all his money, Gale could probably afford to do the same,” Astarion said a little testily as he went back to pretending to work. This time, he saw her scowl at him out of the corner of his eye.
“Mr Ancunín, you are not privy to much of my private life,” she said, her tone matching his. “I have my reasons. I suggest you do your job instead of prying. Don’t make me regret thanking you.”
Astarion closed his mouth, as it set into a thin line. The nerve of this woman, to sit and act like she was the victim. When she was putting Gale through hell because she perceived his actions as a slight on her, instead of a misguided attempt to help. He would kill for someone, anyone, to love him as much as Gale had loved her, and she couldn’t even see it.
He set about deleting every trace of his wrongdoing from his computer. All the details Mystra needed to access the account were on her USB. If she lost it, well, more fool her. That wasn’t going to be his fault.
He stabbed at his keyboard as Mystra got up from her seat, her handbag in the crook of her elbow. The bitch could show herself out. He stayed resolutely in his chair.
“I did love him,” Mystra said suddenly. She was stood by the door, holding onto the handle without yet opening it. “But my career, my reputation, it’s everything to me, Mr Ancunín. I’m nothing without it. And his actions could have destroyed it. I can’t forgive him for that. Perhaps I’m being a little petty in taking Tara too. I just… I need him to regret doing what he did. I don’t want him to have anything of mine.”
Please, you would have been fine. But Astarion wasn’t supposed to know any of that. So he just nodded stiffly without looking up.
Mystra let herself out of his office, closing the door carefully behind her. Tara meowed reproachfully at Astarion’s feet.
“Don’t you start,” he muttered, reaching down to undo the door of her carrier. She pawed at his legs until he scooped her up into his lap. “I’m on Gale’s side.”
Tara meowed at him again, and it felt like she was telling him off. He knew full well that if he was on Gale’s side, he wouldn’t have spent the past few days doing what he’d done.
How was he supposed to face Gale this evening? He knew he couldn’t skip out on the saddest party to ever take place – Karlach would probably track him down and beat the shit out of him, for starters – but he wasn’t sure he had it in him. Especially when he was supposed to be there as a friend and there wasn’t even the promise of a world class blow job to get him through the ordeal.
But he had promised to be there for him. And he was trying to be better. God, it was going to be so much easier once the divorce hearings were done and he could pretend none of it had ever happened. He could go back to fucking Gale without worrying about the ethical consequences every five minutes.
He packed up his things, waiting until he saw Cazador leave to deposit Tara back into her carrier and leave himself. Gale was bound to be a bit of a downer this evening. Perhaps a surprise visit would do him some good.
When he arrived at The Tower, he took a moment to steel himself at the door before pressing the buzzer. He was here to help Gale. How altruistic of him, to be here without the promise of sex.
He tried not to think too hard about how that was actually quite nice.
He pressed the buzzer for Gale’s flat, and Gale buzzed him in without even checking. Idiot, he thought fondly as he headed for the lift. He could be anyone. The big bad wolf come to blow his house down.
The door to the flat was open as he stepped out. He could hear Wyll’s voice floating along the corridor.
“All I’m saying is I don’t know if he has anything good in his heart, let alone for you.”
Astarion stopped in his tracks in the doorway of the lift. Gale had told him that Wyll wasn’t exactly his biggest fan, but there was actual venom in his voice. He couldn’t even begrudge him it. It was a fair comment, given what he’d been putting Gale through. It felt a little unfair that he hadn’t even had the chance to defend himself to Wyll, though, especially when Wyll seemed to be casting aspersions on his very character.
“Wyll, don’t be a dick,” Karlach said crossly. “Fangs’ doing his best.”
“He can’t even give him a straight answer –“
“Wyll, please don’t start this again,” Gale said with a beleaguered sigh. “I told you, we will talk about it when things are calmer.”
“Will you? Or will he freak out at you again and leave you even more confused?”
He really should go. This was such a bad idea.
The lift beeped loudly at him for blocking the door, and he swore quietly, stepping out into the corridor. Karlach appeared at the doorway into the flat.
“Wotcha, Fangs,” she said, the cheeriness in her voice a little too forced. “Come join the most depressing house party in existence.”
“Are you sure I’m welcome?” Astarion said, looking past her to shoot Wyll a glare. “I’d hate to impose where I’m not wanted.”
Wyll scoffed, swirling red wine in his glass.
“We’re not doing that,” Karlach said firmly, throwing her arm around Astarion’s shoulder and dragging him inside, closing the door behind him. “We’re here for one thing and one thing only – getting Gale rat arsed so he looks extra sad at the hearing tomorrow and the judge takes pity on him.”
“That is not the plan, Karlach,” Gale said, sat at the kitchen table with an untouched glass of wine. His whole face softened as he saw what Astarion was carrying. “You didn’t.”
Astarion put the carrier down on the table, letting Tara out. She padded across to Gale, purring as loud as an engine as he picked her up and cradled her to his chest.
“If you get drunk enough, you might not even remember it,” Astarion supplied helpfully as Gale buried his face into the top of Tara’s head and inhaled deeply. Jesus, he was such a weirdo.
“Wonderful advice,” Wyll said sarcastically behind him. “Very responsible of you both.”
“Cut it out, babe,” Karlach said, passing Astarion a glass of his own. “We’re not here to snipe at each other. We’re here for our mate.”
“Thank you, Karlach,” Gale said, sounding more tired than Astarion had ever heard him. “Though tomorrow will be hideous regardless. I would rather not have to endure a hangover on top of everything else.”
“Might not be that bad,” Karlach said. She dragged a chair over to his side to tickle Tara under the chin. “Besides, you were saying you just want out with your salary and the cat. The judge’ll look favourably on that, surely?”
“Dalyria certainly seems to think so.”
As Astarion sipped at his wine, he tried his absolute hardest not to think about what tomorrow would bring. He was surprised it had been scheduled so quickly, but apparently the process had been expedited. Astarion suspected Cazador had a hand in it. The man was a magnet for corruption.
His mind drifted back to the innocuous little USB. With how much he was hiding for her, Mystra could very well push for spousal maintenance. Not only that, if she played her cards right, she could get it. Astarion could only hope the judge would be smart enough to notice that her lifestyle couldn’t exactly be funded by a film professor’s salary.
“Astarion.” Wyll’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Gale asked you a question.”
Self-righteous prick. His earlier goodwill for Wyll was very quickly fading with how snide he was being. Astarion didn’t bother to hide how hard he rolled his eyes as he came back to reality.
“Come again, darling?” he said smoothly to Gale. Wyll tutted.
“Can you leave Tara here tonight?” Gale asked in a small voice. “I know it’s a big ask, but –“
“Gale, you know he can’t,” Karlach said gently, putting her arm around Gale’s shoulders. “Don’t make it harder on yourself, magic man.”
Gale nodded, biting his lower lip to stop it trembling.
Impulsively, Astarion reached across the kitchen table, palm outstretched.
“I would,” he said. He almost didn’t recognise how soft his own voice was. “If it was up to me, poppet, I absolutely would. But Dal would have so many questions.”
Gale’s palm was sweating when he took Astarion’s hand. Tara was dozing already on his chest, supported by Gale’s other arm.
Karlach shot Wyll a dirty look as Gale smiled shakily at Astarion. With a put upon sigh, Wyll sat at Gale’s other side, putting a hand on Karlach’s on his shoulder.
“We’re all here for you, Gale,” Karlach said, scratching behind Tara’s ear. “Now come on. This is making me sad, it’s so depressing. Put some music on and we’ll get absolutely fucking trollied.”
“Some of us have work tomorrow, darling, but I’ll stay for a drink,” Astarion said, lifting Gale’s hand to his lips impulsively to kiss the knuckles. Karlach snorted at him as Gale blushed.
“Like a prince of old,” Wyll said drily, patting Gale’s shoulder before taking out his phone. Astarion wasn’t surprised at all when he started a playlist made entirely of music released before he was even born.
He kept his mouth shut, though. It wouldn’t do to start a fight with Wyll while Gale was this on edge.
“Come on, dance with me,” Karlach said, and Astarion suddenly found himself hauled onto his feet, Karlach spinning him on the spot before pulling him close in a ballroom hold. It felt wildly strange to terribly waltz to All Along the Watchtower. He did his best to follow her, but it was obvious that Karlach didn’t have a clue what she was doing.
“I see all those ballroom lessons are paying off,” Gale said drily, standing up with a grunt as his knees cracked. He bobbed Tara back and forth in his arms who bore it with a remarkable tolerance that Astarion hadn’t seen her show anyone else.
Karlach flipped him off and tried to dip Astarion at the same time, promptly dropping him on the kitchen floor. He landed with a soft oof on the linoleum. Wyll laughed. The corners of Gale’s mouth twitched.
“Oops, sorry, Fangs,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.
As Wyll put his glass down, pulling Karlach into his arms, Gale offered Astarion a hand to get up. Karlach made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a giggle, a noise that did not match her at all. Astarion took Gale’s hand, but when he got to his feet, he kept him close, his arms draped over his shoulders. Tara purred happily between them.
God Only Knows came next (Wyll had the soul of a sixty year old, clearly), and they swayed awkwardly side to side, Tara occasionally butting at Astarion’s chin with the top of her head.
“I do appreciate you coming, you know,” Gale said softly, his spare hand flexing at Astarion’s hip. “You didn’t have to.”
“Don’t be stupid, darling, of course I did,” he replied, ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck. “You asked.”
As if everything was that simple. Perhaps if Astarion said these things often enough, they’d be true. He’d forget everything he’d done to Gale, and would only have to think of the things he did for him instead.
Wyll was singing along to the speaker, twirling Karlach effortlessly and dipping her much more elegantly than she’d managed with Astarion.
“Are they always that disgusting?” he asked Gale, who just laughed.
Between the four of them, they polished off a good three bottles of red wine and the rest of the Jameson’s Astarion had bought the week before. Astarion tickled Tara under her chin as he and Gale moved a little more drunkenly. Gale did his best to keep it together and failed miserably.
“She’ll be back with you by next week,” Astarion said, but Gale shook his head.
“The building management here doesn’t allow pets, remember?” he said sadly. “A fact that I’m sure is going to come up tomorrow. She’d be headed back to my mother’s until I can find a place I can afford.”
Astarion didn’t have a response for that, so he leant against the side of Gale’s chest, the two of them swaying as they pet Tara in unison.
At around half nine, Astarion made his excuses, peeling Tara away from Gale to put her in her carrier. Thankfully, she was fast asleep. Gale did not take it as well as she did. His eyes were wide and wet as he stared pathetically at Astarion.
“Darling, you’ll figure it out,” he said softly, hoisting the carrier under his arm. Karlach wrapped an arm around Gale’s shoulders again as Wyll opened the door. “Dal’s going to get you a hell of a settlement. You’ll be on your feet again in no time.”
The lie almost stuck in his throat, but it came out in a convincing enough manner that Gale nodded.
Thankfully, with it being a Thursday night, the Tube wasn’t too hideous. He managed to dodge someone being sick on his shoes, and Tara hissed at a scruffy looking dog sat opposite them who regarded her with nothing but mild indifference. He just wanted to collapse on his couch and try not to think about tomorrow. He would have to sit in his office alone for the first time in weeks; Dalyria had been told to keep Tara at her office until the custody issue was resolved. Astarion was surprised to find he was already dreading the quiet without Tara’s snoring to break the silence.
When he finally arrived home, Dalyria was bent almost double over the kitchen table. Her hair was haphazardly thrown up and kept in place with a pen. She looked up as he opened the door. Astarion had already lied in advance and said he was having drinks at a coworker’s house.
“How was the party?” she asked, stretching at the kitchen table with a yawn. The papers in front of her rustled. Astarion caught a glimpse; it looked to be bank accounts and legal statements.
“It wasn’t a party, really, just catching up with friends,” he said, taking Tara out of her carrier so he could sit on the sofa with her. He navigated through their streaming services to put on Dirty Dancing. He needed it.
“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just working through the night here for the biggest case of my life tomorrow,” Dal said with a mock scowl, rolling her eyes. Without looking at her, Astarion flipped her off, settling Tara into his lap.
They lapsed into a very tense silence. Dalyria was clearly trying to focus on her work, as much as she was dying to ask him every question she was likely thinking of. Astarion let himself escape into the Catskills. Maybe he’d go there one day. Scrape together his meagre savings and summer there. He wondered if Gale could dance. Perhaps they could drive out to the lake and he could throw Astarion around in the water.
“Okay, talk to me,” Dal said, flopping down on the sofa next to Astarion and interrupting his thoughts. Tara hopped up into her usual spot, sprawled over Astarion’s shoulders like a mangy fur wrap. She set to dribbling on his cashmere again. He wondered if he could send Mystra the bills for all his dry cleaning if she was so insistent on paying for everything Tara did.
“Nothing to talk about,” he said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the screen. “Hush up. I’m watching this.”
“You’re watching Dirty Dancing for the third time this week,” Dalyria replied exasperatedly, gesturing at where Baby and Johnny were rolling on the floor to Love is Strange. “Something’s going on with you. This is a new low even for you.”
“It’s work. I can’t talk about it.”
Dalyria sighed, reaching over his shoulder to scratch between Tara’s ears. Astarion leant into her side. He hadn’t had anyone hug him for days. And that was normal, before, but now his and Gale’s whatever-it-was was on hiatus, he found himself craving human contact. Ridiculous.
To her credit, Dalyria didn’t point out how odd it was that he was doing this. She just kept petting Tara to offer him the pretence.
“You told Cazador you were done, right?” she asked him gently. “I can’t see you being that upset about that.”
“Oh, trust me, I am ecstatic I don’t have to bow to his every sexual whim anymore,” Astarion said with a sigh. “I just wish that didn’t come with its own complications.”
He knew that would be enough for Dal. She’d worked under Cazador long enough when she’d been with the firm to know that nothing the man did was without its own machinations. He didn’t have to tell her the specifics.
“If it helps, this Rhyl case is doing my head in,” Dal said with a sigh. She readjusted on the sofa, pulling her legs up underneath her. “I hired that forensic accountant. He’s costing me a fortune that I’m praying the settlement will cover. I know there’s money unaccounted for, but he can’t find it anywhere. It’s like it just vanished.”
“I’m good at my job, darling,” Astarion said without thinking, too engrossed in the film.
It didn’t even occur to him what he’d said until Dalyria sat bolt upright, jostling Tara, who dug her claws painfully into Astarion’s shoulders. Both he and the cat hissed.
“What do you mean by that, Astarion?” Dalyria asked him, backing away from him. She grabbed for the remote, pausing the film as Neil suggested doing the pachenga.
The world dropped out from underneath him.
Fuck. Fuck. He’d been so careful, all this time, and his stupid mouth had gone and dropped him in it. His blood was roaring in his ears, the sound mixed with Tara’s grumbling as she tried to rearrange herself on his shaking shoulders. He needed to look normal. He tried to school his features, but Dalyria knew him too well. She’d already caught the fear in his eyes.
“Nothing,” he said, though his voice cracked slightly. “Just a figure of speech.“
His treacherous voice petered out.
“Oh, my god, you’re involved, aren’t you?” She hurried to the kitchen table, frantically starting to pack away papers. “That’s why my guy can’t find anything. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything, Dal, I promise!”
“Bullshit. Bullshit.” She stopped to rub at her eyes, pressing her palms hard into the sockets. “God damn it, Astarion, you’re better than this. Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Dal, you know I can’t,” he said. Tara grew tired of his trembling, scrambling down his arm to sit on the sofa instead. His shirt was thin enough that he felt her claws dig into his skin. The pinpricks were the pain he deserved.
“But you’re doing something,” she pressed, and Astarion just nodded, because he was done lying to everyone he gave a shit about. Dalyria stuffed the papers into box files, her breath coming hard and fast. “And that’s why I’ve been coming up empty.”
She slammed the lid down, and the flimsy box fell apart from the force of it. Astarion went to stand, to help, but she flung her hand out.
“No, you – you stay there,” she said. Her voice caught. “You gave me this case, Astarion. Were you just – has Cazador just been fucking with me? This whole time?”
“No!” His reply was so forceful that Tara raised her head and hissed at him, startled. He winced, reaching down to scratch her back, and she settled into her cushion again. Would that everyone else in his life could be so easily placated. “No, I was only involved recently. I don’t know how he found out you were Gale’s lawyer. I just know he offered her my services when he did.”
Dalyria was gripping onto the back of her kitchen chair so hard her knuckles were visible from where Astarion was sat.
“I swear to god, Astarion, if you’re lying to me,” she said through her teeth.
No more lying.
“I’m not,” he said quietly, looking down at Tara, who was falling asleep under his hand. “You know what he’s like, Dal.”
“Jesus, Astarion,” Dalyria finally said, pulling the kitchen chair out to sit heavily on it. “You need to go. I need to sort this. I don’t give a shit where, but you can’t be here.”
“Dal, please, you know I don’t have anywhere else to go –“
“You know, it’s bad enough you’ve done this to me, but Gale doesn’t deserve it,” she snapped, slamming her palm down on the table. “That woman has put him through hell, Astarion, you have no idea –“
“I do! I know exactly what she’s done!” Astarion retorted, the noise startling the words out of him. “I know she’s a controlling, selfish bitch who can’t stand that Gale tried to stand on his own two feet! I know about the failed pitch! I know about the tattoo, for Christ’s sake!”
“Why do you know any of that? You barely speak to him!”
“I’m fucking him, alright?!”
The words didn’t feel right even as he said them. They felt too vulgar. Like they didn’t encompass enough. Astarion didn’t have the capacity to think why right now.
He was expecting her to scream at him. To grab him by the ear and throw him out into the corridor. But instead, Dalyria laughed harshly, and it hurt so much more to hear just how disappointed she was in him.
“Of course you are,” she said, rubbing at her temples with her fingertips. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? Bad enough you’re so self-destructive, you have to take everyone down along with you. He deserves better than you, Astarion.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he said, and the honesty burnt in his throat. A terse silence fell, punctuated only by Tara’s snoring. Astarion could feel Dalyria’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t meet them. “He deserves the world, Dal. Instead he got me and the shitty end of the stick.”
Dalyria groaned. Her head thunked down onto the table, her hands on the nape of her neck.
“Cazador will kill you if he finds out you told me this,” she said, her voice muffled by the wood. “I know that, I do. It was bad enough last time you broke his rules.”
“That was an accident –“
“You can lie to yourself all you want, Astarion, but you’re done lying to me,” she said, tilting her head to see him. Astarion could see the water pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Why do you think I left?”
Tentatively, Astarion stood, walking over to kneel at her feet.
“He almost killed you, and you’re his favourite,” she continued. He waited for her to push him back, but she stayed where she was. “He told me exactly what to say to the paramedics while you were lying face down and screaming on his office floor. And then he told me I’d never work in this city again if I breathed a word about what I saw. That’s why I quit. Not because of anything he’d done to me.”
Astarion could still feel the coffee burning into his back as they both remembered. Cazador’s favourite. Large americano, splash of milk, extra hot. He’d been refusing to go under the desk, Cazador’s hand fisted in his hair, when his other had knocked the flimsy takeaway cup over him.
He didn’t remember much else about that day. He couldn’t even remember why he’d been refusing in the first place. He’d known better to refuse again in future. At least, until he’d finally broken things off.
“Dal,” he said, his lip quivering. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not me you should be apologising to,” she said, still face down. “What the fuck am I supposed to do about tomorrow, Astarion? It’s not like I have any proof. And I know you’re not about to say anything to anyone worth a damn.”
Astarion opened his mouth to disagree, then closed it again. What was he supposed to say? She was right. Besides, he’d deleted all the proof of his involvement. The only evidence left was in Mystra’s possession, and she was unlikely to have a change of heart anytime soon.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go, Dal,” he whispered instead. “Please. I’ll look for somewhere else, I will, but just let me stay until it’s all over.”
Finally, Dalyria lifted her head from the table, her cheeks streaked with mascara.
“Just get out of my sight,” she said brokenly. “So I can try to figure out how to fix this.”
Astarion bolted to his room.
Notes:
I hurt myself writing this. I promise it’ll get better.
I made a Spotify playlist for this, I hope it helps. You can also yell at me on Tumblr here.
Chapter Text
This was the stupidest idea Astarion had ever had.
Dalyria had left the flat at the crack of dawn. He was pretty sure she hadn’t actually gone to bed. He hadn’t heard her bedroom door open and shut at any point in the night.
And he had stayed up all night too, staring at his ceiling, guilt and self-loathing roiling in his gut. His sleep had never been brilliant in the first place, not since law school. If he was in bed with someone, he’d be too on edge to truly rest, and when he was alone, he couldn’t stop thinking.
Well. That wasn’t strictly true. He did sleep better when Gale’s back was pressed against him. He’d almost gotten accustomed to it recently. But the pillow he clutched at his chest was a poor substitute.
In a strange way, though, he did feel better for having said something. Dalyria would talk to him again eventually. They’d been through too much together for her not to.
He tried not to think about the fact she could easily afford this flat without him. That she’d only been keeping him around as a favour, and he’d repaid it by betraying her for a man he couldn’t stand and had to obey.
His room was eerily quiet as he pulled on his shirt, slowly buttoning it with trembling fingers. He’d grown so used to Tara’s snuffles and grunts that the absence of them was stifling. But Dalyria had already taken her to her office, ready to be picked up later by either party once a decision had been made. His bed looked too neat without her sprawled over the foot of it.
Once he was dressed, he grabbed his briefcase and coat and headed out into the drizzle. He flagged down a black cab outside the flat, holding the sides of his jacket over the side of his face as he tried to protect himself from the bitterly cold wind.
“Central Family Court,” he said gruffly. Then he practically heard Gale in his ear nagging him about the importance of good manners. “Please.” He closed his eyes. His new found politeness did not stretch to making small talk with the driver. He had his limits.
He had no idea what he was going to do when he got there. Talk to Gale, obviously, hopefully before Dalyria did. Beg his forgiveness, maybe. Offer to sit in the gallery during the hearing, just so Gale could see him. After all, Dalyria knew now. That was why he’d said he wouldn’t go in the first place. It didn’t matter that he was going to be late for work. Cazador could fucking suck an egg for all he cared right now.
The family court was a nondescript concrete building on the corner of High Holborn. Astarion had met Dalyria there often after one of her more difficult cases, sitting on the North Lawn Gardens in the summer with a bottle of whatever was cheapest at the M&S nearby and getting plastered, or sitting in The Old Red Lion opposite with pints when the weather was shit.
Today was an Old Red Lion day. If she’d still talk to him afterwards.
As the taxi pulled over, Astarion shoved a twenty pound note through to the driver, getting out without waiting for his change. He hurried inside, past the reception desk, through the building, searching through the corridors. It wasn’t a large building, and the man was chronically early to everything, he had to be here already –
“Astarion?”
Gale was sat in the waiting room, cradling a takeaway cup of coffee in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. He was dressed so smartly Astarion almost didn’t recognise him at first. He was wearing a grey suit, a crisp white shirt buttoned right up to his neck. His shoes were polished so brightly they looked more like mirrors than black leather. His usual glasses were replaced by a sleek frameless pair. Someone, probably Karlach, had scraped his hair back into a tight bun. His tie was a plain, dark purple.
All Astarion wanted to do was grab him by said tie to the closest courtroom and bring a whole new meaning to the phrase absolute discharge.
He shook his head to dislodge that particular thought, and sat down next to him instead.
“I needed to talk to you before Dal gets here,” he said instead. “It’s important.”
“Astarion, you shouldn’t be here,” Gale said, frowning. “If Dalyria sees you, she’ll have questions –“
“She knows.”
That shut Gale up faster than Astarion had ever managed before. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so terrified.
“Well,” Gale said slowly, “I suppose that’s probably for the best. It was rather difficult keeping that from her.”
He wasn’t supposed to be nice about this. It was making it harder to tell him the rest.
“That wasn’t what I came to tell you,” he said heavily, taking the seat next to Gale. “There was something else. The thing I couldn’t talk about.”
“I thought we said this could wait until after the hearing,” Gale said with a sigh. “You really do have quite the sense of timing, Astarion.”
“It’s to do with the hearing,” Astarion said. He fiddled with the seam of his trousers for something to do with his hands. “Dal’s going to tell you anyway, probably. I…I want you to hear it from me.”
He took a deep breath, and told Gale everything.
The words fell out of him like molten silver, smooth and viscous and hot. He told him about the shell company, how he’d covered his tracks to make everything undetectable. How Dalyria would never be able to prove it. How it was all in his name, expertly crafted so that Gale would never see a penny of Mystra’s money and likely be liable for support. How Mystra wanted to take everything from him, and Astarion had helped her move that step closer.
He told him about Cazador. All of it. How he’d held his job over him as the carrot and used their sexual relationship as the stick.
He’d done so much to ruin him, he realised, as he kept talking and talking. What kind of a man was he, to do this to someone as kind as Gale? Not a good one, that was for certain. To use someone to satisfy his own cravings and then conspire against them in practically the same breath.
He didn’t want to be this person anymore.
Once he’d started, he found, it was like he couldn’t stop. With every secret he released, he felt a little lighter. He didn’t dare look at Gale, though. Looking at Gale would make everything real. Would make everything heavy once more.
He heard him exhale on a long sigh.
“Well,” Gale said, shifting his weight in his seat, his leg brushing lightly against Astarion’s. “That’s quite the pickle you’ve found yourself in.”
Astarion’s head snapped so quickly towards Gale he practically gave himself whiplash.
He was expecting him to look angry, especially with how much grief he’d been given about everything the week before. He was ready for the little crease between his brows, for the look of disappointment that hurt more and more every time Astarion was the cause of it. Instead, Gale was looking at him as though he was a particularly interesting piece of academic criticism.
“A pickle,” he said flatly. “I’ve been self flagellating about this for weeks. And you call it a pickle.”
“Well, what would you call it?” Gale said, leaning back in his chair.
“A fucking walking nightmare is what I would call it, Gale,” Astarion snapped back. This wasn’t right. He was supposed to be angry at him, because otherwise he’d been beating himself up over nothing. Not to mention Gale was rolling over and taking his punishments again, and Astarion was getting tired of trying to get Gale to believe in himself as much as he did. “Did you not hear me? I’m actively working with your ex-wife to make sure you walk away with nothing!”
“Yes, but it wasn’t your idea, was it?” Gale said, as if that solved everything with a neat little bow on top. “Cazador made you do it. To punish Dalyria, by the sounds of it, though that seems like an extraordinary length to go to for an employee who left years ago.” The little crease between his brows appeared. “And I do find it especially odd that it took as long as it did for you to get involved if that were the case. You said he only joined Mystra’s team a couple of weeks ago?”
That gave Astarion pause. Gale was right; if Cazador was doing this to punish Dalyria, he would have contacted Mystra right when Dalyria took the case. Why wait for as long as he had?
“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, mirroring Gale as he leant back too. He scratched thoughtfully at the nape of his neck. “He called me into his office with Mystra the day I came back after –“
Oh, shit.
Astarion sat bolt upright as his stomach dropped straight to the floor.
It wasn’t anything to do with Dalyria, or Mystra. It was him. It was all to do with him.
Gale had given Cazador his real name when he’d spoken to him on the phone. Doctor Dekarios. That was who Cazador was referring to when he spoke of Astarion having a paramour. He should have known he would take that information and use it to twist the knife into Astarion’s back. Remind him that he wasn’t allowed a life outside his office.
It always came down to control, didn’t it? Mystra’s control over Gale. Cazador’s control over Astarion.
Astarion’s control over Gale.
“Astarion?” Gale prompted gently, and when Astarion felt his hand squeeze on his thigh he realised it was bouncing without him realising.
“I have to go,” he said shortly, pushing his hand off him and standing so quickly that all the blood rushed out of his head. He swayed slightly, and of course Gale was suddenly at his side, holding him up when all Astarion did was drag the man down.
“No, you don’t,” Gale said. His grip tightened on his wrist as Astarion made to move away. The heat of it burned into Astarion’s skin. “Listen to me. We can figure this out –“
“No, we can’t,” Astarion interrupted, trying to pull free. His breath was getting higher and higher in his chest, his neck constricting with every inhalation. “It’s Cazador, it’s me, everything’s fucked, utterly fucked – get off me –“
His blood was roaring in his ears. He needed to let go, he had to let go, he couldn’t be trapped, he didn’t want to be held captive anymore.
Gale let go of his wrist with a wince.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he said softly, but he stood in Astarion’s way as he went to bolt down the corridor. “I know you hate it.”
“No, you don’t know anything,” Astarion snapped, trying and failing to shove him to one side. Why did the bastard have to be so much bigger than him? “I never told you that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Gale was being too gentle with him, and Astarion hated it.
“You don’t know me, Gale, you never did,” Astarion said harshly, his voice so sharp he felt it cut into him as every venomous word forced its way out. Once more, he tried to check Gale with his shoulder, but Gale somehow caught him by the waist, tugging him closer. He wasn’t holding him tight, though. One hand rested above his hip as they span, as the other quickly catching him by the back of the neck.
“I know you better than you think,” he said, his fingers burying themselves into the curls they found. “In fact, I’m willing to bet I know you better than anyone.”
“Plenty of people know me the way you do,” Astarion said angrily. He was not going to capitulate to this idiot, no matter how good it felt to be held like this. No matter how much he wanted him to kiss him senseless, pressed up against the sad grey walls of the corridor. “Just because I’ve fucked you more than once doesn’t mean this means anything.”
“Right,” Gale said, the look on his face giving away that he didn’t believe him in the slightest. “Because you threw tantrums about not meeting their mothers.”
“You shouldn’t be fine with this.”
“What on earth gives you the impression that I am?” Gale said, stepping just a little closer. “Of course I’m angry, Astarion, but not at you.”
“But you should be,” Astarion said, and finally he managed to push Gale just a little away from him. “It might have escaped your attention, but you’re about to get royally fucked in court because of what I did.”
“I am very aware of that fact,” Gale said in that patient tone of voice that made Astarion want to slap him. His hand was still at the nape of his neck, the other on the dip of his waist. Astarion’s skin prickled at the contact. “But I’m also smart enough to know that you wouldn’t have had much of a choice in the matter.”
Astarion opened his mouth to respond, but the door at the end of the corridor opened, and they both heard voices floating towards them. This time, when Astarion pushed at Gale’s chest, he let him go, his hand falling back to his side.
“Your Honour, I’m asking for just a little time,” Dalyria was saying as she walked alongside a gaunt looking man in sweeping black robes. Astarion groaned as he recognised him. He didn’t know who Cazador had bribed to get Judge Godey put on this, but it wasn’t a surprise. “The petitioner is hiding assets –“
“Do you have any proof of this, Dalyria?” Godey asked in that sibilant voice that always felt like nails in Astarion’s spine.
“No, but with a little time –“
“If you have no proof, I have no grounds,” he said, sweeping past her. He gave Astarion a nod hello that was in no way authentic, scoffed a little at the sight of Gale, and walked ahead of them. “I’ll see you all in my courtroom in twenty minutes for the hearing.”
As the door closed behind him, Dalyria seemed to realise Astarion was there. She scowled at him as she took a seat in the waiting room.
“What are you doing here?” she said, digging into her briefcase to go through her papers.
“I asked him to be here,” Gale said, just as Astarion opened his mouth. “Begged, really. Needed the moral support, as silly as that is.”
Both Dalyria and Astarion stared at him.
Gale lied. Gale lied for him.
“Gale, that isn’t a good idea,” Dalyria said, pinching her nose. “You don’t know what he’s done.”
“Oh, the shell company? No, I know, he told me just after he told you,” Gale said, sitting down next to her. He looked at Astarion, mouthing play along at him.
Astarion couldn’t decide if the man really was as smart as he said he was or if he was just so spectacularly dense it looped around into seeming intelligent.
“Um, yes, I did,” he said instead, sitting on Dalyria’s other side. “Straight away. I just didn’t want to tell you because you were already upset with me and working so hard.”
Dalyria gave him a look that he knew meant she absolutely didn’t believe him.
“Anyway,” Gale said quickly, as she opened her mouth, “the point is, we all know now. I’m not exactly sure why your boss decided to get involved –“
“It’s because of me. Because I’m fucking you,” Astarion said flatly. Gale huffed in protest at his choice of words as Dalyria groaned in realisation. “I told you once that Mystra did what she did because she was losing control of you. It’s the same for him.”
“How would he have known, though?” Dalyria asked, looking between the two of them. “Your name wasn’t public, and Mystra kept her maiden name.”
“Gale told him,” Astarion said heavily, sinking into the hard backed chair. “When he was playing the good doctor and blagged me a day off. I should have known he would have looked into it. He asked me who I was seeing when I said I didn’t want to be his little plaything anymore, and I didn’t think anything of it.”
The silence was heavy as the three of them sat in a line, the quiet rush of traffic outside just audible through the thick glass windows. Then the soft buzz of Astarion’s phone startled them.
Casshat
You are not at the office and I have no authorised absence noted for you this morning. Explain.
Astarion made sure to check his location sharing was still off.
“Would it be so awful if you did quit?” Gale asked, looking over his shoulder at the text.
“Please, I’d never work again,” Astarion replied, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he mulled over what to say. “It’s not like I can prove anything he’s done. Or link him to it. I’m a little too good at covering his tracks for him, darling.”
The term of affection slipped out without him even noticing until he looked up to see the light flush of pink on Gale’s cheeks.
“What if you had someone else backing you up?” Dalyria said, looking thoughtful. “Someone who also knows exactly what happened. Someone with sway. The court of public opinion can be powerful with the right person leading the charge.”
Gale and Astarion both looked at her in confusion.
“You cannot be serious,” Astarion said, frowning, as for once he put the pieces together before Gale did.
“There’s only one person with both proof and influence, enough to blow the whistle on Cazador,” she said. “We need to get Mystra on our side.”
Chapter 21
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
There was no such thing as silence in Central London. There was always a siren, car horns , the flutter of pigeons’ wings. But in the waiting room of the Central Family Court, it was probably the closest to silent anywhere in London had ever managed.
Because what Dalyria had just suggested was completely fucking insane.
“Absolutely not,” Astarion said firmly, just as Gale said, “Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”
Astarion reached around Dalyria to punch at Gale’s arm.
“No. We’re not involving her. She’s done enough to fuck with you as it is,” he said angrily.
“She’s also the only one with proof any of this happened,” Dalyria argued, as Gale rubbed at his arm, shooting a glare at Astarion. “Like it or not, she could change the tide in your favour. We spin it as him taking advantage of both a celebrity and his own staff to grab for more money.”
“No,” Astarion said stubbornly. “We’re not involving her. We find another way.”
“Why not –“
“Because your job, Dal, is to get Gale away from her, not owe her more favours!” Astarion couldn’t bear to sit anymore, and he launched himself out of his chair, pacing around the waiting room. “He’s almost out! You think she’ll just do this because it’s the right thing to do?!”
“No, I don’t,” Dal said exasperatedly, “she’ll do it because it’s another man in her life trying to control the narrative. Or at least, that’s how I’ll frame it to her.”
“So you’d tell her about me and Astarion,” Gale said, frowning slightly. “Tell her that Cazador involved her not out of the goodness of his heart, but to manipulate her and Astarion both for money and power.”
“It’s what he technically did,” Dalyria said.
“Firstly, he did it specifically to fuck with me, don’t give Mystra that much credit,” Astarion said waspishly. “Secondly, you are absolutely not telling her about me and Gale. There isn’t a ‘me and Gale’, not the way that he thought. Cazador just made assumptions.”
He ignored the small huff Gale made, choosing instead to wear a hole in the carpet with his pacing.
“That’s not what we’d tell Mystra,” Dalyria replied, crossing her arms. “We tell her you two are together. That Cazador did all of this out of a fit of jealousy and Mystra barely registered to him. Her ego’s big enough that she’ll take it as far more of a slight.”
“Well, that’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since you got here,” Astarion said, glaring at her. “That woman’s ego is the size of a bus.”
“Then,” she continued, pointedly ignoring Astarion’s barbed comment, “we ask her to support you when you report Cazador to the FCA for fraud. I’m willing to bet him forcing you to do this was the tip of the iceberg. We tie that in to reporting his harassment –“
“I said no,” Astarion snapped, cutting her off before she could finish.
“Astarion –“
“Dal,” Gale said gently, putting a hand on her arm. “Can you give us a moment?”
Astarion finally stopped pacing, keeping his back to both Dalyria and Gale as he folded his arms. He could feel his breathing getting shallower again. He didn’t want any of this. He didn’t want the whole world knowing what he’d done, what he’d gone along with, what he’d agreed to time and time again for the sake of money and power and the promise of more.
Because it wasn’t harassment. He’d almost always said yes.
He felt Gale’s hand in the small of his back as Dalyria’s heels clicked away down the hall.
“You don’t have to report anything other than the fraud,” Gale said quietly. “But it would get you out unscathed. You’d find other work.”
“That’s an awful lot of confidence from you,” Astarion said, turning around and taking a step back, arms still crossed. “What, are you going to set up meetings for me with the Magic Circle firms in secret? Try and manage my life as well?”
He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. His hands shifted, unconsciously, to hug his own arms tight across him.
“That was uncalled for, Astarion,” Gale said tightly, “but I know you didn’t mean it. And you know Dal has a point. If you get Mystra on side, get a media circus going, you come out far more strongly positioned to quit Cazador’s firm. I’m sure you could even report him anonymously.”
“Considering it’s only me and Mystra that know about the shell company, it’s not exactly that bloody anonymous, is it?” Astarion shifted past him to sit back down again, still holding on tight to his jacket. “Besides, these things have a habit of coming to light.”
“I’m willing to bet that this isn’t the first time Cazador has indulged in something underhanded,” Gale pointed out. Instead of sitting down next to him, he knelt in front of him. The familiar pop of his knees was somewhat of a comforting sound. “If you come forward, there’s bound to be others. Dalyria was telling me a few of them left before.”
“Yes, because he was fucking them too,” Astarion said bluntly. “I was just stupid enough to be the favourite and try and use that to my advantage.”
Gale wobbled a little at Astarion’s feet, and he reached out, steadying himself with his hands on Astarion’s thighs. For a moment, Astarion considered shoving them off so Gale fell on his arse. But the touch was too grounding for him to bring himself to do so.
“Astarion, you know that was not the case,” Gale said, running his thumb slightly over the fabric of Astarion’s slacks. “We’ve talked enough about it to pretend otherwise. I would never force you to make a report that you didn’t want to, but what Cazador was doing was a classic abuse of power, and you were not a bad person for trying to find some good to come from it.”
Astarion couldn’t bring himself to respond, because he wanted to believe what Gale was saying was true so badly it ached. So instead, he just nodded mutely, staring at the midpoint of Gale’s brow.
“I just…I don’t want to involve her,” he said quietly. “Not when you’re so close to being free of her nonsense.”
“Your concern is admirable, but unnecessary,” Gale said, reaching up to brush an errant curl of Astarion’s hair behind his ear. “The only thing I need from this hearing is full custody of Tara. I don’t particularly care about the money. It’s hardly as though she can render me bankrupt.”
“Yes, but you’re stuck in that apartment,” Astarion pointed out. His head tilted slightly to rest his cheek against Gale’s palm. “And you won’t get out of it any time soon if that cow starts garnishing your wages.”
“It’s worth it for you to have a modicum of peace,” Gale said, and damn him, but Astarion could hear the sincerity in every syllable. “So I have to deal with my ex-wife in my orbit for a few months more. At least you’d be out of that bastard’s clutches for good.”
Astarion groaned, letting his head fall back, his shoulders digging into the hard metal of the top of the chair.
“Must you be so sweet?” he grumbled, as Gale hauled himself off the floor. “Stop it. I don’t know what to do with it. Or how to repay you.”
“Well, you certainly can’t repay me in public, Astarion, Dalyria will be back at any moment,” Gale said, laughing as Astarion sat up to punch him in the arm again. He wrapped his arm around Astarion’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug.
Astarion laid his head in the crook of Gale’s neck, closing his eyes to savour the scent for a moment. It was disarming just how quickly it had become so much of a comfort to him. Even if he did prefer it when Gale was just a touch muskier.
Jesus. Gale’s freakish desires were clearly rubbing off on him too.
“At least let me talk to her if we’re indulging in this lunacy,” he muttered, his lips brushing lightly against Gale’s pulse point. “Knowing you, you’d give her everything in your bank account and your left testicle by the time she was done with you.”
He felt Gale’s lips against the crown of his head, smiling slightly before he pressed a kiss there. Gale was tender with him to the point of being raw. Astarion had no hope of matching it, though with each minute he spent in Gale’s company, he found himself desperate to try.
“Is it safe for me to come back yet?” Dalyria’s head appeared from around the corner of the wall.
“For the record, this is not a good idea,” Astarion said, still leaning against Gale. He felt him shiver just from the touch of his lips. “I’m only going along with it because it’s you and it’s my best chance of getting that bastard struck off.”
“Right, just because of that,” Dalyria said with a small laugh, taking a seat the other side of Gale. “Absolutely no other reason. None at all.”
He felt Gale’s shoulder shake slightly from holding back a laugh.
“The pair of you can shove it,” he said petulantly.
There was a sudden uptick in noise from the street below. Unintelligible shouts floated through the open window, punctuated by the clicking of camera shutters and honking of car horns.
Mystra was here, though it sounded like she was trying to hurry inside.
Astarion sat up, running a hand through his hair. He did his best to look sure of himself, for Gale’s benefit more than anything else.
“I’m surprised the jackals are out in force,” he said to Gale, who just shrugged.
“Someone must have leaked the hearing,” Dalyria said, going over to the window to look onto the street below. “Jesus. It’s heaving out there.”
Both Astarion and Gale followed her lead. The pavement was packed to bursting, bright flashes from the cameras almost blinding even a floor up as Mystra fought through the crowds.
“Ms Rhyl! Is it true that your divorce has become more contentious than previously planned?”
“Why the secrecy, Ms Rhyl? There’s been no statement since last year and now you’re in financial dispute?”
“Is Mr Rhyl here already?”
The three of them watched as Mystra finally managed to reach the front door, her lawyers trailing behind her, pushing back at the small crowd that had gathered. They heard the very flustered receptionist call for security, Mystra complaining very loudly as she came up the stairs.
“Dalyria,” she shouted angrily down the corridor as she approached. She was dressed in yet another suit, this one a midnight blue, delicate silver threading detailing the sleeves and lapels. Astarion noted she’d bothered to wear a shirt under this one. “This better not have been your doing!”
“I can assure you, Ms Rhyl, it was nothing to do with me,” Dalyria said, keeping her cool as Mystra stormed towards her. “Perhaps someone from your side? To garner sympathy?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I wanted this kept out of the press –“ Mystra cut herself off as she caught sight of Astarion. As he made eye contact with her, he realised he was perhaps stood a little too close to Gale. “Mr Ancunín. I wasn’t aware you would be attending today’s hearing.”
“About that,” Astarion said, his voice dropping into the cadence he reserved for seducing particularly difficult clients. “Might we have a quick word before we go in? In private?”
“Is there a problem?” She eyed Gale with a scowl. “Are you two acquainted?”
“That is what I would like to discuss with you,” Astarion said, casually looping his arm through hers and fighting down the shiver of disgust that ran up his spine. “It’s a rather delicate matter, darling.” He dropped his voice. “And one your lawyers do not need to hear about.”
“Astarion,” Dalyria said, trying to follow behind them, but he held up a hand.
“Trust him, Dal,” he saw Gale whisper to her.
Mystra’s arm tightened around his as he ushered her down the corridor and into an empty meeting room.
“Mr Szarr assured me that this was watertight,” she said as soon as the door was shut. “Don’t tell me you aren’t as talented as he says.”
“Mr Szarr is the reason I need to speak to you,” Astarion said, disentangling his arm from hers. “What did he tell you? When he first approached you?”
“That a former associate of his was representing my ex-husband, and he had a vested interest in seeing her fail,” Mystra said. “I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, he made it clear I was a powerful ally for him to have.”
“He lied,” Astarion said bluntly. “He did it to assert his power over me. You had nothing to do with it. You could have been a nobody and he would have done the same.”
Astarion knew people like Mystra well. It wasn’t about appealing to her compassionate side or her humanity. People like Mystra dealt in ego. She had to be the centre of attention, the star of every room she walked into. In her world, she was a goddess among mortals.
Cazador didn’t give a shit about that. And once Mystra realised, she would fall right into place in their ridiculous scheme. It was his best hope.
“It was because of Gale. He and I are…close,” he continued. He didn’t have a better way of saying it, and he certainly didn’t want to try for Mystra of all people. “Cazador was threatened by it. He does so love to play with his food. And you, darling? You were merely a pawn on the chessboard for him.”
Mystra was staring at him, jaw slack and shoulders tight.
“A pawn? A pawn? God, the bastard,” she said, her mouth setting into a thin line. “Why would you go along with it so willingly?”
“Because in case you didn’t notice, Cazador holds rather a lot of power over me, Mystra,” Astarion said waspishly. “My job, my livelihood, and for a long time my personal life. And I thought I deserved it, but with Gale –“ He stopped himself, realising he was about to admit something he could barely admit to himself. He inhaled deeply. “Give Dalyria the USB, get this hearing over with, and support me when I report the fraud, and we’ll take the bastard down. I will personally guarantee you Gale will agree to any and all non-punitive financial agreements you set out for him. He won’t touch a penny of your money so long as you let him have Tara. Hell, I’ll get him to throw in visitation rights, in black and white, and this whole thing can be over and done with.”
“You don’t understand,” Mystra said with a scoff, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Gale almost ruined me, everything I built –“
“No, you don’t understand,” he said, slamming his palm onto the table. Some long forgotten gate inside him splintered open. “I would kill to have someone love me that deeply. To have someone so utterly in my corner that they would brand themselves just to show their dedication to me. But you? You took it as a slight. As an affront to everything you do. You had his love, pure and stupid and sweet as it is, and you tried to snuff it out. And, God, the things I would do to have someone care that much about me.”
He could feel his chest heaving as he trailed off, his hands shaking slightly. Mystra was staring at him, but he couldn’t stand to be in this cramped little room with her anymore.
“You know what, do what you want,” he said, moving to the door. “The right thing, the wrong thing, whatever serves you best. But stop torturing him for his mistakes. All he wants is the damn cat. You don’t have to take that from him just to prove your point.”
“How long?” she asked him, just as he went to open the door. He paused.
“What do you mean?”
“How long have you loved him for?”
Astarion’s hand slipped off the handle. He froze in place, eyes fixed on the lock.
He wasn’t capable of that. He couldn’t be. And even in the very, very unlikely circumstance that he was, he certainly wasn’t going to tell her.
“I don’t,” he said curtly. “He’s just a good lay. Nothing more.”
Flinging open the door, he walked briskly back to Dalyria, steadfastly looking anywhere but at Gale. He shrugged noncommittally at them both, sitting down, his leg immediately bouncing again.
“You know,” Dalyria said quietly, under her breath, “that door was anything but soundproof.”
The door to the courtroom opened just as Astarion’s mouth did to respond.
“Rhyl vs Dekarios?” the court usher announced. He could feel Gale’s eyes on him as he and Dalyria went inside. “Is the petitioner here too?”
“Here,” Mystra’s voice called out, as she strode up to the door. “I just need a moment with opposing counsel. There’s some evidence that it slipped my mind to submit to her.”
Astarion watched, astounded, as Mystra took a very familiar USB stick from her purse and pressed it into Dalyria’s palm.
“We can discuss the terms further inside,” she said, sweeping imperiously past the three of them. Astarion went to follow, but Dalyria gently put a hand on his chest.
“No observers, I’m afraid,” she said, pushing him back out.
“But –“
“We’ll talk after,” Gale said, as he took his seat. His voice was solid, smooth, but Astarion knew him well enough to hear the tone underneath. He finally looked at him, just as the door swung shut.
Gale was fixing him with a hard stare, and Astarion knew he was in for it as soon as they were done.
He flopped back down on the chair, trying to stare a hole in the door.
He didn’t know what to with himself. He could hear muffled voices from the courtroom, calm and collected so far – mostly Dalyria talking, occasionally punctuated by one of Mystra’s team.
He supposed he could use the time to really think about Mystra’s question.
He cared about Gale. He wasn’t above admitting that to himself, because even he wasn’t that blind to his own feelings. He liked spending time with him. He liked talking to him. He certainly liked having sex with him, which was a damn sight more than he could say about any of his other bedfellows over the past few years.
But love? Love was for the naïve and foolish. Gale had loved harder than anyone he’d ever met, and look where that had got him. Tossed aside by a woman he’d revered, then used for pleasure by a man who had just been looking for a way to pass the time between meetings.
Gale was supposed to have been a way for Astarion to reclaim control. And yet, Astarion couldn’t deny just how much Gale made him want to be better. How he only wanted to go to sleep these days with the expanse of Gale’s back against his chest. How he craved Gale’s approval, sought his opinions, questioned his own judgement by the principles Gale held.
He’d only known the man, what, a month? How did he have such a hold on him already?
The facts were thus. Gale was a good person. Astarion was not. But he was trying to be, because of Gale, which was more than anyone else had managed in recent memory. In fact, he was being a better person, wasn’t he? He’d turned down Cazador for Gale. He’d somehow apparently persuaded Mystra to back off a little. He’d said please to a taxi driver that morning, for god’s sake.
And he could see his own influence on Gale, too. He stood taller, more confident. He stood up for himself when Astarion tried to pull yet more bullshit on him. He did not particularly like that it meant Gale had the confidence to call him out on said bullshit, but it was still an improvement.
This was all supposed to be simple. Gale was supposed to be a pleasant distraction and nothing more. He’d spent so much time making sure that Gale knew it was only casual that it hadn’t even occurred to him that his feelings would change.
Oh, bugger it all. Why was it Mystra of all people that made him realise?
The door opened, and with a start, Astarion realised a good twenty minutes had passed. Mystra left first, followed by a very confused looking Judge Godey, deep in an intense conversation.
“You can tell Mr Szarr his services and friendship are no longer required –“
“Ms Rhyl, I can assure you Mr Szarr had only your best interests at heart –“
“Mr Szarr can take my best interests and shove them up his arse for all I care!”
Her legal team followed, and then Dalyria, who was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
“We got her to agree to Gale keeping Tara and to not seek spousal support from Gale, given her finances,” she said to Astarion. “And she’s paying my suddenly rather extortionate fees. Godey couldn’t do shit because she spoke over him and her legal team, she was so furious. We’re drafting the final Consent Order this afternoon.”
“Yeah, fine,” Astarion said distractedly, looking over her shoulder. The courtroom was small, just two tables for the petitioner and respondent and their respective teams. A plain oak desk served as the judge’s space. Gale was stood in the middle of the room, staring at it.
Dalyria turned to look over her shoulder, then back at Astarion.
“The room was booked out a little longer for the hearing,” she said gently. “I’ll give you two a few minutes.”
As she left the courtroom, Astarion approached Gale, his heart in his throat. He laid his hand very carefully on his shoulder.
Gale was silent, then he turned to Astarion. Tears were running down his face.
“It’s over,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s all finally over. Dal said I just have to sign the Consent Order when it’s done and this can all be finished.”
“Not all of it,” Astarion said softly, his free hand coming up to fiddle with Gale’s tie. “Not if you don’t want it to be.”
“Astarion –“
“I’m sorry.” The words were quiet, a little broken, but they were the easiest apology Astarion had ever made. “I said I wouldn’t lie any more, and I broke that promise to you.”
“Is that so?” Gale moved a little closer, his hands resting on Astarion’s hips. “What fibs have you been telling this time?”
“I said I didn’t love you,” Astarion said softly, looking up from Gale’s tie, and he kissed him before Gale had a chance to turn him down. He felt a rumble in Gale’s chest as he eagerly returned the kiss, and Astarion tugged him closer by his tie, his eyes drifting shut as he lost himself in the warmth of the moment.
Gale’s hands were always so gentle with him, and today was no exception, his palms flattening against Astarion’s back. A surge of desire coursed through Astarion. Gale wasn’t pushing him away. He wasn’t telling him to stop, letting him down. He must want him just as badly.
Gale let out a surprised little huff of air as Astarion started to walk him backwards, tongue still darting in and out of his mouth, and the back of his legs hit the desk.
“Absolutely not,” he said, quickly lacing his fingers through Astarion’s when his hand started wandering down his chest, and lifting it to kiss the knuckles.
“Dal said the room’s booked for a little longer,” Astarion said, shifting his head to start mouthing at Gale’s neck the way he knew he liked. He knew what Gale liked. God, that shouldn’t have been such a novel concept. “Plenty of time.”
“Astarion, we have so much to talk about,” Gale pointed out, and Astarion could hear the shake in his voice where he was trying to stay strong. “Important things. Like a certain confession you just made – Astarion!”
He yelped his name as Astarion knocked him flat on his back onto the desk, a few errant papers that Godey had left behind fluttering to the floor.
“And we’ll talk about it,” Astarion said, managing to free his hand from Gale’s grip as he started undoing his belt, “once we’re done.”
“No, we’ll talk about it now,” Gale said, batting Astarion’s hand away.
“Ow!”
“Oh, don’t give me that, that cannot have hurt!”
“If you two are quite finished,” and both their heads snapped up to see Dalyria stood in the now open door, arms crossed and suppressing a grin, a very nervous looking porter behind her, “the room needs turning over before the next hearing.”
Notes:
A chapter count update?!
Sorry this is a little later than the usual week. I should be back on track with the final two. And I can’t quite believe it’s coming up to the final two, but I have then planned and unless I go on another wild tangent I don’t see it changing. They’re getting there.
Find me on tumblr here .
Chapter 22
Notes:
CW/Smut Tags
Oral sex, anal sex, veiled references to past SA/dubcon
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Casshat
You have precisely thirty seconds to explain what happened at court or you will not have a job to return to.
Astarion
To be clear, you are threatening me with dismissal without any prior disciplinary procedures, in writing, for refusing to continue to break the law?
Casshat
I am threatening you for an unauthorised absence, which is not your first, I might add, and for deliberately mishandling a client. Not to mention serious insubordination which is a perfectly valid reason for summary dismissal.
Astarion
Bite me, Caz. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts. I’m going to fucking enjoy this. Sit on this and swivel 🖕
Dalyria leaned over Astarion’s shoulder as he furiously typed his final message, thumbs stabbing at his phone.
“Maybe don’t send that last one,” she suggested with a snort. “It won’t exactly reflect well on you when you file the whistleblowing report.” She read up the chat. “And the unfair dismissal case you’ll probably be filing at the same time.”
Astarion was sat between her and Gale in the back of the black cab taking them to her office to pick up Tara. Gale’s leg was bouncing from excitement, rubbing against Astarion’s each time. Astarion didn’t have the heart to try and get him to stop. The repetitive contact was oddly soothing.
Astarion grumbled nonsensically as he deleted the rant he’d been about to send to Cazador. Instead, he muted the conversation. Anything Cazador sent him, he could use as evidence, but not if he lost his temper in the meantime. Briefly, he wondered if they’d have time to stop and grab a burner phone for him to send his vitriol from instead. Or maybe he’d sign Cazador’s work email up to one of those spam sites that automatically subscribed them to porn.
The taxi pulled to a halt, and Dalyria jumped out, leaving Astarion and Gale to wait while she fetched Tara from inside. Immediately, Astarion felt his throat close up from nerves. He’d made quite the statement earlier, and he was starting to regret it. It was the excitement of the day, the triumph of manipulating Mystra’s ego to get what Gale needed, but now he was having to face the reality of what he’d said and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to.
Not to mention, Gale was yet to confirm his own feelings. He’d just said they’d needed to talk.
He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump there, and Gale turned to look at him.
“We do need to talk,” Astarion said, his voice a little tight. “About what I said.”
“We will,” Gale said quietly. “When we’re back at mine and have a little privacy.”
He jerked his head towards the taxi driver, who was looking steadfastly at the meter as though he wasn’t able to hear every word they were saying. Astarion scoffed.
“It’s not like we’re fucking back here, it’s fine,” he said, and he got a perverse little stab of happiness at the way the driver’s brows shot upwards. “Besides, even if we were, I’m sure we could rely on him to be discreet for the right price –“
“Astarion,” Gale chided, as the driver choked on a cough. “Don’t be crass. I know what you’re doing.”
“Yes, because you know me so well,” Astarion said grumpily, folding his arms and sinking into the leather seat.
“You’re deflecting again,” Gale said. He reached over, carefully disentangling Astarion’s arms so he could slip his hand into his. “I promise, we’ll talk. Properly. And I suspect you will enjoy what I have to say.”
“I suspect you’ll use twenty words where five will do and we’ll spend all bloody night talking,” Astarion muttered under his breath.
Gale tried and failed not to laugh as Dalyria clambered back in, cat carrier under one arm. Tara was yowling up a storm, clearly furious at being confined for such a length of time.
“You’d think we’d been torturing her up there,” Dalyria said with a sigh as she shoved the carrier onto Gale’s lap. “She’s spent all morning being pampered by the interns. Probably gained at least three pounds from the entire packet of Dreamies they fed her.”
“It’s what she deserves,” Astarion said. Gale was too busy cooing at Tara through the mesh to pay any attention.
While Dalyria slid the driver a twenty pound note before he could complain, Astarion watched Gale fuss over Tara. Here was a grown man talking to a geriatric feline as though she understood every word he was saying, and it was the god damn hottest thing Astarion had seen him do. The wrinkle of his crows’ feet, the genuine smile, the dimple he was sure nobody else had ever noticed.
The sooner Dalyria left, the sooner he could kiss that stupid dimple.
“Well, then, darling, I’ll see you later?” he said, overenunciating his words at her and hoping she got the hint to stay at the office. “I’m sure you have plenty to catch up on at the office.”
“I do need to draft the final Consent Order,” she said, climbing back out the taxi. “You two have fun. Let me know if you need to bribe Dave here with whatever else you do before you get home.”
“Will do,” Astarion said cheerfully.
“Absolutely not,” Gale and Dave said at the same time.
Dalyria closed the door, and the taxi pulled away, Dave glaring at them both periodically in the rear view mirror under the pretence of checking his blind spot.
“Don’t worry, Dave,” Astarion said, “we would never in front of Tara. Gale won’t so much as undress in front of the old girl.”
“You are awful,” Gale sighed, leaning back in his seat. Astarion shuffled closer, wiggling his fingers through the bars of Tara’s carrier. He felt her bony little head butt against them, her purr louder than ever.
“Do you think she knows?” he asked, managing to scratch between her ears. “That she’s going home?”
“She isn’t, though,” Gale said. His voice had taken on that heavy edge once more. “She’ll be going to my mother’s.”
“Gale, take the victories where you can.” He withdrew his hand (to a melancholy chirp from Tara) to scratch the back of Gale’s head instead. “You’ll find somewhere. You won’t be staying with Karlach and Wyll forever.”
“No, I suppose not.” Gale leant into his hand, tilting his head to the side and resting it on Astarion’s shoulder. “I’ll find a nice studio. With a sun trap by the window for her to spend the rest of her days lounging in.”
“That’s the slightly morose spirit.”
They lapsed into an almost comfortable silence, London flashing by the windows as the taxi made its way to the Tower. Astarion did his best to sneak glances at Gale when he wasn’t looking. Gale caught him more than once.
Astarion couldn’t tell if his glances back were because he felt the same, or because he was about to let him down as gently as he could.
When they arrived, Gale handed Astarion the carrier as he let them into the building. When they got in the lift, he turned to Astarion.
“So,” he said a little tentatively. “About our talk.”
Astarion tried to keep an air of nonchalance about himself, but it was difficult to do when Tara was starting to cry in protest at being in her carrier and the man he had maybe confessed his love to not half an hour earlier was looking at him in a way that suggested he might be about to reciprocate said love in a lift that absolutely reeked of piss.
“Can you seriously not wait two minutes more?” he said a little petulantly. “I would prefer to do this in your flat.”
“Right, yes,” Gale replied, clearing his throat. He loosened his tie to undo the top button of his shirt, before pulling the elastic out of his hair. As it fell around his face in delightfully tousled waves, Astarion briefly considered pressing the emergency stop and just not breathing for a few minutes so he could really wreck it.
The doors pinged to announce their arrival before he could lose his mind completely.
“Gale!”
Karlach was stood in the open doorway of his flat, grinning widely. Behind her, Wyll was stood on a fold-out step, hanging what looked suspiciously like bunting.
Astarion groaned audibly before Gale elbowed him in the side to shut him up.
“You said it was good news,” Karlach said, her face falling at the look on both of their faces.
“No, no, it was,” Gale said hurriedly, rushing forward to hug her as Astarion trailed behind him, Tara now yelling full force to be let out. “We just didn’t realise you’d be home.”
“Well, yeah, I figured either way you’d want company – oh, hey, Fangs,” Karlach said, finally noticing him as he came barrelling past to put Tara down. “Thought you weren’t going to court today?”
“Change of plans,” Astarion said shortly.
“Oh, well, I wish one of you had said something, only we sort of invited –“
“Kalé mou?” A slim, short woman was stood by the fridge, loading it with yet more Tupperware. A pair of red cat-eye spectacles perched on the end of her nose, their glittering gold glasses chain hanging delicately around her neck to keep them secure. Her clothes were loose and flowing, matching gold bangles clinking merrily at her wrists. She had Gale’s eyes, wide and brown, slightly magnified by the spectacles. Or rather, Gale had her eyes, Astarion supposed.
Karlach nudged Astarion out of the way to unlock Tara’s carrier.
“Say hi, moron,” she whispered under her breath as she scooped Tara up into her arms. The cat promptly fell asleep. Astarion wished he had the same excuse to simply check out of whatever was about to happen.
“Mamá – mother, what are you doing here?” Gale asked, as she grabbed his shoulders to look him over. “I told you I’d bring Tara over later.”
“Oh, so I am mother in front of your friends now, am I?” she said, tutting as she did the button of his shirt back up, trying to redo his tie while Gale fidgeted. “Karlach called me and invited me over, which is a damn sight more than you managed. And who is this?”
Oh, god, he should leave. They hadn’t even talked about what this was anymore, what they were now, and they’d fought about this last time and Astarion still didn’t quite know where he stood on the whole “introductions to parents” issue –
“Mother, this is Astarion,” Gale said, managing to extricate himself from his mother’s hands. “Astarion, this is my mother, Morena Dekarios. I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance to meet before.”
Astarion swallowed hard. He couldn’t think of a time he’d met a parent of a – lover? Partner? Fuck, he really should have just let Gale talk in the lift. He had no idea how to play this.
So he fell back on what worked.
“Mother? Surely not,” he said smoothly, taking Morena’s hand and gently kissing the back of it. “I would have guessed sister, young and beautiful as you are.”
Karlach pretended to gag as Gale rolled his eyes and Wyll stifled a snort. Morena, however, just fixed him with a hard stare.
“Before? When would I have had the chance to meet you before?” She gripped his hand a lot tighter than her frame would suggest she was capable of.
“Oh, just, you know,” Gale said in a rush, as Astarion racked his brain to think of some fictional event. “Around. We haven’t been friends all that long –“
Unfortunately, Morena was too shrewd to give them the time.
“Ah, so you were the boy hiding in the bathroom,” she said, though she patted Astarion’s hand with her free one. “The New York one.”
“He’s hardly a boy,” Karlach muttered loudly enough for them all to hear as Gale spluttered.
“Not much gets past you, does it, Mrs Dekarios?” Astarion said. He couldn’t help but be rather impressed.
“Morena, please. If you are no longer being hidden from my sight you are clearly more important than my son lets on.” Morena took a seat at the kitchen table, gesturing for Astarion to sit next to her. Shooting Gale a slightly panicked look, Astarion obeyed. “So. You are involved with Gale.”
“I –“
“Mother, please do not interrogate Astarion,” Gale interrupted with a sigh, sitting at her other side. “It’s been a long morning.”
Panic stabbed at Astarion’s side. Maybe that’s what Gale wanted to talk about? Maybe he’d misjudged everything. Or maybe he’d been a little too good at persuading Gale to keep things casual.
Brilliant. The one time he’d actually wanted someone to love him, and he’d fucked it before they could even start.
“I’m not interrogating him, I am making conversation, Gale,” Morena said with a put upon sigh. “Do not be rude.” Astarion felt her hand squeeze his slightly, before her grip lessened. “Do you like my son, Astarion?”
“I do.” Astarion did his best to keep eye contact with Morena. “Most days.”
“That is more than fair.” She waved her free hand at Gale to keep him quiet before he could protest. “I assume you will not steal his money? Or his cat?”
“Absolutely not,” Astarion replied. “Tara has ruined enough of my sweatshirts as it is. And I’ve been privy enough to his finances in recent weeks that I know they aren’t worth going after.”
Morena barked out a laugh.
“I like you already,” she said matter-of-factly. “You have far more sense than his silly ex-wife of his. I can tell.”
Astarion couldn’t help but smile at that, even as Gale harrumphed.
“I think this calls for a celebration, then, lads,” Karlach said, dropping Tara rather unceremoniously into Gale’s arms so she could produce a bottle of Prosecco from the fridge. “Tesco’s finest.”
As Gale and Karlach started to bicker about the suitability of day drinking and Wyll dug in the cupboard for enough mugs for the rest of them, Morena shuffled a little closer to Astarion, her chair scraping against the linoleum.
“You care for him, yes?” she asked, her voice low.
“Very much,” Astarion admitted quietly, his eyes still fixed on Gale.
“And you would like to be alone with him right now,” Morena stated, catching him completely off guard. As he tried to think of an appropriate answer to give, his mouth opening and closing, she snorted. “I’m not a fool, Astarion.”
“I don’t think anyone could accuse you of being such a thing, Morena,” Astarion managed to say, finally tearing his eyes from Gale, who was gesticulating at the clock on the wall. “We were just going to discuss a few things.”
“I’m sure.” She grinned at him, and Astarion was starting to realise what a force of nature Gale had been raised by. She cleared her throat. “This is hardly a celebration. We should take this to my house. There is more space.”
“We don’t need a celebration,” Gale said, sounding more and more exasperated by the second.
“Nonsense, darling, I think that’s a splendid idea,” Astarion said, overenunciating his words in the hope that Gale got the hint. “Karlach, Wyll, why don’t you go on ahead with Morena? We’ll follow behind you once I’ve gone over a few last minute legalities with Gale.”
“But you weren’t his lawyer,” Karlach said, looking confused. Astarion shot a far too desperate look at Wyll, who frowned slightly at him for a little too long before sighing.
“He’s a lawyer, Karlach, there’s probably some things that happened at the courtroom we weren’t privy to,” he said, taking her arm and gently steering her to the door. He stopped by the kitchen table, offering his arm to Morena. “We’ll get a taxi over and meet you there. Don’t take too long.”
Thank you, Astarion mouthed at him as they left. Wyll gave him a slightly curt nod as he closed the door, leaving him and Gale in a suddenly very quiet kitchen.
Now that they were alone, Astarion didn’t have a clue where to start.
He’d confessed. So he hadn’t said the words exactly, but he had in a sort of roundabout way. And here he was, beating heart in his outstretched palms and no clue if Gale would cradle it or slap it to the ground.
It was Gale who broke the silence first, sat opposite him with Tara snoring on his shoulder.
“What you have to understand,” he said quietly, “is that I didn’t think I would ever love again.”
Astarion felt his heart beat ever faster in his chest. He could hear it throbbing in his ears, every beat a death knoll.
“I never should have said –“
“Let me finish.” Gale’s hands, his gentle, perfect hands, carefully lifted Tara from his chest and put her in her open carrier. He didn’t take his seat again. Instead, he held out one of those gentle hands to Astarion.
He tried to stop himself trembling as he took it, as Gale tugged him to his feet.
“I have always thought that in this life, we get one shot,” Gale said, his other hand coming up to Astarion’s cheek. “One chance for the perfect romance. For someone who would know me better than I know myself. For a soulmate, I suppose. And for the longest time, I thought that was Mystra. When that came crashing down around me, I assumed I had blown that chance. But in the ashes of that, somehow, I found you.”
Without thinking, Astarion took a step closer, running his hands over the lapels of Gale’s suit jacket.
“Gale –“
“Astarion.” Gale’s mouth twitched at the sides. “Please stop interrupting me. Your manners are truly appalling at times.”
Of course the bastard would correct his fucking manners instead of getting to the point, but Astarion just about managed to bite his tongue, nodding tightly instead.
“When this started, I thought perhaps I could learn to be casual,” Gale continued, his thumb starting to brush along the sharp line of Astarion’s cheekbone. “That I could learn such a thing from you. It seems, however, that you have learned something from me. And it also seems that I was wrong to write myself off so hastily.”
He leant in, and the kiss he bestowed was softer than Astarion had ever experienced. A kiss just to kiss him. To seal something Astarion was beginning to want more than anything.
“You must know that I love you,” Gale whispered against his mouth. “More than anything. More than anyone. You put the stars to shame, Astarion, you always have –“
“Please just shut up and keep kissing me,” Astarion murmured back. His hands, flat against Gale’s chest, suddenly gripped the fabric tight, pulling him into the kind of fiercer kiss he was accustomed to.
Yet it was still different. The motions were the same, but the intent held a beauty Astarion had never known, and he immediately knew he couldn’t live without it. He couldn’t live without him, taking everything that was twisted and broken and finally making it beautiful.
He couldn’t stop kissing Gale long enough to properly navigate across the kitchen to his bedroom. He felt his back bump into the wall, right by the painting Gale had lamented over the last time he was here. Gale tried to shift him the few feet to the left to reach their destination, but Astarion wanted to luxuriate in the moment. Just for a little longer, just to truly appreciate it.
Gale broke away to start leaving butterfly light kisses against Astarion’s neck, and he couldn’t help but sigh in contentment, leaning into him. The button of Gale’s jacket was little effort to undo, and he slipped his hands under the thick fabric to run them over his back.
Something he instantly regretted, because Gale’s back was dripping with sweat.
“Oh, that is foul,” he said, forgetting that they were finally alone and hopelessly in love, distracted as he was. He drew his hands back to wipe them on Gale’s front. “It’s not even that warm today, pet.”
“Firstly, I have had a really very trying morning,” Gale said into Astarion’s neck, resting his forehead against him. “Secondly, it’s about to be very hot in here.”
“That is the worst line I’ve ever heard –“
Gale elected to cut him off by taking hold of his face in his hands and kissing him senseless, which Astarion had to admit was probably for the best.
They tumbled onto Gale’s bed once they had finally navigated the flat, Gale’s jacket tossed onto the desk and Astarion’s somewhere on the floor. Gale settled on the edge, his hands shifting from Astarion’s face to his hips to settle him astride his lap.
Astarion remembered the first time they’d found themselves like this in this room. When he was so sure that all he needed was to lose himself in sex for a few moments. He was an idiot, then, to think that all Gale would ever be to him was a warm body to use. Not with that heart, impossibly large, keeping a space for him that Astarion still wasn’t entirely convinced he’d earned.
He broke the kiss just to look at Gale for a moment. To run his hands through that now free hair. Perhaps he’d stop dying his, just to see what it looked like now. Gale would probably like it. Gale was the only person whose opinion he cared for, anyway.
Gale was looking up at him, eyes softening with every moment Astarion stared back, and Astarion realised he was just gazing at the man instead of doing something about the fact they were finally alone.
“This is too many buttons,” he grumbled as he set to work on Gale’s shirt. “How much do you like this shirt?”
“Don’t even think about it,” Gale said, though the warning in his tone was almost entirely for show. “You pop a single button on mine and yours will face the same fate.”
“Gale, my shirt is much nicer than yours!” Astarion said, pulling back so he could concentrate properly on undoing the buttons. He couldn’t help but laugh at the pout that crossed Gale’s face. It didn’t suit him in the slightest. “Fine, fine, I will take my time undressing you laboriously slowly. You have nobody to blame for yourself for how long this is going to take.”
“I’m sure you will be worth the wait,” Gale said softly, as he matched Astarion’s movements. Though where Astarion was fumbling in his hurry to remove the offending article of clothing, Gale was slow. Precise. As he undid the first few buttons, he leant in to kiss at the revealed hollow of Astarion’s throat.
Astarion’s hands stopped, as he closed his eyes, leaning back to indulge in the feeling, knowing that he could without Gale hurrying him. Gale’s hands continued down his front with every soft purse of his lips.
It didn’t have to be hurried any more. It could be slow. It could be soft. It could be all the things Astarion hadn’t allowed himself to hope for.
“You seem deep in thought,” Gale said softly, sliding Astarion’s shirt from his shoulders and letting it fall behind him. “Is everything alright?”
Astarion let go of Gale’s shirt to tilt his face up properly.
“I need to say it,” he said, his voice less strong than he would have liked. “I need to say it properly.”
“So say it.” Gale’s hand splayed over Astarion’s back to pull him in even closer. He had to bite back a whimper as he felt just how hard Gale was under him. “I’d quite like to hear it.”
His fingers brushed over the base of the scars, but Astarion didn’t even notice.
“I love you,” he whispered.
And suddenly the quiet feeling snapped, and Astarion was tearing desperately at the last few buttons, and Gale wasn’t even bothering to protest. He didn’t know where Gale’s hands were anymore, they were moving so quickly, but so were his, shoving his shirt out the way to reach more of that glorious skin.
He pushed Gale back, kissing along the lines of his tattoo. So what if he’d done it for her? The whole sordid mess had led him to Astarion. The black hole had pulled him in, and he had no desire to extricate himself from it.
His kisses drifted, down to the peak of Gale’s nipple. He felt Gale tense slightly, a warning hand stroking through his hair.
For once, he didn’t pinch it or bite it. He had caused Gale enough pain. Tonight was about showing him the height of pleasure.
“Astarion –“
“I have to taste you,” he said without preamble, kissing along the line of hair between Gale’s navel and the top of his now very tented trousers. “God, please.”
It was worth it for the noise Gale made as Astarion buried his face in his clothed crotch and took the deepest breath of his life. So Gale overthought during blowjobs. Astarion was going to make damn sure he didn’t have the capacity to think.
“Keep looking at me,” he said, his voice husky as he knelt on the floor between Gale’s legs, pulling at his waistband to get to his prize. “Just keep looking at me, love.”
It was as if Gale’s cock had been called, the way it bobbed to attention just at that one word. Gale had just about propped himself up on his elbows to look at Astarion – and promptly fell back with a shout as Astarion took as much as he could of his cock into his mouth.
He was greedy. He always had been. He wanted everything. And right now, what he wanted was leaking against his tongue as Gale groaned. Astarion hollowed his cheeks as he sucked around the head, determined not to let any of it escape him.
He pressed a hand against Gale’s thigh insistently.
Look at me. Look at what I would do for you.
As Gale managed to sit up enough to make eye contact, Astarion smoothed his hands against the grain of his thigh hair, gripping into the slight dips at Gale’s hips. He held Gale still, let his mouth move for them both, every pass taking Gale deeper and deeper until there was no more left to take.
“I – ngh – what should I do – with my hands?” Gale gasped. It was with some satisfaction that Astarion noted his cock wasn’t flagging in the slightest, as Gale had previously insisted it would. If anything, he could feel it pulsing against his tongue.
Not stopping for a moment, Astarion let go of one of Gale’s hips, holding his hand out to Gale. When Gale reached for it, Astarion interlaced their fingers and held tight.
Somehow, Gale huffed out a laugh.
“Now who’s – the sap –“
Astarion’s response was to take Gale’s cock right to the base, and keep it there, earning himself a wonderfully loud shout of pleasure as his hips tried to pull back. But Astarion was stubborn. He had what he wanted, and fuck anyone who would take that from him.
“Stop – fuck, stop –“
His stomach dropped, and Astarion quickly pulled away with a deep gasp, clambering on top of a now very sweaty and utterly debauched Gale. As much of a joy as it usually was to draw vulgarity from him, Astarion would always stop the moment he asked. He’d known what it was like not to be afforded that.
“Was that too much? Are you alright?” He pushed back Gale’s hair with his free hand, his other still holding tight to Gale’s, searching for any sign that he he had pushed Gale too far. “I’m sorry, I know you’ve said before it isn’t what you prefer –“
He was cut off by the indescribable beauty of whatever Gale’s mouth tasted of, mixed with the musk already on Astarion’s tongue. Gale pulled him closer, pulled him beneath him, rolling them as easily as the tide.
“It is safe to say that you have very much swayed my opinion on the act,” Gale murmured in his ear, drawing a whimper from Astarion as he felt him carefully pull his trousers away in turn, “but we are short on time, and I would prefer to indulge in something mutual.”
Another day, Astarion would have asked why Gale couldn’t just say he wanted to fuck like anybody else would, but instead he just nodded. He wanted the way Gale said things. He wanted the way Gale cared for him.
He wanted Gale to love him.
Gale was kissing at his neck as he felt the familiar cool slick of lube against his hole, and Astarion didn’t even care that he was on his back, that his legs were spread wide and open, that he was holding so tightly to Gale’s shoulders he was likely leaving crescent indentations in the skin. This didn’t feel like he was giving something up, like he was bargaining for an advantage. This felt like he was giving himself over without expectation. Like he knew Gale would accept this gift and never find him lacking.
He pulled Gale down into another kiss as his fingers prepared him, gasping for breath where he could. He wouldn’t even let him pull away to line himself up – instead, Astarion reached between them, feeling blindly for Gale’s cock before inelegantly pushing his tip inside with a tilt of his hips.
They groaned in unison. Astarion relished how their sounds mixed between their mouths.
He couldn’t quite get his feet to link behind Gale’s back, so he settled for digging in his heels instead, and Gale sank into him.
This was where Gale belonged. This was what it was supposed to feel like.
He opened his eyes to see Gale, hair falling around them both, gasping with every thrust. Gale cupped his cheek with a lube-slick hand, and Astarion did not give a single shit.
“My siren,” Gale panted, his other hand holding tight to Astarion’s thigh for leverage. Astarion lost his words as he somehow pushed deeper.
Whatever happened next, he was Gale’s. Gale was his. Nothing could change that.
“Gale,” he croaked, “hold me –“
Gale pressed down onto him, scooped his arms under his back, and suddenly his hips moved faster than they ever had before, erratic and fast as he poured so many of those beautiful words into Astarion’s ear, as though a dam had broken and nothing could stop him.
“You’re so beautiful – you always have been to me, Astarion, from the start – you take me so well – fuck, it’s like you were made for me, my love – that’s it, let me hold you –“
Astarion could do nothing but hold tight and let Gale take. Anyone else, he would close his eyes and wait for it to be over. But here, now, he pressed his forehead tight to Gale’s and tried to keep them open, tried not to miss any of it.
“I love you – I love you –“
When he came, his declaration a mantra that he had to repeat, that he had to shout, clenching so tight around Gale that it finished him just as quickly, it didn’t feel like falling apart. It felt like finally becoming whole.
Notes:
One more chapter to go!
I got the flu last week and spent a week feverishly writing fic prompts instead and sleeping for 16 hours a day. I had a plan for this chapter and I wanted to wait until I was coherent to follow through on it. So if anyone was wondering why this was two weeks instead of the usual one, that’s why!
No guarantees on when the last chapter will be posted, because I am having a hard time letting this go and will be a full perfectionist about it, but it should be within the next two weeks.
Find me on Tumblr here. This fic also has a Spotify playlist here.
Chapter 23
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Astarion wanted to lie in bed with Gale for at least the week. He couldn’t bear to untangle from him, not quite sure where he ended and Gale began anymore. His weight was a comfort on his chest, his breadth a barrier to the outside world. Even as Gale softened inside him, slipping out, the usual emptiness didn’t follow.
“We need to go,” Gale murmured into his neck, his hand playing with a curl behind Astarion’s ear.
“Again? Give me five minutes, darling,” Astarion murmured back. He was floating, barely registering the springs of the battered mattress digging into his back. His skin thrummed.
Normally he’d hate this. Trapped under a heavy body with nothing to look at but the ceiling. But the slightly peeling paint above him could have been the Sistine Chapel for how beautiful it seemed to him in this moment.
He felt Gale’s belly push against his as he laughed, breathless and short in his ear.
“Come on,” he said, and Astarion groaned in protest as Gale rolled over onto his side. His hair was a bird’s nest. Not that Astarion’s had likely fared much better, rubbed as it had been against the cotton pillows.
He was going to buy Gale silk pillowcases. A thick duvet. Maybe even a new mattress. He was going to be spending a lot more time in this bed, after all, and the experience should be as wonderful as it felt. He wanted to spoil Gale rotten. He had a feeling it would be new for the both of them.
“Do we have to?” He pulled Gale back towards him, their chests sticking together slightly as he rested a hand on the nape of his neck. “Let’s just stay here and celebrate.”
“People are waiting for us, and I’m not explaining our absence to my mother,” Gale said, though he didn’t pull away. “Bad enough you have her so wrapped around your finger already.”
“That’s wrapped around her finger? I’d hate to be on her bad side.”
“I pray you never find out.” Gale brushed a light kiss against Astarion’s cheek. “Now, for the sake of looking presentable, could I interest you in a quick shower before we leave?”
Astarion couldn’t help but grin at the prospect. That was something else he was enjoying with Gale, he’d noticed. He never policed his expressions around him, never carefully arranged his face to look pretty. Instead, he just felt, and he could tell Gale found him all the more beautiful for it.
They stood together, slowly making their way through the flat with languid kisses and soft touches. Astarion traced over the blossoming line of bruises on Gale’s chest with his finger, right over the lines of the tattoo. He hadn’t intended to leave a mark behind, but it seemed his subconscious had other ideas.
“You have a rather morbid fascination with that,” Gale said quietly, keeping one arm wrapped tight around Astarion’s waist as he turned on his shower with his other hand. “I could look into getting it removed, if it really bothers you.”
Astarion shook his head, still following the lines’ path. Gale wouldn’t look the same without it. They both carried physical, permanent reminders of their pasts – Astarion’s by force, Gale’s by misguided choice. If Gale had his removed, as silly as it was, Astarion would probably resent him for it.
“It must have hurt,” he said, feeling the skin underneath his finger shiver slightly as it moved up Gale’s neck.
“It was a short session.” Gale led him under the spray of water. The pressure was truly terrible, barely enough to sluice down between both of them. Astarion cupped his hand under the water, collecting it before letting it fall in a rush down Gale’s chest. His hand rested over the tattoo.
“Now who’s avoiding questions?”
They showered off as best they could, hands smoothing over scarred and unblemished skin in turn. It was becoming easier every time not to wait on the knife edge, for a hand to slip where it wasn’t wanted or for a kiss to deepen against his will. Perhaps one day the thought wouldn’t even occur to him to be unconsciously afraid.
Gale got out the shower first, murmuring something about drying his hair, but Astarion knew he was giving him the privacy to clean up properly.
“You can stay if you want, darling,” he said, poking his head out through the shower door as Gale towelled his hair. “I’m sure you’d enjoy the show.”
“Precisely why I am getting out,” Gale said with a laugh. Astarion pouted, but was quickly placated as Gale leaned in and kissed the end of his nose. “Insatiable.”
“One day I’ll get that shower fuck out of you,” Astarion replied, and cackled as a blush instantly spread over Gale’s face. He ducked back under the water, savouring the feeling of it all to himself. “You’ve been disgustingly traditional so far.”
“We live in shared spaces, Astarion, I am merely being a conscientious housemate,” Gale said. He left the bathroom, leaving Astarion to wash more thoroughly.
They hadn’t stayed at Morena’s long. Astarion fidgeted nervously all afternoon, running over statements and proofs he’d need in his head. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been fidgeting until Morena laid a hand bedecked with gaudy rings on his arm and gently told him to go home and do what he needed to. She also packed off Gale with him, shooing them both out the door despite their protests.
“Gale should stay, at least,” Astarion tried to argue. “This is his party –“
“Which he’s only having because of you,” Morena cut him off, giving his cheek a pat. Her touch was baked-bread warm. Astarion found he didn’t mind it. “Go make that report of yours.”
Astarion looked between Gale and Morena, feeling his heart thud faster in his chest.
“You told her?” he asked Gale, trying and failing to hide the panic in his voice. That rising tide in the centre of his chest was rolling once more.
“I did, yes.” Gale kissed his mother’s cheek goodbye. “She feels much the same about it as I do. Namely, that you were put in an impossible position, and you did what you could.”
“But –“
“And it worked out, so don’t fuss,” Morena said, tapping her cheek with her finger as she turned to Astarion. “Go home. Stay out of the bedroom until you have done what you need to.”
Astarion couldn’t help but laugh, leaning in to kiss Morena’s cheek as Gale spluttered next to him.
**
Astarion
Could you do me a favour?
Karlach
Maybe
Depends on flavour
Favour fuck soz bit drunk
Astarion
You have a problem
Would you mind coming to the office with me tomorrow morning?
I wouldn’t ask but if we get in early I need help taking my office door off its hinges
Karlach
Buy me breakfast and it’s a deal
Can I punch your boss in the face while I’m at it?
Astarion
Is Gale just telling everyone what happened or will I never have secrets again
Karlach
You’ll never have secrets again luverboi
Astarion
🖕
**
He met Karlach in the lobby early the next morning. She looked a little worse for wear, in a tank top and cargo trousers despite the cold.
“You couldn’t have dressed up a little?” he asked, swiping his security card at the barrier. Thankfully, it still let him in. He hadn’t yet been fired, then. Karlach followed behind him; thankfully, the reception team were not yet on duty, so he could sneak her in with little fanfare.
“I have never sweat so much in my life,” Karlach groaned behind him, running her hand over her forehead as she shoved an archive box into his hands, a trade for the bacon roll he brought for her. The box rattled with the sound of the concealed tools within. “Morena made ouzo martinis. That woman’s an evil genius.”
“You stayed after we left?” He led her up the stairs. The building was dead silent, save for a few put upon assistants scurrying through the corridors. According to the calendar, Cazador wasn’t due in for another hour.
“Yeah, I love hanging out at Morena’s house,” she said as Astarion let them both into Szarr and Associates’ offices. His office didn’t look like it had been touched, but Astarion knew full well that Cazador had likely already searched through it. He’d seen the ring of keys stashed in the bottom drawer of his boss’ office. “Reminds me of my parents’ place.”
She held her hand out for the screwdriver and hammer and set about taking apart the hinges on Astarion’s door. With nothing to do but wait, given how much of a racket Karlach was making, he sank onto his chair with a groan.
The Financial Conduct Authority had his full report. He’d been meticulous, scrolling through Slack and his text messages – thankfully, Dalyria had reminded him to change Cazador’s contact name before he took screenshots. Somehow, he doubted the FCA would be as sympathetic to his ordeal if his boss was listed as Casshat everywhere.
He’d done his best to cover his back as best he could. He’d sent Cazador an email blaming food poisoning for his absence. He knew full well Cazador couldn’t send anything about the hearing back in writing, seeing as he wasn’t supposed to be visibly involved. Instead, he received a terse email stating Astarion wasn’t going to be paid for his unauthorised day off and he was expected back in the office the next day.
It was an odd sort of standoff. Cazador had to know what happened at court. Astarion had no doubt Godey would have sent him a lengthy brown-nosing apology. But to reprimand Astarion for backstabbing him would mean accepting culpability for the shell company, which he wasn’t supposed to know anything about.
He’d already slipped up by texting him on his personal phone to ask what had happened. He’d deleted the messages within an hour, but Astarion had taken screenshots almost immediately. They had, of course, gone straight into the report he’d filed that night.
Gale sat next to him at the kitchen table the whole time, his hand flitting between Astarion’s thigh and his lower back. It had been strangely grounding, having him there the whole time, feeling the warmth of his palm. Before, that would have sent Astarion’s skin crawling, but when it was Gale it only felt right.
It didn’t take long for Karlach to slip the pins out of the hinges. She lifted the door up and away, resting it against the wall as she inspected her work. She frowned.
“You don’t have anywhere to throw this out, do you?”
Astarion leant back in his chair and sighed.
“Fuck,” he said, closing his eyes. “I didn’t think of that.”
Karlach stood in front of the door, hands on hips. Then she quickly drew her hand back and punched clear through the centre of the wood. Astarion jumped out of his skin as the door crumpled with an ear-splitting crack, the cheap plywood splintering all over the carpet.
“Oh, dear,” Karlach said mildly, brushing her hand down on her trousers. “Someone must have walked into it. You’ll have to get a replacement.”
In that moment, Astarion thought he might love Karlach even more than he did Gale.
She insisted on staying until Cazador arrived. Apparently, personal training came with a lot of administration that she’d been avoiding doing, and she was set up opposite him with her laptop when they heard the security door buzz to announce his arrival.
Astarion’s hands flexed of their own accord against the keyboard. Cazador never did anything with an audience. He was safe. He had friends that wouldn’t abandon him. He had to keep reminding himself of those immutable facts, because a tense hush fell over the office as soon as Cazador slammed the door shut behind him.
“He can’t do anything, you said,” Karlach said softly, still tapping away at her laptop. The mechanical repetition did little to soothe Astarion’s shattered nerves. “Just stay out of his office and you’ll be fine.”
“Easier said than done,” Astarion muttered back, staring resolutely at his screen.
“I can work from here this morning, if you want,” she offered. “I don’t have any clients until this afternoon.”
It was still a little disconcerting to be offered friendship so easily from people he barely knew. The strength of bond he and Dalyria had was due to everything they had weathered together. They’d been close enough before, he supposed, but he often wondered if she would have bothered with him if it weren’t for all that Cazador inflicted upon them both.
With Karlach, she had every right to hate him. She’d watched him put Gale through his paces, after all, but she was still happy enough to reach out to him independent of him. Not just because he was whatever-he-was to Gale. With Gale was probably the better way of describing it. But he didn’t think she was doing this as a favour to Gale, she was doing it because she wanted to help Astarion, and if he thought about that too much he’d have yet another panic attack.
“I’d appreciate that.” He couldn’t look at her, because that really would be too sincere of him and that was out of his limited capacity right now, but he heard her hum as she returned to her tapping.
“Ancunín!”
Cazador was making a beeline across the office to the now very conspicuously open doorframe of Astarion’s office. He stopped when he saw Karlach sat opposite Astarion. She subtly flexed her shoulders, the muscles straining against the tank top.
Astarion knew Karlach was soft as caramel underneath, but he was suddenly very grateful that it was hidden under the façade.
“Apologies, sir,” he said, trying to inject the strength Karlach projected into his own voice and only moderately succeeding. “It appears there was some sort of mishap with my office door.”
“Don’t know my own strength,” Karlach chimed in. She stood up, towering over Cazador as she extended a hand. “Karlach Cliffgate. Formerly of Cliffgate Security Solutions.”
Astarion had to hide his grin when Cazador went to shake her hand begrudgingly, wincing as she clearly demonstrated her muscles weren’t for show.
“I’m sure you don’t mind if I work the morning here,” she continued, holding the handshake for a moment longer than was comfortable for everyone involved before she finally let go. “Just doing a favour for a friend.”
Cazador looked like he very much minded, but Astarion knew full well he wasn’t about to piss off a six foot plus walking advertisement for CrossFit, so he just nodded tightly and stalked off to his office.
It was imperceptible over the first few days. Astarion would finish one piece of work, expect the next email or assignment to come through, but it would be sent elsewhere. Despite his new open door policy, nobody came by his office. Clearly, they were all under strict instructions from Cazador to avoid him at all costs.
Astarion was not going to resign. Cazador had to fire him, and he knew the bastard wouldn’t dare until he thought he was in the clear. He just had to grit his teeth and bare it.
When the last of his unfinished work was cleared from his inbox, Astarion perfected the art of looking busy, which mostly consisted of texting Gale with his phone hidden from view as he pretended to frown at his monitor.
A week into their standoff, and Astarion was idly playing minesweeper when there was a soft knock at the office’s main door. He looked up to see two police officers waiting patiently on the other side of the glass.
Cazador’s office door was closed, and the rest of the team were frozen in place. It seemed nobody was quite able to believe the officers were even there. Like they were a mirage, a fantasy too good to be true.
Astarion almost tripped over his feet at the speed with which he shot out of his chair and across the floor to open the door for them.
“Can I help you?” God, please, please let this be what I think this is –
“We’re looking for a Mr Cazador Szarr,” the older officer said, looking over Astarion’s shoulder through into the office behind him. “Is this Szarr and Associates?”
“Oh, yes, you’ve come to the right place,” Astarion said with barely concealed glee, earning himself a quizzical stare from the younger officer. “This way, please.”
As surreptitiously as he could, he dug into his pocket for his phone as he turned round. He had a feeling he was going to want video proof of the greatest day of his damn life. Shifting it as subtly as he could, he tucked it into his top shirt pocket as he set it to record.
He knocked on Cazador’s door. The sliding sign proclaimed a meeting in progress. Astarion had no idea who it was with, but it sweetened the pot no end to know Cazador was about to be humiliated in front of clients on top of everything else.
“Mr Szarr? You have some visitors,” he said. His face hurt with how hard he was grinning.
“Ancunín, I am in the middle of a meeting –“
Astarion knew as soon as Cazador opened the door with a face like thunder that this was going to be spectacular. He had no fewer than eight men sat around his conference table, all looking perplexed.
“Apologies, Mr Szarr,” Astarion said, clearly not sorry in the slightest. “But these two fine officers were asking after you.”
“Cazador Szarr?” The police officer gestured for him to leave his office.
“What is this?” Cazador stood resolutely in place, arms folded over his chest. “You have no right to enter this office without a warrant –“
“Sir, could you please confirm that you are Cazador Szarr,” the younger officer interrupted. “Or we can ask your employee here to confirm.”
“This is ridiculous.” Cazador glared at Astarion, who just smirked back. “Yes, fine, I am he. Now explain what business you have here or I will be forced to call security.”
“Mr Szarr, you are under arrest on suspicion of assault, money laundering, fraud by abuse of position and bribery.” The first officer made the gesture for Cazador to follow him again. “Due to the severity of the allegations against you, it has been deemed necessary for the arrest to be made.”
Astarion felt his stomach flip slightly as the officer listed the charges. He hadn’t made any mention of what Cazador had done outside of the fraud. As Cazador began to loudly argue with the officer, he racked his brains for anything in the report that might have led to that other particular charge.
“Mr Szarr, we are asking you to come quietly,” the older officer said, as Cazador practically snarled at him. “I understand this is your place of work, but I’m sure you would prefer to avoid a scene –“
“Do not presume to know what I would prefer!” Cazador snapped. Without warning, his hands shot out and grabbed Astarion by the front of his shirt. His phone fell from his pocket, clattering to the floor. “You did this, boy, I know you did. Once this little misunderstanding is dead and buried, I will destroy you –“
Even flanked by two police officers who were suddenly bodily dragging Cazador off him, Astarion froze in place. It wasn’t the first time Cazador had put his hands on him. He’d lost count of those times, in fact. But he’d become so accustomed to gentle touches that Cazador’s suddenly felt terrifying all over again. His breath was short, sharp in his throat as he couldn’t quite force it down into his chest.
What was he thinking, doing this? Cazador was right, he would make it all go away, he always did.
Then he managed to catch his breath enough to see Cazador forced face down into the scratchy carpet and those terrible hands wrenched into handcuffs.
**
Astarion saw Cazador’s face wherever he went.
Every news stand he passed, every time he checked the trending pages on his social media, the shocked expression loomed large, usually accompanied by a glamorous inset of Mystra looking smug. The story had something for everyone. It was the largest financial crimes story for nigh on a decade. Add in embroiling a celebrity (Astarion still didn’t think she warranted that title, but the Daily Mail disagreed) and the fall of Cazador Szarr became the true crime sensation of the year.
It transpired that it had been Cazador that tipped off the press about the divorce hearing. A journalist had let that little fact slip to Gale while they were waiting for the sentencing. The rumour was that he’d intended to antagonise her further, make her vindictive enough to go for the jugular. Astarion couldn’t help but enjoy just how much that particular gambit backfired.
There was a mountain of evidence against Cazador. The floodgates had opened with Astarion’s report. Years of Cazador’s tyrannical rule came crashing down around him. But of all the people who had come forward, once he’d blown the whistle, Petras was the biggest surprise. Astarion knew Cazador had been fucking half of the office, but he hadn’t known that was why Petras had left. He’d just assumed it was to follow Dalyria.
Petras’ report meant the charges of assault had been added to the list. Astarion didn’t even ever have to talk about his own.
Astarion didn’t particularly enjoy being part of the world’s most traumatic club, but he had to admit, having six other survivors of Cazador’s torment alongside him in the courtroom had made the whole thing a great deal more bearable. Especially when the judge had ruled that the sentences he handed down were to be served consecutively, not concurrently, and that Cazador would be spending the next three decades at His Majesty’s pleasure.
Szarr and Associates was now Rhapsody Law. Astarion was still considering their offer of partnership. He knew full well it was more to cover their own arses than it was any endorsement of his own capabilities. Still, it felt a little parasitic, to usurp Cazador and take his place. Astarion didn’t entirely trust himself with that power, either. He was content with his life. An odd sentiment, given everything that had led up to it, but content he was nevertheless. Perhaps he would take stock and start over completely in the new year. To her credit, Mystra had sent him an eye-wateringly large cheque from her publicity fees as an apology of sorts. Not that she’d apologised properly, of course. Or said anything to Gale outside of arranging to see Tara, who was living in spoiled luxury with Morena until Gale could find a pet-friendly flat.
Mystra also kept emailing them both to ask for life rights so the BBC could begin developing a documentary. Now that he no longer had to deal with her, the court hearings coming to a close, Astarion just blocked her instead. Gale sent all his correspondence through Dalyria.
Gale was already lounging on the sofa when Astarion got home, idly flicking through channels for something to watch. Tara was passed out, belly up, on a cushion next to him.
He spent more and more of his time in Astarion’s space these days. Not overbearing, or squeezing Astarion to the side to take up the air in the room. He was filling in the emptiness that Astarion had always assumed resided permanently in his chest.
Fuck, he loved him so much.
“Freeloaders,” Astarion said fondly, leaning over the back of the chair to kiss Gale’s crown. “How did you even get in here?”
“Dal let us in before she left,” Gale replied. He tilted his chin back, eyes hopeful. Astarion rewarded him with another kiss to his forehead before dumping his bag and coming around to sit next to him. He tucked his legs under as Gale set Dirty Dancing to play.
“Really? You aren’t going to make me watch one of your insufferable arthouse snoozefests?”
“I am merely trying to broaden your horizons when I suggest we watch those, for one,” Gale said, lifting his arm so Astarion could burrow into his side. “And I would like to watch this on a screen larger than ten inches wide. Although I suspect I will still be hopelessly distracted by the man sitting next to me again.”
“Another man distracted you the first time around? Darling, I’m hurt.”
“Oh, he was beautiful,” Gale teased, pretending not to listen to him. “Bit of a twat, though.”
Astarion gasped, mock outraged, and tried to push Gale over by elbowing him in the ribs.
“Mind for Tara!” Gale protested, laughing as he managed to resist Astarion’s efforts.
They settled into a tangle of limbs, Tara blissfully unaware and still passed out on her cushion. Astarion felt himself relax the way he always did at the familiar beats of the film. It gave him the boost of courage he’d been waiting for.
When Baby was staring wide eyed at the dancing in the staff quarters, Astarion cleared his throat.
“You know, you could keep Tara here if you wanted. Dal said you could have a key to the place. You’re here all the time anyway.” He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, the way he’d practiced in his office all day. It didn’t matter if Gale said no. It was just a casual offer. No big deal.
Gale was stroking idly up and down his thigh, but his hand paused.
“Perhaps you could move a few things here too,” Astarion continued, staring steadfastly at the screen. “I cleared a drawer. Two drawers, actually. It’s not like you have that many.”
“In that case, I might as well move everything else in,” Gale said, his hand tightening slightly on Astarion’s leg. “Seeing as you’re demanding my cat and my clothes.”
“Not demanding, merely suggesting,” Astarion said defensively. “You’re being such a cuckoo already. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your toothbrush in my bathroom.”
Gale’s hand started smoothing over Astarion’s leg again. He shifted a little closer, resting his head on Astarion’s shoulder.
“I’ve been rumbled,” he said. “My deepest apologies. I can only thank you profusely for being so benevolent.”
“I am,” Astarion said, reaching up to scratch behind Gale’s ear. “Beautiful, too.”
“Perhaps I could move in this weekend?”
“I never said moving in,” he harrumphed as Gale started to laugh. “I said you could keep some things here.”
Gale laughed harder, cupping his cheek to get Astarion to kiss him.
He tasted like home.
Notes:
Of course they were going to get their happy ever after. It’s what they deserve.
A huge thank you to everyone who subscribed, left kudos, bookmarks, comments, or sent me lovely messages on Tumblr and Discord. This fic actually gave me the confidence to sign up to a writing class and start on my own original novel! Obviously I’ll still be churning out BloodWeave smut because I can’t help myself. Not to mention I have the standard pile of WIPs to get back to…
Special shoutout to the BloodWeave Brainrot, Bloodweave Inn, and Elders Gate Discord servers. I’ve found such a lovely community of people there (and their respective sprint channels are responsible for probably 60k of the word count.)
Find me on Tumblr here and the playlist I wrote a good chunk of this to here.
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