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"I know it's not as grand as what I'm sure you're used to," Gale said, the corner of his lips twitching as he spoke. "But, this is where I call home."
Astarion made a point to let his eyes roam across the building before he spoke. It was obvious that his darling was nervous. Hells, it had been obvious before they'd even gotten to Waterdeep, with half their combined funds spent on a sunwalker's ring before they'd even left Baldur's Gate. How Gale had even found the merchant so quickly, Astarion had yet to discover, but he had made sure to show his appreciation for the feat in the best way he knew how at the first opportunity. The alley had been dirty, and they’d both been exhausted beyond compare, and yet, none of it had mattered when he had sunk to his knees and done his best to worship despite their tiredness.
He was still tired. The journey had been a long one, after all, and he longed for the time he’d truly be able to find rest again. How long had it been? A hundred-and fifty years, if not more, he surmised. Far too long, he allowed himself to add.
“It looks-” he searched for the right word for a moment. “Wonderful, my dear. Shall we?”
In hindsight, he should have realised that someone as attuned to magic as Gale would not have made do with mere non-magical protections for his permanent residence. Though it took but a moment to attune him to the magical protections that enveloped the space, it was still embarrassing that he had nearly managed to walk straight into the ward, and had it not been for his darling, likely now sported a rather uncomfortable consequence or two. So much for his rogue instincts.
At least it had made the wizard chuckle. That almost made it worth it.
The moment he stepped inside the house, a knot formed inside Astarion’s chest. He needed only to look upon the entryway that was so decisively Gale to know that this was a home in every sense of the word, and strangely enough, it made him wish he could cry proper tears for the first time in over a century. It may not be beautiful in the same way the luxurious homes that lined the streets of the Upper City were, but it was charming, and charming was more than good enough.
“Well,” Gale said. “This is it. I’m sure we’ll get most of our things sorted eventually, so no worries about finding a place for everything today. Gods know I have more than enough stuff to begin with anyway.”
His voice was trembling ever so slightly, and his eyes were distinctly avoiding Astarion’s own.
Had it been him from three months ago, he would have whispered a comment under his breath and then pretended he didn’t say anything. Had it been him from a year ago, he would have laughed in Gale’s face. Now though, he took the wizard’s hand in his own, making the human turn his head towards him.
"Darling, why are you so worried about this?” He asked. “It is different, most certainly, but you seem to have forgotten where I spent most of my time before our little adventure. Anything is an improvement to Cazador's dungeon, believe me.”
Alright, perhaps some snark still remained. What could he say, Gale loved to tell him how it made him special. In spite of that fact however, sincerity shone through every word that left him. A great many things that once felt wrong, such as offering comfort, were now something he could do without the fear of repercussion, and with Gale, how could he now offer it? The man had helped him kill his former torturer, after all. He had been there for him. Who was Astarion to not give in return?
The hand that held his own tightened its grasp. “Thank you.”
“Do not fret, my dear,” he responded. “I’m sure you have plenty to show me.”
“Yes.” Gale’s eyes shone softly as he spoke. “Yes, there’s quite a bit. The full tour can wait, if you’d like, of course. We can take as much time as we need.”
Astarion had the feeling he was referring to more than the house. Somewhere, inside the backpack Gale had refused to let him assist with packing, lay a box he knew he wasn’t meant to know existed, and he knew the question it posed. One day its contents would be worn alongside the ring Gale had already given him. The elf may not be certain of much anymore, but that, that he felt with every fibre of his being would come true.
“If that is so,” he said. “We ought to get started. Show me every room you are comfortable with, darling.”
A significant while later, Astarion almost regretted his decision. They had barely made it into the living room before Gale became entirely sidetracked as he rediscovered the spell he had been studying in the weeks before the mindflayers took him, and fell into an hour-long retelling of why he was so interested in the subject in the first place. It had taken Astarion walking into the kitchen by himself for the wizard to realise what it was he had been doing, upon which he finally pulled himself away and apologised.
“It’s no issue,” the elf answered him. “You have just returned to what you left behind. It is only natural you would think of it all again now that you are back to resume it all.”
“Not entirely,” Gale told him. “You are here now, with me. I no longer have an orb in my chest to be concerned about. I have quite a lot I can leave behind, in that before.”
“I suppose we both do.”
“Indeed.”
Gale’s lips captured his in a kiss. Closing his eyes, Astarion let himself enjoy the moment, as he imagined them standing there, far into the future, wearing matching bands on their fingers, still as soft as they were now. Perhaps it was too soon for such fantasies, but he was done only living day by day. It was time to dream. To hope.
The kitchen explained everything about why Gale had insisted upon cooking as much of the food as possible during their journey.
“You were a cook’s apprentice?” Astarion’s eyebrows shot into the air as he read the letter of recommendation. “Why have you never spoken of this?”
“Because,” Gale said, taking the letter from his hand, “this is a far too kind review of my abilities. And, as it happens, the reason why I have this in the first place is rather embarrassing.”
“Some other time, then?” Astarion looked at the words on the scroll, committing them to memory. “I’m sure it’s nowhere near as terrible as my first task as a magistrate.”
His lover nodded. “Some other time.” Then. “Would it be terribly rude of me if I made myself a late lunch? I’m quite famished.”
The moment they stepped into the dining room, Gale offered him the chance to make the place his own.
“I make for a terrible host,” he admitted. “I always have been. Elminister, he tried to teach me once, but I never understood it. I gave up on ever learning the art after that.”
Astarion chuckled. “I suppose I shall need something to occupy my time with.” He made a point to walk around the room, making notes here and there of what could be done, and when his gaze finally returned to the man who he was quite certain loved him, his eyes were strangely blank.
“Is something the matter?” He asked.
“Not at all,” Gale assured him. “Simply glad you see the potential.”
The elf knew he spoke of more than the house this time. It made the knot inside his chest loosen just a little, as something else clicked into place. Gale wanted this future just as much as he did.
The upstairs tour did not take quite as long. Gale explained as they went up the stairs that he’d gotten the place from a family of five, and thus the first floor hosted all the bedrooms. Most had not seen use in a long time (for reasons Astarion could understand), but as Gale offered him a brief glance into what must have been a nursery he began to wonder if there was perhaps a different reason as to why. Children weren’t something he’d thought of for a long time. It was taboo, the same way freedom had been before the nautiloid.
Heroes rarely got happy endings. Villains weren’t meant to get an ending. In spite of all he’d done over the past half a year, Astarion had yet to figure out where he fell. Love, domesticity, the idea of a future where there was such a thing as routine, was that something he could have?
His spiralling thoughts were cut short as Gale proclaimed they’d reached the one bedroom that was in use. His room. Familiar nerves rose in the vampire as the wizard opened the door and stepped inside.
“Well,” Gale began. “It is a mess, I can admit that. Those mind flayers did not exactly offer me a chance to clean this place before we were oh so rudely kidnapped, and in truth I had somewhat forgotten its state, but it should not be too large a job to have it sorted before night falls. You are free to join me if you wish, of course, but if you’d rather not, fret not. I am confident we can sleep together here in no time. Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to replace the sheets either, they’re not suited for anything other than a wash after this long. Hells, what is that stain? Tara, did you sleep in here? You know that is not allowed!”
The wizard continued to grumble about the state of the room as he picked up the books that covered parts of the floor to put them on a well worn desk that sat on the other side of the room. Astarion pulled the sleeves of his shirt down to cover his palms in the meantime, dragging the dust off of the wood before Gale had the chance to cover his books in it. A small smile played on his lips as his lover noticed what he’d done, Gale’s eyes shining in gratitude.
“Of course I’ll help you, darling,” he said. “After all, it will be a much quicker task if we are two to tackle it.”
About two hours later, they stood together by the door to admire the results of their labour. It really was a beautiful room. Homely, the same way the rest of the house was.
All that remained was the bed. Gale had been steadfast in handling that particular matter alone, and when Astarion had asked him why, he’d been vaguely dismissive in his answers. Perhaps the matter embarrassed him? It wasn’t as if Astarion hadn’t been forced to rest in much less comfortable places in the past. A bed was a luxury, no matter its condition.
“The mattress is in need of work,” the wizard suddenly said. “Something’s loose, and the feathers have scraped my back in the past because there’s a hole somewhere in the fabric that I’ve yet to find. Not exactly the most comfortable experience when you’re sleeping, of that I can assure you.”
Astarion motioned for him to continue. It was never difficult to understand when his lover needed to ramble, even less so when he spoke as if he was thinking aloud.
“I know the frame’s in need of a polish too. Hells everything in here probably does, and it’s not as if I took the best care of this room to begin with. If we’re to share this space, I ought to make it habitable at the very least. Especially for the nights I hope we have ahead of us. We’ve been on the road for too long, we should have a good place to sleep at night now that it’s past us.”
Sleep. Astarion's eyes grew heavy as the words hit him all at once. Hells, Gale hadn't been talking about sex even once the entire time he'd spoken of the bed. Their bed. Whilst the elf had worried about performing every night as he had become so accustomed to, his dear wizard had only been imagining them laying side by side, finally getting a solid rest now that the war was over. Gale did not expect anything from him, that he now understood. He wanted, and he yearned, but that was all.
Turning towards his darling, he caught himself in the motion of moving in for a kiss. Was that not what he ought to do? Perhaps, had it been a different partner, and he still under Cazador's control. But with Gale, he did not have to perform in such a way, did he?
A smile flickered across his lips as he instead brushed a light kiss against the wizard's cheek.
"It's perfectly alright, my dear," he said.
Gale’s smile was soft when he pulled back to look at him. It was as if he understood what Astarion could not find the words to say. As if that moment meant something to him too.
“I know you don’t sleep as I do,” his darling said. “But, I hope that you know that whatever rest it is you require, you can find it here.”
The with me went unsaid. Astarion heard it nonetheless.
It was as night dawned upon them that calm truly began to settle into his bones. A morning run-in with a dreadful hunter had left him well-fed, but even so, a full stomach guaranteed nothing but the assurance that hunger wouldn’t trouble him until the next dawn. It was strange, then, to find he did not fear the idea of resting as he had before. Perhaps this was what normal was meant to be. What his future was supposed to look like.
Astarion liked that thought.
They were both sitting on Gale’s well-worn sofa, his loving wizard with a scroll in hand, and Astarion, a book he pretended he was reading. It was a peaceful scene. One he hoped would repeat every night they had the chance. For about an hour, from what he estimated, silence reigned over them, as they found solace in the other’s company, before his partner rose from where he had been sitting to walk over to the double doors at the end of the room.
As soon as they were opened, the soft darkness of the night sky washed over them. The ring on the elf’s finger felt heavy then, and it was not long before he removed it, placing it upon the table along with his book before he stood to join his lover.
Gale stretched out his hand as he neared him.
“Come,” he said. “Come watch the stars with me.”
Astarion went.
It really was a beautiful night, all things considered. Below them was the sound of water crashing upon rock time and time again, and above them, the stars glittered in the moonlight. The scenery was remarkably similar to the Outer Planes, except instead of feeling magic underneath his fingers, it was the wind brushing up to him.
And yet, he only had eyes for Gale. For his wizard, who stood beside him with a completely relaxed look on his face.
“Darling,” he said, “would you mind casting a Globe of Silence around us?”
Rather than answer him directly, Gale lifted his hand and spoke the incantation. A moment later, the familiar feeling of his magic wrapped around them, glimmering softly beneath the stars.
Astarion’s hands were on him the second after, pulling him into a kiss. This time, it was filled with passion and yearning, as the need to thoroughly appreciate his lover for all he had done rushed through him time and time again. His fingers moved towards the laces of his shirt, making his intentions clear, and yet, not moving to unlace them either. Offering his darling the choice, as Gale had offered it to him so many times before.
The wizard tore his lips away long enough to nod, before he dove back in to give Astarion an insistent kiss. With the yes given, the elf was quick to get the shirt both unlaced and off his lover, his hands now roaming the bare skin on display most appreciatively. Instead of rushing towards the finish line as he had before, Astarion let himself indulge in Gale’s body, the places that made him groan, the touches that made him squirm. It was all pleasure, as his darling loved to remind him. All something they shared together.
They shed the rest of their clothing without haste. A laugh escaped them both when Gale’s trousers were caught in his boots, and Astarion was forced to kneel upon the wood to detangle the mess, and again when his own belt refused to open in spite of their efforts. It was freeing, and it was entirely without expectation. The elf even refused his urge to claim without issue, instead feasting upon the wizard’s neck with bites that did not break skin. Another time, he would sink his fangs in and drink as he fucked him, but not this time. Tonight, he needed his mouth free.
“Bend over for me, darling,” he said, his lips barely an inch away from Gale’s ear. “Let me worship you, hm? Praise you, what do you say?”
“Please.” Gale’s voice was wrecked. Deep and grunting, just as he liked it. Once, his blood had smelled like disease, and his voice had been like an insistent grind to Astarion’s ears. Now, his blood sang, and his voice was a music Astarion never wanted to stop listening to. He had woven himself a place inside his heart. It was that fact, just as much as the feeling of skin against skin, that made his cock fill. That made him desperate for the lovemaking he now knew sex could be.
Gale had only barely gotten into position before Astarion found he was done doing things as slowly as they had. His fingers pressed on the underside of Gale’s lips, which opened readily to suck them just as he desired.
“Good,” he purred. “You take me so well, don’t you? Always so eager to please, always so tempting, aren’t you?” Pressing his front against Gale’s back, the man moaned around his fingers as he felt just how hard Astarion was.
“This is what you do to me,” the elf pushed out. “You make me want, make me desire.”
He pulled his now thoroughly soaked fingers out of his lover’s mouth, wasting no time to insert them where they both wanted them. It was a great effort not to rut against his arse as he did so, as Gale fought to keep his sounds to a minimum. He knew what Astarion wanted, after all. It made his veins cry out in longing for completion, and he was far from done.
“What a pretty man you are,” Astarion continued. “So ripe, ready for the taking. You’re perfect.”
It did not escape his notice how Gale’s jaw clenched at those words. How he fought to keep a scream in. He pressed a harsh kiss along his shoulder blades in response, control slipping away by the minute. Everything he had been feeling during the day was starting to catch up with him, the need to show his gratitude, the want to soak his lover in appreciation, the deeply filling desire to simply connect. He had been balancing on a knife’s edge, and now, he had slipped.
The remainder of the prep went quickly after that. One finger became two, became three, all the while all the words he had lacked in the past tumbled from his lips. How he understood what Gale had been telling him, how he wanted it too.
“This is ours now,” he stuttered out, his voice quivering. “Every day, it is ours. I’ll want you every day, every hour, however you will have me. I am yours, you are mine.”
Gale could not hold in the gasp that escaped him at those words. His mouth opened, as if he were about to speak, but instead the words crumbled into a groan as he clenched around Astarion’s fingers. For a moment, the elf stood still, but then, he took it for the sign it was. His fingers were replaced in seconds, as he pressed inside as slowly as he could manage. Gale seemed to draw him in every bit of the way, pressing back onto him to push him deeper. A sound that could only be described as a yelp left the wizard when Astarion found the spot that always seemed to bring him to madness.
“Hells, I’m not going to last,” Astarion admitted. “But neither are you. You can come just like this, can’t you? With only my cock in you, and my words in your ears.”
He pulled out nearly all the way, before pushing back inside and beginning a ruthless rhythm. His hands, which had been resting upon Gale’s shoulders, now fell to his hips, holding onto him for dear life. All the while, his lover was uttering sounds that were somewhere in between a groan and a choked yell. Perhaps, had his thrusts been controlled, Astarion would have been able to stop the words from leaving his lips. But he wasn’t. He was lost in their shared pleasure.
“I love you. I want this, all of this, for as long as we are given it. Forever, if that was offered to us.”
It was far from the most romantic declaration in the world. Astarion couldn’t care less. As his words devolved into moans and groans of his own, he could only feel Gale’s pleasure surrounding him. And as they tumbled over the edge, together, he knew his lover didn’t either. They had a future together to find perfection, after all.