Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

November 3, 2005

“Good afternoon Mr. and Mr. Ancunín-Dekarios, please have a seat. Your therapist will be with you shortly.”

Gale offered a polite nod and soft smile to the receptionist, an older woman with blonde hair and gray roots who introduced herself as Jaheira. She left the room without another glance, her worn running shoes squeaking against the linoleum tile. The rhythmic squeaks slowly faded as she continued down the hall and back to her front desk, leaving them there… alone.

Taking a deep breath, Gale tried to mentally calm his own nerves. He wasn’t used to this: the idea of having to “fix” something in a relationship. His previous relationships had never gotten to this point, having fizzled out naturally or ended before any intervention was needed or wanted. However, with Astarion… things were different. This mattered more. Losing what they had, or rather once had, scared him. He desperately wanted to mend things between them.

Astarion could hear Gale’s slow intake of breath behind him. He didn’t need a mirror on the wall in front of him to know that his husband was likely rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the room nervously. The elf rolled his eyes and picked the far end of the moss green couch to sit down at. It was made of a scratchy material, a cheap purchase with hard modern angles and little cushions. Crossing an ankle over his knee, Astarion picked at his nails and ran his tongue over his teeth.

Gale looked around the therapist’s office anxiously before sitting down, taking in the environment and trying to get used to this. They would be here often, he supposed. He fidgeted in his seat, eyes glancing at Astarion occasionally to see how he was doing.

Another time, he’d be able to read and decode his husband’s body language and expressions as well as he did with others in his job, but now… now he couldn’t tell what Astarion was feeling. There was annoyance, that much was obvious, that they were here.

The space between them felt more like a canyon than a single cushion. Astarion was reminded of the space between them in bed at night. He was reminded of the space between them when they sat at the table for dinner, both at either end of their eight-seater dining table. One would think that after the last few years of it, he would barely notice, barely feel it. No, the canyon between them was impossible to ignore, growing larger with each passing day.

It was why they were here, in “couples therapy,” to set up a zipline across the canyon and finally find each other again—if it was even possible anymore.

The silence between them was deafening, broken only by Gale clearing his throat and the clock hanging on the wall. The plastic hand echoed in the tense silence between them.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Gale took in a breath to say something, then let it out, not knowing what to say. It didn’t seem like Astarion was in the mood to talk, either. The silence between them was heavy, oppressive. He opened his mouth again—then let out a sigh of relief at the sight of their therapist walking in the room and settling down on the armchair across from them. He was a hulking bald man with a large purple tattoo covering one eye, cradling something in one hand and a pen and notepad in the other.

“Greetings! I am your therapist, you may call me Minsc. This,” Minsc holds out his palm to reveal a hamster, “is Boo. He is emotional support hamster!” The therapist continued, gesturing to them both with the hand holding Boo. “You have come for couples therapy. Who would like to go first?”

The man’s cadence threw Gale off, and even more so when the hamster was revealed—the latter was a pleasant surprise, actually.

The little critter’s nose wiggled cutely, and Gale couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face as he watched Boo groom himself with his tiny paws. He glanced at Astarion again to see if he wanted to introduce himself first, or had anything to say. The elf was avoiding his gaze, and it was clear he wouldn’t talk until Gale did. After all, Gale was the one who insisted on bringing them here in the first place. Sometimes Gale wondered if his husband even wanted things to be better. He’d become so distant over the years, the moments of seeing that vulnerable, kind elf from when they were dating were far and few between. He looked back to Minsc with a small sigh.

“Gale Ancunín-Dekarios,” he greeted warmly, stressing the Ancunín part a little more, just to remind himself and his husband beside him that they were in fact still together. A part of each other connected to their identity. “A pleasure to meet you and your mighty companion.”

Astarion bared his teeth in a strained smile with a polite nod. Oh, hells, he knew this would be a waste of time. Looking pointedly at the floor, Astarion waited for Gale to continue. If his husband wanted them to be in therapy so badly, he could tell this complete stranger exactly why they were here.

Another glance at Astarion, and Gale continued hesitantly. “We—uh, I brought us here because I think… well… we felt that things were becoming distant between us.” Gods, he was better at words than this, but now the nervousness was getting to him. Too desperate to convince Astarion that there was something worth saving, something to fix. “I… I’m concerned that if this keeps going without change, we… we won’t be able to stay together.”

Eyes kept flitting back to the elf, trying to gauge his reaction, trying to see if his admittance to wanting to bring each other closer together, to bring back what’s faded, had softened Astarion. Hoping that it would make Astarion more willing to talk and share what was wrong, and tell him exactly what had changed—not that Gale could answer that for himself.

A heavy weight descended from Astarion’s chest cavity into his stomach at Gale’s words. He wanted to look at Gale, hold his hand and reassure him. This whole thing is ridiculous, after all. They didn’t need someone to tell them how to fix this. They could fix this. He had no idea how but… surely they could fix this.

Instead of looking at his husband, Astarion looked at the bald man across from them. The hamster he’d brought into the room with him was perched on his shoulder and watching, almost as if it was listening intently as well.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Astarion forced a soft laugh from his mouth and waved his hand dismissively, “It’s really just a tune up, dear. I’m sure every marriage needs them after five years.”

Gale’s smile faltered at Astarion’s dismissive wave, followed by that forced laugh. This was how things were for a while now—forced laughs, strained smiles, pretending as if everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

“Six years,” Gale said almost immediately. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so pointed, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them. Six years of building this life together, and Astarion couldn’t bother to remember how long it really was.

Astarion’s ear twitched and his jaw tensed when Gale corrected him. His eyes may have flared, but he kept his smile trained on the therapist, refusing to acknowledge the anger. No, they were not going to get into that same argument right now. Not in front of some stranger whose whole job was to find flaws in their relationship.

Minsc and the hamster watched them intently, and for some reason the air felt heavier. He couldn’t figure out the therapist’s thoughts—he seemed as oblivious to their situation as before, and the hamster was, well, showing as much emotion as it could with those beady black eyes that seemed to bore through him. Astarion’s attention was diverted back to the therapist when the large man’s booming filled the room again.

“Well! Regardless of how long, five years is a good while! There is many feelings between you two, and Minsc will help you two understand those feelings.”

Gale blinked, not quite understanding. Especially with how distracting it was when the therapist referred to himself in third person. “Yes, well, a lot of complicated feelings, of course,” he agreed, a slight shake in his voice, nervously watching Astarion.

It took everything for Astarion to not make a face at Minsc’s promise. He understood his feelings well enough, thank you very much.

Looking at Gale was a mistake.

Those large brown eyes were already staring back at him, the nerves in his tone even more evident in his face. It was the same expression he had when begging Astarion to come here. The same expression he had when imploring him to not give up.

Astarion’s fingers tightened on his own lap, resisting the urge to take Gale’s hand in his. He should, shouldn’t he? That was the kind thing to do, after all. His hands might as well be made of the lead weight currently pooling in his stomach. He couldn’t seem to move them no matter how much he wanted to. A nonchalant smile was all he could offer, hoping the anxiety didn’t show in his eyes or his body that he was attempting to keep relaxed.

He was an agent damnit, this should be second nature for him. He spent so long lying reflexively to Gale, it should come easily. Those skills seemed to dissolve around the other man now.

Minsc nodded thoughtfully, marking his notebook as they sat in silence. The hamster moved up his shoulder to his ear with the faintest squeaking sound that even Astarion’s elven ears struggled to pick up.

Minsc’s eyes lit up as he asked, “On scale of one to ten, how happy are you as couple?”

He looked between them and Astarion answered the first number that came to mind, “Eight.”

Yes, there’s room for improvement, but eight was a respectable number. A fine number. Everything would be fine with an eight, they just needed a little tune up. That’s all.

“Six,” Gale responded at the same time, and immediately regretted it when he heard Astarion’s answer. Attempting to save himself, he sat up straighter in his chair, holding a hand up. “Wait, hold on, one being absolutely miserable, to the point where it’s a miracle we’re still even talking or looking at each other, and ten being everything is perfect and it makes no sense why we’re here?” He continued before Minsc could reply, gesturing his hands wildly as he tried to explain himself, avoiding Astarion’s eyes.

“Because well, you know, as a professor, perfection is almost never guaranteed, and nine was at most what we had before things started falling apart. Eight was still great, of course, and uh, seven’s being generous. Six seems to best describe how I’m feeling, and… er, it matches the amount of years we’ve spent together, so…?”

He laughed nervously, eyes darting everywhere but the elf. He met Boo’s eyes for a moment, and the hamster seemed less cute and more intimidating with the way he seemed to judge every word Gale said.

Gale swallowed, rubbing sweaty hands on his pants. Astarion said eight—did he really not see that much of a problem in their relationship? Eight was positive—three points above average, and their relationship felt barely above average. Barely kept together. Six was the most he could give.

Astarion could only stare blankly ahead as Gale talked, blood rushing in his ears. An indignant anger quickening his heart rate. He wanted to argue, make a biting remark about Gale needing to overthink every little detail. There was something humiliating about being the one to answer a higher number, as if that meant everything wrong with their relationship was his fault.

Six.

They still ate dinner together every night, they slept in the same bed, they even continued their nightly routine of reading in the library with a glass of wine. They weren’t arguing every single night or having an affair—that Astarion knew of, at least. But he knew Gale. Gale wouldn’t do that.

Sure, eight might have been a rather high number, but six?

“Minsc sees you both answer a different number. Mr…. um—”

“Astarion,” the elf interjected with a hollow tone, mind still wrapping around the number.

Six years and all they had in terms of happiness was the same number: six.

“Mr. Astarion chooses eight and Mr. Gale chooses six,” Minsc said with a nod, looking between them.

There was a pause after, possibly an expectation for one of them to speak, though no one did. Astarion kept flicking the number through his mind like a coin over his knuckles.

Six.

He thought about their nightly routine, dinner, books and bed. How quiet they were. How without laughter or warmth. How strained they felt. Both of them wanting more, but having no idea how to get there.

He looked at the silver wedding band on his finger, his mind going back to the day Gale slid it on him. The wide smile on that handsome man’s face, love and adoration swimming in those wide, brown eyes. Astarion could almost remember the way that smile made his heart ache. It had been impossible not to return it with a smile of his own. He couldn’t remember the last time it felt that way between them.

Six.

“No,” Astarion added softly, sneaking another glance at Gale. It burned when their eyes met and he hoped the apology he couldn’t seem to voice was readable in his expression as he continued without breaking eye contact. “No, he’s right. If anything, six is generous.”

Astarion’s admittance that Gale was right stung more than he thought it would. Gale didn’t want to be right. He wanted it to be eight, wanted it to be better. He met Astarion’s eyes, seeing the apology—the vulnerability—in them.

Astarion’s fingers twitched in his lap, wanting to feel those rough warm hands in his. It took everything to move his hand to the cushion between them, but maybe everything was what this would take. As he turned back to the therapist, he flipped his hand to have his palm facing up in a silent offering.

Gale took the elf’s hand without hesitation, yet the contact felt like nothing to either of them. No spark like there once was before. No warmth of love and connection. Just. Contact.

It should feel like an anchor for Astarion; a heavy, solid weight, but when Gale squeezed Astarion’s hand, as if saying, I’m still here. I’m still willing to try, the reassuring smile his husband offered didn’t reach his eyes. For a moment, fear pierced Astarion’s heart at the thought that it might already be too late. Astarion entwined their fingers, a mimicry of a desperate embrace.

Astarion tried to think of something to say, something honest, real. But nothing came to him, the only sound being the clock; ticks and tocks to remind them of all the time they’d been wasting.

Minsc and Boo watched the silent exchange with a nod, and the man brought his pen up for the hamster to nibble on thoughtfully. “It is good to hear the truth,” he said, looking between the two. “Sometimes simple numbers can tell you more than words do. Which seems quite silly to Minsc, considering how everyone depends on words to communicate.”

He watched Boo chew on the pen for a moment longer, then looked back at the two. “Next question! How often do you two have sex?”

There was no preparing for this next question; it might as well have been a flash-bang thrown into the room. Astarion watched as Gale’s shoulders hunched in, his face twisting in confusion, physically recoiling. That was a private matter—well, he supposed the whole relationship was a private matter. This was a perfectly normal thing to ask from a therapist, right?

“Uh…. Is this… is this also a one to ten thing?” Gale asked hesitantly, starting to ramble for clarification again. “Is zero an option? Is more than ten an option? In a day, in a week, month, year? Not that we keep track of this sort of thing for a year….”

As he rattled off multiple clarifying questions, Astarion felt those olive-toned fingers tighten, as if he might drift away. And rightfully so; they had been drifting these past few years, hadn’t they? Full honesty never being possible, Astarion had let all the lies and half-truths build a strong current between them. It was his fault they were here now, wasn't it?

Even now, trying to put his career to the side, Astarion still found himself unable to leave that headspace of lies and well-curated personas, to just be himself. Though, who that was he couldn’t say; not even an interrogation could pull that out of him.

Astarion held Gale’s hand tightly, the warm metal of his wedding band pressed between their fingers.

“I agree, I don’t understand the question.” Astarion couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face.

There was something reassuring about this. As if they both stood tall together against the therapist’s questioning. A small part of Astarion hoped Gale would get annoyed enough with the man and his hamster that they might leave and never come back. Then again, this was the most they’d ever come to actually talking about things.

Ugh, they really were going to have to talk about their feelings, weren’t they?

Minsc listened to a few squeaks, nodding pensively. And just like that, Astarion was doubting this whole therapy thing again.

“We start with the week.” Minsc smiled, looking at them both expectantly.

Astarion looked from Gale to the therapist. Talking about sex wasn’t difficult, but talking about their sex life…

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

“Does that include the weekend?” Astarion asked Minsc cheekily with a wink, hoping to smooth the tension in the room.

Either way, they're fucked, or more pointedly, they aren’t fucked. Haven’t. In quite some time.

“Yes, including the weekend,” Minsc hummed, still looking at them expectantly.

Gale chuckled nervously—the humor barely lifted the tension with the weight of the question hanging above them. He couldn’t remember the last time they were truly intimate. It wasn’t just the physical act that was missing, but the connection that came with it. The care, the fondness, the passion. It all seemed so distant now. They’d drifted so far apart that sex had become a sort of chore for them.

Gale had excuses—the same excuses he’d used over and over to cover for the truth. Fatigue and lack of time from late nights investigating targets were instead from grading papers and exams. Sore limbs and body from sitting in a chair all day staring at his screen were instead from standing all day in the lab room conducting experiments. It was a cover he’d built for years, and Astarion always accepted them. But now it seemed like it was less the tiredness and lack of time and more just… not feeling the need, the desire anymore. Gale missed it.

He looked back at his partner, wondering if he missed it as well. Not seeing any clear indication of it, Gale looked back to Minsc with a sigh. “It’s been a while,” he admitted. “A few months, actually. We’ve been… busy.”

Astarion provided similar excuses, and Gale understood them from him. The elf would cite early mornings that necessitated rest or an old back injury that was giving him pains. Gale would offer to rub or soothe the ache, but Astarion brushed him off, insisting that sleep would be enough. Much to his horror the first couple times, he found himself relieved that Astarion didn’t feel up for it so often. As time went on, pursuing physical intimacy together felt forced, unwanted.

Lips pursed, jaw tense, Astarion stared at the fake plant off in the corner. Had it really been a few months?

The elf gave a short nod of agreement, eyes transfixed on the fiddle-leaf fig. A bitter smile traced his lips; he only knew the name because of the day Gale brought one home, explaining how to care for it before getting sidetracked into explaining its native environment. Astarion only half-listened at the time, his mind still heavy from the mission that day. The target had been difficult, rougher than expected. He remembered the name of the plant though, and how Gale wanted them to care for the vibrant thing together.

Now there was a mimic of the plant across the room, tall and deep green with wide leaves. A beautiful fake. The longer Astarion looked at it the more he could pinpoint sharp plastic edges on the stems and uncut threads at the edges of the leaves. There was no falsifying the real thing; to have something as large and healthy as that would take time, care, patience.

Minsc nodded in understanding, and so did Boo, it seemed. Gale briefly wondered if the hamster could actually understand them. Then wondered if the hamster was telling Minsc what to ask, as it quietly chittered next to Minsc’s ear.

“Minsc and Boo understand.” The therapist nodded, jotting something down on the notebook. What was he even writing in there?

Astarion shifted uncomfortably, unable to stop glancing at the damned plant. Why was it bothering him so much? What happened to the one they owned again?

The memory came back to him, leaving a sharp bitter taste in his mouth. Gale’s disappointment had been heavy in the air when he dropped the dead plant into the trash. It hadn’t lasted longer than a month; they both kept assuming the other was watering it.

After a moment of squeaking, Minsc looked up from his notebook with his pen in hand. “Let us start at beginnings. Tell Minsc, how did the two of you meet?”

A smile, small but genuine, finally reached Gale’s lips. The day they met was a fond memory, even if the situation had been quite dire.

“It was five years ago in Amn,” Astarion stated, looking at the hamster rather than the therapist. It was a bit easier to talk to those beady eyes than the person writing notes about how pathetic their marriage had become.

“Six,” Gale muttered under his breath, though his smile remained, and with much less heat behind the word than before.

Astarion’s ear twitched, but he continued. “Five or six years ago in Amn…”

Chapter Text

June 7, 1998                         Over Five (or Six) Years Ago

They had been at Amn, a wealthy mercantile nation. It was a hotspot for trade, intrigue, and, naturally, secrets. It had been a disaster of a mission.

Some local event was taking place that had the place buzzing with far more activity than Astarion had been briefed on. His cover came far too close to blowing before he even arrived at the correct location. This was exactly why he didn’t mess with the black market missions—they were always a disorganized mess. Leave it to fucking Petras to open one of the artifacts and get himself cursed. That asshole was sitting comfortably in the infirmary while Astarion picked up his slack.

Astarion moved swiftly through the crowd, disengaging from any potential areas that might catch attention. There were so many godsdamned police patrolling the streets, stopping individuals and checking IDs. Sure, he had perfectly mocked up identification, but there was no sense in tempting things. Damned invisibility potions were useless with the scrying eyes following like loyal dogs behind each patrol. Dashing would draw far too much attention. He needed to slip in somewhere and wait this out.

The first door was locked, so Astarion continued walking without breaking his stride. In the rearview of a commercial van on the street, he saw three patrol officers walking behind him. One of the officers leaned over and pointed at Astarion. Shit.

He ignored them when they called out behind him, only a step from the door of some hole-in-the-wall hotel with a bar. It was the perfect place to slip in and disappear. Astarion slid in and was immediately stopped by two officers already in the establishment. Shit.

Astarion blinked in false confusion, asking the officer to repeat themselves as he checked his exits in a facsimile of looking for a friend. The place was full of officers and scrying eyes. The kitchens to the right should have a backdoor exit—that would be the optimal route. The bathrooms may have a window, but that wasn’t guaranteed. There was definitely no turning around, not when the other patrol was going to step in at any second. Shit.

No matter what he would need to make space between him and the officers without causing a scene. He was fast, but not that fast. He might just need to present the fake ID and talk his way ou—

He stopped when round, umber eyes made contact with him from across the room.

Amn was the perfect place for Gale to gather intelligence and uncover the hidden dealings of a certain black market organization. His task at the time involved gathering sensitive information about this organization that was meddling with magical artifacts and was a threat to his agency, and Waterdeep as a whole.

He was just about ready to leave the next day after gathering some more intel at the hotel he was staying at, but instead was met with police coming in with half a dozen scrying eyes floating behind them.

And then a white-haired elf caught his eye, hurrying inside with a desperate sort of look on his face. He seemed to be looking for someone, with the same sort of panic Gale was feeling. Those crimson eyes met Gale’s for a moment before he broke eye contact and turned to the bartender.

“What are they looking for?” Gale asked him quietly, seeing as the officers were talking to individuals rather than looking for a specific person. That should be expected; Gale had kept a low cover during his time here.

“They’re looking for tourists traveling alone,” the halfling told him, eyeing him with mild suspicion. “Are you with anyone?”

Gale didn’t answer, turning his attention back to the group of officers. His fingers twitched to cast a spell, perhaps Invisibility—no, there were too many scrying eyes here. A Fireball would burn this whole establishment down and he didn’t need any more attention here. Perhaps a Magic Missile to carve a path out. He could quickly cast a Disguise Self spell; hopefully the bartender wouldn’t remember his current face for long.

Before he could murmur the incantations, an uncomfortable feeling crawled over his skin. He could sense ropes and cuffs infused with Sussur Blooms from where he was. Those were a recent invention that year, with all the rising criminal magic users across Faerûn. They must have some serious business here with how many precautions they were taking.

A githyanki officer came up to him, briefly glancing around the area for any companions. “Are you alone, sir?” he asked when he saw none. “May I see your identification?”

Gale pretended not to hear, looking past him at the entrance, trying to plan a path out. The group with the Sussur tech was far enough away that he could possibly cast a quick Magic Missile. Three missiles, three targets. One for the guy in front of him, the other two for the ones next to each other; hopefully they’d push the others back and create a space for him to pass. This was not an ideal solution, and he’d rather get out of this situation without a fight, but it didn’t seem possible now.

“Sir, are you alone?” the githyanki repeated, already growing impatient.

Gale raised his hand to his hips, preparing to cast, disguising the motion as if he was taking out his passport—then his attention turned back to the elf, who was looking pointedly at him. Gale kept staring for a moment. Two. Then, quickly turned to the githyanki and shook his head.

Astarion was adept at taking in information quickly, being able to scout a target quickly and efficiently. This was different. If it weren’t for the Sussur ropes around them setting off an anti-magic aura Astarion would have thought Slow Time had been cast.

The man looking back at him was gorgeous, sunset incarnate sitting at the bar with a whiskey in his hand.

His skin was a golden sun-kissed tan with shoulder-length, chestnut-brown waves. There was a tendril of hair down one of his temples, the rest pulled back by his Ray-Ban browline framed sunglasses. When the man turned slightly to the side, shaking his head to a githyanki officer, Astarion noticed a hair tie holding half his hair up in a bun. His cream, striped linen shirt was unbuttoned an ungodsly amount—not that Astarion could say anything with his own shirt in a similar state—with one half tucked into his khakis.

Attractive or not, he was the perfect cover. He appeared to need one as well, judging by the nervous finger tapping on his thigh and the way he was staring back at Astarion as an officer spoke to him.

The elf shrugged off the officer, waving to the brunet by the bar and calling out loudly, “Darling, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Before the man could respond, Astarion was by his side wrapping an arm around his waist. Sweet hells, he radiated warmth. Astarion gave him a pointed but subtle squeeze at his hip. If the other man played along they could book a room upstairs and wait for the patrols to clear.

Darling.

Alright, Gale thought. He could play this charade of being lovers, if only for this moment. Not that it would be hard—he was a rather good actor, as he needed to be in his job, and it wasn’t like the elf wasn’t attractive. He was extremely attractive, actually, especially now that he was up close and personal.

The elf’s loose, unbuttoned shirt hung low, and Gale could see down his smooth, pale chest when he looked at him. Soft silver curls pressed against his cheek, and a sweet, citrusy scent hit his nose. No, it wouldn’t be hard at all to act like he was attracted to this man.

“There you are, my love,” Gale hummed, an easy smile spreading across his face. Hm, ‘my love’ might be a bit much, but if he was going to play this, he was going to throw everything in. He chuckled, kissing the elf’s forehead in faux fondness. “I thought you got lost again.”

He could see the githyanki watching carefully with narrowed eyes, but Gale promptly ignored him, taking the elf’s hand and sliding off his chair. He started leading them both to the stairs, heading to his booked room where they could get some much needed privacy. He could feel the eyes on him, judging every move. Gale rested a hand on the arm around his waist, pressing the elf closer. He could apologize for this invasion of personal space and unknown boundaries later.

A convenient knight in shining armor, Astarion kept tight to the useful man’s side. The brunet played his part as lover well; his affectionate words appeared natural, his lips were warm against Astarion’s temple, his hands soft but firm where they held him as they walked upstairs. It was easy to place himself in the correct headspace to find the contact alluring rather than nauseating.

Don’t just play the part, be the part. Cazador’s words echoed in his mind as he tracked the patrols around them with an airy giggle.

The pleasant smell of lavender and sandalwood permeated the air, possibly the other man’s shampoo or a tasteful cologne. There was a certain charm about him, making the performance that much easier to play into. Astarion had done this hundreds of times with his targets, though usually he was trying to fool the mark as well.

As they walked up the flight of stairs, Astarion realized the man already had a room booked. Perfect. The room was quite nice as well, plenty of space with double doors opening to a balcony—a useful exit if needed.

In case things took a turn, Astarion knew he could use the hidden Karabasan’s poison injector tucked in his sleeve if needed. One short stab into the target’s skin and they would be paralyzed for at least ten minutes. More than enough time to make his way out if the patrols had cleared, or at the very least enough time to gag and tie the man so that he could wait things out.

Sure, he seemed pleasant now, but Astarion knew all too well how quickly people could change once the bedroom door closed.

Once they got inside the room and locked it behind them—slowly enough to not arouse suspicion, but quickly enough to not have to play this out longer than they needed to—Gale let out a held breath, as well as the elf’s hand.

Astarion pressed his ear against the door to listen in on the patrols knocking nearby rooms. It seemed the other man had the same idea, as he stayed with his back against the door.

“Sorry about that,” Gale whispered, voice still low just in case that officer was outside listening.

Astarion almost missed the handsome man’s apology, so focused on listening for any important information happening on the other side of the door.

“No apologies necessary, my dear. I should be thanking you for saving me from those wretched beasties out there,” Astarion replied softly with an easy smile and a subtle wink when catching the man’s eye.

Unsure of how long he would need his knight’s company, Astarion knew it would be best to rely on charm. He turned to face the bearded man next to him with his hip cocked and his shoulder against the door, angled to allow a generous view down his neckline. Running his fingers down his collarbone as if scratching idly, Astarion attempted to draw the man’s eyes there and gauge his reaction.

Brown eyes followed the movement, a slight swell in his hairy chest as he took in a quick breath. Bingo.

Astarion licked his lower lip with a flick of his tongue to add a slight sheen before moving the hand the man was watching to the few inches between them, palm down in a demure greeting.

“Astarion,” he offered, looking up through his lashes.

Gale returned the smile with one of his own, and he briefly wondered why the elf was avoiding the police in the first place. He hadn’t thought about it before, when he was desperately needing someone who could help him with the act. Perhaps he was simply a kind soul who caught sight of Gale’s situation and wanted to be helpful for whatever reason.

Before he could think too hard about it, the elf brought a hand up and Gale followed the motion. With the way they were both leaning against the door, Gale could see further down the elf’s chest, his stomach. He quickly brought his eyes back up respectfully, and gods, now that they were relatively safe and Gale could fully take in the elf’s appearance… he was beautiful. Those bright scarlet eyes, the white curls framing his face, those plush lips. A beautiful name, too.

“My name is Gale,” he introduced, taking the hand gently and shaking. “A pleasure.”

Gale—interesting name, Astarion thought.

Gale’s hands were a bit dry and rough with callouses, yet gentle in their touch. Astarion didn’t pull his hand away and neither did Gale. They stayed there, against the door with their palms loosely connected.

“The pleasure’s all mine, darling,” Astarion cooed softly with a coy smile, giving his hand a soft squeeze before releasing it. A slight flush rose in the other man’s cheeks. Oh, this one might be fun.

They spent the next hour in the room, moving from the door to the patio set on the balcony at Astarion’s suggestion. He used an excuse of enjoying the fine weather when in actuality it allowed him to gather more intel on the patrol patterns and listen in for any potentially useful information.

It was odd how quickly the situation had shifted from danger to a rather pleasant exchange with a curious stranger. Astarion eventually brought up the topic of travel, something Gale was usually hesitant to talk about with others—it didn’t do any good to let strangers know where he’d been, even if they were an innocent civilian. But since Astarion was sharing, and seemed quite fond of the topic, Gale found himself engaged in their conversation.

At first, he spoke of the places he’d been—from the isles across the Sea of Swords to the cities along the Sword Coast, sharing just enough to keep the elf interested while avoiding any personal information. But as he talked, the conversation flowed more naturally, so smoothly, he eventually started talking about the various foods he’d tasted, the sights he’d seen, even how much he’d missed his hometown in Waterdeep. Even if traveling had been just a part of his work, with little time to fully appreciate the places, the requirement was something he appreciated. Gale thought of it as a perk; there was always something new to see.

It was surprising how easy it was to talk to Astarion, and how similar their experiences seemed to be.

For Astarion, what began as feigning interest in small talk became a rather engaging conversation. Gale didn’t need to know that every location Astarion discussed was actually for a mission or that traveling the world on a monthly basis had lost all appeal over the years. He never had time to actually explore the various cities they discussed or enjoy them privately. Every minute was on the clock, talking his way into restricted areas, gaining the attention of a target to be invited to their room. He did have plenty of information about luxury hotels and fine dining, though, which Gale showed great interest in.

Eventually, Astarion excused himself to the restroom. He was able to pull up his phone, unlock the hidden app and find the code he expected waiting for him. With the mission far too compromised to continue, his next orders were to exit the location as soon as it was safe to do so and make his way back to headquarters. Company cards were to be used for any flights, hotels, and resources needed as usual.

There were still a few officers walking the streets, nowhere near the amount as before. He could likely manage his way out of it. But it had been so long since he’d enjoyed himself like he found himself doing now with Gale.

Where the performance began and ended he couldn't say. He felt like himself with Gale in such a remarkably short time. Gale was supposed to be a cover, a tool to be used and discarded. Yet he found himself not wanting to discard him at all. Astarion should be grateful he didn’t need to dive into anything more illicit or dangerous in order to make an escape. Now he could just leave.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he found himself exiting the bathroom, stopping short in his approach. Gale was leaned back in the wrought iron chair, legs extended under the table and crossed at the ankle. His sunglasses were off his head, loose short strands of brown hair framing his face. The sun setting over the horizon bathed him in warm light. He was breathtaking.

No, Astarion wasn’t going home just yet. He was long overdue for a night to himself and he knew exactly how he wanted to spend it.

Gale gazed out over the city, lost in thought. Now that the police were likely gone now, it would be much easier to slip away unnoticed. He could claim to Astarion that he’s got friends waiting for him and bid him farewell. Gale turned to Astarion to do just that, then paused as the elf walked over to the balcony and leaned against the doorway, nodding towards the street.

“Now that things have calmed down out there. I’m feeling utterly famished and in need of a stiff drink.” Astarion held out a hand with an inviting smile. “Would you like to join me, Gale?”

Well. It wouldn’t hurt to spend some more time with this charming elf. Perhaps he could share some more information about the places he’d been to that Gale hadn’t, or delve into places the elf has seen here in Amn. Even if not, Gale had rarely spent time with another so casually before. He was due for some time off.

Beforehand, when the elf had excused himself to the restroom, Gale was quick to check his phone for updates on the mission. He didn’t expect any, as he’d been assigned to just gather as much intel as he could in the given amount of time. The agency seemed to want him to come back earlier though, due to the increase in security. Something about a careless agent leaving behind a mess. He’d have some time tonight to take a break from work. With a nod, he decided to indulge himself.

He smiled back, more genuine than an act. “I would love to,” he said, rising from his chair and taking the offered hand. The elf’s skin was so soft underneath his touch; he’d barely noticed before, too focused on the idea of having to deal with an innocent civilian that got involved with him. “I’m quite famished myself. I know a place that’s holding an event tonight, in celebration of the city’s founding anniversary. There will definitely be some good food there.”

Astarion had originally been looking for a bite to eat and a few drinks before they came back to Gale’s room for a quick fuck. He had planned to disappear shortly after, spending the night on a red eye back to one of the safe house locations nearby.

Instead, the two spent the evening together in the lively streets of Amn, where the city was buzzing with activity and energy for the anniversary celebration. There was music playing loudly, stalls with local delicacies, small shops for trinkets, and even minigames, where Gale managed to win a stuffed bat plushie for Astarion, with some faked difficulty.

Normally, Astarion would roll his eyes at the thought of playing little carnival-like games or spending hours out in the crowd without a mission in mind. His spare time was usually spent alone in a hotel room or at his empty condo in Baldur’s Gate.

Yet, here he was snorting at the brunet’s missed shots that somehow managed to win him a prize. When Gale held out the bat to Astarion, he felt the blush in the tips of his pointed ears and a similar warmth flower in his chest like a midnight orchid beginning to bloom. How twee.

Gale was surprised to find how much he was enjoying himself with Astarion. He didn’t remember a time he’d ever been this relaxed with another; his laughs were genuine, his conversations weren’t forced. Astarion wasn’t just attractive—he was clever, and although a bit snarky, had a sharp wit and was enjoyable to be around.

He shared bits and pieces of his life—too much, he had to admit—filled with half-truths and lies. He told Astarion he was a professor who taught online for Blackstaff, a prestigious wizarding academy, even though he possessed no magical capabilities of his own. He claimed he had “no talent for the fancy hand tricks and tongue-twisty chants,” but loved to be involved with the field, spending a lot of time helping with research.

It was a cover he used almost everywhere—faking his lack of magical capabilities was simple, and led to little suspicion of him whenever there was magic involved during missions. He had a coworker who actually worked at the university going by the same name, keeping up with the news there. Apart from keeping Gale’s professor cover, the information on magical artifacts and research being done there was invaluable.

The love for magic came from his mother, he’d said, who was an expert wizard herself. He talked about his tressym, Tara, who he claimed was summoned by her. A slight flush of embarrassment rose to his cheeks as he admitted to still living with his mother—she’d insisted he stay close to her when she found out about his job so that she could keep him safe, bless her heart, even though it was more Gale keeping her safe—but Astarion didn’t seem to mind.

Walking through the streets, their shoulders lightly knocked against each other from how close they were, the back of their hands brushing at points. It would be simple to interlace their fingers, but Astarion found himself feeling uncharacteristically shy. There was something about spending time just existing, enjoying each other’s company. No pressure to gain information, or get on his back in the name of the mission.

Gale was a verbose man, especially after the few glasses of wine they had shared earlier. Astarion could have easily kept the conversation moving or diverted it to something else entirely. He was well-practiced in the art of communication, after all. Rather than change topics, he asked for more, imagining the quaint, relaxing life that Gale described.

Astarion learned many things about Gale that evening, such as his love of lanceboard and a quiet night in reading by the fire. He clearly adored his mother and her tressym. Gods, was Astarion really finding himself interested in a man that lived with his mother? Astarion brushed the thought off––it’s not as if he was dating the man or anything. This was just a simple night out, some time off.

When they stopped at a food stall for a local treat, Gale happily babbled on about the cultural significance of the dish. Astarion noticed that the man had a penchant for raising up a finger in the air when running off on a tangent loosely related to the conversation. Gods, he was adorable.

Evening turned into night, dark clouds turned into a misting rain. The crowd had thinned once rain began to drizzle, but neither Gale nor Astarion seemed to care. It would have been the perfect cue to part if Astarion wanted to end things there; a small part of him did call for it.

Little alarm bells rang through his head. He had lost all performance. He was giving personal information, real information. Nothing that risked exposing him, but still. He stopped focusing on having a one night stand and instead found himself recklessly lost in the moment.

But those alarm bells were drowned out by Gale’s warm smile. By the small wrinkle that formed between his brows when he was lost in thought. By the smooth timbre of his voice when he made a witty remark with a wink and a soft chuckle.

Live music played from a covered patio in the distance. The two stood under a large oak tree at a nearby park while the crowd pittered out. It was a mirror image of them waiting in the hotel room by the door. Gale’s back against the tree trunk and Astarion turned on his side to face Gale, the bark pressing into his shoulder. He expected it when Gale asked about Astarion’s life. He’d already shared the various places he’d traveled, careful not to provide accurate dates out of habit.

As far as the professor knew, Astarion worked in international law. He was here to go over a case with a prestigious client, confidential information that he couldn’t get deep into, of course. The rest though, that was recklessly real. His life in Baldur’s Gate, his collection of vintage perfumes, and the bit of spare time spent at the archery range. It wasn’t as if they would see each other again. How harmful could it really be?

They moved to sit at one of the covered benches when the rain became heavier. Gale leaned back on the tabletop, unaware of the near-permanent smile on his face. This had been one hell of a day.

His gaze drifted back to the elf, admiring the damp curls that framed Astarion’s face, reflecting the dim light in a way that seemed to make him glow. The silence between them was more comfortable than awkward, and the patter of rain was a peaceful replacement noise, as was the faint sound of music and chatter in the background. The outside world was distant, and Gale could almost forget about why he was here in the first place. He wasn’t quite ready for it to end.

He chuckled softly, turning towards the elf. “You know, I wasn’t expecting tonight to turn out like this. This was… this was nice, spending it with you.”

It was. And as badly as Astarion wanted to say it, he found that disgusting bashfulness coming over him again. Ugh, was this all that was left when he wasn’t playing the part of seductor or mysterious stranger? How dreadful.

Gale’s words almost sounded like the beginning of a goodnight and that just wouldn’t do. The music kicked up in the distance, a jazzy tune he could feel in his bones. Astarion stood up, running a hand through his wet curls.

The air was humid in the warm rain, like a gentle shower out in the open. Their clothes were fast on their way to being soaked, the rain kicking up into a steady pitter-patter around them. Gale looked delicious in the rain, wet hair curling around his neck, chest hair darkened and flat against his skin, water droplets that he brushed off his forehead like sweat from heavy exertion.

Astarion stepped back into the open area of the empty park around them, hand held out the way he had on the patio.

“Dance with me?” he softly implored, looking at Gale from head to toe, longing to see that linen shirt soaked in the rain and pressed against him.

Gale blinked, slightly taken aback by Astarion’s invitation. Dancing in the rain? That was… oddly romantic. There was something in Astarion’s eyes, the way they gleamed with a certain softness that wasn’t there before—or maybe he just hadn’t noticed it before. It dampened any hesitation he had, and he accepted the offer.

“Alright. But don’t expect me to be any good at this.” He laughed lightly, gently taking both of Astarion’s hands in his. He straightened his back and tilted his head slightly, trying to hear the music better for the mood. He hadn’t danced in years, much less with a partner, but perhaps muscle memory still worked.

Astarion meant for it to be a quick flirtatious gesture. An excuse for the man who’d been so polite all night to let go of the charade and give into his carnal desires. It had worked with targets that were more tentative in the past.

Start a dance, finish it horizontally. Easy. Except, Gale was not.

Others touched Astarion with demanding hands and a greedy look in their eyes. All night Astarion had waited for it, for Gale to decide he was done with his gentleman ploy and take, take, take. Connected under the rain would have been the perfect opportunity. Astarion had asked for his company, after all, and there was no one around to witness his actions.

But Gale didn’t demand nor take.

He met Astarion’s pretty red eyes and offered an almost shy smile, slowly maneuvering his own hands around the elf’s body, making sure the contact was comfortable for them both. His hand clasped with Astarion’s, the other hand on the elf’s waist. The lightest pressure, just enough to guide the movements while allowing Astarion to move just as freely.

At first, Astarion found himself stilted in his movements, taken off guard. Gale’s touch was gentle, as it had been every time that night. The midnight orchid in his chest was blooming and stretching out as it reached for the sun that was Gale’s company. He was right here in Astarion’s hands, yet he ached for more.

Gale was lost—not on how to dance, but rather in the dance, in Astarion’s eyes, in the movements and beauty. The rain drizzled down on them both, weighing hair down, the strands and the clothes sticking to skin.

As the slow dance continued, Gale could feel Astarion becoming more confident in his movements, pressing closer, and strangely, Gale didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he leaned into it, letting Astarion direct more of his movements for that half of the dance. Arm positions changed, eyes stayed connected. Rainwater rolled down Astarion’s cheeks, down his neck. A hand pressed more firmly against Gale’s hips. Their bodies swayed in time with each other, following a rhythm that wasn’t just the music.

It was as if they were one.

Gale looked at him with an adoration that was damn near reverent. He was soaked now, they both were. His shirt was practically translucent, wet skin glistening under the glow of the moon. It was undeniable that Astarion was attracted to him, but over the night he felt more than just attraction. It was a problem he chose to ignore; better to fly too close to the sun than risk losing its heat.

Astarion reached out for that warmth, becoming more bold by pulling Gale in closer by the hip before wrapping his arms around his neck. They were barely dancing now, it was more a rocking sway with a periodic step to uphold the guise of the dance. Soon they weren’t even stepping at all, just standing there in each other’s arms like long lost lovers reunited.

It felt right like this—Gale’s arms around his waist, his own leg boldly slotted between Gale’s thighs to perfectly position their hips against each other. The brunet could have easily rocked against him and taken more. Astarion was clearly inviting the action and yet Gale consistently failed to push for more, to take without asking.

Their movements eventually slowed to a halt. Everything was silent apart from the pitter-patter of rain. The music had stopped, the people were gone. Gale swore he could almost hear the other’s heartbeat. Or perhaps it was his own, thumping faster than expected.

Astarion thought Gale might break away, ending the night. A pathetic part of him was ready to beg Gale to stay, to cling onto the other man. What was happening to him? This was supposed to be a night off with debaucherous intent. Yet, here he was feeling romantic, smitten even.

Alarms rang in the back of his mind with the instinct to never let a target get this close, or to feel this close to them.

But Gale wasn’t a target.

He was… Gale.

A sweet human man that looked at Astarion in a way no one else had. Even with such a short amount of time together, Gale showed him consideration in a way that no one else had. Who touched Astarion in a way that no one else had. The way he touched him now, carefully moving a strand from Astarion’s face. Palm cupping his cheek with a pressure so light only the warmth told Astarion he was there.

Gale watched, careful and hesitant. There was some sort of… connection, with this stranger, an elf that he’d only just met a couple hours ago, a lucky encounter. For once, he found himself at a loss for words.

Held in those whiskey-brown eyes, the elf watched as Gale moved in closer with his lips slightly parted. Astarion was prepared for him to close the distance and take, take, take. Eyes watching Astarion’s mouth, but not moving any further, Gale waited. Waiting, watching, giving him the choice to make the first move. Allowing Astarion to decide if there would be a first move.

Astarion’s eyes flicked to the bench behind him where that plush bat lay. It was soggy with one of its wings bent. Little beads of black watching them. He was reminded of Gale’s wide smile when he offered the plush, the ache in his chest bordering on pain as he met the other man’s gaze again.

Gale wasn’t a target. He was the sun. A light in the darkness of Astarion’s existence, if only for one night.

Astarion closed the distance, pressing his lips to Gale’s with a light pressure. Greedy for more, he found himself wanting to take, take, take. Warm, firm lips against his, Astarion melted into him, pulling him in tightly as the rain came down harder around them. Chests pressed against each other, fingers tangling in those long wet strands. Astarion whined softly against Gale’s mouth like a wounded animal seeking safety.

If Gale was the sun, Astarion wanted nothing more than to burn under his heat.

Gale melted into Astarion’s lips. They were warm, compared to the chill rain soaking them. Soft, like the elf’s hands, face, hair. He tasted of the sweet and savory foods they had, of wine, of just pure Astarion.

Gale wanted more. Astarion wanted more, if the way he pulled at Gale’s arms and clothes, pressing their hips and chests further together, was any indication. When the soft whine escaped from Astarion’s lips, Gale’s hand tightened on the elf’s arm. Not too tight, not too demanding, as much as he wanted to have and take. Just enough to show that desire but not act upon it.

He pulled away after a moment to look at Astarion to examine his face. Flushed a pretty pink that could barely be seen in the dim lighting. Lips wet with more saliva than rain. Eyes staring into his with a similar kind of need and want.

“We… we should get back to our room,” Gale breathed, brain buzzing from the kiss. ‘Our’ room, he had said. When did Gale’s room become theirs? He didn’t know, but he had offered it before he had realized, and wasn’t going to back out now.

“Don’t want to get sick out here,” he added softly, in case he was reading everything wrong.

Astarion swallowed heavily, unable to look away from the kiss swollen red of Gale’s mouth. “We should,” he whispered back in a low voice, not moving to leave.

They should leave. No, he should leave. Not for the room, ‘our’ room Gale had called it, but for the airport. Astarion should get out of here before he’s burned to ash. Except he didn’t want to, he didn’t even want to move now. He just wanted to—

He pulled Gale in, exhaling through his nose as they kissed again, feeling Gale’s breath hitch. A swipe of his tongue over Gale’s bottom lip in request, the darling human man parted his lips instantly. Gale tasted like sunshine, joy, and safety. All the things he should do left his mind, he needed every minute of this, every second he could clutch for himself.

Astarion slid his hand from the back of Gale’s head to his jaw, the man’s trimmed beard tickling his palm. With his other hand he slid down Gale’s chest, over his heart and further down to wrap around his waist. Fingers explored under his heavy, wet shirt to caress the dip in his spine and relish the heat of him.

Every kiss seemed to grow in urgency, in need, and Gale was quickly sinking into each one. Lips parted for tongue, letting Astarion in. The elf’s touch was firmer now, more exploratory as it roamed over his body, and Gale did the same. A hand slid up Astarion’s neck, cradling his head and fingers intertwining in the white curls. The other hand slid up Astarion’s waist, tracing up the bony spine. His movements were slow, matching Astarion’s as the elf’s touch sent shivers down his spine.

He could stay here, lost in the warmth of Astarion’s embrace. For a fleeting moment, he thought about giving in completely, letting Astarion take whatever he wanted right there, right now.

But no, they couldn’t. Not yet.

They stayed there a few minutes longer, under the moon and stars, Astarion with the sun in his arms, until they broke apart breathlessly. Astarion leaned in to rest their foreheads together as they shared the same air. Spring in his chest, the orchid had become a blooming field. He swallowed deeply, tangling their fingers together the way he wanted to when they walked through the city. Another kiss, brief but insistent, Astarion struggled not to take Gale over to the bench and have their way with each other in the quiet park under the rain.

“Lead on then,” he urged, stealing another kiss.

Gale felt a pang of something he hadn’t felt in a long time—a raw, vulnerable desire. Astarion’s words were soft, almost drowned out by the rain, but Gale heard them. He nodded, still catching his breath, stealing one last kiss before pulling away just enough to begin leading them back, grabbing the bat plush on the way.

He didn’t let go of Astarion’s hand.

Chapter Text

June 7, 1998                            Over Five (or Six) Years Ago

The way back felt longer than it should as Gale constantly glanced over at Astarion, their fingers still intertwined. There was something so surreal about this—the way their connection had blossomed in just a few hours, the way Astarion’s every touch seemed to linger long after it left his skin.

They finally reached the inn, hurrying to their room and ignoring the complaints of letting so much rainwater in from their soaked clothes and hair. It was quiet now, in the privacy of the room, with only the faint sound of rain hitting the window. Just the two of them.

Gale stood there for a moment, taking in Astarion fully. No longer in the darkness of a dimly lit park, Gale could now clearly see and admire the way Astarion looked practically ethereal. His clothes clung to him, almost transparent, light catching on the droplets of the elf’s pale, glistening skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Gale breathed.

It wasn’t the first time someone had said it to Astarion, yet it felt wholly new coming from Gale’s lips. How he looked at Astarion as if he were plucked from one of the heavens. Soaking wet—a complete mess in reality—but you wouldn’t know it when Gale whispered his reverence.

Astarion swallowed heavily, looking back at Gale with that soaked plush hanging from his hand. He couldn’t help but laugh, a giggle peeling from his throat and out into the air between them. The man in front of him should look ridiculous, soaked to the skin with a toy in his hand. But he didn’t. He looked…

“Perfect,” Astarion murmured, stepping into Gale’s space and reaching for the buttons on his shirt. He began to undo them as he kissed the man, relishing the soft scratch of his beard against Astarion’s chin. Pushing the wet shirt off of Gale’s shoulders and letting it smack onto the floor, Astarion ran his hands down the brunet’s form. He looked down and his mouth ran dry. Sweet hells .

He could tell the man was fit, but seeing him, touching him, was another thing entirely. Olive-toned skin over rippling muscles. The chest hair Astrarion could see in his open neckline followed down into a trail of hair below his belly button. Gale was stunning, that much was undeniable.

When his gaze roamed back up to Gale’s face, the air left his lungs. He was looking at Astarion as if he would burn the world to bring him warmth. Astarion knew right then that Gale could have any form whatsoever and he’d still be the most gorgeous man in any room.

It was almost maddening how quickly he had come to feel deeply for the sweet man that helped him keep his cover. Alarm bells were drowned out by the orchestral swell that was holding Gale’s gaze. He was well past the point of reminding himself that this was only one night. All that mattered now was this night.

Astarion ran his knuckles down Gale’s jaw, stopping to lightly hold his chin as he leaned in to whisper; his voice so soft, one might think it was classified information not meant for anyone else’s ears. “You’re perfect, Gale.”

Gale nearly stopped thinking at the word. It hit him like a spell cast directly into his chest, sending a strange sort of warmth through him, unfamiliar and… nice. 

Perfect, Gale repeated in his mind, trying to process it further. He knew he was far from that. Sure, he was the best amongst his agency, with a flawless track record, but to be called that in this situation, by this person, was different. Something else entirely. Astarion wasn’t praising his skill, his achievements, the role he played. He was praising him, as a person.

All the words he could have said were forgotten and muffled by a kiss as the elf pressed against him, hands undressing him with expertise. The bat plush was thrown aside somewhere as Gale focused all his attention on the man in his arms.

His own hands moved slowly and deliberately as they slid down the hem of Astarion’s drenched shirt. Gale began to lift it up, inch by inch, brushing against the cool, pale skin beneath, until it was up and over the elf’s head and discarded onto the floor beside his own. He took the time to admire him—Astarion looked like a masterpiece, like a painting, like a glimmering star shining brightly in the night. His body was lean, slender, the pale skin pairing well with his white curls. Crimson eyes roamed over Gale’s own body with undeniable desire. It was far more than lust—there was something intimate in there, something far more real, something Gale was not expecting, nor thought he’d be ready for.

“I could say the same to you,” he finally said, voice soft. His hand rested on Astarion’s hip, trailing down just above the waistband of his pants. Still taking it slow despite how fast his heart raced. “Stunning, gorgeous, marvelous.” 

His other hand cupped the elf’s cheek, bringing him in for another kiss, tongue tracing over the bottom lip. He tasted wonderful, and Gale couldn’t get enough.

Astarion’s mind echoed with Dalyria’s words, ‘A heart of ice.’ It was her favorite way to describe Astarion when he came back from honeypot missions.

She was right.

There was no one else under Cazador who could handle the missions Astarion completed with ease. Only Astarion could convince a target that they were helplessly in love with him before he’d take every bit of information he needed and slit their throat. If they were lucky he simply disappeared. Astarion could spend months swooning a target, luring them closer and closer into his trap without feeling a thing.

It had been difficult in the beginning. The first mission that required a more long-term commitment had been Sebastian, a sweet privileged man with access to his father’s files. So, of course Astarion had to go and fall in love with the man. 

When Sebastian’s heart stopped beating, Astarion’s stopped with him.

Even outside of the agency, Astarion’s heart couldn’t move through the solid layer of ice enclosing it. There was no dating in his life, only meaningless dalliances if and when he bothered to pursue them. Tonight was supposed to be one of those nights. A moment to lose himself in pleasure, for another to lose themselves in him.

And now his icy heart had to choose Gale of all people for such a night. The man that would be the sun, holding Astarion in his light with gentle hands. For decades the ice had built and Gale was melting it away in one night, leaving Astarion standing in a puddle in their room. Only his shirt was removed, yet he’d never felt more bare. Droplets fell from the ends of his curls, hitting his chest and making him shiver.

Leaning into Gale’s hand on his cheek, Astarion felt the last bit of ice cracking and melting away. Nothing but warmth in his chest, a hot spring day with a reprieving cool wind everytime Gale kissed him. The warmth slid right down into his gut, twisting with arousal and need.

“Gale, I—gods….” All words left him as he pressed their bodies close, rolling his hips to feel Gale hard against his thigh. Astarion groaned softly against his mouth, Gale letting out a similar noise as he matched those same movements desperately. 

It took longer to undress than Gale wanted; the way the fabric stuck to and dragged across skin was unreasonably uncomfortable compared to the way Astarion’s hands traced over him, sending pleasant sparks through his body and making him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in years.

The feeling of being wanted, not just for what he could offer or for a mission he was on, but for him, was incredible. Gale couldn’t help but match the same want and need, letting Astarion pull him towards the bed, barely keeping himself from pushing too eagerly.

Astarion couldn’t stop running his hands over Gale, cataloging every muscle and curve. He stopped when the back of his legs hit the bed, a tangle of limbs as they laid down. He was unable to let go of him, running his hands over the man’s shoulders. Never a more perfect image than that of Gale hovered over him, brown eyes eclipsed by his wide pupils, hair cascading down around his face. Little drips from the ends of his brown waves, like a soft rain. They both paused, Gale staring into bright scarlet eyes and Astarion foolishly staring into the sun.

Gale leaned down on his forearm, cradling Astarion’s head as he melted into another kiss. His other hand blindly traced over Astarion’s pale skin, mapping and memorizing each curve and contour, carefully listening and feeling to how Astarion reacted to each touch and where.

“Astarion,” he breathed, nuzzling against the elf’s jawline, pressing a soft kiss below the ear, “I want you.”

Astarion was used to people looking at him with desire. A lot of his cover relied on his allure, and for good reason; his looks were a strength he wielded with prowess. He was well-practiced in the art of seduction. Like a dagger, he kept it sharp and in arm’s reach. When a target looked at him with that heat in their eyes, he knew to have his hand on the hilt, ready to strike.

Except the desire Gale looked at him with wasn’t the same. Where others looked at him as if he were something to be consumed, Gale looked at Astarion as if he were something to be preserved, protected. 

This desire was something more, something else that he couldn’t quite name. The only other time he’d found anything like this in another’s eyes, it had ended in tragedy.

Astarion’s grip tightened as he slid his inner thigh along Gale’s waist with a soft squeeze, moaning quietly when their shafts rubbed dryly against each other. His skin buzzed everywhere that they touched. From the soft tickle of his chest hair against Astarion’s bare chest to the hot weight of his arousal pressed against him.

One hand on Gale’s waist, the other in his hair to pull him down into another intoxicating kiss. Nothing else in the world beyond their bed. No mission, no red eye flights to a lonely condo, no Cazador.

Just Gale.

It was nowhere near enough, rutting slowly while tangled in each other’s arms. Astarion found himself ravenous for more, as if he’d been starving for hundreds of years. He needed every inch of this beautiful man. He needed Gale to know it, even if the words could only be plied from him with Detect Thoughts. He needed to feel their souls intertwine, at least for this one night.

They could part after, never to see each other again. It would be safer that way.

Astarion tried to push the thought of tomorrow out of his mind, desperate to stay here with Gale as he shifted to lie on top of the other man. Astarion trailed open-mouthed kisses over every inch of him that he could reach, pausing to suck bruises into his skin as he made his way down towards the end of the bed. 

A small whimper escaped Gale’s lips as he felt the hickey, the bite sending a shock of pleasure straight through him. He never knew he wanted to be marked like that so badly by him. It would only be him, he realized, and he wanted to return that favor as soon as he was able, if Astarion would let him. Gods, he hoped Astarion would let him.

Astarion could stay like this with him for hours but he wanted more, hells, he wanted everything. The elf nosed down his stomach, playfully dipping his tongue into Gale’s belly button and giggling softly when the man squirmed beneath him. Astarion looked up from where he stationed himself between Gale’s legs as he took hold of the man’s generous length.

Gale met his eyes, pupils blown wide at the sight. Astarion looked absolutely beautiful there, pale skin flushed a light pink, cheek pressed against Gale’s cock, and those red eyes gazing up at him with something far deeper than desire.

A pale hand wrapped around the base, cushioned by the thatch of dark curled hair. Gale’s cock was gorgeous, thick and long, but not overwhelmingly so. Hard and blushing red with a tear of precum at the tip, Astarion looked at Gale for confirmation. 

The elf’s breath was knocked out of him when he saw how utterly wrecked the brunet looked already. Lips swollen, hair mussed from the pillow, Gale was propped up on his elbows watching Astarion. The man that would be the sun. Devastatingly beautiful. That simmering fire in those umber eyes. Where others only held desire, Gale’s heat held so much more. Too much. Yet, Astarion wanted it all.

Astarion flicked his eyes from Gale’s face to the girthy length with a slight squeeze of his hand. The moment Gale nodded he used the flat of his tongue to lick the precum beginning to drop down from his slit.

The heady taste of him was everything he wanted. Astarion wrapped his lips around Gale’s head, tonguing the ridge and sucking to get every bit of the man’s perfect essence onto his tongue. His mouth was already flooding, saliva pooling around Gale’s cock as he took him in an inch further each time he bobbed down.

Sucking someone off wasn’t new. Astarion had done it many times, rarely because he wanted to, but with Gale, he did want to. With Gale he found himself wanting everything. Astarion savored the moments when the other twitched against his tongue or made any sound above him.

Gale gasped, biting back a moan as his body instinctively jerked up toward Astarion’s hand. The heat and wetness of his mouth, the delicate swirl of his tongue—it was exquisite. Gale moaned, his hand reaching down to bury itself in Astarion’s hair, not tugging or pulling, just to ground himself, to feel him.

“Fuck,” Gale groaned, voice already wrecked. “Astarion—your mouth—so good, so incredible.” 

He could barely form the words, his mind a haze of pleasure as Astarion’s lips moved over him, taking him in deeper. It took every ounce of willpower to keep from bucking too hard, from letting himself go too soon.

After a few minutes floating in the glow of tasting every inch of Gale’s hard length, Astarion pulled off with a string of spit connecting from his lower lip to Gale’s glistening cock. His voice came out with a slight rasp, “Gods, Gale…you taste amazing. Tell me, darling. What do you want tonight? What do you need?”

Astarion’s hands never stopped working, stroking Gale slowly, keeping him right on the edge of pleasure, another hand massaging the soft skin of his inner thigh. And gods, that ‘ darling ’—Gale’s heart skipped a beat. The first time was fake, a guise for them both to play pretend. Now it felt more real. So much more real than he could have anticipated. His heart ached for more. 

“You. I want you, Astarion. Anything you’re willing to give.” Gale swallowed hard. “T-there’s condoms and lube in the drawer over there,” he managed out, reluctantly turning his head away to nod towards the nightstand.

Anything you’re willing to give.

Gods, Gale really was…

“Perfect,” Astarion muttered before catching himself. He felt warmth rising to the tips of his ears as he looked back at Gale with a seductive smile and added, “I mean, that sounds perfect.”

Gale felt the moment when Astarion faltered—just for a second. Something behind that smile he gave was deeply vulnerable, far more than seduction. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He reached out questioningly, but before he could say anything, Astarion pressed into his dry calloused hand, turning to kiss the brunet’s palm in reassurance. 

Gale’s fingers curled gently at Astarion’s cheek. He wouldn’t pry. Not now.

Like a thin blade between Astarion’s ribs, the want to keep Gale was a painful sting. But there was no keeping this. He could only hope to devour every minute and try to memorize its taste. And what an exquisite taste Gale was; like a fine brandy, he needed to be sipped slowly, savored. 

Astarion was climbing over him again, covering him with warmth and a grounding weight, nipping at his hip and following the few smatterings of freckles until he reached his shoulder. That wondrous tongue was teasing its way up Gale’s body, then mouthing over the mark he’d made earlier. A signifier that Astarion was there, at least until it faded. Gale found himself wanting another. More, if he could help it. He wanted as many reminders of this man as possible.

That damned frost-burned heart of Astarion’s was melted between them, beating a heavy drum for the man below him. Ignoring the wanting sting between his own ribs, Astarion mouthed up Gale’s neck. He paused to tug the man’s earlobe gently between his teeth, noting the hitch in Gale’s breath and the crack in his voice when he said Astarion’s name. Gale’s voice would be a sweet haunting after this, an echo forever in his mind. 

Gale was beautifully human, strong yet fragile, warm and covered in curled brown hair with silver peppered sporadically throughout. Astarion slotted them together, hips fitting like puzzle pieces, the wetness of Gale’s cock offered a pleasing slide between them as he rocked slowly against him.

Gale exhaled a ragged breath, Astarion’s name spilling from his lips as his hands wrapped around the elf, roaming over his body, urging him closer. He let out another low groan as Astarion began to grind against him, slow and deliberate. His own hips bucked upwards, desperate for more.

“Tell me, Gale…” Astarion started as he ran circles on Gale’s chest, over his heart. Reaching over to find the lube and condoms, Astarion tossed them on the bed next to them.

“Do you want me to ride that stunning cock of yours?” Astarion kissed him again before he could answer, unable to stop himself. As if the feeling of Gale’s lips on his was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. “Or do you want me to open you up and pull you apart, love?” 

The last word left his lips, feeling both foreign and perfectly at home. The need to keep this was powerful and everlasting—the blade dug in deeper and Astarion fell on it willingly.

It took Gale a moment to process Astarion’s next words, blinking up at the elf hazily. That single word hit him hard—love. So tender and full of want, just like their kisses. It wrapped around his heart, squeezing it tight.

“Love,” he repeated back, gaze and voice soft. He wound a hand into the Astarion’s hair, still wet and dripping with rainwater. “However you want me, love. I’m yours.” 

When did Gale become so soft and pliant? When did this one night to take a break from work and the dangers of death, become a night of tenderness and desire this strong? 

This—this was a new kind of danger. One he’d promised himself he would never get into again, not since his work and his life was on the line for that woman he’d risked so much for. Closer connections led to harsher betrayals, but right now, in Astarion’s arms, surrounded by so much warmth and… and affection, Gale could care less.

Gale took Astarion’s slip in stride, repeating that sinful word back more than once. The sound was ambrosial, the smooth timbre of his voice was godly nectar in Astarion’s ears. The alarms ringing in the back of his mind long smothered by the tender wanting touch of Gale’s hands.

Astarion crushed their lips together in a feverish need to have him closer, licking into his mouth to taste that sunshine, feel that joy, luxuriate in that safety. A soft whine escaped him, the sound vibrating between them. The blooming orchids in his chest felt like they might burst under the sun that was Gale’s affection. Astarion twisted them together to lie on their sides, arms around Gale’s neck, a leg snaked around his waist.

Gale was pliant beneath Astarion’s touch, offering no resistance, letting the elf guide him, letting him decide how they fit together, their desires meshing in a blur of heat and want.

Astarion looked into Gale’s eyes, heart aching at the way they crinkled at the edges. Those deep lines etched into his skin spoke of so much laughter before now. Astarion wanted to trace each one with his fingertip and listen to Gale relay every happy moment behind it. He wanted to stay here wrapped in his arms until he knew nothing else. He wanted… so much, too much.

I’m yours . Gale’s words still swirled around his mind, twisting that wanting blade in his ribs. Astarion wanted to say it back, to spill ridiculous words of reverence on the man he’d known less than a day. The most he could manage was the words tumbling from his lips at a hurried pace, “I want you. Gale, I need you. Take me. I want you inside me.”

Gale's breath came out in a shaky exhale. “Then you’ll have me,” he whispered. “And I, you.” He shifted them both so that he could reach for the lube, letting Astarion rest comfortably beside him. His hands trembled slightly as he fumbled with the bottle, almost dropping it as he slicked up his fingers with the cool gel, then reached down between Astarion’s legs. Gale moved slowly at first, circling a finger around Astarion’s entrance, waiting for the elf’s permission before he pressed in gently, feeling the tight warmth.

Gale’s teeth grazed his neck, mouth latching on to suck at the sensitive skin until he knew he’d left a mark. He wanted to leave something behind just as Astarion did—a reminder of this night, of this moment that felt like it was slipping between their fingers even as they held each other so tightly.

When Gale finally pulled away from Astarion’s neck, watching the dark bruise forming, he pressed a soft, soothing kiss over it. “Relax,” he whispered, his voice low. “Let me take care of you.”

Astarion looked in those eyes and saw nothing but conviction and something too difficult to name. Gale meant those words. It had been so long since Astarion felt this… safe. It was foreign and terrifying, it was the most alive he’d felt in decades. All this from a man he happened to need for cover in a bar. All this from the man that won him a ridiculous plush bat. All this from Gale. Gods, would he ever be able to find something like this again after tonight? Would it ever be possible?

Questions that couldn't be answered—that were likely best not answered.

Astarion kissed Gale once more before rolling onto his back and parting his legs. Words never spoken truthfully from his lips until now, he whispered back, “I trust you.”

That slight hesitation, that brief look of fear. Gale would have stopped completely if it weren’t for that fragile voice reassuring him, urging him on. So soft, so sincere. Gale didn’t know what Astarion went through, didn’t know his history, and definitely not enough about him in general, but at the moment, what he knew was he had to protect Astarion. Let him know he was safe. Seen. Known.

Gale was true to his word, taking care of Astarion with patience. One finger inside him, slowly, carefully, letting Astarion adjust to the sensation before adding another. Astarion felt raw, opened up like a book, Gale’s gentle hands turning the pages. Part of him wanted Gale to move faster; there wasn’t any pain and he knew he could take the one finger easily, but another part luxuriated in the tender sweetness that was Gale’s pace.

Unwinding his free hand from Astarion’s hair, Gale took the other man’s hand in his. He squeezed gently as he worked his fingers deeper, searching for that spot that would make Astarion see stars. The action left the elf melting under Gale, biting his lip to stop himself from whimpering.

Such intimacy had never been afforded to him. Everything about Gale quieted the ever present fear inside him. It was a caged feral beast that hissed and growled at every potential threat. Lying here in bed with Gale, slowly becoming one, that beast not only slept, it disappeared completely.

Time ceased to exist for Astarion, there was no fear of the moon dropping over the horizon and ending the night. He already held the sun in his arms, there was no losing him to a morning bird’s call. Gale continued working his fingers inside him, Astarion’s hips lightly rocking back in tandem as he enjoyed the pleasant stretch.

That endless patience Gale showed was maddening and perfect all at once. Two digits had never made Astarion feel so full, but maybe that was just because it was Gale. His fingers crooked just so and Astarion’s back arched as he cried out.

“Ohhh, there! Right there, hnngh … G-Gale please.” Astarion’s words were rushed as he rocked his hips back on those deft fingers, hand squeezing Gale’s tightly.

Gale was watching and noting every reaction, every sound Astarion made, careful and prepared for any sounds of protest. Instead, all the noises were of pleasure—as were movements; the arching of his back, the squeezing of his hand. He ate all those up, the vulnerability laced in the elf’s voice wrapping tightly around Gale’s heart and driving him on more and more.

“I’ve got you,” Gale whispered, adding another finger as he pressed deeper, harder, wanting to draw more of those beautiful sounds from Astarion’s lips. Gale’s beard tickled and teased where he kissed Astarion’s skin, soft scrapes against his until he brushed against his sensitive elven ear. Astarion gasped at the contact, as if the cartilage were covered in a pleasurable static. 

“Oh f-fu-CK! I’ve never—“ Astarion’s nails dug crescent moons into Gale’s lower back, holding him tight and urging him on.

Gale wasn’t sure if it was the elf’s voice or the way he looked at him with such trust and need, but something in him… wanted. Just wanted. He wanted Astarion, needed him in a way he’d give up with life for. That thought was probably too soon—definitely too soon. But for now, he reveled in whatever he could get, gently biting and sucking at the tip of the elf’s ear, having noticed the sharp gasp this spot had drawn from Astarion.

Wounded sounds of pleasure cracked out from deep within the elf the moment he felt that hot wet heat on the pointed tip. Gale’s breath puffed hot into Astarion’s ear, sending shots of electricity down his spine.

Face twisted in an agonizing pleasure, Astarion cried Gale’s name successively into the air between them like a prayer. No one had ever touched him like that; most targets either weren’t familiar with the sensitivity of elven ears or simply didn’t care about eliciting his pleasure. Any elven target knew the significance of it. It was a vulnerable, intimate connection, usually reserved for those with the deepest of bonds. It should have felt invasive with a one night stand, far too vulnerable to engage in with a near-stranger.

But with Gale it felt right. Gale didn’t feel like a stranger, with Gale he felt safe. Seen. Known.

He was so close, far too close. His cock was hard, precum dribbling down the shaft and onto his stomach as it swayed with the motion of him chasing Gale’s fingers. Release was coiled tight in his gut, ready to spring and unleash between them. Astarion tried to hold back, to focus on the way the dim lighting was haloing around Gale’s damp hair. 

There were only a few more moments of Gale rocking his fingers into the elf, and his own hips against his thigh, before pulling away and drawing out his fingers to examine the sight before him. Gods, if he could paint this scene before him: Astarion a panting mess in the rainwater- and sweat-soaked sheets, hair sticking to pale skin and eyes staring up at him with so much trust and softness, that mark— Gale’s mark standing out so vividly against his skin.

He gave Astarion’s hand another reassuring squeeze before letting go to grab for the condom, and Astarion felt a crack in that stupidly beating heart of his from that brief lack of contact. It was pathetic. Was this how it would be after this? Would he forever have an aching void where Gale’s affection had made a home?

The mix of grief and euphoria was maddening, Astarion tried again to push the thoughts of anywhere but right now away from himself. He wanted to soak in the heat of Gale’s flame, not taint it with fears of impending cold.

Gale’s heart pounded in his chest as he slid the condom over himself and positioned himself at Astarion’s entrance, taking a steadying breath. He met Astarion’s eyes, pressing their foreheads together.

“Are you ready, my dear?” Gale asked softly, taking his hand again, thumb gently stroking in comfort. “Comfortable? Or would you rather be above and ride me?”

Astarion was nodding before Gale fully finished the question. Sweet hells, the thought of having Gale below him, of seeing him lie back and fall apart had him dizzy with want.

In that position, Astarion would have plenty more control and movement, and Gale was fine with that. Wanted that, for Astarion to be as comfortable as possible. He smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him again, then shifted them both carefully, flipping their positions one more time.

He settled back into the sheets, sitting up slightly with his back resting against the pillows while Astarion straddled his hips. Gods, in any position, in any lighting, in any state, Astarion looked absolutely breathtaking. The elf’s hand splayed across Gale’s stomach as soft red eyes met his. His hard, flushed cock glistened with precum, dripping over Gale’s own latex-covered length.

Looking down at Gale bordered on painful for Astarion. He should have known, one should never stare so directly at the sun, yet here he was and he couldn’t look away. 

“Magnificent,” Gale breathed, raising his hands up to wrap around Astarion’s waist. One hand slowly trailed higher, thumbs brushing lightly over a hardened nipple. Higher, fingertips tracing over the bruise on his neck. Higher, brushing a strand of hair behind the elf’s ear. So painfully fond. “Gorgeous.”

Gale’s words were like bullets straight to the heart. That horrendously beating heart that Astarion had thought would stay frozen forever. Astarion swallowed thickly as he leaned in to kiss those lips for what might have been the hundredth time that night, if only to break sight of the tender look in the other man’s eyes. Gale looked at Astarion as if he’d known him for years, as if he’d held him countless times, as if he—

An impossible thought.

Clearly the wine had gone to his head, having him so heavy in his cups that he’d go and act this sickeningly romantic with a stranger. Nevermind that wine was so long ago or that he’d never felt so present.

Gale pressed back into Astarion as they kissed, one hand around his waist to hold him close, the other in his curls. Astarion snaked a hand between them to grip their cocks together as he rolled his hips—a reminder of what this was supposed to be. They both moaned softly against each other’s mouths, Gale tilting his head for better access as if he’d be perfectly content for them to simply kiss the rest of the night.

Hells, Gale might very well be, but not Astarion, he needed more of him. He needed every bit that he could obtain. He needed to memorize this, the feeling of Gale’s hips between his thighs, the taste of his kiss, and the smell of his cologne mixed with petrichor and sweat.

Astarion pulled back and reached underneath to line Gale up, breathing out as he slowly sunk down. One hand on the headboard to brace himself and the other on Gale’s neck with his thumb pressed softly to that bruise as if he could will it to permanence.

“Oh gods, fuck. Gale you’re so—” Astarion panted, unable to finish as he sank further down, already feeling impossibly full. His thighs quivered and shook with the effort to slow down. Even with the thorough careful prep that Gale did, there was still a slight sting. Astarion didn’t stop his descent. He wanted the stretch, needed to be able to feel Gale the next day after this. A reminder that this wasn’t all some impossible dream.

Gale’s breath hitched, his own body trembling as he struggled to remain still. The elf was warm and tight around him, surrounding every inch of him with delicious pressure that bordered on overwhelming.

“I… ah mmm. Gale, I—” Astarion pulled Gale forward to crush their mouths together, terrified of what ridiculous words might fall from his own lips. It was barely a kiss so much as breathing against each other’s mouths with his hands tangled tight in Gale’s hair as if he might somehow disappear. When he was fully seated, Astarion pulled back just enough to look into Gale’s eyes, the air knocking from his lungs.

A word echoed in the back of Gale’s mind, threatening to leave his lips. But he couldn’t say it, not now; it was too soon, too intimate. He wasn’t ready for it. Neither of them were. The word hovered at the tip of his tongue, unspoken, but gods was it loud in his head with every kiss, every desperate clutch of each other’s hands.

Gale swallowed the word down, instead kneading the tender flesh of Astarion’s thigh with one hand and curling into the elf’s hair with the other. He helped steady Astarion, breathing hard as he squeezed around him. 

“Fuck, Astarion,” he groaned, fingers digging into the elf’s hips, matching the way the hand at his neck pressed against the bruise. Gale’s eyes never left Astarion’s, watching with blown pupils as Astarion’s chest rose and fell with each heaving breath. “Y-you feel—incredible. So perfect, all of you.”

Astarion started slow, a steady rise and fall rhythm as he adjusted more and more to Gale’s impressive size. Eventually the hard stretch gave way to a sweet pleasure; the sound of Gale’s voice sweeter still.

Gale looked into his eyes with the rawest of feeling and Astarion couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop staring into the sun, hoping to burn the image of Gale’s tender gaze into his mind.

When he swirled his hips, Gale’s hand squeezed him, the grip on his hip bone at the forefront of his perception. A part of him wanted Gale to hold him tighter, to offer him another bruise that would mark their coupling for days after this. But Gale was gentle, as he had been all night, wholly focused on Astarion’s comfort as if he could see every time when others weren’t.

There was a driving need inside him to be able to give that back. If vulnerability were a pool, Astarion spent his time sunbathing in a lounge far from the water. Here with Gale, he felt like he’d fallen headfirst into the deep end without realizing it, without having any idea how to swim. It might be difficult to traverse these waters, dangerous even, but if it meant watching Gale come undone below him as he whispered sweet nothings to Astarion between them, then it was worth the risk.

Providing pleasure wasn’t a complicated thing, Astarion was more practiced in it than he cared to be. It would be a simple thing to turn his mind off and give Gale his body. But he didn’t want to. Astarion wanted nothing more than to stay right here with Gale, to tread these waters until they parted. 

Sweat was beading along Gale’s hairline, stray hairs sticking to his forehead. Astarion interlaced their fingers for the second time that night, bringing their connected palms up next to Gale’s head as their hips worked in tandem together. Gale shifted slightly underneath him and a volt of pleasure zipped through Astarion’s body. 

“Like that, Gale. Please, just like that, love.” The word felt far too natural, Astarion’s mind slipping further into the water as he squeezed Gale’s hand and looked into the deep pool of his eyes.

It was one thing to say it as a verb, and another to be called it—love. The word sent a shock through Gale’s body, a moan escaping his lips as he rocked his hips upward. He’d called Astarion it before, the very first thing he’d called him when they were making their escape downstairs, and it was as fake as the peaceful life he described to Astarion. There was truth in it, of course, but the full, real truth was hidden. Avoided, just like those three words that sat in Gale’s throat. 

It was too much, too deep, too fast. 

So Gale did what he could say and do instead: he gave Astarion everything else. He cried his pleasure, sang his praises, fingers interlaced and held tight. He angled himself to thrust up deeper, the motion drawing a choked gasp from the elf. Gale met every movement with his own desperate, needy roll of his hips.

“Astarion, gods— fuck,” Gale groaned as Astarion mouth on his neck became a sharp bite, making him lose all coherent thought. 

His hand moved to the back of Astarion’s head, running through the curls, as if trying to keep him there, make more marks on him. He wanted to be decorated in Astarion’s marks, a painted canvas with Astarion as his artist. His words tumbled out mindlessly now, lost in the way Astarion felt around him, the sight of his flushed skin and parted lips. He was beautiful—so painfully beautiful. Every movement sent sparks of pleasure through his body, the noises he made were obscene as he bucked his hips up more.

The gentle dance of their entanglement quickly gave way to a desperate animalistic need as both of them chased their pleasure. Astarion closed his eyes, chin tilted up as he lost himself in the song of their sex. From the filthy sound of Gale’s slicked cock thrusting into him, to the sharp slap of Astarion’s ass against Gale’s thighs, to the broken howl of Gale’s moan, it was a chorus of their ecstasy. Astarion added to the song, a litany of Gale’s name crying from his lips, over and over as if there weren’t any other word in existence.

When he looked into those brown eyes, they were already staring back at him. Gale’s kiss swollen parted lips. The sweat sheening his skin. The feeling of his hand in Astarion’s hair, keeping him pressed against Gale’s chest. They moved together as one for countless minutes, the muscles in Astarion’s stomach and thighs straining from exertion. He didn’t want it to end, but he could feel them both steadily reaching their peaks.

Then he was close, so close. His dick slid against Gale’s stomach with each movement. It took everything not to cum between them right there, the thought of coating Gale’s stomach, of marking him further, making him his—

“Galegalegale, I’m s-so close. Cum for me, I—I— oh gods please!” It took everything not to beg him to take the condom off, to have Gale spill inside him.

Fuck, Astarion was everything. Gale wanted everything, wanted to see Astarion fall apart above him, wanted to be coated in his release, wanted to hear the moment of pure ecstasy as the elf gave in to his pleasure.

He was on the edge, just as Astarion was, and hearing those breathless cries, close, so close, Gale’s hips stuttered for a moment. Gale’s hand slipped down from Astarion’s hips to wrap around the elf’s aching length, feeling it wet and twitching in his palm. He began to stroke him firmly, in time with their movements.

“Fuck, Astarion—mmph, I’m—cumming, fuck —” One particular clench of Astarion around him, and Gale came with a loud cry, spilling into the condom as his grip tightened in Astarion’s hair. He continued rocking his hips upwards through his release, pumping Astarion’s cock at a steady pace. “Gods, please, cum for me, love. Let me feel you, let go for me.”

The pulse of Gale’scock inside him through the condom and that hand stroking him sent Astarion over the edge. He wrapped his arms around Gale’s neck, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling roughly at his scalp as he rode the waves of his orgasm.

“Ohhh, Gale I lo—” He bit into Gale’s mouth to stop himself from speaking. To almost say something like that, even his lust-addled brain knew it was insane.

The stinging against his scalp as Astarion’s grip tightened and pulled was nothing compared to the pleasure that overwhelmed Gale. His own orgasm, coupled with the sight and sounds of Astarion’s pleasure was pure bliss, a special sort of… something that Gale had never felt before. He caught that forbidden word that almost slipped out from Astarion’s lips, interrupted by a fierce kiss as the elf’s body shook through his release.

Gale stroked him until Astarion collapsed on top of him, both of them breathing hard and coming down from their highs. Arms wrapping around the elf, hands soothing over skin and gently petting the white curls, lips planting sweet, tender kisses anywhere he could reach. Hair, forehead, ears, cheeks, and when he caught sight of the moisture at the corners of Astarion’s eyes, he kissed there, too.

Gale didn’t move to separate them. They both laid there, Astarion’s cum sticky and slick between their stomachs, Gale’s dick softening inside him. Astarion felt the steady thrum of Gale’s heart against his chest. Gale kissed him slowly and sweet, like he meant it, like he was content to stay there forever.

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would will away the tears.. Gods, to cry after sex? Is this who he was when he wasn’t an agent or is this just who he was with Gale?

Fuck.

He needed to get out of here. As soon as Gale fell asleep he needed to make a run for it.

“I adore you,” Gale suddenly murmured, hand caressing the elf’s cheek, thumb gently brushing over the long lashes.

I adore you.

Here Astarion was, making a fool of himself and Gale adored it—adored him.

No.

No, that wouldn’t do.

Alarms in the back of his mind finally broke through. Astarion found himself wanting nothing more than to jump out of the deep end and never venture to swim in vulnerability again.

He needed to get dressed and leave. He needed to forget about Gale and every detail of tonight, of the man underneath him, that he’d tried to burn into his mind. He needed to freeze that pathetic heart of his. He needed to… well, first he needed to get dressed.

“We should, um. We should get cleaned up,” Astarion murmured, though just like in the park, he made no move to leave. That treacherous heart of his didn’t want to lose Gale inside him or his arms around him.

Astarion looked into the sun and found himself powerless to escape its shine. They moved from one to two separate beings again, Astarion lying on his back on the sweat and rain damp sheets. He told himself over and over that he needed to leave, yet as Gale stood up and tossed out the condom, returning from the bathroom with a warm cloth, Astarion knew his foul beating heart would keep him there.

Already he ached for Gale’s touch. Maybe he could hoard it for himself just for the night. He could drink his fill and escape in the morning before Gale woke. Just a bit longer. He could stay just a few hours more, until the orchids blooming in his chest were burned to cinders by that damnable sun that held him close.

Gale knelt down beside the bed with a soft smile. He wiped the elf down with care, slowly and gently. He kissed Astarion all the while, tracing over the bruises and marks he’d made over the elf’s body in their frenzy. They were beautiful on him, and Gale had no doubts his own body was marked in a similar way. That he would have to admire in the mirror later.

Once done, he discarded the cloth and climbed back onto the bed, bringing the sheets up over them both. He brought his arms around Astarion, pulling him in a close but loose embrace. He loved the elf’s warmth, this contact, this closeness. Gale knew this was wrong—dangerous, in fact. He had too many secrets, too many skeletons in the closet and in graves by his hand. But right now, he couldn’t care less. He wanted Astarion. Wanted him in his life.

But for now, he was content to have him in his arms until morning.

Astarion curled against Gale’s side, chest hair tickling his cheek. Just a bit longer, he told himself as they laid there in the bed. As soon as Gale fell asleep he’d extract himself and be gone. 

When others wrapped their arms around him, they all felt like the iron bars of a cage. It was different with Gale, he held him close but loose enough that Astarion could easily move or free himself should he desire it. If Gale was a cage, the door was open. A safe shelter that felt more inviting with every minute, danger growing outside of it with every second that Astarion became more comfortable. He needed to leave, he needed to….

Their night together replayed through Astarion’s mind during his trance. Sharing safe bits of his life with the sweet man whose eyes crinkled when he smiled. Listening to him ramble about the history of a building they walked past with excited hand gestures. Dancing with him in the rain until they were kissing and breathless. He felt it all over again, the warmth washing through him, the sweet ache of holding him close as they made love in Gale’s hotel room.

Chapter Text

June 8, 1998                    Over Five (or Six) Years Ago

Gale woke up with Astarion still trancing in his arms, and gods, he wasn’t prepared for the sight. The elf looked so calm and so tranquil, his breathing a steady rhythm as Gale felt his heartbeat against his chest.

Reluctantly, Gale slowly untangled their limbs, crawled out of the bed, and pulled on his pants. With a brief glance at Astarion, he decided to call room service for breakfast, speaking in the quietest voice he could.

The events of last night played through his mind as he then went to the bathroom to wash up. He was still buzzing with the reality of it all, that he could meet someone like Astarion. The marks from him stood out vividly in the mirror, and Gale couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face at those. His fingers traced over them, admiring how they looked against his skin. 

This was still wrong, he knew. Dangerous. Dangerous for him, dangerous for Astarion. But… he wanted more. He had to try.

Astarion suddenly woke with a start, immediately making note of the exit and his clothes crumpled on the floor. Sweet hells, he’d never fallen into a trance in a target’s room before. He needed to get out before his cover was blown. He reached for the hidden headset inside his ear but found nothing.

Wait.

Oh.

Last night washed over him, a cold shower that left a sick feeling in his stomach. It was real. But how had he fallen into a trance so easily? And to have stayed in his trance until morning was doubly perplexing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tranced through the night.

Astarion sat up, his ear twitching at the sound of running water in the bathroom. Gale was still here.

Fuck, Gale was still here. Of course he was, this was his fucking room!

Hopping out of bed, Astarion pulled his clothes on as quickly as he could. They were still damp, cold to the touch. It was fitting. He dropped down to his knees, searching for his other shoe as he cursed himself repeatedly in his head, until he heard the bathroom door open.

With a sigh to himself, Gale returned to the room to see Astarion hurriedly grabbing his clothes and shoes. The elf sprang up, looking like a deer in headlights when he saw Gale, freezing with a hesitant smile on his face and a shoe in hand.

“Ah… hello,” Astarion greeted with a wave of his hand, still holding the shoe. He met Gale’s eyes and immediately had to avert them, a sudden crack where that dead heart should be. Gale smiled warmly at him, one hand running through his pillow mussed hair and the other scratching idly at his bare chest.

Gods, the sight of Gale with his skin golden in the pale morning light was painfully beautiful. He was perfection personified, even with the small dark ovals that Astarion had bruised into him. Astarion touched his own neck, wondering if he would be able to see marks of Gale on his skin when he looked in the mirror.

Gale chuckled. “Good morning,” he said. His smile faltered a bit as he tried to meet Astarion’s wavering eyes. Had he not enjoyed the night with him? “I called room service a bit ago, so breakfast should be here soon. Oh, would you like a change of my clothes? Those damp ones can’t be comfortable.” He frowned, seeing the rain-soaked shirt from yesterday that Astarion was currently pulling on. He quickly went over to the drawer for his clothes. “Mine should fit you perfectly.”

Astarion stood there dumbly as Gale turned away to rifle through his dresser. His mind was still catching up with the sight of Gale standing in the bathroom doorway, the man’s words not fully processing until he turned around, holding out a small stack of clothes in his hands. 

Oh he was offering his own clothes. For Astarion. For Astarion to wear. To take home. To keep.

Instinct screamed for him to say no and run. He should have a flight booked to the safe house by now. He should already be in the air. He should—

“That would be most appreciated,” Astarion heard his treacherous voice respond. He watched as his hands betrayed him, reaching out to take the clothes and place them on the bed. Their hands touched and Astarion’s arm twitched from the electrical current of it.

He changed quickly, getting fully dressed in the same time it took Gale to find a shirt of his own. Gale’s clothes fit well enough, a touch larger on his lithe frame, but it was comforting. Like the ghost of Gale’s arms around him in the way the fabric hung. The scent of lavender and sandalwood heavy in the fabric.

Gale was looking at him almost tentatively now, he must have caught on to the tension within him. That little wrinkle between his brows was starting to form. He looked confused, sad almost.

Astarion’s traitorous legs stepped into Gale’s space. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to kiss him.

Was it betrayal when you want it this badly? Astarion didn’t know, he only knew that Gale still tasted like sunshine. Like joy. Safety.

Astarion’s hand came up to Gale’s face, caressing delicately as he leaned in to kiss him, and his eyes fluttered shut to savor the moment. The last moment, he presumed, if the rushed actions of the elf earlier to grab his clothes and shoes were anything to go by.

He didn’t want this to be the last. His own hand came up to hold Astarion’s against his cheek, and when he pulled away he pressed another kiss to the knuckles. The contact with Astarion still felt like electricity through his veins, still felt like the elf’s lips lingered on his when it was gone.

“I hope you enjoyed last night,” Gale murmured, giving the elf a fond smile. “I know I did. One of the best in a long while.” He paused, squeezing the hand gently, as if Astarion might disappear if he lost all contact. “Can I have your number?”

It took a moment for Gale’s words to sink in. His number. Gale wanted his number. Gale wanted this to continue. He knew they lived over 500 miles apart. That this was just something casual. A quick night away from the world. But now the world was back, the actual sun was up, not Gale, the honest-to-gods sun was up.

He needed to leave.

He needed to forget Gale.

He needed to leave.

“I…” Astarion squeezed Gale’s hand, almost in an SOS. How he wished the man could know that he wanted to, but it was better this way. It needed to be this way. “I can’t.”

Those two words were like a shot to the heart. Gale had experienced being shot more times than he liked, but this one… this one hurt the most. Somehow, this man that he’d never met until less than a day ago, had caused him to feel emotions as strong as this.

“That’s… that’s fine,” Gale said. He let go of the elf’s hand, quickly making his way to the desk and searching for a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled down his number and his name. “That’s fine,” he repeated, turning back to Astarion and pressing the paper into the elf’s hand. “You can have mine.”

Gale tucked the paper into Astarion’s palm, an almost desperate look in his eyes that the elf feared was present in his own. Gale gave the number as if he’d offered Astarion a drink and was only turned down in Astarion’s effort to be polite. This wasn’t a glass of water. It was the key to a reckless decision. It was something that could jeopardize his career. It could put Gale in danger.

No, gods, please no.

Sebastian’s face flashed in his mind, that look of betrayal. Another flash of his cold, lifeless form. A chill ran through Astarion, nausea twisting in his gut.

No, he couldn’t risk it.

“Now, darling. I think it’s best if—”

A knock at the door interrupted him, room service announcing themselves in the hallway. Gale looked from the door, then back to Astarion with a questioning gaze, waiting for him to finish.

Fuck .

He held the sun one last time, one last kiss before he resigned himself to the shadows. In a few quick steps, he opened the door for room service and slid past them, snagging the plush bat from the floor without a second thought. Astarion mumbled an excuse about missing a flight as he made a quick exit. 

Gale watched Astarion leave, the words barely registering in his mind. He didn’t stop him, didn’t call out or chase after him. The kiss, so brief yet holding so much promise, lingered on his lips as if merely a dream.

The room service attendant entered, looking at the blur of an elf with a puzzled expression before turning back to Gale, wheeling in a cart with breakfast for two. Astarion hadn’t even taken anything to eat.

“Thank you,” Gale said absently, handing the attendant a tip, unaware of the amount. Probably too much, judging by the beaming face of the man and his enthusiastic pleasantries, but Gale didn’t care. He closed the door behind him as he left, and then it was quiet.

Silent.

Empty.

Gale let out a shaky breath, brushing a hand through his hair. He hoped Astarion would call, would want to stay, would want more. But with that deep look of… regret… fear… Gale doubted it.

Perhaps it was better this way. It wasn’t safe for Astarion to be with him. Dangerous, he’d repeated to himself over and over. He would be risking too much. Yet he still believed, even for a few hours, that something real could come out of this.

Astarion was gone, leaving behind rumpled sheets and damp clothes and a hole in his heart. 

Walking through the streets of Amn, Astarion was barely cognizant of where he was going. Anywhere. Anywhere but back in that room. Astarion turned the corner into an alley and heaved. He could still feel Gale’s warmth in his hands, and underneath it Sebastion’s cold corpse.

November 3, 2005                     (Present Day)

Minsc nodded along as Astarion gave his bullshit story about being in Amn on a short vacation from the law firm.

“We were both vacationing and ended up spending the day together for one reason or another. I had a flight the next morning, but we kept in touch afterwards… eventually,” Astarion explained to the therapist and his emotional support hamster. “I’ve always been very busy with work.”

Guilt drove a spike through him. If he had only held strong, not given in by keeping that piece of paper, maybe they wouldn’t be here right now. Gale wouldn’t be miserable, married to a broken elf with a thousand secrets he could never reveal. Astarion would have never felt the warmth of a thawed heart, he would have stayed comfortably numb and alone.

But he didn’t. He refused to let go of that damned slip of paper and now they were both paying the price.

They trudged through the rest of the session, providing a basic history of their marriage and setting a goal for therapy. It was hard not to snort at that last one. A goal? How about not getting divorced?

They left the session feeling heavier than before; Astarion weighted by his guilt and the inability to make things right. Gods, if only he could tell Gale, but how ridiculous would that be?

Sorry, darling. See the reason we’ve drifted so terribly apart is that I’m a fucking spy and I don’t want you too close to me or you’ll be in more danger than you already are.

Fuck.

Astarion slid into the passenger seat and let out a long suffering sigh.

Therapy was a mistake.

Gale sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly. It took a moment for him to start the engine as he processed the therapy session, replaying the expressions of longing on Astarion’s face as he briefly retold their story of how they met.

If only Gale didn’t have so many secrets. If only he hadn’t asked Astarion to marry him, chaining him to a man who could only keep him at a distance. If only Gale wasn’t so greedy and ambitious. If only he could be the kind of partner Astarion deserved.

The drive home was silent as they both processed. Of course, Gale couldn’t keep his mouth shut for long; he stole brief looks at the elf between red lights and wondered how he felt about everything.

“Did… did you regret it?” Gale asked, voice soft. “Texting me, I mean.”

“What?” The word left Astarion’s lips before he fully registered Gale’s question.

The tentative words of his husband splintered a hairline fracture in the ice surrounding his heart. Gods, he worked so hard to build it back, to keep Gale safe on the other side. Technically, he accomplished his goal. Gale had no idea that Astarion didn’t spend long hours—sometimes even overnight stays—at the office. His husband was none the wiser that Astarion spent his hours killing Cazador’s targets or seducing them into letting their guard down so they could be blackmailed or their files could be rifled through.

No, Gale was kept safe at his work-from-home teaching position with periodic visits out for conferences or research labs identifying and examining artifacts for the university. If only his safety didn’t come at the cost of making him miserable as he clearly reached out for Astarion and the elf failed every time to reach back. He needed to find a way to do that, to connect with Gale without endangering him.

“Darling, not for one second.” It should be a lie. If he were a good person he would regret it. But Astarion was a selfish man, starving for the affection that he felt their first night together.

Astarion reached out, placing his hand on Gale’s leg and giving him a reassuring squeeze. Gale smiled tensely back, clearly not convinced. His husband needed more. He deserved more.

Astarion shifted over and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. With careful fingers, he slid his identification out of the tight clear sleeve holding it. A thin, worn note dropped out from behind the plastic card, yellowed with age and dirt on the edges. Gale’s phone number was almost impossible to read from the smudges on the paper and an errant coffee stain. But it was still there.

Taking Gale’s hand from the steering wheel while the light was still red, Astarion placed the paper in his hand, folding his fingers over as if to protect the precious memory held within.

“Not for one second.”

Selfish and starving, Astarion’s mind went right back to his escape from Amn. He went back to how impossible it had been to rid Gale from his mind.

Gale stared at the piece of paper in his hands, not quite recognizing what it was for a moment. Then he realized the familiar scritches of ink were his own handwriting and the digits of his phone number. He looked up at Astarion with wide eyes. Then back down on his closed fist as the elf pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to his knuckles, as if to seal them shut.

They had many items pertaining to their relationship over the years—photos and gifts to each other, all scattered around the house like trophies and reminders. But Astarion had kept so much from that first night, he realized. The bat plushie, Gale’s clothes, this paper with his number. These items meant so much more. The bat still sat between their pillows on their bed, sometimes found in Astarion’s arm as he was trancing. Gale still saw Astarion wearing those clothes he’d given him from their first night together. And this.

Gale wanted to frame this stained, yellowed piece of paper on a wall somewhere in their house.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the honking of horns from the cars behind them. The light had turned green, and he realized he’d been sitting there, lost in his own head. With a quick inhale, he pressed his foot down on the pedal again.

“I’m glad,” he said simply. There was a small crack in his voice, vulnerable yet relieved.

All the feelings and emotions that came along with all their physical memories of each other, their time together. They were still here.

They had to be.

Gale’s hand stayed cradled in Astarion’s for the rest of the drive, his rough palm enclosing the note. Astarion’s hands enveloped over Gale’s like a clam shell holding a precious pearl, the genesis of their relationship hidden at the center.

The drive was quiet, but far less tense than it had started. Gale hummed softly to the radio as they made their way home. That sick feeling in Astarion’s stomach hadn’t left; it merely mixed with the ache he felt for his husband. He’d gotten so good at not feeling that ache anymore, of locking it away and focusing on the task at hand.

Then Gale begged for therapy. Then the therapist asked about where they started. And now it was all Astarion could think about. He held Gale’s hand, holding that fragile note with him. Astarion thought about all the times he had looked at that note and been unable to will himself to destroy it. It was years ago, yet he could still remember the way his leg bounced repeatedly in his seat on the plane back to the safehouse.

Chapter Text

June 8, 1998            Over Five (or Six) Years Earlier

Astarion spent the entire plane ride back with that stupid fucking plush bat in his lap. It was a deep purple felt material, with little black beady eyes and tall triangular ears. Still slightly damp, Astarion held it as he looked out the window, trying not to think about Gale’s smile when the man first offered the plush.

He told himself he would throw the number away when his breathing steadied in the alley. He told himself he would throw it away when he relieved himself in the cramped bathroom of the plane. He told himself he would throw the scrap of paper into the bin when he arrived at the safehouse.

For days, he kept that damned thing in his wallet. He would take it out and stare at it, the numbers already burned into his mind. It should be easy to toss it away. But it was written in Gale’s hand, a quick chicken scratch that was smudged by his palm in his haste to give it to the elf.

Astarion made his report to Cazador, enduring the lecture over the botched mission despite its failure having nothing to do with him. He barely heard a word the horrible elf spat at him, his mind crawling back to the safety of Gale’s embrace.

With Petras out of commission Astarion was stuck picking up his slack. Black market work was exhausting, full of stakeouts and doublespeak. Astarion had to stay sharp, needed to watch the shadows, needed to be on alert for any sign of trouble. But he was failing miserably, unable to tear Gale from his mind.

Every person in his peripheral was Gale waiting for him. A sweet patient man with warm, whiskey eyes leaning against the lampost. A gorgeous stranger with tousled, shoulder-length brown waves, waiting on a park bench. A lone figure with the same olive-toned skin reading the newspaper in the hotel lobby. Until Astarion risked a glance and saw it was someone else.

An ache in that horrendous heart of his.

The note burned in his wallet throughout the day. It seared into his hand when he took it out to stare at it, as if it might suddenly become ash in the wind the next time he checked. 

Four days after he’d kissed Gale in the rain, he received word from the agency that he was being sent to Waterdeep.

June 13, 1998           

Gale sat at his cluttered desk, papers and scrolls scattered around. It was unusual of him to be this disorganized. The typical hum of activity in the headquarters felt distant, the words he was writing down a blur. Everything felt muted as his mind drifted back to Astarion, replaying their moments together like a song stuck on repeat.

His phone was static in his pocket; each buzz from it had him grabbing for the device as if a final lifeline, and left him severely disappointed when it was just a notification for work rather than a text or call from the elf. The words he’d written down for his report on his recent mission didn’t look like words anymore; they were a blur of unintelligible scribbles and shapes. His coworkers had complained about his penmanship multiple times, but currently Gale couldn’t find it in himself to write at all.

He ignored the curious glances of his coworkers who had sung praises and congratulated him on a job well done on his mission, on how he managed to still obtain valuable information despite the troubles he’d encountered and the mess that another agent had made.

They didn’t know the real troubles of the situation. They didn’t know how much he messed up everything for himself.

All he could think about was that elf—the fleeting warmth of Astarion’s lips, his touch. Perhaps it was better this way. Perhaps it was better, that this was all he had left of the man that found his way into his heart. Reports and debriefings surrounded him, all dangerous and confidential information. Gale didn’t need to risk anything this way.

“Hey, Magic Man!” His thoughts suddenly flung out his mind as the chair he was sitting in tilted back, and he was met with an upside-down face.

“Karlach!” Gale shouted, arms frantically searching for purchase. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You look like someone just kicked your cat,” the tiefling quipped, ignoring his question and letting go of the chair. Gale slid forward, almost falling out of his seat.

“Tressym,” Gale scoffed, readjusting himself and glaring half-heartedly at Karlach. She was loud, boisterous, and while he did recognize the protection she offered during their teamed missions, her energy really wasn’t something he needed today. Regardless, he sighed and gave her a small smile. Her consideration for Gale was appreciated nonetheless. “And no, no one kicked her, I’m just… busy.”

“Yeah, right, we all know you complete everything well before the deadline. Which means you must have time for a night out tonight!” Karlach flipped the folder on Gale’s desk closed and beamed at the man. “Turns out, that agent who messed up on that mission about a week ago? It was Lorroakan! Me and a couple other friends are inviting Rolan to celebrate that bitch’s firing, and you’re coming with us.”

Gale blinked, opened his mouth to protest, and Karlach promptly patted his head and bounded away before he could say anything.

Well.

A night to forget, Gale supposed. He stared at the closed folder on the desk. Perhaps it would be for the better.

…

Waterdeep was beautiful. It made Astarion feel sick.

He arrived in the City of Splendors dressed to kill, figuratively that is. This target wasn’t meant to be harmed. It was another one of Cazador’s favorite missions to assign the elf: seduce the target, obtain information and proof of coupling for possible blackmailing in the future.

Sources believed this man to be one of the masked lords, and Astarion needed to prove it. Gaining access to his home and rifling through his belongings would likely do the trick. But first, he needed to earn his trust and ply him with liquor to ensure a heavy sleep.

Fortunately, Dal was able to set that up carefully over the past few weeks with a dating profile under Astarion’s false information. Tonight he was Lyon Star, a humble accountant that had been chatting and flirting with Caladorn Adarbren, a member of one of the leading shipping clans in Waterdeep.

If Astarion was unable to prove Adarbren’s identity as a masked lord then he was tasked with bringing details of the shipping routes planned for the next season, likely related to some smuggling operation. Astarion could care less.

His mind was more focused on how to get this man in his cups as fast as possible to hopefully engage in the least amount of physical pursuit. It was impossible to do the mission without any sexual activity whatsoever; that would only earn Cazador’s scrutiny. 

His boss was a vile man, a monster. Honey pot missions were rarely assigned to anyone other than Astarion, despite how well he performed on assassinations and covert infiltration. It never mattered.

There were injectables, sprays, even small drops of liquid that could be used to spike a target’s drink. It would have them unconscious within a few minutes so that he wouldn’t have to use his body. Cazador refused to institute it, giving bullshit reasoning while looking at Astarion as if daring him to argue.

Astarion could try to avoid sleeping with the targets, but recordings made it impossible not to perform to Cazador’s standards. He would be watching and the reprimand in his office afterward made it all the worse.

When the mission was over he would need to hand over the multiple recording devices on his person, one embedded in the side button of his phone, a sound mic in his ear, another recording lens in the earring dangling from his left ear.

The last time he was able to get a target unconscious without having to ‘perform’ he found himself assigned to even more honeypot missions in addition to private conferences after. Those conferences consisted of him sitting alone with Cazador as the foul man replayed the illicit footage and had Astarion detail how he could have ‘done better’. He was just waiting for the day when Cazador asked Astarion to show him better.

Adarbren was the first honeypot since Gale.

Gale.

How his name felt like a melody sung in Astarion’s ear. The reverberations of Gale’s touch still echoed across his skin. The dulcet tones of that man’s kiss was still warm against Astarion’s lips when he closed his eyes. The sweet song of Gale would get him killed if he couldn’t deafen it during this mission.

Astarion stood in the restroom of The Dragon’s Head, an unimpressive alehouse in Waterdeep. His ‘date’ waited for him in a booth nursing his fourth glass of mermaid whiskey. The mission was going well, Adarbren drank eagerly and the more he drank the more he talked. The man was eager for Astarion’s attention, quick to reciprocate when the elf offered light touches and subtle flirtations. When Astarion made mention of finding somewhere more intimate, the target immediately offered to send for his driver.

Hands flat on the bathroom counter, Astarion looked at his reflection as if he were staring down a wolf. The deep red of his eyes stood out against the navy blue of his blazer, a white turtleneck underneath to hide the faint bruise at the base of his neck. It was almost fully faded, a distant echo of the deep purple mark it once was. 

It would likely not even be noticeable unless scrutinized under a bright light. Yet, Astarion felt a deep need to cover it from sight. His hand kept finding its way over the fabric of his shirt when talking to the mark, as if he were checking that it was still there—a ridiculous notion.

Astarion wanted to tug the neckline down to see it. But he knew the camera on his earring would pick that right up. No, he needed to get back out there, get this over with.

The rest of the night was spent going through the same motions. Hearing the same honeyed-words from a person he couldn’t give two shits about.

When the target kissed him, despite his clean shaven face, Astarion felt the prickle of Gale’s beard. His damned mind couldn’t stop seeing Gale around every corner. Of all the places, why did this assignment have to be in Waterdeep? Anywhere else Astarion could keep himself calm knowing that Gale couldn’t possibly be there. But now. Now every face was him until Astarion was able to check.

“Is everything alright?” Adarbren asked when Astarion’s eyes flicked to the bar to see that Gale still wasn’t there.

“Of course, darling. I’m merely desperate to be out of here and somewhere we can both indulge in each other completely.”

“That’s perfect; the chauffeur should be pulling up any minute. Let’s go now, they know to clear my tab.” The target leaned into Astarion as he spoke, trailing a finger down the elf’s jaw. Astarion felt disgusted, that horrendously beating heart of his singing out for an ill-fated melody. He leaned into the touch, pulling the target in for their first kiss of the night. Adarbren moaned softly against his lips, but all Astarion could hear was Gale.

“Gods, you’re stunning,” the target muttered breathlessly as they exited the booth.

Stunning .

Gale had called him stunning, he called Astarion many things that night. Every compliment one that he had heard yet felt entirely new. Each word that Adarbren unknowingly repeated was in Gale’s voice.

Gorgeous.

Marvelous.

Magnificent.

Gale’s melody was impossible to escape; there was no icing himself from the feeling. They hadn’t made it two steps inside the target’s home before they were pulling off Astarion’s clothes with a fervor. Only a second of hesitation where normally there would be none and Astarion was reciprocating, unbuttoning the target’s shirt swiftly. Normally, he could not only play the part, but be the part as often Cazador insisted. Not anymore. All he could be was a rain-soaked fool held in the sun’s embrace.

When the target pushed his spit-slick fingers inside Astarion, he whispered into the elf’s ear, “Gods you’re so fucking tight.” But only Gale’s song could be heard.

Y-you feel—incredible. So perfect, all of you.

A minute later Astarion was braced against the wall, Adarbren drilling into him as he stared vacantly at a painting with faked grunts of pleasure. He couldn’t see the art, all he could see was Gale’s hair fanned out on the pillow, his soft smile as he held Astarion close.

“I’m gonna fucking cum!” the target cried out, Astarion lost in the memory of Gale’s voice.

Gods, please, cum for me, love. Let me feel you, let go for me.

Adarbren reached around to stroke Astarion’s half-hard dick. The elf put all his focus into performance, but he was unable to think of anything other than that damned hotel room. Astarion quickly turned around and kissed the man that wasn’t Gale, pulling his hand away.

“Not here, I need so much more of you first, darling. Show me those silk sheets you were talking about before.” The words purred out of his throat felt more like poison than anything.

The target nodded eagerly, swaying from the alcohol in his system. “Yes, yes, yes. Let’s go. Gods, I fucking love you.”

The whole way up the stairs and into the bedroom, all Astarion could hear was Gale’s song in his head. All he could feel was Gale’s hands caressing his cheek as he kissed him sweetly and whispered, I adore you .

Two hours later, Astarion was making his way back from his hotel to the private jet waiting for him. His skin was red and damp from the scalding shower he’d taken. Wearing the shirt Gale had given him and clutching the purple bat, Astarion sat back in his seat on the empty jet as it made its way back to Baldur’s Gate. He fell into a trance, eyes swollen from the tears his useless heart forced him to shed.

…

Gale immediately regretted going out with them. The bar was fancy and loud, a reminder of the one in Amn when he first met Astarion. Everything was a reminder of that elf now, from the similar music playing in the background to the way strangers tried to flirt with him. They didn’t have nearly the same effect on Gale as Astarion had. He even kept seeing that elf out of the corner of his eye, as if Astarion was haunting him. He could’ve sworn he heard his voice, caught sight of those beautiful red eyes. A second glance proved him wrong, leaving him sighing in longing.

Gale sipped his water at the table, chuckling half-heartedly at Rolan who was drunk off his ass with Wyll trying to prevent him from getting into trouble, getting smacked by the tail in the process. He tried to engage more, forcing smiles and laughs to jokes he barely heard, politely declining drinks and dances from his friends.

Karlach had tried to convince him to find a hookup for the night and forget about everything, pointing out potential “hotties” from across the room, then loudly announcing to him that he wasn’t allowed to have Dammon, the man from the weapons department that Karlach was eyeing all night. Gale couldn’t tell if she was drunk or not.

He stared down at his drink, swirling the ice around, once Karlach left him to continue flirting with the flustered tiefling who’d overheard. Perhaps Karlach was right. This was what people did when they tried to move on, right? After all, it was just one night. How difficult could it be to have a similar one?

He looked around at the bar, and couldn’t bring himself to get up and join the blur of colors.

Too difficult.

Astarion was special.

Astarion made him feel wanted in a way he’d never felt before. Others had known him for his reputation at work, his talent at magic and gaining intel. People unaware of his work wanted him for his looks. Gale wanted something more than that, something closer. Astarion looked at him with much more than lust and saw him as less of a prize and accomplishment.

In turn there was vulnerability and trust in the elf’s eyes, in the way he had given himself to Gale. Astarion was a man to be protected, comforted, lo—

He slammed his glass down a little too hard, cringing at the loudness of it as the bartender shot him a concerned look. With a deep sigh, he got up from the stool and made his way out the door, hoping his friends and coworkers wouldn’t notice him.

He needed some silence.

…

Turbulence woke Astarion from his trance in a cold sweat. As if the gods themselves had chosen him specifically to torment, his trance consisted of nothing but Gale.

He lived the memory of seeing him across the bar in Amn. Astarion walked with Gale up to his hotel room, hands around the man’s waist, pretending he loved the stranger that was unknowingly helping him keep his cover. He felt the warmth of him through his linen shirt and took in the scent of lavender and sandalwood.

On the patio set, making small talk, Astarion watched the way Gale began to smile with his eyes the more they spoke. Astarion felt the back of his hand brush against Gale’s when they walked through the streets of Amn, along with the same nervous rush of wanting to interlace their fingers.

By all accords, it was a lovely trance. Astarion felt the swell in his chest when Gale bashfully offered him the plush. He felt the weakness in his knees when they danced under the moon. It was beautiful. It was forbidden.

Sure, agents were allowed to have families and personal lives. If anything, some agencies encouraged it to help solidify a person’s cover. Cazador did not expressly forbid personal lives, though his distaste for it was obvious. There was nothing stopping Astarion from typing in Gale’s number and seeing if the ‘something more’ he felt was still there.

But Astarion knew the risks. He’d seen the evidence photos when Leon’s wife was taken. He’d attended the service, an empty casket since they weren’t able to recover the body. He’d held Victoria’s hand when she was given some bullshit story for why her mother had died.

Astarion turned to face the window, fingers petting the bat’s felt wing as he looked at the twinkling lights of Waterdeep. His phone laid on the armrest next to him.

He shouldn’t.

Getting closer to Gale was dangerous. He spent not even twenty-four hours with the man and became a vulnerable, smitten mess. It had already started to interfere with missions.

Normally, he would be numbly watching an in-flight movie right now, not feeling a thing about the acts that had been required of him. Now, he felt sick, tainted, wrong. Everything he used to feel when first running those missions. He didn’t know if he could ever get back to where he was.

Did he want to?

Maybe he was just overthinking this. What harm could one message really do? Astarion typed the number without having to look at the note tucked in his wallet.

The next thirty minutes was spent typing and deleting various messages. Gods, what does one even say?

Hello, Gale. Sorry I took so long to message you but I have a top secret line of work that I can’t tell you about and it could actually endanger your life if you continue to get close to me. In fact I do a lot of unsavory things in my work that might make me utterly repulsive to you but you can’t know about any of that. Anyway, should we get dinner?

Astarion tucked his phone into his back pocket, number still typed in the drafts without a message written. The plane ride was the longest of his life as he stared out the window and watched Waterdeep get further and further away, resigning himself to the darkness.

…

Gale tried clearing his mind, tried forgetting about Astarion, even for a moment.

The flashes of red lights from cars and traffic lights reminded him of Astarion’s scarlet eyes looking at him. The voices of people reminded him of the time he spent with Astarion, walking through stalls and playing games and trying foods. His own mind was betraying him, aware of his overthinking, reminding him of how much he talked when he was with Astarion. Sharing too much information about himself and still not enough for Astarion to truly know him.

It was better that way, he thought again. Gale would eventually get over that elf, eventually seal his heart again.

Gale walked around the block until his feet hurt, finally stopping outside the bar again but not going in. He was the designated driver for the group tonight, but he knew them well enough that they weren’t close to being done. And neither was Gale with being alone.

Suddenly, he felt a drop of liquid on his cheek. He raised a hand to wipe it away, blinking his eyes. Was he crying? No, another drop landed on the back of his hand. Though, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was.

He silently cursed at himself, hurrying to his car instead of into the bar. With another deep sigh, he melted into his seat, brushing his damp hair back.

With Astarion, the rain hadn’t bothered him. It was relaxing, dancing with him and kissing him in the rain. Now the rain just made him feel miserable.

The rain made everything with Astarion romantic. Too damn romantic. It shouldn’t have been. Now he was suffering the consequences of what could have been something more.

He stared out at the rain pattering against the windshield, lost in longing thoughts, eyes absently tracking an airplane flying overhead until the heavy rain covered the view.

June 16, 1998           (A Few Days Later)

“Dal, did you get the Cormyr assignment?” Astarion asked, leaning over Dal’s cubicle. He had just received word of a teamed stealth mission. He was typically paired with her for them and wanted to go over the details.

“No,” Dal shook her head, still not turning from her computer monitor, “I think Yousen is going on that one.”

Astarion blanched. “Shit. Yousen? He’s horrible at stealth, why would they send Yousen?”

“You know he needs practice, that’s probably why he’s paired up with you.”

“I didn’t sign up to be a fucking teacher. Gods….”

“At least Cormyr has a great night life. Finish the job and spend the rest of the night out on the town.”

Astarion scoffed, “Doing what exactly?”

“Oh come off it, Astarion. A handsome elf like yourself couldn’t walk two blocks without being offered a date.” There was only one date he wanted. It just wasn’t possible though.

Astarion toed the line in his mind between asking and not before taking the plunge. “Do you do that?”

Dal continued typing, her head tilting as she asked, “Do what?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. Ugh. She was really going to make him say it. “Date.”

The sound of keys clacking stopped.

“You don’t?”

Quick one night stands where he shrugged off any attempt to know them further. Boring conversations in bars that ended in hurried handjobs in dark corners for any kind of rush that wouldn’t be related to work. Then there was Gale, the one night fling that refused to leave his mind.

“I mean, eh,” Astarion waved a hand in the air, “Kind of?”

Dal looked over her shoulder with a lighthearted smile. “Is that why you’ve been so mopey lately? Was your heart broken by some gorgeous beau?”

“No….” Astarion shifted from one foot to the other. He trusted and respected Dal; she was one of the few agents he could genuinely say that about. If he would get the opinion of anyone, it would be Dal. “Can I ask you a question?”

Dal spun around in her chair, leaning back with a curious expression. “Yes?”

Shit. This was harder than he thought, but it was too late now. “How do you do that? Date, I mean.”

Dal waved a finger in reprimand, “No, no, no. First you need to tell me all about this person. I never thought I’d see the day that Astarion Ancunín, of all people, would want to fall in love.”

The face Astarion made was nothing short of disgust. As if he would sit here recounting his night with Gale like two school girls.

“Eugh, stop that. It’s nothing… just a man I met. Now tell me. How does one date when their nine to five consists of murder and subterfuge?” Astarion looked pointedly to the floor, ready to dash away the moment Dal answered.

Dal laughed softly with a shrug. “It’s simple, Astarion. My girlfriend thinks I’m working for Szarr Law firm. My work is stressful so I don’t like talking about it when I’m in my off hours and she respects that.”

“That’s it?” Astarion asked, looking up at her. It couldn’t be that simple.

“That’s it.”

“Hm.”

“Yes, but Dal isn’t sucking and fucking her way through assignments so it’s a bit more complicated, isn’t it?” Petras interrupted, stepping up behind Astarion with a smarmy grin.

Anger ignited like the click of a gas stove. There it was, what everyone really thought of him: Astarion, the company whore.

Dal chucked a crumpled post-it note at him. “Godsdamnit, Petras. That was uncalled for and you know it’s rude to eavesdrop on conversations.”

“It’s literally one of our jobs,” Petras retorted before turning to Astarion. “Anyway, don’t listen to Dal, Astarion. She may be able to separate work from home, but you can’t do that.”

Astarion turned towards Petras, his hand reflexively going to the dagger tucked in his waistband.

“You don’t know that, Petras,” Dal cut in with a frown.

Petras along with his sneer was unrelenting. “It’s true. Let’s not forget that he fell for a fucking target.”

Astarion moved without thinking, seeing only red when he slammed Petras against the wall with his blade unsheathed and held to his coworker’s throat. Petras snorted, rolling his eyes, but his body was rigid.

“Fuck. You.” Astarion gritted out. Anger coursing so roughly through him that he couldn’t think of anything else to say. His mind flashed with images of Sebastian. Every reason not to engage with Gale further cementing.

Dal stood up, her voice hushed and sharp as she subtly looked around the office. “That was uncalled for Petras. You’ve never worked a long term mission. You have no idea what it’s like.”

Leon’s head popped up over his cubicle, his look of curiosity quickly morphing into one of annoyance when he saw Astarion and Petras. “Will you two cut it out? I’m on a time limit for this one.”

Petras dug his heels in deeper, never one to admit his wrongdoing. “I’m only looking out for him! He was a fucking mess after Seba—”

Astarion pressed the knife closer, ignoring the hiss of pain from Petras as a thin rivulet of blood trailed down his neck. His voice was low and gruff as it took everything not to push the knife in deeper. “Don’t.”

“Let him go, Astarion. It’s not worth it,” Dal hissed with a hand on his shoulder.

She was right. It would only result in a private meeting with Cazador, who would then want to know exactly what was spoken about to cause the altercation. Astarion let go of Petras and immediately turned away, stalking out of the office. He spent the rest of the day in the shooting range, trying to imagine that the center target was Petras’ stupid fucking face.

How dare that asshole try to use Sebastian against him? One mission goes awry and now he couldn’t have a personal life? That was bullshit. That fucker had no idea what he was talking about.

Astarion finished emptying the clip into Petras’ imaginary forehead on the dummy across the range. He moved to grab one of the stacks, his hand pausing over his phone that sat next to them.

Fuck Petras. He had no idea what he was talking about. And fuck Cazador. His sick fixation on Astarion had left him with nothing to call his own. Fuck everyone who thought they got to decide how Astarion lived his life. Because that’s all he wanted to do, he realized…. He just wanted to live.

He sent the message without a second thought. 

[hey this is astarion]

Chapter Text

Present Day



The ride home was quiet. There was an open rawness in the chasm between them. It was maddening, how they both wanted this to work yet had no idea how.

Astarion supposed Gale was right to have them in therapy after all; clearly they had no idea what they were doing. Though, how helpful would therapy be when he couldn’t be fully honest about why their relationship suffered? He couldn’t tell that large bald man and his rodent that it was his fault they had become so distant, that they never had a chance to close the gap between them. Gale was in enough danger being married to him. To tell him what his work at the law firm really was would be as good as killing him.

Gods, he couldn’t do that.

Not again.

They both fell back into their routine, Gale heading off to his study to do whatever it was that professors do, Astarion to the kitchen to start dinner. Ugh. Cooking. He hated it. But he hated cleaning more and Gale was far more efficient at it. That man could have the house sparkling in a few hours where it would take Astarion all damn day. So Astarion offered to be in charge of dinner. He hated the chore, but Gale seemed to enjoy the food well enough.

Tonight was spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread. It’s just boiling noodles, draining them and adding the jar of sauce. Then throwing the premade frozen meatballs into the microwave before adding them in. The part that took the longest was the frozen garlic bread in the oven. Astarion tossed them in and checked emails while he waited.

What felt like only a few minutes must have been much longer. The smell of smoke hit Astarion’s senses and his eyes widened with alarm.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He muttered, pulling the burnt garlic bread out of the oven.

Well… it wasn’t too bad. The bread was rather dark with black edges, but it could be salvaged. Astarion scraped them off before making up two plates and bringing them to the table. He set them down at their usual places, each on separate ends. Had they always sat that far apart? It didn’t feel so far in the beginning, and yet.

Astarion sighed as he sat down at his end of the table, another thing to talk about with the damned therapist, it seemed.

“Gale? Dinner’s ready, darling!” Astarion called out loudly, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. He hoped Gale would actually hear him the first time; too often did that man get so absorbed in grading papers that he wouldn’t come out of his study until dinner was already cold.

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply in frustration. He stared up at the ceiling, and a moment later his eyes were back on the screen, sifting through his overflowing inbox. It used to be much cleaner, much more organized, but now it was reaching hundreds of pages of emails he hadn’t had the time to clear up.

His work at the agency had been relentless, assigning him more and more work with shorter and shorter deadlines. The only saving grace was that he had fewer on-field missions; his back and knees were thankful for that. Those types of missions weren’t getting any easier over the years. There were the occasional ones that required him—well, preferred him—to be on the case with his magical talents, but those were far between. As that thought passed, though, yet another new email popped up, requesting him for a magical artifact retrieval mission and identifying it. Gods, perhaps Gale really should become a professor and teach people how to do simple magic.

He ran a hand through his hair, scanning his calendar to see if they’d assigned him the appropriate date for this. Too many times he’d been overbooked for his talents; his reputation as a spy with a near-flawless record precedes him, and that was a problem that he couldn’t find himself fixing. He had to be perfect.

Suddenly, Astarion's voice cut through the haze. Something about dinner.

Gale blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He checked his watch, sighing again as he realized how long he had been at it. Hopefully that was the first time Astarion had called him; he didn’t want to irritate him tonight, especially not after that therapy session where things started to at least seem a little better.

He stood up and stretched, wincing at the stiffness in his limbs, before heading out of the study and towards the dining room. As soon as he entered, his gaze landed on the plates of spaghetti and meatballs, and his eyes drifted to the dark, slightly burnt garlic bread. A faint smell of smoke still lingered in the air.

He forced a smile as he sat down, hoping to mask his lack of enthusiasm. It was clear that Astarion didn’t enjoy cooking, but he always insisted without complaint. Besides, Astarion tried—and that mattered.

“This looks… good,” he said, trying to put a little more warmth into his voice. “Thank you for cooking, love.”

“Of course, darling,” Astarion responded back on instinct. That same rhythm, every night. Astarion procures dinner, sometimes cooking it, sometimes sneaking in take away boxes and passing it off as his own when a mission has him running late. Then Gale comes home and joins him in the dining room, telling him it looks good and thanks him.

At first it had been sweet, over the years it’d become more of a polite habit. No thought or feeling actually being exchanged between them. The emptiness of it hit Astarion like a fist in the practice ring. Was that all they were now? Empty politeness?

He wanted to do something different, but he wasn’t sure how. Astarion found himself falling back into the same old script when he cut into a meatball and asked, “So, how was work today, dear?”

“It was the same as usual,” Gale replied, and frowned at the instant answer. That answer was repeated over and over, nothing special, nothing new, apart from the occasional updates from another agent. They were keeping up with the actual university news to help Gale keep his cover. “I’ve been swamped with a lot of work recently, with all the new research discoveries and midterms to grade.”

He ended the answer with that, before realizing that it sounded like he was ending the conversation. No more questions back, no more chatter between each other. How many times had he done this before? He always seemed to be in a rush to finish the meal and get back to work nowadays.

“What about you? Anything interesting?”

Gale winced a bit when he bit into a hard piece in the meatball. There might as well have been an icecube in the middle of it. Regardless, he kept chewing, masking his distaste with a—hopefully—more neutral look. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t kept his status as a wizard a secret—it wouldn’t have been that suspicious of a talent to have, and it’d make life so much easier. But now that he’d hid it this long, there were sure to be questions.

He would be able to sneak a Prestidigitation spell to flavor the food better if he brought it to his room, as he so often did. Too often, he realized. He wanted to spend dinner with Astarion this time.

Astarion took a bite into the meatball and nearly made a face. Sweet hells, it was ice cold. Ugh. Well, hopefully that was just his portion. Gale didn’t seem to mind the meatball he was chewing on anyway.

Astarion had to stop himself from mouthing along to Gale’s last two questions. Every single night he asked. And every single night Astarion couldn’t give him an honest answer.

Well, this morning I flew two hours away and posed as a dominatrix in order to gain access to an assassination target.

Instead, what left his mouth was, “Oh, nothing much. A client gave us a hard time but we sorted it out.”

Astarion chose another meatball to cut into as he continued. Rather than the truth, I had to deal with an hour long lecture on appropriately hiding bodies in order to extend time for extraction , he said, “They can be so demanding about case specifics, it’s all rather boring, honestly.”

Gale nodded along to Astarion’s response just as he did for him. It was all the same uninterested, polite acknowledgement. He swirled the fork within the pasta, swallowing down another cold chunk. He briefly wondered if Astarion even liked the meals he cooked—it was hard to tell what was real between them anymore.

When did dinners together become pulling teeth? A small part of Astarion wished Gale would take his plate to his study as he often did. At least then they wouldn’t be stuck in this awkward dance. It wasn’t so much steps that they took together, moreso an uncomfortable polka or worse a chicken dance. On one end of the table, Gale made his moves, and at the other Astarion performed his, sometimes unsure that they even moved to the same song. Both of them speaking in so many words yet not really saying anything.

There were a few nights when Astarion would slip in something ridiculous just to see if Gale was listening on his more distracted days. The overworked professor never noticed. Not that Astarion listened very hard when Gale discussed academic news, often simply nodding along, images of an earlier mission still running through his mind.

Things still weren’t the same as before meeting Gale. Before, when a mission was complete, that was the last Astarion ever thought of it. The ice around his heart was back after careful years of hard work freezing it, but there was something about just being near Gale. Even with the distance between them, little cracks still formed in the ice.

Sometimes, it was like stepping through old memories when he looked in those eyes at the other end of the table. For a fraction of a second, he could remember what it was like when they were dating, that tumbling excitement that fluttered in his lungs. Then Gale would look away and it was as if the canyon between them yawned ever wider.

Astarion realized the silence was stretching between them but he felt unsure of how to break it. Gale hadn’t offered much about his day, per usual. And Astarion hadn’t offered much about his (not that any of it was real, anyway), per usual. What more was there to talk about?

“Have you spoken with Morena recently?” Astarion asks, subtly spitting the undercooked pasta into his napkin. He wasn’t sure how Gale liked his pasta this way, but the man always praised it afterward so maybe he just had an odd preference.

“Oh, yes,” Gale replied, glancing up from his plate at the mention of his mother. “She called last week, telling me about her own work and how she and Tara are doing. There isn’t anything new.” Besides her increasing worry about Gale’s career choice. If only Astarion knew Gale’s secret life just as she did. “She asked about you, too,” he added as an afterthought. “She still thinks you’re too good for me.”

He gave Astarion a small smile; a small attempt at humor, but he knew it sounded flat. It was true now. With all the lies and secrets Gale was hiding behind, Astarion deserved someone better. Someone who could be there for him, who wouldn’t suddenly disappear at random times. And perhaps would never return, one day.

That was a thought that frequently passed his mind. A thought that constantly scared him. Each new on-field mission was scarier than the last. Even with the shift into more virtual missions, there was still that risk of being targeted, and having his loved ones targeted.

Gale didn’t give much information regarding his mother. Disappointment sunk in Astarion’s gut; sometimes discussing Gale’s mother would light his husband up and get him talking.

Not tonight it seemed. Even worse was when he made the comment about Astarion being too good for him. Gale laughed, but there was a look in his eye that had the polite chuckle from Astarion dying quickly. It was as if he believed it.

Gods, how insane. That Astarion of all people would be too good for Gale. Astarion, the liar, the thief, the murderer, the whore . Anyone would be better for Gale. He wanted to convey it somehow, but it was impossible. There was too much he couldn’t know.

After a few more agonizingly quiet minutes, Gale finally swallowed down the last bit of the meal. “I should probably call her again soon,” he murmured. He got up from his seat, taking his plate and Astarion’s on the other side of the table once they were both done. “I’ll do the dishes.”

As usual. Astarion cooked, Gale cleaned. Dividing these menial chores just like they were dividing both their love life and marriage.

They finished their evening, skipping the time they would spend reading separately or watching tv since things were running later due to the therapy session. Astarion completed his nightly routine while Gale washed the dishes, the two of them heading their separate ways.

Changing into night clothes, brushing and flossing his teeth, and doing his skin care regime, Astarion thought about their therapy session the entire time. He had thought the therapist was an idiot, but starting at the beginning left Astarion reeling. Almost as if remembering those times had brought them back to it. Little specks of hope that maybe they could get there again. Then they spent dinner in stilted conversation and Astarion found himself doubting it all.

Astarion tucked in under the covers, scrolling through his phone without absorbing anything as he waited for Gale to come to bed. His mind was still lost in Amn, how it could have just stayed one lovely love affair that ended there.

After the dishes were washed and put away, Gale made his way upstairs to get ready for bed. Gale lingered in the bathroom, brushing his teeth while staring at his own reflection. His face looked tired, worn down by the endless cycle of work and lies. There seemed to be some sort of spark today after that therapy session—Gale could only hope for more. With a deep sigh, he emerged from the bathroom to see Astarion already in bed.

His shirt was on, just as Gale’s was. Gale slid into his side of the bed, careful not to touch the elf. It was almost always Astarion that initiated touch between them. Gale had seen the vulnerability since day one; the hesitance and reluctance to touch and be touched, sexual or not. Gale always respected that, and yet. The lack of contact was suffocating.

The canyon extended between them as they laid on their separate sides, Astarion thought about the text he sent that really started it all. The months of long distance dating hadn’t been terrible. In fact, it might have been the closest he ever felt to Gale. There was less of a need to hide things with the distance, they didn’t waste time talking about work. They spent time either in the present or learning about each other’s past. Before Astarion’s spy work, before he became a monster.

It was when things became more serious, when they moved in together that things started to shift. It was when they married that the fear of ruining Gale’s life fully took hold. Astarion held him back sharply after that, so afraid that the closeness they built would put Gale in danger. Not to mention that he could easily not return from any mission. Sure, there were people with high-risk jobs who knew the same strain. But their spouses knew. Astarion hid the risk from Gale, he took Gale’s ability to consent to being with a partner like him. A monster, he truly was a monster.

“Goodnight, love,” Gale murmured in a soft, hollow tone. The words sounded empty and false. He rolled over, back to Astarion before receiving an answer.

Astarion muttered goodnight back, still lost in thought. Had they made a mistake? Did Gale think so?

“Do you think…” Astarion stopped, cursing himself for having spoken out loud at all. He should have left it alone. 

“Pardon?” Gale’s head lifted from the pillow before turning over to face Astarion. With only the moonlight of the curtain, Gale’s face would have been difficult to see without his dark vision. Astarion could see the furrow in Gale’s brow. How his eyes searched the space between them, likely having a harder time seeing Astarion. There was an urge to come in closer, to smooth the wrinkle between his brows and offer a reassuring kiss.

But Astarion wouldn’t be kissing the Gale in front of him, he’d have been kissing the Gale from years ago. The man who called him each night before bed and recounted a childhood memory that left Astarion feeling the warmth of a childhood he never had. Who listened patiently and consoled him when Astarion struggled to share his own sordid history of abandonment. Who whispered sweet nothings through the phone until they found each other for a night or two. That man wasn’t there anymore. Astarion wasn’t sure if he’d ever be back.

Astarion rolled to his side, facing his husband, tucking his hands under the pillow and drawing up his legs in an almost fetal position. There was no going back, he just needed to say it.

“Do you think that,” Astarion swallowed before continuing, “that we were closer when we were further apart?”

He wants to shove the words back into his mouth. Why couldn’t he have just pretended to ask about what they should have for dinner tomorrow? Why start this as they lie in bed? Nothing good could come from it.

And yet.

And yet he needed to know.

Gale didn’t think he’d be able to sleep tonight, with all the thoughts and emotions warring in his mind. Even more so as his blood ran cold when Astarion asked the question. Were they closer when they were far apart? Did Astarion believe that? He wouldn’t have brought it up if he truly thought so.

Did Astarion… did he want to leave him and start over again?

Back when things were so much easier to hide. Back when they’d talk to each other so much more, sending each other bits and pieces of their lives. Gale’s real life. Back when the most amount of lies and miscommunication were those little laughter emojis Gale sent when Astarion sent him a silly joke Gale didn’t understand but wanted to share in the same happiness.

He recalled those nights when they’d fall asleep on call with each other, particularly the one when Astarion had sung—with much reluctance and a lot of persuasion—an Elvish song for Gale to fall asleep to. He’d been exhausted that day, and listening to Astarion somehow felt like a full-body massage for his body and mind even though they were miles away.

There was a night Gale had read a book aloud for Astarion after the elf had a bad day, complaining about a rather infuriating client. Astarion described him with so much anger and annoyance, Gale almost believed Astarion really did stab the man as the elf had claimed to want to do. Gale believed he would have done so himself if he could have, if only to save his love the trouble and migraine. Astarion had fallen into a trance as Gale was reading, and he hadn’t even noticed until he heard the faintest sound of a snore picked up by the mic.

The first time Astarion had done that it had warmed Gale’s heart to no end, knowing that Astarion felt safe enough to do so in his presence, even if Gale wasn’t there.

Now it seemed that Astarion always had trouble falling into trance lately; Gale was sure he was always the first to fall asleep.

“Things did seem more exciting and romantic then, didn't they?” he murmured, more to himself than Astarion. He shifted his body so that he was lying on his back. He glanced over at Astarion, meeting the small glints of red of his eyes, then back up at the ceiling.

There were barriers of distance, screens to hide behind, and time to formulate a response for lies. Gale knew the risks of oversharing, and found himself making careless mistakes, almost revealing his secret. He wanted to share everything with Astarion.

There were the pictures of Tara he’d sent, in cute and silly poses that the tressym had later scolded and scratched Gale for, for sharing that with Astarion. There was a screen behind her with Gale’s work, full of confidential information that he noticed way too late. When Astarion pointed it out, Gale had claimed it was from a movie he was watching, and soon enough they were watching the first movie Gale had thought of. Astarion had forgotten why they were watching it in the first place, much to Gale’s relief.

There was the time Astarion first spoke to Morena, and bless her, Gale really should have emphasized more that Astarion knew nothing about Gale’s real work. She’d almost revealed it to Astarion, and things would have ended right then and there. Maybe they should have.

Gale sighed, turning his head back towards Astarion. His arm reached towards the space between them in the center of the bed and stopped, in an offer of reassurance. He could share everything with Astarion. Especially when they were here, together, physically. There were more risks, definitely. But when hadn’t there been?

Chapter Text

June 27, 1998            Over Five (or Six) Years Earlier

The mission ended a day earlier than expected leaving Astarion with a night off. It turned out that the intel was wrong and the artifact he needed to retrieve wasn’t behind a locked safe at all. The powerful little trinket was sitting on the owner’s bedside table like a pair of reading glasses. Astarion was able to swipe it easily and make his escape without even having to make contact with the target. One lockpicked window to get him in, a Disguise Self scroll to throw off the security footage, and Astarion was finished within only a few minutes. Lovely.

Lying down on the couch, Astarion flipped through channels aimlessly. It was quiet, lonely. His mind found its way to Gale as it always seemed to since they started texting a few weeks ago. Their talk was typically rather friendly, such as sharing interests and discussing their day. Of course, Astarion couldn’t say anything about work, but it was easy to navigate that by citing confidentiality or simply changing the subject.

Not to say there hadn’t been flirtation, sending selfies back and forth typically led to some banter that sped Astarion’s heartbeat up. They both started working out at the same time, competing for who could do the most reps or run the furthest in a treadmill sprint. 

He had taken Gale for a more timid man through text, but he was rather quick to say exactly what he thought about Astarion’s shirtless post-workout photos. And gods, when Gale sent the photo of him still at the gym after the treadmill sprint he won, Astarion thought he might pass out right there in the locker room.

His hair was pulled back with strands fallen down that stuck to his face, skin slick with sweat as if he’d been oiled up for a competition. Astarion would have bet money Gale wore a tracksuit, but he was gloriously wrong. Gale was in a thin, low-cut tank and purple basketball shorts that stopped mid-thigh. Even now, Astarion found himself thinking about that photo, warmth pooling in his lower gut. Astarion had gone home quickly after Gale sent it, stroking himself off in the shower in a few short movements at the thought of being with Gale again.

Astarion scrolled back through their photos, his thoughts straying to the sensation of Gale’s body against his. He palmed himself through his sweatpants, already half-hard from the memory of that man. They hadn’t spoken much since lunch. Astarion decided to fix that.

[Good evening, darling. I’ve been thinking about you.]

Astarion tugged off his shirt and pulled his pants a bit further down so his hips would show. He held his phone up high for the selfie, arching his back a bit and biting his lip while looking up through his lashes. He sent it off and hoped Gale wasn't busy and was looking to have some fun as well.

It took only a couple moments for a response.

[You know how to get my attention, don’t you, love?]

[I’ve been thinking about you as well. I couldn’t get that last picture you sent out of my head.]

Astarion smiled at Gale’s question like a cat who got the cream. Then Gale’s photo came through shortly after. Astarion inhaled sharply through his nose at the sight. 

Gods, Gale was just as big as he remembered, his generous bulge outlined in black slacks. It was a bit dark in the photo, with Gale in a seated position though it was too close up for Astarion to tell where. Was he sitting in his study at home working when Astarion had him hot and bothered? Or was he out in public getting off on the risk of their heated conversation?

[I could say the same to you, love. It’s a crime you walk around like that without me there.]

The hunger for more was insatiable. Lust sent shivers down Astarion’s spine and he felt his cock twitch at the thought of Gale pulling those black slacks down, letting the elf ride him wherever he was seated.

Astarion pulled his sweats down to his knees and stroked himself with a soft groan, swiping the precum down his shaft to help ease the slide of his hand. Quickly, he snapped another photo, this one showing from his stomach to halfway down his shaft, cut off where he held himself.

[Let’s see what else I can get you picturing]

When was the last time he’d done something like this? Astarion couldn’t remember. It had been over a decade since he’d dated and even then everything intimate had been in person. But with Gale he didn’t have that option.

Having Gale far off in another city made keeping his cover simple. Not to mention it kept Gale safe. Each day it felt like they were growing closer and it terrified Astarion. 

This was supposed to be casual yet already it felt different than anything before. It was a problem. Maybe it was an illusion of closeness, Astarion told himself. Maybe they were both holding back the worst of themselves behind the safety of distance. 

Astarion felt himself flagging, lost in thought and having a difficult time staying present.

Then Gale sent another text, another photo, and Astarion’s cursing the distance—risk be damned. 

[Our first time together is imprinted in my head, but I crave so much more of you.]

[I wish you were here to help me with this problem you’ve caused.]

Gale was being a tease, holding his dick through his pants with the barest hint of a wet spot at the tip. Maybe he was in public, so shy about giving Astarion the full show. He decided to press for more, sending another text.

[I haven’t stopped thinking about that problem of yours since it was inside me.]

[If you wanted, you could show me what I’m missing. To better help me picture my mouth around you again.]

The next text and photo came almost immediately. 

[As you wish.]

[I can’t wait to feel you again, to have you take every inch of me while I watch your lips wrap around it.]

The photo was of Gale’s cock, standing proudly against his torso, already slick with precum, and a hand wrapped around the base.

"Oh fuck," Astarion murmured. He knew he could get close off of that image alone, but he was greedy for more. If Gale was sending a photo like that he must be somewhere private enough.

Without replying, Astarion called Gale, running his thumb over the head of his cock in a back and forth motion as he waited for him to answer. After the third ring a bit of anxiety started to creep into Astarion’s mind. Was immediately calling too forward? Maybe Gale wasn’t comfortable with this. Maybe he should just—

Astarion heard the click of Gale picking up the phone and he interjected before the other man could say a word. "I hope this is alright, love. You sent that photo and I… I don’t know." His voice came out rough and breathy as he hurried to finish speaking. "I just want you so much right now."

"You are more than alright, my dear," Gale replied. His voice was low, almost breathless, and it only got lower as he spoke. Husky and filled with need. "Gods, I want you just as much, I wish I was there with you as well."

There was a brief pause as Astarion heard him take a shaky breath. "Tell me, what would you do if I was there right now? Would you have me pinned beneath you again, having your way with me? Or would you let me take control, have you on your knees as I feed you my cock?"

Both Astarion’s ear and cock twitched simultaneously at Gale’s words.

"Hells, Gale." Astarion groaned, losing his grip on himself for a moment as he shuddered.

Heat flooded his cheeks and he let out a soft whine with his exhale. Holy fuck, he’d assumed Gale would be bashful over the phone—possibly need some guidance for this—but he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Instead, Astarion found himself on the backfoot. He’d called feeling so confident, but suddenly found himself at a loss now that he was here.

It was odd. After all, there had been plenty of long term missions that required a few illicit phone calls to keep the target distracted while Leon broke in to retrieve whatever item the agency had their eyes on. Anyone could have done it, but Cazador enjoyed standing in the Tech Wing with his own headset, claiming to overview the mission. His eyes on Astarion the entire time told him exactly why Cazador was there. Not even a heat to his eyes, no, he looked deviously pleased anytime Astarion dared glance towards him.

When he would turn his back and try to focus on the performance of fucking a stranger he didn’t care about through the phone, Cazador would walk around the room, his shoes clicking against the marble floor. Anything to remind Astarion that he was there, watching.

Astarion shoved the thoughts of Cazador and missions away. Of course it was easier then, he was playing a part. Just a moment of disgust where he forced himself through and then it was over, done. Until the next one.

But this was Gale.

He wasn’t playing a part with a vile elf looking over his shoulder, he was lying back on his sofa thinking of the one person who’s made him feel whole. He could do this. Just be himself, not an agent, not a performer, just himself.

"I, um. I want you. You to tell me… what you’d like." His words came out in a pant as he flicked his wrist at the head, but he was mortified that it sounded awkward and stilted. 

Gods. Was this who he was as himself? A dork with no game? Shit.

Gale’s reply came through quickly with a soft chuckle. "You like that, don’t you? Me telling you how I’d want you? You looked quite lovely above me last time, riding my cock, all breathless and hot. I think you’d look just as good beneath me, don’t you? I’d have you like that; spread open for me as I savor you, taste every inch of you until you’re begging me to fuck you and touch you properly.” Another pause, another deep, shaky breath. "I’d make you wait, just a little longer. Make you work for it."

His voice through the phone was like being hit by a multitude of crashing waves, each sentence striking against him in an overwhelming pleasure. The phone was warm against Astarion’s ear, his thumb sliding down the cartilage when he turned his head. Astarion imagined it was Gale’s hand as he hovered over him in bed, teasing the elf on the edge until he was begging for more.

Astarion ground against his hand as he stroked himself faster, hoping Gale could hear the slick sounds. Through the phone Astarion heard the other man's breathing pick up, imagining that Gale’s movements mimicked his own.

"Shit," Gale grunted under his breath and Astarion let out a soft groan in response. The thought that Gale was just as far gone as he felt had Astarion far closer than he expected. The current was quickly carrying him away from shore, but he wasn’t ready to be lost at sea just yet. He slowed down his movements to a near stop, instead focusing on the man on the other side of the phone.

"Do you want me to work for it, darling? I could beg for you, so sweetly you’d have a hard time not giving in." Astarion’s heart raced faster than he thought possible, faster than any hand to hand combat or close call shootout. He wanted to give that back to Gale, make his heart race, hear him come undone. Take him into the deep and find the bottom of the ocean floor together. 

"Please, Gale. Won’t you give me just what I need? I need you so badly, I want you here inside me. Please, love please."

Astarion quickly spat into his hand when his strokes started to feel on the edge of too rough. He could head to the bedroom and get some lube, but he was far too gone to bother. The only thing he wanted was Gale, nothing else mattered.

Gale swore again under his breath and Astarion couldn’t help the sly grin crossing his lips. There was some movement on the other side with a faint popping sound on the other end, possibly the lumbar in Gale’s chair or something half-hazardly falling around him when he moved.

"Gods, yes, good boy. You beg so prettily for me," Gale breathed and a wounded keen escaped from Astarion, his body thrumming from the praise. 

Fuck, when had it ever felt like that? He'd been called many things by many marks, but then again, Gale wasn't a mark. Gale continued talking, every word undoing him more as if being slowly unbuttoned. 

"Gods, Astarion, you sound so perfect for me. I want you to imagine my hands on you, running down your body, gripping your thighs as I push them apart. Then I’ll take you hard and deep, over and over, until the only thing you can think about is me inside you, filling you, while I watch every single one of your beautiful expressions."

Running a hand down his side until he reached his inner thigh, Astarion then pulled at the soft flesh to spread his legs, just as Gale described. Aching to feel Gale inside him again; it had been far too long. Astarion’s hand teased down to his entrance, but he needed lube. Godsdamnit.

There was a brief moment of silence between them where Astarion kicked off his pants and made a hasty retreat to his room. He dropped back on the bed, close to the night stand where he kept his lube and assortment of toys. He was thinking of one of his larger dildos, how it wasn’t quite Gale’s cock, but would be as close as he could get.

"I may not be able to have you here, but I do have something to help fill me. If you want that, Gale." Astarion opened the drawer, pausing to put his focus into speaking in Gale’s ear. "Do you want that? Do you want to be my hands opening me up and have me fuck myself with a toy as if it were you taking me? Have me tell you just how perfect you feel inside me?"

"Fuck, yes, Astarion," Gale breathed. "Keep talking. Tell me more, love, tell me what you’re using. Imagine my hands on you, working you open. I want to hear how badly you want me."

Astarion put the phone on speaker, setting it on the pillow next to him before slicking up three fingers of one hand.

"I know you, I know you’d stretch me out slowly until I begged for more." He let out a long exhale, relaxing as he reached behind himself and pressed two digits in. "But I can’t wait any longer, love. I need you so badly. I, mmm, oh that’s nice. I’ve got two fingers inside me but I know I’ll need at least three to take your generous cock."

He’d never considered himself a verbal lover, though he’d never felt the way he did when he was with Gale. With Gale he wanted nothing more than to please him, to ensure he knew how great he made Astarion feel and to make him feel just as good in turn.

Astarion groaned softly, quickly working to the third. "There’s three now, gods, I already feel so full. You’re going to split me open so perfectly, Gale. Oh, I— ahhhhh," Astarion jolted when hitting his prostate, then rocking back so his fingers rubbed just right against it, "there, fuck right there!"

"Fuck, Astarion," Gale murmured, his voice strained. "Keep going, right where you want it, let me hear you. You’re doing so well, stretching yourself open for me. I can practically see you, gods, I wish I was there to see you fall apart for me. You’re going to take all of me, aren’t you? Every last inch."

"Yes!" Astarion answered Gale quickly, fucking himself on his fingers faster as his cock smacked rhythmically against his stomach, "Every inch of you. I want it all. I can take it, Gale. I need you now, fuck . Please, please."

Gale was silent on the other side, fuck was he ever into teasing Astarion tonight. He clearly wanted the elf to beg and Astarion found himself eager for it. Never had he felt this desperate for someone, it was maddening. 

His awkward fumbling for what to say had left him, his lust addled brain lost in the fantasy of having Gale there. Now the words couldn’t come out faster, everything he wanted and needed from the man leaving his mouth in a breathy desperate tone.

Astarion grabbed the phone with his dry hand and reached around to take a photo, showing his ass in the air with his fingers still inside himself. "Look how ready I am for you, darling. Won’t you take me now?"

For a moment, Astarion only heard the heavy intake of Gale’s breath. The thought that Gale was so into it he could barely speak sent a thrill through him. Astarion removed his fingers to lie down on his back, looking at the dildo he’d placed on his nightstand during the call. Made of a red and purple swirled silicone, thick with etched in veins. It would be good, but nowhere as satisfying as he knew Gale was.

"Let me show how deep you’ll be inside me. How far in I can take you," Astarion purred as he took hold of the dildo and held it against his pelvis to mimic where it would be if inside him, the tip coming to his belly button. Astarion snapped a photo with his back arched and straining cock in the shot, sending it to Gale as he spoke. "Please, Gale. I promise to be good, to take you so well."

"Gods, Astarion, look at you," Gale breathed, a moan echoing through the speaker.  That sound, so loudly after restraining his reactions for most of the call, was a crescendo of pleasure on its own. Astarion could have gotten off to just that alone. "So fucking perfect for me. Go ahead, slowly now, you can take all of me, can’t you?"

Nodding in response as if Gale could see him, Astarion put the phone next to him and applied a generous amount of lube to the toy. He pressed in slowly, carefully, just as he’d been told.

The head popped inside him, "Oh fuck, there you are. Just the head of your cock is inside me, Gale. Gods, you feel so good."

Astarion looked to the side towards the phone, imagining Gale was lying next to him, watching as he came undone. In his mind he was watching, while also hovered over him, pushing in. Somehow two places at once. Possibly, a third on the other side kissing down his neck.

"Oh, Gale. Fuck." Astarion moaned as he pushed the toy the rest of the way in, a slow smooth motion until he hit the base as he rolled his hips into his other hand. He’d only just started but he was—"so close. I’m so close already, love."

"That’s it, baby, you feel so good, so tight,” Gale cooed. "Fuck—you’ve earned it, cum for me, let me hear you."

Blood rushed through Astarion’s ears as he closed his eyes and thrust the toy faster while half-hazardly stroking his cock. He imagined Gale’s hands in place of his, Gale’s hot throbbing length instead of the toy.

"Yes, oh fuck, Gale yes! Right there,” Astarion panted and groaned deeply as the toy stimulated his sweet spot with each thrust. The tight thread of his release pulled thinner and thinner until, "I’m gonna, oh, I’m—hnhnnghh!"

"Fuck, fuck, Astarion, so good for me, so perfect—hahh—"

The edges of Astarion’s vision grew dark as his orgasm rocked through him, listening to Gale’s sounds of pleasure. Cum shot up his stomach, a small splat hitting his chest. The toy slid out of him from how hard he clenched down as keened through the aftershocks.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was their heavy breathing as they both came down from their highs.

Gale was the first to speak, his voice soft, almost tender. "Gods, Astarion, you’re incredible,” he murmured. “I wish you were here. I miss you, love."

Chapter Text

Meanwhile in Waterdeep

Gale tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, eyes glued to the door of a small, abandoned warehouse. He’d been parked here for hours, yet the man who went in still hadn’t come out. The intel from the agency had been vague—Gale silently cursed whoever assigned these missions; he should have been the one gathering intel instead of this stakeout. Gale was used to the waiting game by now, but that didn’t make it any easier.

He fidgeted with his magical focus—a pendant with one of Tara’s feathers preserved in resin—and stared at the door with a yawn. What in the hells was that man doing in there? Just take the artifact and go, and Gale could finally have some activity intercepting the item before it changed hands again.

A flash of headlights in the distance caught his attention and he stiffened, watching as a white van approached. He relaxed again, seeing it roll by without stopping. He started tapping the steering wheel again, wishing he was back home, in bed, reading or sleeping, or texting Astarion and seeing how he was doing.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from the monotony of the stakeout. As if the thought summoned him, the text was from Astarion. He read the popup notification with a smile, then unlocked his phone to see what the attachment was.

[Good evening, darling. I’ve been thinking about you.]

His eyes flicked up to keep watch of the door of the warehouse, and when he glanced back down at his screen he immediately forgot where he was.

Astarion was posed in the most tantalizing way, shirtless with his hips exposed, gaze sultry as he looked straight at the camera. Even with all those photos the elf had sent him throughout the week since they officially started dating long-distance, Gale could never get enough of him. It had been so long since their first time together, and Gale ached to have him in person again.

Gale swallowed hard. The car somehow felt much hotter now, as did his body. A part of him wanted to indulge, to respond back with something equally playful and suggestive. He glanced back up at the warehouse. He was on a stakeout, following a lead that could turn violent at any second. His training—and common sense—told him to focus on the mission. 

But it had been hours with no activity, and besides, his thoughts had already drifted to Astarion more than once during the wait. He had juggled various difficult castings, maintained hours of concentration on spells—surely he could handle doing his job and having a little fun. Besides, ignoring Astarion just felt wrong.

He quickly tapped out a reply, then sent a picture of the bulge in his pants that had already started to grow obvious since his brief contemplation. He made sure it was close enough for it to be clear what it was, while not revealing that he was in a car.

[You know how to get my attention, don’t you, love?]

[I’ve been thinking about you as well. I couldn’t get the picture of that last workout picture out of my head.]

There was a brief pause before Astarion texted back, another photo loading in.

[I could say the same to you, love. It’s a crime you walk around like that without me there.]

[Let’s see what else I can get you picturing]

Gale’s breath caught at the photo, this one showing the elf’s stomach to halfway down his shaft, cut off where he held himself. His gaze lingered on the precum sliding off that flushed cock, those slender fingers glistening with it. He almost forgot about the warehouse, the stakeout, the mission. 

All he could think about was what Astarion would taste and feel like in his mouth, how the elf’s body would feel under his hands, on top of him, to take each other apart piece by piece. It was a shame he never got to taste him, and gods what he wouldn’t do for a chance to rectify that.

Gale glanced at the warehouse again as he palmed his own growing hardness in his pants, letting out a shaky breath. Still no sign of the target. He had time—just a few minutes, perhaps, but they could be quick, as much as he wanted to take his time with this.

His hand moved to snap another picture, this time of his hand cupping himself through his pants, pressing down slightly to show just how hard he was for Astarion, with barely the hint of a wet spot forming through the fabric.

[Our first time together is imprinted in my head, but I crave so much more of you.]

[I wish you were here to help me with this problem you’ve caused.]

A reply came almost instantly.

[I haven’t stopped thinking about that problem of yours since it was inside me.]

[If you wanted, you could show me what I’m missing. To better help me picture my mouth around you again.]

Gale let out another shaky breath and bit his lip at Astarion’s reply. Another glance back at the warehouse, and fuck it, he wanted this, needed this. He pulled down the zipper, dragging it down and then his pants and underwear just enough to free his cock. It stood proudly against his torso, already slick with precum.

A hand wrapped around the base, while the other angled the camera down to capture the scene. His hands shook as he let go of his cock to type out a reply.

[As you wish.]

[I can’t wait to feel you again, to have you take every inch of me while I watch your lips wrap around it.]

He stroked himself a little faster, eyes fluttering shut for just a second, savoring the fantasy and recalling that wondrous memory of Astarion between his legs. His eyes opened again and—

Movement. The door to the warehouse was opening.

The mission. Damnit, the mission.

Of course the target was coming out now, when he was in the middle of this. He cursed under his breath, quickly tucking himself back into his pants. To the hells if he was getting caught with his dick out while trailing someone. His body screamed for attention, and he kept glancing back at the phone for Astarion’s reply.

He couldn’t keep him hanging.

He could multitask this.

Gale started his car again, keeping the headlights off as he waited for the target to start their own. He had barely refocused on the man when his phone buzzed again. And again, and again. It wasn’t a message or photo this time—it was an incoming call.

He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Fuck it,” Gale muttered, and he couldn’t help it. His body was on fire, he craved Astarion’s touch, his voice, everything about him, he needed—

The target’s car lit up and started to move. Gale tapped the screen to answer the call.

Astarion’s voice came through before he could say anything. “I hope this is alright, love. You sent that photo and I… I don’t know.” His voice came out rough and breathy as he hurried to finish speaking. “I just want you so much right now.”

“You are more than alright, my dear,” Gale replied, lying through his teeth. His voice was low, almost breathless. Husky and filled with need. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white as he refrained from touching his aching cock. He could talk Astarion through this; but he also needed to get this damned mission done.

“Gods, I want you just as much, I wish I was there with you as well.” His voice dropped lower as he spoke. He shifted into drive to start following the black car once it was a good distance away. “Tell me, what would you do if I was there right now? Would you have me pinned beneath you again, having your way with me? Or would you let me take control, have you on your knees as I feed you my cock?”

The dynamic would be new, Gale knew. But right now, he had to keep running his mouth, barely able to focus on filtering himself as he split his attention—rather unevenly, with how much he wanted Astarion over this fucking mission—between the car and the call.

“Hells, Gale.” Astarion groaned, and Gale picked up on that soft whine the elf let out. His breathing grew heavier; he hadn’t expected to have this effect on him. It was intoxicating. “I, um. I want you. You to tell me… what you’d like.” 

Gale chuckled softly. “You like that, don’t you? Me telling you how I’d want you?” Gale continued, eyes still glued to the car ahead of him. His own dick strained against his pants, throbbing with want as he recalled their first night together. “You looked quite lovely above me last time, riding my cock, all breathless and hot. I think you’d look just as good beneath me, don’t you?”

He noted the emptiness of the streets; hopefully the target wouldn’t notice this one car making the same turns as he was.

“I’d have you like that spread open for me as I savor you, taste every inch of you until you’re begging me to fuck you and touch you properly.” It took every ounce of willpower to not let one of his hands slip down. He had a mission to focus on, but every little noise Astarion was making on the other side was making it increasingly difficult. “I’d make you wait, just a little longer, make you work for it.”

He could hear the faint, slick sounds on the other side, and Gale could imagine Astarion, head thrown back, chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths as he touched himself.

The car ahead made another turn, and Gale followed, still keeping a safe distance. Suddenly, a movement in the rearview mirror caught his attention. Another car was following a little too closely in this empty road, making the same turns as he was. A sinking feeling settled into Gale’s gut, pooling with the heat there instead of overriding it.

He was being followed.

"Shit."

“Do you want me to work for it, darling? I could beg for you, so sweetly you’d have a hard time not giving in. Please, Gale. Won’t you give me just what I need? I need you so badly, I want you here inside me. Please, love please.”

Gale took a moment to really process Astarion’s words as he split his attention to even more things to worry about. The target in front of him seemed to have sped up, and Gale pushed down on the pedal harder, both to keep a tail on him and to get away from the car behind him.

It really was following him. His eyes flicked between both cars, and suddenly he saw a figure on the passenger side of the car behind him reach out. He barely made out what was in their hands—a gun.

“Fuck,” he muttered, swerving the car as they fired at him. Hopefully the gunshots wouldn’t be picked up by the phone. He really should hang up now, claim that the phone disconnected him for some reason, or that his phone died, something. Instead, he spoke a touch louder to try and mask the sounds.

“Gods, yes, good boy. You beg so prettily for me,” he breathed. Another sharp turn, and wind rushed past his ear as he started rolling down the window. A pitched keen came from Astarion through the speaker, and Gale continued in that sultry tone. 

“Gods, Astarion, you sound so perfect for me,” he purred, trying to keep his voice steady. Even if it wasn’t, he could blame it on being so worked up by Astarion’s words, his voice. It wouldn’t even be a lie. “I want you to imagine my hands on you, running down your body, gripping your thighs as I push them apart. Then I’ll take you hard and deep, over and over, until the only thing you can think about is me inside you, filling you, while I watch every single one of your beautiful expressions.”

Gale could picture it—Astarion touching himself, his perfect body arching up with need. He could imagine the flush on his pale skin, the way his lips would part in breathless desire. He wanted to see it, wanted to hear more.

Gale had done many risky things before, but this. This had his heart pounding faster than ever before. From the chase, the mission, the fact that Astarion was on call with him without any idea what was happening. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard it hurt.

He let out a shaky exhale, then muted himself before casting a Grease spell out the window behind him. He watched the car in the rearview mirror as it swerved and turned, but quickly got back on track and still did not give up on its chase. Fuck, he’ll have to use a more offensive spell and risk leaving behind more traces of this.

Not that this mission could get any more riskier.

He took a deep breath as he swerved around a corner, matching the car ahead of him. It was getting dangerous for both his life and his cover with Astarion as more shots were fired; he needed to neutralize the car behind him. It was gaining fast, and he could see the passenger leaning out of the window again, preparing to fire more shots.

With a shaky exhale, he muted again and quickly cast Magic Missile. Two of the magical darts were sent towards the car tailing him. He watched with grim satisfaction as the missiles hit their mark, one blowing the tires out and causing the car to swerve violently, and the second dart cracked the windshield while the shooter fell back inside.

The third missile had gone towards the target’s car, hitting the vehicle’s back bumper and causing it to jolt and slow down. With barely a moment to breathe, Gale cast another spell behind him—Darkness—in order to cover his tracks and continue chasing after the target who was thankfully slowing down, but still making more twists and turns.

It was then he realized he hadn’t heard from Astarion in a bit; he glanced at the phone, making sure he was still connected, and he was. Had Astarion heard the gunshots from earlier? Shit, shit shit, how was he going to explain that? He pressed the gas pedal harder, keeping up with the target as he tried to find some excuse to pull out his ass.

Then Astarion’s voice came back.

“I may not be able to have you here, but I do have something to help fill me. If you want that, Gale.” There was a pause before Astarion continued. “Do you want that? Do you want to be my hands opening me up and have me fuck myself with a toy as if it were you taking me? Have me tell you just how perfect you feel inside me?”

Okay, good. None the wiser. Still, he needed to keep Astarion talking more if he was going to continue like this. He unmuted again.

“Fuck, yes, Astarion,” he breathed. “Keep talking. Tell me more, love, tell me what you’re using. Imagine my hands on you, working you open. I want to hear how badly you want me.”

“I know you, I know you’d stretch me out slowly until I begged for more.” A long, shaky exhale from the other side. “But I can’t wait any longer, love. I need you so badly. I, mmm, oh that’s nice. I’ve got two fingers inside me but I know I’ll need at least three to take your generous cock.”

Astarion’s filthy words made his blood run hot, those lewd noises difficult to ignore, but Gale’s attention was still split, trying to assess the situation. With the immediate threat behind him handled, he could focus on Astarion a little more.

Astarion groaned softly. “There’s three now, gods, I already feel so full. You’re going to split me open so perfectly, Gale. Oh, I— ahhhhh , there, fuck right there!”

“Fuck, Astarion,” Gale murmured, his voice strained as he leaned into another sharp turn. “Keep going, right where you want it, let me hear you. You’re doing so well, stretching yourself open for me. I can practically see you, gods, I wish I was there to see you fall apart for me. You’re going to take all of me, aren’t you? Every last inch. ”

“Yes!” Astarion answered Gale quickly, wet, lewd noises coming through the speaker loudly. “Every inch of you. I want it all. I can take it, Gale. I need you now, fuck . Please, please.

He muted again as the car ahead slowed to a stop, and Gale slammed the brakes hard to avoid crashing into him. The door opened, and Gale soon realized the target was making a run for it into an alley, artifact in hand—Gale could see the bright blue shine of the pendant from where he was.

There was no time to waste. He couldn’t risk getting out of the car now, not with Astarion in the call. With a flick of the wrist and a murmured incantation, a blue, spectral hand appeared in the air, flying toward the target with precision. The hand snatched the artifact from the man’s grasp, and by the time he realized what happened, Gale had directed the hand towards him and into the car.

He had what he needed.

Without another glance at the target, he cast Darkness behind him again and sped the car the other direction, away from the previous chasers, away from the target.

“Look how ready I am for you, darling. Won’t you take me now?”

Gale’s heart was racing, faster than the car he was driving. His eyes flicked from mirror to mirror, checking if anyone had managed to follow him. He barely took in the words Astarion was saying, barely registered the buzz of another message.

Another cycle between the mirrors and the road, and then to the screen. His breath hitched as he saw the photo—Astarion posed so lewdly, staring into the camera with such desperation and need. Gale took in a sharp breath, could feel his cock straining against his pants ever harder as the coil of desire tightened within him.

He needed to focus, just for a little longer. The artifact was secure now, resting on the passenger seat next to him, its blue glow pulsing faintly. He scanned the surroundings for any lingering threats, but it seemed to be clear—for now, at least. 

There were a few cars driving around, so chances of any more attacks were low. He pulled over into a desolate parking lot, and, finally, with a deep breath, melted into his seat. The mission was over, at least until he safely delivered the artifact back to headquarters.

Now, all that was left was Astarion, panting and pleading for him on the other side of the line, with no idea what was happening on Gale’s end. He exhaled heavily as he looked at the photo Astarion sent again, examining it closer, at the way he held his ass in the air with his fingers still inside himself. Another photo came in as Astarion continued.

“Let me show how deep you’ll be inside me. How far in I can take you,” Astarion purred. He was holding the dildo against his pelvis to mimic where it would be if inside him, the tip coming to his belly button. Back arched, cock straining in the shot. “Please, Gale. I promise to be good, to take you so well.”

Gale’s hand trembled as he unzipped his pants again, overcome with relief as his cock popped up and he finally allowed himself to wrap a hand around it. He unmuted the phone, speaking back with his voice low and ragged, breathless with adrenaline.

“Gods, Astarion, look at you,” Gale breathed, eyes flicking over the image again. He had to force himself to stroke slowly, moaning loud for Astarion to hear. “So fucking perfect for me. Go ahead, slowly now, you can take all of me, can’t you?”

Gale squeezed the head of his cock, as if mimicking the feeling of sinking into Astarion. He stroked himself faster, imagining that it was his own length filling the elf. His pants and groans were not getting any easier to hold back—he wouldn’t last long at this rate, and neither would Astarion by the sound of it. The elf had been working himself up while Gale was busy trying to survive and complete his mission.

“Oh fuck, there you are,” Astarion moaned. “Just the head of your cock is inside me, Gale. Gods, you feel so good. Oh, Gale. Fuck.” A loud groan and loud, wet noises. “—so close. I’m so close already, love.”

“That’s it, baby, you feel so good, so tight,” Gale cooed. “Fuck—you’ve earned it, cum for me, let me hear you.”

He stroked himself harder, his own release just moments away. Not yet, not yet, not until he heard Astarion’s cries of pleasure.

“Yes, oh fuck, Gale yes! Right there ,” Astarion panted and groaned deeply. The tight thread of his release pulled thinner and thinner until— “I’m gonna, oh, I’m— hnhnnghh !”

“Fuck, fuck, Astarion, so good for me, so perfect—hahh—” Hearing Astarion fall apart sent Gale spiraling into his own release. He stroked himself harder, faster, grip tightened around his cock as his own orgasm hit him like the magic missiles he’d fired at the cars. His hips bucked wildly, entire body tightening as he came hard, release spilling over his hand and clothes in a hot, sticky mess. His hand was slick with his own cum as he milked every last drop from himself.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was their heavy breathing as they both came down from their highs.

He really did it. He accomplished the mission; the artifact sat safely in the seat beside him, there were no cars that followed him here. And Astarion was here, not a clue about what had happened on his end.

Yet, as Gale sat there in the quiet of the car, he wished more than anything that Astarion could be there with him. Not just on the other end of a phone call, not just a voice and an image, but physically there, in his arms. He craved the warmth of Astarion’s body against his, the feeling of their skin pressed together, the sound of the elf’s breathing, his heartbeat.

Gale was the first to speak, his voice soft, almost tender. “Gods, Astarion,” he murmured. “You’re incredible. I wish you were here. I miss you, love.”

Chapter Text

Present Day

“Things did seem more exciting and romantic then, didn't they?” Gale murmured, shifting to lie on his back.

His agreement left a crack in Astarion’s chest, as if the soft tone of his voice somehow hit a decibel that could shatter the glass truly encompassing who he was.

Astarion had worked so hard to surround himself in steel. It was present with everyone, but Gale had a way of passing through it like it was water rather than metal. Like he could see the facade for what it was.

But that couldn’t be. Secrecy and distance was the one thing that kept his spouse safe. Secrecy and distance. Distance and secrecy. Was there anything else here anymore? Was he chasing cars when trying to repair this?

There was a disgusting urge to cry. The crack in his glass form preparing to shatter. Was this pain simply the grief of a failed dream? Or was there really a chance they could be something again? Something real?

Astarion looked at the space between them, Gale’s hand a bit stretched out toward him. It would be a simple thing to meet him, yet Astarion’s hand was nailed in place. Looking up at the ceiling, he tried to ignore the feeling that it was caving in. The elf took in a deep breath and hoped Gale couldn’t hear the shake in it.

“It was.” The words dropped from his mouth like fallen petals from a withering night orchid.

Another crack in himself, one that he’d placed this time. Astarion was grateful for Gale’s lack of night vision, that he wouldn’t see the mist in the elf’s eyes. The truth of it hurting them both so deeply. Was this the end? Right here on a weekday night? Would they even make it to their session next week?

Astarion’s agreement stung like a spoiled healing potion—a hopeful reprieve only to be left with bitter disappointment and lingering pain.

Gale didn’t want to be right. He didn’t want Astarion to agree with him. His heart twisted painfully in his chest, as if Astarion’s acceptance was final. The end of everything they’d built towards. Astarion’s laughter when Gale made a terrible joke. The silence between them in the mornings when the sun rose where neither of them cared to move and escape each other’s embrace. The way Astarion looked at Gale when he was rambling, whether he was interested in what he was talking about or not.

Gale swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay grounded in the present rather than the happy memories that seemed so far away. Those only seemed to make the distance between them farther.

Even now, with them so close together, Gale had to keep Astarion an arm’s length away and further. If he stayed distant, he could be safe. From all the danger and violence that came along with his work. But all he’d done was hurt them both, and now he couldn’t heal this broken thing they called a relationship.

It stayed quiet between them, how Gale was reacting, Astarion couldn’t know. He couldn’t look.

He remembered the rush he would get anytime he received a text from Gale. How each morning he would wake to a good morning text with a selfie from Gale, usually holding up his morning coffee or with his mother’s tressym in his lap. How Astarion would send something back, usually a shot of himself with sleep-frazzled curls still lying in bed.

He remembered lightheartedly telling Gale that it wouldn’t work because he was an insufferable morning person, whereas Astarion stayed in bed until the last moment, even with his elven trancing. He remembered Gale’s reply, a moment of passing through the steel like it was water, telling Astarion that it worked perfectly because it gave Gale the opportunity to bring Astarion breakfast and coffee in bed. 

One of the first nights they spent together, Gale did just that. He was right, it worked perfectly. No morning had been better than seeing Gale perched on the bed next to him with a warm smile, two mugs in hand, and pastries on the bedside table.

It was romantic and exciting when they were first dating, but in that moment, remembering the bursting bloom of orchids in his chest upon seeing Gale that morning, Astarion knew it wasn’t about the distance.

As if he were trancing awake, Astarion could remember the moment vividly. He remembered looking at the crows’ feet crinkling at the edges of Gale’s eyes when he smiled, the warm morning sun hitting him perfectly. He remembered telling Gale to put the mugs down so that he could pull him in and kiss him deeply. He remembered the coffee being cold when they finally drank it, from having spent so long lying together there, kissing and holding each other as if they didn't need anything else.

He remembered Gale warm in his arms, soft lips against his temple whispering sweet words as if they were secrets only meant for him. He remembered the pain of having to part, wishing they could stay in that room longer, forever. Wishing the world would stop turning, that one of them had the magic to slow time. He remembered—

Astarion turned to look at Gale, half of his face dipped in shadow, the other illuminated by the moonlight in the room. How dark those brown eyes looked, inked in the night and something far too close to heartbreak. Astarion ripped the invisible nail from his hand and reached out, just an inch from Gale’s.

Gale shifted onto his side to fully face Astarion, his hand inching closer to fill the gap between them. His thumb brushed softly against Astarion’s knuckles, and the contact almost burned.

“Do you really think it was the distance?” he asked, the words whispered out into the air, a breeze against a withered bloom, threatening to tear away what little petals were left.

“I….” Astarion paused, something shattering within him from the fear in Gale’s voice combined with the gentle stroke of his thumb over Astarion’s hand. His husband’s heart was breaking, yet he still moved to comfort Astarion. He didn’t deserve Gale. Gods, he was far too good for the elf. To try and keep him like this, caged in a distant marriage, would be selfish.

He rolled over to close the distance between them quickly, as if there was a timer counting down to detonation should he be tentative. Lips pressed to the sun, the sensation of something lost, but not forgotten. A feeling that was dangerously close to hope.

Astarion tried not to cling too tightly to Gale, pale fingers threaded through his hair, chest pressed to his. Legs tangled, arms shaking, the erratic quake of his chest as he tried not to sob. A wetness against his cheek, from him or Gale he didn’t know.

Only their hitched and broken breaths permeated the quiet when Astarion pulled away. He felt Gale lean in, chasing Astarion’s lips as if the elf might not ever come back. A soft broken sound cracked through the silence and Astarion realized it came from him, helpless and sorrowful as he kissed Gale once more, hoping the other man felt the reassurance he was trying to give.

In the dark, he could see Gale shattering, large wet eyes threatening to brim over with more tears when they finally opened and looked at the elf. Astarion thought of their first night together and how ashamed he’d felt of the tears springing to his own eyes. He thought of the way Gale had lovingly brushed his thumb to wipe the tears before they could fall, protecting Astarion from himself.

Cupping his cheeks, Astarion swiped his thumbs gently over Gale’s dark lashes, catching the tears before they spilled from his closed eyes. Astarion kissed him again, a short press before lying on the pillow next to him, molding himself to the space against his husband. The taste of salt and longing was strong on his tongue, bittersweet.

“I don’t think it was the distance.” Astarion broke the silence, his voice hoarse with the emotion he was failing to hold back. “I’m sorry for suggesting it. I remember so much about those days, but I don’t think it was the distance that made it better.”

Gale exhaled, a shaky breath that carried so many emotions he couldn’t voice—fear, regret, and something stubbornly hopeful. His hand trembled as he brushed a stray curl from Astarion’s forehead, lingering for a moment before gently trailing down to rest against the side of his face.

“I don’t think it was that, either,” Gale murmured. “So many things made it exciting. I just… I just remember all I wanted was to be with you. That’s all. Every moment, every day. When things were quiet or mundane, or hells, even when they were a mess. As long as you were there, it felt like it was enough.”

His thumb traced small circles along Astarion’s cheekbone, smoothing over moist skin. “And it still is, Astarion. I never wanted perfection. I just wanted us—you, me, together.”

Astarion nodded as Gale spoke, shifting his leg up higher to wrap around Gale’s waist and bring him in closer. Even though they were pressed together, it somehow didn’t feel like enough. He needed him closer, closer than he could possibly get. As if that canyon between them might disappear, tectonic plates shifting to bridge the gap, should he find a way to hold Gale in the right position.

“I know, I know. I just.” Astarion swallowed heavily, sniffing hard through his nose to stop his nose from running. Where Gale’s tears made him vulnerable and in need of protection, Astarion saw his own as a failing.

He’d created this mess, lied to Gale for so many years and still didn’t have the option of being completely honest with him. Even if he were, there was no way that Gale would have accepted marriage had he known who he was really dating. A kind, darling professor, married to a thieving assassin? A ridiculous notion.

Astarion knew he didn’t deserve the sympathetic touch Gale graced him with, but saying that would only lead to more questions. Instead, he allowed himself to sink further into Gale’s touch, to hold this moment of closeness with his husband as tightly as possible before it slipped through his fingers.

“I couldn’t imagine being that far from you again.”

Nuzzling into Gale’s neck, Astarion breathed in the scent of sandalwood, lavender and something just essentially Gale. He thought of how they’d spent over two months dating long distance before they were able to see each other in person again. How hard it had been to leave the next morning.

He’d spent the whole plane ride burying his nose in the sleeve of the sweater Gale lent to take in the smell of him. Sandalwood, lavender, and Gale. Astarion could close his eyes as the plane carried him further away and pretend Gale was still there. It was almost like being close to him, but he needed him so much closer.

Chapter Text

September 6, 1998 Over Five (or Six) Years Earlier

Gale sat at his desk, trying to finish his debriefing report on a recent mission. He hadn’t been able to move for a while—Tara was settled into his lap, purring contentedly, so he figured he’d try and finish the work he’d been procrastinating on that was within reach. 

The words were starting to blur together at this point late at night, and Gale was getting more and more distracted, gaze flicking over to his phone frequently. It felt ridiculous, the way he grinned every time a notification lit up his phone with Astarion’s name, but he couldn’t help it.

He and Astarion had been long-distance dating for a couple months now, and Gale’s heart ached with longing to see Astarion in person again. They’d talked earlier today, discussing the books they’d read and debated about mundane topics they brought up. Leave it to him to debate with a lawyer, Gale thought to himself with a small smile.

Speaking of, Astarion hadn’t mentioned traveling to any places for his work recently. Perhaps he’d be free to visit Gale some time. Then again, the elf’s life was complicated, from what he’d told Gale, with no consistent schedule, and unexpected changes.

Gale leaned back slightly in his chair to stretch, careful to avoid disturbing Tara. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask. He grabbed his phone, typing out a message for Astarion.

[Hello, love! Any chance you’d be free to come visit Waterdeep soon? I’d love to take you out on a proper date. 💜]

Astarion was opening two sugar packets to sweeten his coffee when Dal popped her head through the break room door, eyes lighting up when she saw the elf.

“Did you get the new assignment? I never received confirmation and I’m trying to book the flights.”

“Another one?” Astarion sneered, stirring his cup before joining her in the hallway. “I only just got back yesterday! Send Yousen, gods know he could use the practice.”

Dal shook her head immediately. “Can’t. This one is high risk and on a short timeline, you’ll have less than an hour to complete it. Mr. Szarr sent for you specifically.”

A cold chill ran through him. Dal picked up on it immediately, but he knew she was helpless to stop an assignment if Cazador ordered it. “Does that—”

“No.” She quickled interjected, “It’s a retrieval mission, you’ll be working with someone.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, “Who?”

Dal’s mouth drew into a tight line, hesitating to speak. That could only mean…

“No. No. No. No. No. It better not be—”

The gods must be having fun today; the timing of Petras’ stupid face coming around the corner was almost comical. “Well hello ‘ brother ’! Ready for our mission this weekend?”

“Don’t call me that if you’d like to keep your tongue.” Astarion hissed.

Dal moved between them as if a fight might break out there in the corridor, though to be fair it wouldn’t be the first time. “It will be a quick mission so both of you act like professionals. I swear I’m running logistics for fucking toddlers sometimes.”

Shooing Petras along with a wave of her hand, Dal linked arms with Astarion as they walked back to his cubicle. “You know he enjoys getting a rise out of you. You’ve got to stop taking the bait.”

“Ugh, whatever. At least it’s a quick mission; I’ll spend an hour around the wretch and then finally have some time off.”

A beat of silence and a stiffening in Dal’s posture.

“About that.”

“What,” Astarion stated flatly, glaring at nothing in particular.

“I think we had a bit of a miscommunication. Your part of the mission will be very quick, but there may be a significant amount of time until you are cleared to start.” Of course.

Astarion let go of Dal and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

They stopped next to Astarion’s cubicle as Dal tried to provide some encouragement, but Astarion wasn’t listening. His focus was drawn to his cell, lying on top of the stack of reports that had piled up on his desk. The screen flashed on with a text popping up from Gale.

As soon as Dal left he opened the message, wanting to roll his eyes at himself for the ridiculous flutter in his chest. Almost three months of dating and he still found himself to be a blushing schoolboy.

The fluttering ceased the moment he read the message, replaced by a heavy ache. It wasn’t the first time that Gale had suggested that they visit each other. And it wasn’t as if Astarion didn’t want to. 

Every night before his trance he thought of their night together, Gale’s arms around him as he fell into reverie. Every morning when he woke, he saw the plush bat sitting in the arm chair across the room. He wanted to see Gale, more than anything. And that was far too terrifying to indulge in. He sent out a message, quickly following it up with another.

[I would love that more than anything darling, my schedule has just been so erratic lately. I’m sure we’ll find the time for it soon!]

[How was your afternoon lecture? Any troublemakers needing to write on the virtual chalkboard after class (;]

Astarion hoped the change in subject could help ease his guilt, but it only added to it. Gale deserved better than this, than him. If Astarion was perfectly honest with himself, there were plenty of opportunities where he could have spent at least the day in Waterdeep or even flown Gale out to have a night in Baldur’s Gate. It wasn’t just his mercurial schedule that stopped him from seeing Gale, it was himself.

He was avoiding Gale.

What if they saw each other again and realized it wouldn’t work? Being in person was clearly different from long distance, not that Astarion had a ton of experience with local relationships. But he was all too aware how easy it was to create a fantasy through distance.

He was adept at it for long-term honey pots, he’d seen himself how someone could seem charming to him through messages then be abhorrent when he finally had to complete the mission face-to-face. Gale was unlikely to be that way, but Astarion….

Astarion knew he was a difficult person, often too prickly, too snarky or sarcastic. Someone like Gale deserved sweetness and encouragement. How could he possibly want someone as broken as Astarion? That didn’t even factor the danger of being around Astarion due to his work. Not visiting Gale was hard, but it kept him safe. Still, the longer time went on the more his resolve faded away.

Gale tried not to let the disappointment bring him down at Astarion’s first text. It was expected, of course. They were both rather busy, and who knew when Gale would be away on another trip for work. Their schedules never seemed to align just right, no matter how often they tried to coordinate.

[The afternoon lecture was relatively relaxed, thankfully! Gods know what they would be like if I taught in-person.]

[But I missed your voice. I hope things settle down soon on your end.]

His thumbs paused in the air as he bit his bottom lip, thinking through his texts.

[Just wanted to see you again soon, Astarion.]

Perhaps that came out a little too desperate and clingy. Gale let out a sigh, and it seemed to be loud enough to rouse Tara from her sleep. She shifted in his lap, her small body stretching, wings unfurling briefly before she tucked them neatly at her sides. She flicked her tufted ears, giving Gale a slow, deliberate blink with her bright yellow eyes.

“Still up, Mr. Dekarios?” she murmured, blinking up at him curiously. Seeing the phone in his hands, she let out a small huff of disapproval. She was, as always, so perceptive. “Is it that elf you keep talking about again?”

“Yes,” Gale sighed with a sad smile. He ran his hands through Tara’s fur, petting her gently. “I asked if he was free to come visit soon. I can introduce him to you and mother. I think you two would love him. Alas, he’s busy as always.”

Tara tilted her head as Gale scratched her chin. “Mm, that’s the spot…. Do you really think this thing with him is going to work? With everything you’ve got going on? Long-distance, the spy life… it’s not exactly a recipe for stability, is it?”

Gale didn’t need Tara to remind him. He was well aware that his life was a mess of secrets. Every day was a constant reminder of the dangers of his relationship, and yet still every day was a constant reminder of how much he missed Astarion. 

“I know it’s complicated,” he agreed, absentmindedly stroking down Tara’s back. “But this… I want this. I’ve never wanted anything like this before. Not since….”

He cut himself off, unwilling to finish the thought. Astarion was different. So much more different than anything else Gale had. Every moment they spent far apart, the closer he felt to him.

Tara gave a noncommittal hum, resting her chin on his knee and closing her eyes again. “You’re a hopeless romantic, you know that?”

Gale didn’t answer. Of course he did. Of course he was.

Astarion tried to ignore the needling guilt of Gale’s last message.

Just wanted to see you again soon, Astarion.

Those words played through his mind on repeat throughout the week. Even louder when he read the mission briefing and realized he’d be in Waterdeep of all fucking places. It would be a simple thing to mention it to Gale, but when Astarion thought about it he talked himself out of it each time.

They arrived in Waterdeep early in the morning. Petras was working an exchange between a local black marketer, but that was only a distraction for Astarion to take care of the actual target. He had a few minutes between security guard exchanges at the location to sneak into their storage and retrieve a specific set of enchanted rings.

What they did, Astarion didn’t know. He didn’t care. He just needed to be fast enough to not get caught.

It was close, uncomfortably so. As he made his way out, the next guard turned the corner, sending him stock-still with his silenced pistol raised. It was a good day for that guard; had he not chosen to listen to music while scrolling his phone as he walked, he wouldn’t have gone home. Being a shit worker really saved his life.

Astarion made it back to the rendezvous point and waited for Petras. The asshole was over an hour late. Normally it would be cause for concern, but not Petras. He was always late, strolling in as if no one were waiting for him.

“You got it?” Petras asked.

“Of course I fucking got it,” Astarion sneered, raising up the bag of holding that held the rings. “Are you done wasting my time today or should we spend any longer in one location like novices?”

Petras rolled his eyes, “Aren’t you in a mood! The mission’s done now, you can take it back to HQ like a good little boy.”

Astarion tossed the bag of holding at Petras’ head. “I’m not delivering shit. You take it to Cazador. I have plans.”

“Everyone knows you don’t have a life outside of this place. What plans could you possibly have? Gonna go suck off a target while the rest of us do the real work?”

Astarion chucked one of his throwing daggers, the blade hitting the bill of Petras’ flipped up cap and sending it flying off his head.

“What the fuck!”

An hour later Astarion was walking around Waterdeep, a list of flights on his phone. He should leave. He really should. Gale would be safest far away from him. Gale would be better off finding someone who lived close by with a mundane job. They could give him the life he deserved.

Astarion sat down on a park bench to choose a flight home. There was one leaving in an hour; if he wanted to make it he would need to head to the airport soon. The elf looked up from his phone and surveyed his surroundings, trying to ignore the selfish hope that Gale would miraculously be walking by and see him. That the decision could be taken from his hands.

Gods, how perfect that would be. He could almost feel Gale now, holding him tightly and babbling excitedly at the unexpected occurrence. He could almost see the man’s smile now, wide with bright eyes.

He wasn’t looking at flights anymore, he was looking at Gale’s contact in his phone. His thumb hovered over the call button. He should leave. He really should.

Astarion’s heart raced as the pad of his thumb touched the screen to call Gale.

The week passed in a blur of repetitive missions—espionage errands left Gale mentally drained, stakeouts that were dull and tiresome, meetings where nothing important was exchanged, and too many hours spent monitoring encrypted communications. He almost wished he was assigned a mission out of Waterdeep, if only to experience something new amongst all of this.

It was all so empty, and it gave him far too much time to think about Astarion. Their texts and calls during his free time didn’t help fill the void that was constantly left behind. He’d reread older conversations with Astarion, swiped through photos sent to him. Gods, he really was a mess, wasn’t he?

Tonight was even more so, trying to get caught up on the news of Blackstaff from the associate agent stationed there. Apart from keeping his cover, the information on magical artifacts and research being done was invaluable. He picked up his cup to take a sip of coffee—only to find it empty already.

Gale sighed, slowly getting up to brew himself another cup. As he did so, he scrolled absentmindedly through social media, a small part of him hoping Astarion might surprise him with a late-night text to cut through the monotony of his day. Perhaps he could call instead—it wouldn’t be the first time they spent the night together over a call, listening to each other’s voice. He took his phone out of his pocket to call and—

Astarion’s name flashed on the screen, phone buzzing to notify him of the incoming call. Gale fumbled with the device as he swiped to answer.

“Astarion?” he greeted, and godsdamnit, he couldn’t help the smile stretching across his face again. “I was just thinking about you.”

Gale’s voice was smooth and warm in Astarion’s ear, a balm to the tension he’d built up in himself the past hour. Astarion closed his eyes and imagined Gale sitting next to him. He could hear the smile in his voice and felt the tug in his cheeks to smile back.

“Hello, darling!” Astarion replied, his voice pitched just a bit too high. His heart raced and his foot bounced as he held the phone to his ear. “What are you up to this lovely evening?” Before Gale could respond the words tumbled out from him, softer and wistful, far too vulnerable for his own liking. “I’ve been missing you… so much.”

Astarion’s voice, suddenly shifting to a more tender tone, sent a sharp pang to Gale’s heart. “I have too,” he admitted. “I’m just getting coffee, trying to stay awake to finish up with my reports on—” he stumbled a bit with his words. “—on the research for the academy. It’s been too quiet at home, working on these things. The silence hurts without you, love.”

He silently cursed himself for almost slipping, almost mentioning his actual work. Whenever he spoke to Astarion, he let down his guard too easily. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the kitchen counter, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder as he scooped coffee grounds into the filter.

“What about you? What are you up to? I hope things aren’t too chaotic for you recently.”

“Oh, not much. I’ve been walking around, getting fresh air.” Astarion paused, taking in a deep breath. This was it, he thought, approaching a place of no return. His stomach did somersaults as he continued. “It’s a pity, you sound quite busy tonight. I seemed to have gotten lost and I thought you might help me find my way around. Hmmm.” Astarion hummed as if lost in thought, a smile teasing his lips.

It took a moment for Gale to understand what Astarion was saying; was it some sort of sexual invitation the elf was getting at? The teasing tone seemed to suggest so, and it wouldn’t be the first time this happened. They couldn’t get enough of each other.

“Mm, I’ve got time. I try to do things way ahead of the deadline anyway,” he murmured with a smile. The coffee was just about done; he could cast a quick Prestidigitation to warm it up later.

“That’s wonderful, darling.” Astarion cooed with a soft laugh, trying to ignore the hammering in his chest.

He was surprised Gale hadn’t asked more questions, he was typically so inquisitive. Then it dawned on Astarion that Gale must be assuming he was calling to do more than just talk. It takes everything not to giggle right then. Well, Gale wasn’t wrong, he wanted to do a lot more than talk tonight.

“I was walking and I realized that you would be the perfect man to help me navigate my way around. Tell me, have you heard of Heroes’ Garden? I’m having a lovely time there, but feel utterly famished. I wanted to get a bite to eat nearby, though I’m not sure what to choose…. Do you have a favorite?”

Not the words Gale was expecting, and it took another long moment—too long— to finally realize what Astarion was getting at. Heroes' Garden? Why would Astarion be talking about the park in Waterdeep?

When it did hit him, the coffee pot nearly slipped from his grip; some of the hot water spilled out onto his hand, and he let out a small yelp.

“What?” he stammered out, ignoring the pain as he ran cold water over it in the sink. “Wait, wait—you’re here? In Waterdeep?”

Astarion quirked a brow when hearing a short yelp from Gale. “Careful Gale, I’m not looking for a tour of Waterdeep’s great hospitals. I’ve only one day in the city before I need to be back at the office.”

He ignored the nauseous twist in his stomach from having to lie to Gale. White lies were one thing, but the blatant lies like the one he needed to say next never sat right. “There was an impromptu meeting with a client this afternoon. I was going to tell you, but thought it might be more fun this way.”

Nerves began to claw their way up his back, maybe Gale didn’t like sudden plans like this. “I’m not looking to cause you any trouble, darling. We can always try again some other time if you have plans.”

Gale’s heart leapt into his throat. Only one day, but he’ll take whatever he could get. “No, no plans, no trouble,” he breathed. “Hold on—I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and pocketed his phone, not giving Astarion the chance to tease him further. He rushed to the door, scrambling for his jacket, keys, and wallet, abandoning the half-made coffee on the counter.

Heroes’ Garden was halfway across the city; if he tried to take a car, it’d be at least an hour—far too long. Fortunately for him, he was a talented wizard.

“ Quod dico fa —” He stopped, hand paused in the air, the magic fizzling out with the failed casting. Astarion might be suspicious if he were to arrive there too quickly, especially if he had just mentioned getting coffee. The wizard cleared his throat, then visualized the coffee shop that was nearby the park instead. A flourish of his hand and a finished chant, “Quod dico face .”

He found himself standing on the cobblestone street just outside the café not far from Heroes’ Garden. In a couple minutes and a few strange looks from the customers and staff—probably from how restless and eager Gale looked as he impatiently waited for the two cups of coffee to be ready—he was out the door again and headed for the park.

He mentally went over the talk he had over the phone with Astarion, concocting possible lies and stories he could tell Astarion if the lawyer were to question anything. Gale had said getting coffee earlier, not making coffee—he could claim he was at the café originally instead of at home. That would explain how quickly he had gotten to Astarion. 

As for the distance… Gale certainly couldn’t teleport them both back without revealing his wizarding status. Perhaps he could excuse himself to the bathroom somewhere and teleport back home, then teleport his car here. Then explain to the elf, if questioned about why he chose a café so far from home, that he preferred this specific one. 

He was thinking far too much about this, he realized. The deception and falsities were a habit to him, whenever he was hiding his real self. But now they didn’t sit right in his gut, especially directed to his lover. 

It was all necessary, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath. He looked around, trying to find Astarion as he walked along the path.

His pulse raced once he saw the elf at one of the benches, not too far into the park, thankfully. Astarion sat beneath the soft glow of a lamppost, scrolling through his phone and lounging there casually with an arm draped along the backrest, legs crossed elegantly. The lights blended well with the elf’s pale skin and silver hair, red eyes standing out in the darkness. Astarion was stunning—he always was—but seeing him now, in the flesh, Gale could hardly believe it.

He approached, his heart hammering in his chest. “Lost in the big city, are you?” he called out with a grin, lifting a cup of coffee as if it were the most natural thing in the world to see each other here, trying to play it cool. His idiotic grin stretching across his face probably ruined it. “Gods, I’ve missed you,” he breathed.

Astarion scrolled through his phone aimlessly, trying not to keep watch for Gale like an over eager goon. He didn’t take in a bit of the information on his screen; all of his attention was on his peripherals and the sounds around him.

Then he heard him, that familiar voice that was only ever through his phone for the past few months. It was more clear and vibrant now, and Astarion’s heart sang to its tune. He could barely feel his legs when he stood up. Fear and anticipation swam together into something wholly new that he couldn’t place.

Gale stood in front of him with two coffee cups in hand and a wide grin. His hair was pulled back into a bun, a bit mussed on the side as if he’d been lounging before this, with short strands loose around his face. He wasn’t wearing the glasses that were sometimes shown in the selfies or video calls between them. Nothing between Astarion and those large puppy dog eyes that made his knees weak. He felt the tips of his ears warm when they made eye contact. Gods, why was he feeling so bashful?

“Hello, Gale.” Astarion greeted, much softer than intended, as he took the coffee cup from the other man. 

Astarion’s voice was so much smoother, so much clearer without the slight filter through a phone. Gale could listen to him all day, all night, would never get tired of it. Astarion could speak an entirely different language and Gale would listen attentively to the elf’s melodious voice. Gale didn’t realize just how much his hands were trembling until he handed the cup to him.

Their fingers touched when exchanging the cup and Astarion had to stop himself from tossing the coffee aside to kiss the hells out of Gale. Wait. Actually…

Astarion held out his hand for Gale’s cup, earning him a quizzical look, but Gale offered it to him all the same without question, a slightly bemused smile on his face. With both cups in hand, Astarion turned around and set them down gingerly on the bench behind him. He turned back to Gale and paused, both of them taking in the sight of each other without saying a word.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” Astarion sighed, a wide smile overtaking him when he realized what Gale was wearing.

Indeed, Gale did not have any plans to go out that evening. He looked ready for a cozy night in, with a deep purple velvet shirt underneath a black jacket that he must have thrown on in a hurry, considering the hood of it was inside out. Astarion briefly glanced down at Gale’s lower half before flicking back up to his eyes, attempting to keep his face straight.

Gale must have taken the drive-through to get his coffee, not planning on leaving his car until he realized Astarion was nearby. The professor was wearing plaid, purple pajama pants with little tressyms all over them. On his feet were outdoor slippers with a fuzzy interior without any socks. He was definitely not expecting to leave his car. It was rather adorable, really.

Astarion couldn’t hold it anymore, in two quick steps he was in Gale’s space. There it was again, the smell of lavender, sandalwood, and Gale hitting his senses—taking him right back to the first night they met. Astarion wrapped his arms around Gale’s neck and kissed him fiercely. He felt Gale tense in surprise before melting into him.

Nothing had changed. Gale was still as warm and gentle as he’d been that first night. He still smelled of lavender and sandalwood. His lips still tasted like sunshine, joy, safety. At that moment, Astarion regretted ever taking more than a day to see him again.

Gale melted into Astarion, breathing deep through his nose and taking in that familiar citrus scent and something that was purely Astarion. Warmth radiated off from him despite the chilly evening air—or perhaps it was just the heat of emotions between them. 

When they finally pulled back, Astarion blinked the ridiculous moisture threatening to form in his eyes away. He looked around them briefly to gather himself. Gods, why was this so overwhelming? It’s not like they’d been together very long. And they’d only been physically around each other that first night. It shouldn’t be this intense, should it?

Gale’s gaze roved over Astarion, drinking in every detail like a man starved. The elf looked effortlessly perfect. Simple pants and a turtleneck fitting him impeccably, the fabric hugging the elegant lines of his body. All black, and just like the night sky, silver glittered amongst the darkness. The silver studs in the elf’s pointed ears glinted under the lamplight—small yet capturing Gale’s attention just enough. Astarion was a work of art, every detail leaving Gale speechless. His hand held Astarion’s loosely, just savoring whatever contact he could get at the moment.

It was then Gale realized just how ridiculous he might have looked compared to the gorgeous being beside him; he’d been in such a rush to get out here he didn’t even bother to check his appearance as he teleported. His face flushed brighter, but the large grin stayed. It was unbelievable just how thoroughly Astarion managed to undo him every single time.

“Well, aren’t you going to offer to treat me to dinner?” Astarion asked, feigning an affront with a playful glint in his eye. “I did come all this way you know.”

Gale could hardly contain the excitement bubbling in his chest. He hadn’t even drank any coffee, and here he was, beaming and nodding eagerly with so much energy. 

“Yes, of course, absolutely!” he exclaimed, still breathless, mind still buzzing unreasonably fiercely from the kiss. “I know a lot of good places nearby. What are you craving? There’s a fantastic place with a specialty in Elvish cuisine if you’d like that; the Dragon’s Salmon is oh, so good. There’s also this small establishment just two blocks over run by this lovely halfing couple—their honey-drizzled cream puffs are absolutely delicious. Oh, and one a short ride away, with….”

He took Astarion’s hand as words continued spilling out of his mouth, too eager to care that he was rambling far too much. Even with all the thoughts and suggestions of restaurants and food, all his mind could really focus on was that fact that Astarion was here. Here, in Waterdeep with him, at long last. It was only a couple months, but it felt like an eternity.

Gale was right, the Dragon’s Salmon was delicious. It paired well with the white wine Gale ordered for them. Astarion couldn’t believe Gale walked straight to the diner with him, rather than insisting that he needed to run home to change. Honestly, it was a relief. Astarion knew Gale’s mother lived with him and was not ready to be brought home to mother dearest. That was far too fast. Right? Hells, he truly had no idea what he was doing.

No, Gale didn’t seem to mind dining in his pajamas, at least until he received odd looks from other customers and wait staff. Then the man was blushing bright red and babbling on about everything under the sun. Gods, he was a dork sometimes. It was ridiculously endearing.

It was hard to keep his hands off Gale, not that he succeeded. Holding his hand over the table and squeezing his knee underneath. He found himself playing footsies with the man. Sliding the toe of his sleek leather ankle boot up the professor’s calf, he smirked at the knowing look Gale would send him while he tried to thank the waiter for refilling their glasses.

At one point during dinner, a droplet of white wine escaped the corner of Gale’s lip. Astarion caught it with his thumb before Gale could dab himself with the napkin. He popped the pad of his thumb into his mouth, sucking down slightly on the digit to briefly hollow his cheeks as he kept Gale’s gaze. The darling professor’s mouth had dropped open, blatantly staring.

“Mmm,” Astarion hummed, “Delicious.”

Was it over the top? Sure. He’d made similar moves with targets and felt nothing bordering on nausea. But with Gale, it was different. With Gale it felt genuine, fun.

Gale couldn’t have asked for a better night, even if his choice of attire made him flush awkwardly with the occasional glances from the people around. He tried to ignore them, and it wasn’t too difficult with how much he was focused on Astarion. Gods, he and Astarion must have made quite the strange pair—yet he could ask for nothing more.

It was a good thing the food had been as exquisite as he remembered—it kept Gale from talking Astarion’s ear off and rambling himself hoarse. He spent most of the dinner stuffing his mouth with the salmon and buttered mushrooms, trying not to drown Astarion in an endless stream of words about everything he could share in his life.

The moments of silence to chew and swallow allowed the elf to get the chance to speak himself, and that, paired with the teasing touches from Astarion, had him flushing deeper than ever before. 

“Darling, I might be full from dinner, but I could still eat you right up.” Astarion drawled out the last few words, leaning in to speak them in Gale’s ear as his hand moved up from his knee to his inner thigh. Hells, it was taking everything not to tug him into the bathroom and pull down those cotton pajama pants before the check arrived.

It was as if the elf had cast a Hold Person spell on him as he blinked dumbly at Astarion. The flirting wasn’t new, of course; they both had done plenty of it over text and calls, yet now, together, with the physical contact and clearness of his voice, Gale couldn’t help the way his heart stuttered in his chest. He could feel the heat rushing to his face once more—and everywhere else, frankly.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, in an attempt to regain his composure. His hand reached down to take Astarion’s, giving it a small squeeze. “I was, ah… thinking the same,” he managed out, trying to match the same playful tone. “You would make an excellent dessert.”

Astarion’s smirk widened into a toothy grin at Gale’s response.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he quipped back as the waiter dropped off the bill. Gale produced a bill fold and left cash on the table with a generous tip, refusing to allow Astarion to contribute.

Considering his cover was being a lawyer, it felt a bit ridiculous. But the gesture wasn’t lost on Astarion. Gale was a gentleman, through and through, offering Astarion his arm as they walked out of the diner. He led them out as if he were in a three piece suit and not pajamas and slippers. It might have been a ridiculous sight to others, but Astarion felt like he was walking on air.

Why had he waited so long to do this? For the life of him, Astarion couldn’t remember.

They stopped outside, a slight pause between them. Astarion’s hotel was only a few blocks away yet even that short distance had him cursing himself for not snagging one of the agency’s Dimension Door scrolls.

“Thank you for dinner, my sweet. You spoil me.” Astarion purred, sliding a hand down Gale’s arm to intertwine their fingers. He felt addicted to Gale’s touch; any moment they weren’t connected was short lived.

Impulsively, he pulled Gale in and kissed him. It was meant to be a short, soft peck, but the instant their lips connected he was greedy for more. Astarion held Gale there with his hand cupping the back of the other man’s neck, not breaking away until the need for air itself forced him.

Each kiss always seemed to be more intoxicating than the last. Gale’s heart pounded so fiercely he could feel it in his fingertips, still tangled with Astarion’s. When they both finally pulled back, he swayed slightly, dazed and enchanted. Every touch, every word between them was like an enchantment spell stronger than any magic the agency had cast on Gale for training. He could barely think straight—how was it possible that just one elf could make him feel so alive?

Gale didn’t want the night to end, not when everything finally felt so… right.

“Would you… would you like to stay the night over at my place?” Gale offered. The words came out more like an invitation rather than a suggestion. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat creep up his face again. “I mean, only if you’d like to, of course. I can introduce you to my mother and Tara.” He smiled, a little shyly. “They’d love you.”

It took a moment for Astarion to process Gale’s invitation. He was supposed to say yes, wasn’t he? He was supposed to ride with Gale back to his home and meet his mother. His mother. The woman who raised him. Whose opinion he greatly valued and would consider if she saw right through Astarion for the monster he was.

Already Astarion could feel himself wanting to claw out of his own skin. Meeting his mother? It was all a bit… serious. They were just dating, and it had only been a few months. It’s not like they were getting engaged. Astarion ignored whatever odd feeling twisted in his stomach at that thought.

Ridiculous. This was ridiculous.

No, he was not going to sit down and have tea with mommy dearest.

Now he just needed to figure out how to tell that to Gale. He stood in front of the elf, shifting his weight from foot to foot with the sweetest blush smattering across his cheeks. The pull to give in became a thick rope tied around Astarion’s waist, urging him to let go and have it carry him off. It wasn’t enough to overshadow the fear, though.

Gods, how insane. To complete the missions he does, survive the torture he has, only to be defeated at the thought of meeting his boyfriend’s mother. He needed to snip that rope around himself and redirect Gale’s focus.

“I’d love to meet them, darling. I really would, but….” Lies. Pure lies. Like acid on his tongue.

Gale’s heart stuttered again, a moment of disappointment flooding through him as Astarion started to turn him down. He had looked forward to finally having Astarion at his home. Astarion would finally be able to try the tea and cookies Gale talked so fondly about, he’d finally be able to pet Tara and learn exactly what a tressym is like, as he had expressed his curiosity in. Gale’s mother and Tara would finally meet the man who had taken his heart.

Astarion pulled Gale in closer, one hand on his lower back, teasing down to his ass, the other tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear before kissing him again. He bit down gently on Gale’s lower lip with a pleased hum, heat pooling in his gut.

“I think it’s better suited for next time. Tonight, I want you all to myself.” Astarion squeezed the round flesh of Gale’s ass, enjoying the way he blushed harder and looked around as if others might be starring. Gale had clearly not forgotten they were still in public. “My room is only a few blocks away, won’t you let me have you all to myself? It’s been so long, love. I need you.”

Gale’s disappointment and wishes were soon forgotten, dissolved beneath the heat of Astarion’s touch. It took all Gale had to not let a moan escape him. Gods, they were still in public, where everyone could see this depraved, carnal, display of affection.

As much as he'd like Astarion over, he couldn't deny the pure want in his heart to have Astarion to himself again, and himself to Astarion. It had been too long since they’d been together, physically, and now that they were able to truly touch and feel each other, the ache of wanting was becoming unbearable.

He exhaled shakily, barely managing to find his voice. “I want exactly what you want,” he breathed, letting his hand trail down Astarion’s chest, then to his waist, before taking the elf’s hand. “Lead the way, love.”

Chapter Text

Three blocks never felt so far. Twice Astarion pulled Gale into a secluded corner to press him against the bricks, kissing down his neck and sliding his hands over every inch he could reach. 

The first time Gale was a bit embarrassed, saying they should be careful, though his own hands on Astarion told a different story. 

The second time Astarion pulled him aside into an alleyway, Gale started laughing, the sweetest music to Astarion’s ears. He felt the laugh against his own lips, the way Gale’s mouth had curved into a smile.

Behind Astarion’s back, Gale made the motions of a small illusion spell to hide them just in case, murmuring as quietly as he could into the elf’s neck. It wasn’t the most dangerous thing he’d done by far, and he was glad Astarion was too caught up in the heat between them to notice.

He wished more than ever he could cast another Dimension Door to whisk them away. Perhaps he could claim that he’d been learning magic from his mother—no, it was too high level of a spell, too suspicious for a humble professor to know.

Instead, he took what he could get, moaning softly against Astarion. He could almost laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Pajamas and slippers, half-hard against an alley wall, being stroked into bliss by the man he’d fallen so deeply in love with.

They were only half a block from the hotel, but Astarion couldn’t help it. It was impossible to regret, when Gale was smiling and running his hands down Astarion’s back. The elf slotted a leg between Gale’s thighs and rocked against him. He was already half-hard at the thought of the man before him and judging by the hard press against his own thigh, Gale was in a similar state. Astarion shifted over so that his back blocked anyone passing by on the street. Thank the gods for Gale’s choice in clothes because it was a simple thing to snake his hand under the waistband and—

Oh.

Gale wasn’t wearing any underwear. Interesting.

“My, my, aren’t you full of surprises,” Astarion teased with a wink as he took Gale’s dick in his hand and stroked him slowly underneath those awful tressym-patterned pajamas. All of Gale’s responses and sounds sent ripples of want and need throughout his own body. The elf rolled his hips against Gale’s side and let out a soft groan at the pleasurable relief of it. 

Gale’s face flushed harder with the comment, letting out a small whine. His own hand reached down between them to palm Astarion through his pants, feeling just how hard the elf was for him. Gods, Gale did this to him. Astarion’s cock, his hands, his lips, they were all on him, against him, here, finally. No more imagining and illusions to help fill the void while they were so far away from each other.

“Gods, Astarion—” Gale groaned, hips bucking into the elf’s hand involuntarily, chasing that delicious friction. “We—we need to—we should—ah—”

Every little detour to indulge in each other, derailing them from their walk to the hotel, was never enough. He wanted more, more, even with the risk of the whole world seeing them.

“Fuck... Gale,” Astarion moaned against the man’s mouth, sounding far more desperate than he intended. “I know, I know. I just—” 

Astarion interrupted himself to kiss Gale again before pulling away. He straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. Hells, he felt utterly wrecked and if Gale’s appearance was anything to go by, he looked it as well. Astarion straightened Gale’s jacket, and eyed the clear tent in his cotton pants.

“Here, darling,” Astarion murmured with a smirk as he slid his hand under Gale’s waistband again, this time to help tuck him upward so that his erection wouldn’t be announced to the world on their walk to the hotel. 

Zipping the jacket, Astarion gave him a pat on his cheek with a quick peck to his lips. Everytime he touched Gale, he had to resist the urge to go further. They wouldn’t make it to the hotel at this rate, he needed to show some restraint.

Gale let out a shaky breath, straightening his clothes as best he could and fought the overwhelming urge to drag Astarion back against him. He stumbled after the elf, erection raging in his pants. Fuck, his arousal was clear as day through the thin fabric of his pants; he could only hope it was dark enough that no one would notice. 

Or… 

Making sure Astarion was preoccupied with the way they were going, Gale murmured another spell under his breath, using his free hand to make the gestures, and the front of his pants shimmered with magic as an illusion took hold.

That should do it.

Holding hands, they walked together in quick strides to the hotel. Astarion led Gale over to the elevator, planning to press him against the wall once again, but another occupant following behind them forced him to show restraint. Instead they waited for their floor in silence, an air of anticipation between them as Gale’s thumb idly rubbed against his hand.

Astarion was cursing that they only had the one night, but there was no getting out of tomorrow’s meeting with Cazador. At least it was a team meeting and not a one-on-one. Ugh, Astarion did not want to think about that right now.

As the elevator opened, he pushed those thoughts from his mind and led Gale to his room. His hands were shaky as he slid the keycard. Was he nervous? Was it just excitement?

As soon as the door shut behind them with a click of the lock, Gale was on Astarion again, pulling him in, turning to let him lean against the wall, moaning feverishly. He shrugged off his own jacket, then the tressym pajama top that matched his pants, throwing them off to the side before roaming over the elf’s body, snaking underneath clothes to pull them off and to get more skin-on-skin contact. 

“Gods, I missed this,” he murmured, “I missed you. I missed you so much, Astarion.”

He pulled away for a moment, taking in the way Astarion flushed so prettily, hair tousled and lips swollen from all the kissing on their way here.

Beautiful. Perfect. Just as he was the first time.

It was hard to keep up with how fast Gale moved once they were in the room. In only a few short moves he’d removed their shirts and had Astarion pressed against the wall in a mirror image to their time in the alley. The hot contact of skin on skin was almost overwhelming. Gale’s whispered words between kisses took the breath right out of him.

Hells, was it like this their first night? It felt familiar yet far more intense. Before Gale was a sweet acquaintance, but now he was more, so much more.

Gale sank to his knees, grinning at the sound of Astarion’s sharp intake of breath. His hands slid up the elf’s thighs, urging them apart just enough to fit himself between them. His lips hovered over the bulge in Astarion’s pants, letting the heat of his breath tease Astarion for a moment. He wanted to take his time, savor this. Astarion was only going to be here one day, and Gale wanted to make every second count.

Large brown eyes looked up at Astarion, and the elf’s foolish heart stuttered at the sultry expression. Gale knew exactly what he was doing, there was no doubt about it. 

He mouthed over Astarion’s clothed cock, dragging his tongue along the outline through the fabric, over the wetness soaking through. Gale groaned, shifting closer, the vibration of his voice pressed right against Astarion’s arousal. A hand palmed the elf’s length, feeling the weight and heat of it, squeezing just enough to draw more of those sweet noises out of Astarion.

“You taste divine,” Gale murmured against him, lips brushing the dampened fabric where the head of Astarion’s cock strained against his pants. The wizard looked up to meet crimson eyes, his own brown ones half-lidded, pupils blown wide.

Only his shirt off and Astarion felt completely pulled apart. His chest heaved with his panting breaths. His legs shook from the effort to stay still. So much yet not enough. Gale whispered praises against him, the thrum of his voice against the head of his clothed cock was almost too much. Astarion’s breath hitched when he made eye contact with Gale.

“Please, Gale,” the elf murmured, his voice cracking at the end. He didn’t even know what he was asking for.

Who was Gale to deny Astarion anything?

Gale reached for the belt, slowly undoing it as he lavished Astarion’s cock in attention through the barrier of cloth. Fingers slipped under the waistband, pulling them down along with the elf’s underwear until they pooled at his ankles. 

The elf’s cock sprang out, flushed and leaking, and Gale didn’t waste any time, suckling the tip for a moment, savoring the wonderful taste of Astarion’s pre that leaked nonstop. The flavor was salty, heady, and uniquely Astarion—something Gale had craved for far too long. He drooled saliva all over Astarion’s cock, messy and wet, before popping off to kiss along the shaft. This was a treat, a dessert, just as he had promised himself and Astarion.

He took a moment to stop and look up at Astarion with a smirk, nuzzling his cheek against the hard, throbbing cock. He took pleasure in every shudder of the elf’s body, every beautiful sound that Astarion made. His own arousal throbbed painfully in his pants, but he didn’t care. All that mattered right now was making Astarion fall apart above him.

With a more insistent, urging tug in his hair, Gale finally brought the elf’s cock against his lips, and slowly took him into his mouth. The heady taste of pure Astarion was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough. Gale moaned around him, reveling in the perfection that was his lover, tongue swirling over the tip, gathering as much of the elf’s essence as he could. His throat bobbed with the swallow, as did his head as he took Astarion deeper and deeper into his mouth with every motion down and back up and down again. Hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked, a hand rolling Astarion’s balls between his fingers.

“Hnngh, oh sweet hells ,” Astarion cried out, a hand tangling in the other man’s hair, the loose bun he’d had in coming undone. He groaned loudly, trying to resist the urge to rock into Gale’s mouth.

Gale’s other hand slid up Astarion’s thighs, fingers digging in as he took him to the root, nose brushing against pubic hair, mouth stretching around the thickness of Astarion’s cock. 

It felt so damn good to finally have him like this, to be able to draw out those beautiful sounds and hear them so clearly. Every moan, every gasp, every whimper, every plea, clear as day. To feel every pulse, every twitch, every throb, every shudder, beneath his very own hands, under his tongue, in his mouth, not a millimeter of distance between them.

“Just like that Gale, fuck. That mouth of yours is utterly sinful,” Astarion whispered, stroking Gale’s hollowed cheek, pressing down lightly to feel his own cock sliding in and out on the other side.

Gale let out another low moan around Astarion’s dick as he held his head there for a moment, letting the vibrations stimulate him further, before pulling off almost completely. Gods, he could stay there forever if he didn’t need to breathe.

Astarion had to close his eyes and focus on not coming. Shit, Gale had him so close already and they’d only just started. He couldn’t stop the sounds coming out of him, soft broken moans and muttered curses. 

Gale suckled on the head of Astarion’s cock again before removing his lips and licking a long stripe over the slit. A hand replaced his mouth, stroking slowly as he took in Astarion’s expressions and every breathless gasp. “More?” he rasped, voice slightly hoarse.

“If you don’t get up here and fuck me, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” Astarion growled out, tugging Gale up into standing with him. 

Gale’s cock throbbed at the sounds Astarion was letting out freely, his own mouth slipping out a keening noise at the growl in the elf’s voice. They both stumbled blindly together, unwilling to part as they stepped out of their clothes. Astarion’s hands slid down Gale’s chest, nails scratching softly against the curled hairs. It felt like only yesterday he’d done that in Amn, yet far too long all at once.

Astarion broke away to push Gale back onto the bed, following him as he scooted back to lie his head on the pillow. Lying on top of Gale, the rushing pace they had began to slow down. Their bodies slotted perfectly together, hard lengths pressed between them as they both rutted in sync with each other. Everything with Gale felt like instinct, it felt right.

Pulling back to look at the man below him, Astarion felt that rush of warmth in his chest, like an orchid unfurling in the light. Gale was gorgeous underneath him, just as much a vision as he was in Amn.

“I missed you.” The words slipped past his lips as quickly as they’d entered his mind. He felt a rush of heat in the tips of his ears but didn’t regret it, not when he saw the look in Gale’s eyes upon hearing it.

I missed you.

Astarion missed him, just as Gale did him.

The months of separation, of phantom touches and distant promises over texts and calls, had been agonizing—now everything he was getting currently seemed all the more overwhelming. His hips grinded upward against Astarion, seeking more contact, more friction, especially after neglecting himself for so long. 

A hand brushed through Astarion’s hair, another cupping the elf’s cheek, fingertips brushing against the ear. A small gasp escaped from the elf at that moment. Gale pulled away briefly, letting his hand drop from Astarion’s ear. He searched Astarion’s face, concerned and looking for any signs of discomfort.

“Ah… apologies,” he murmured, petting down the side of Astarion’s neck instead. “Are… are the ears alright for me to touch? I recently found out about how intimate elven ears are—I should’ve asked during our first time.” 

Elven ears were a significant spot for lovers—those with the deepest of bonds, yet Gale had invaded that vulnerable space on their very first night together, without even a day’s knowledge about each other.

Normally, Astarion’s ears wouldn’t be to that level of sensitivity that the briefest contact could ricochet down his spine, but his entire body felt sensitive to Gale’s touch. It’d been so long since Gale had touched him there, like that. Astarion’s eyes blinked open slowly as Gale spoke, brows furrowing at the man’s words.

It took far too long for Astarion to answer Gale. It was just… he shouldn’t have been taken off guard by it. Gale had always been careful and considerate with him, since the moment they met. And here it was again, a look of deep concern in those chestnut eyes as he apologized to Astarion. And that look, no, that wouldn’t do. Astarion took Gale’s hand and brought it back up behind his ear, turning to nuzzle into his palm.

“No, it was nice then—I liked it.” Astarion swallowed, the next words leaving in a rush as he looked into those warm loving eyes, “I want you to, it feels right with you.”

The admittance in Astarion’s words sang to him. Gods, to be considered this close, this… intimate, and connected—Gale’s heart swelled at the reassurance. Any lingering fear of overstepping boundaries melted away.

“Whatever you want,” Gale whispered, gently cupping Astarion’s cheek, tracing a line along the edge of the elf’s ear from lobe to tip. He guided Astarion closer, bringing him in for another kiss, sharing the lingering taste of Astarion and swallowing up the noises the elf let out. He then pulled away slightly to press Astarion’s head into the crook of his neck, his own lips finding the curve of the elf’s pointed ear. He nuzzled  his nose against him before biting gently on the soft cartilage.

Astarion’s entire body twitched and shivered against Gale. The entire universe pinpointed to Gale’s mouth on his ear. Gods, had he looked up techniques on this during his little internet search on elven ears? He seemed to know exactly where to touch despite not having the sensitivity himself.

The tip of Gale’s tongue traced along the edge, drawing out a wounded cry from Astarion, his voice muffled against Gale’s neck. Astarion mouthed loosely at Gale’s collarbone, finding it difficult to focus on anything that wasn’t the professor’s mouth. When Gale bit down lightly, Astarion’s hips bucked as he sucked down hard on his neck with a deep groan. 

Gale tried hard to not moan too loudly, the familiar feeling sending a throbbing jolt of pleasure through him. He pulled Astarion closer, urging the elf to mark him more, claim him, make him his.

They rocked together for another moment, frotting as Astarion marked Gale with a dark bruise from his mouth. Astarion pulled off of Gale’s neck with a pop, shifting to straddle Gale’s lap.

“There’s lube and condoms in there.” Astarion’s eyes flicked to the bedside table near Gale as he took both of them in hand, lazily grinding them together while waiting for Gale to reach over and open the drawer.

It took a moment for Gale to take in the elf’s words, hazily looking over and reaching to pull it open. Blindly, he felt for the items, breath hitching as Astarion stroked them both together.

Finally able to get ahold of them with trembling hands, his gaze returned to Astarion, heart pounding in his chest, every nerve in his body alight. Astarion sat above him, red eyes fixed on him, intense and filled with the same desire Gale felt. It was reminiscent of their first night—Astarion over him, confident, in control, freedom to do whatever he wanted with Gale while he waited, completely willing to be unraveled by him.

Back then, Astarion had been a near-stranger, mysterious and distant, yet with so much connection between them and so much vulnerability. Gale had thought it would just be that one night, something perfect, brief, unrepeatable. That one single fleeting moment that could be something more, but wouldn’t.

Yet now here they were, with so much more. So much between them.

Gale clung to every text, every photo, every conversation no matter how small, from the ant Astarion found in his bathroom to the cloud that reminded him of a tressym. From almost burning down the house trying to cook pancakes to the silly squirrel Astarion had seen on a walk.

Gale’s chest tightened with longing and desire. Those little stories and memories would stay with him forever. He wanted to make more. Memories that he’d remember forever, would remember vividly as if they just happened. Right here, right now, he wanted to feel everything, to map out every line and contour of Astarion’s body for his mind to never forget. 

He didn’t want any barriers. Not tonight. Not after waiting for so long. He wanted to feel Astarion—every inch, every shudder, every pulse. Nothing between them.

Gale swallowed thickly, the taste of Astarion still lingering in his mouth. “I… no,” he murmured. “Can I… Can you….” He let out a shaky breath. “I want you in me instead. After so many months apart, after imagining this every night—I want you. All of you. Without the condom—without any barriers between us. Please, love.”

Astarion’s eyes slightly widened at Gale’s request, attempting to school himself back into a neutral expression. They’d discussed switching before during heated nights over the phone. He remembered how quickly he’d cum when Gale described the way he wanted Astarion to take him. 

Talk and fantasy were one thing, but here Gale was offering himself. Not only that, he was looking up with pleading eyes, begging to be taken raw. Such trust and affection stole the air from Astarion’s lungs.

“If you’re sure?” Astarion asked, instantly receiving a nod from Gale, his cheeks warming as he bit his lip shyly. 

A poisonous voice in the back of his mind growled in disgust, hissing that Gale would never offer if he knew how much Astarion used his own body in his line of work. Of course there was no risk to Gale, Astarion was sure to use an amulet of restoration after every mission, but it never did erase the feeling of being used, tainted.

Leaning down, Astarion soothed them both with slow kisses, his tongue swiping over Gale’s bottom lip as if erasing the tension he’d watched him press on it with his teeth. Gale turned his head and parted his lips, allowing Astarion to explore his mouth with a thoroughness that implied they had nothing else to do. He sucked softly on Gale’s tongue, relishing the small whine it drew from the man below him.

Breaking the kiss, Astarion hovered over Gale. One hand propped himself up and the other traced down Gale’s jaw, feeling the soft scratch of his beard on his fingertips. Looking in those brown eyes, Astarion felt himself sinking. 

All the time they’d spent on the phone, through calls and texts, they’d gotten closer, he’d felt closer. But he often reminded himself that it was the fantasy of Gale that brought that feeling of closeness, an illusion that would surely be broken once they saw each other again. 

To his horror, Astarion was wrong. He felt happy around Gale, safe.

Every moment with Gale had been wonderful, sweet like powdered sugar on his tongue. The affection he felt for the man only deepened this night until it pierced the core of him, love cresting through the surface and flooding his senses.

Shit. That’s what this was, wasn’t it? Love.

Astarion’s searched Gale’s eyes as if he might somehow have the answer. What’s worse is it felt like Gale somehow knew, his expression softening.

“Gale, I…” Astarion cleared his throat, reality slamming back into him. What did he think he was doing? It was bad enough he almost said something so ridiculous their first night. And here he was about to make a fool of himself a second time.

“I’ve got you, darling,” he finished to fill in the space.

Gale’s heart clenched painfully as he watched Astarion hesitate on the last few words, caught in the flicker of something raw and vulnerable behind those ruby-red eyes. 

He knew what was going unsaid—he could see it written all over Astarion’s expression, the fear, the doubt, the battle against emotions. Gale had heard and seen glimpses of it before, during late-night phone calls and video calls, through sweet texts that were like whispered words. There was a crack in Astarion’s self-worth, a sort of insecurity that Gale could hear in Astarion’s voice whenever he was vulnerable with him, sharing details about their lives with each other.

And especially now.

Gale reached up, brushing his fingers through Astarion’s silver hair, tucking a lock behind his ear. “I trust you,” he whispered, his voice low, intimate. And then the words slipped out before he could stop them. “I love you, Astarion.”

Chapter Text

“I love you, Astarion.”

Astarion froze at Gale’s confession. It felt insane to say it outloud and then Gale just said it anyway. He spoke the words like they’d known each other more than a few months, like they’d spent more than a total of two times in the same physical space.

What’s worse was he so clearly meant it.

Gale couldn’t read the emotions flickering across Astarion’s face. Surprise, fear, disbelief? For a moment, Gale worried he’d ruined everything.

“I—You don’t have to say it back,” he managed out, voice wavering slightly. He swallowed hard, brushing his thumb gently over Astarion’s cheekbone. “I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. I just… I need you to know.”

Receiving a love confession wasn’t unusual for Astarion. He couldn’t count how many times it had happened on mission, for more long term or inebriated targets, the words were almost guaranteed. They always sounded hollow to the elf; he knew it was guided by lust or manipulation. It never meant anything.

But Gale said I love you and the words sounded full, like an orchestral swell in his ears. A harmony of strings guided by the genuine connection between them. Astarion ached to say it back, as if the words were petals in his palm carried away by the fast wind of his fear.

“Gale…” Barely audible and his voice hoarse from the effort to hold back the mist blurring the edges of his vision. It was too much. All of it far too much.

Astarion didn’t even register his next movements until his lips were on Gale’s in a crushing kiss. ‘ I ’ in the gentle caress of Gale’s cheek, holding him there as long as he could. ‘ Love ’ in how he tilted his head and breathed in deeply through his nose to avoid parting them. ‘ You ’ in the soft broken sounds cracking from his chest and up his throat. Hoping the other man could feel the words between them even if he couldn’t say it just yet. He pressed the length of his body down Gale’s, chest to chest, hip to hip, desperate to meld them together.

He needed him, fuck , he needed him. Far too much.

Gale inhaled deeply through his nose as Astarion kissed him, a small twinge pulling at his heart. He hadn’t expected Astarion to say it back—not really—yet a part of him had still hoped. But the way Astarion’s hands cradled his cheek, the way he pressed his lips so perfectly against his, the broken noise that escaped the elf’s lips as they melted together. Everything was an unspoken answer that Gale didn’t need to hear to understand.

As they broke the kiss, Gale rested his forehead against Astarion’s for a little while, grounding them both in the moment. His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the space between them, the weight of Astarion’s body against his, warm and solid.

This was real.

This was enough.

“I love you, Astarion,” he repeated, looking deep into the endless red in Astarion’s eyes.

He would say it enough for both of them.

The harmonious swell of strings in Astarion’s elven ears when hearing it again, a crescendo of pain that he couldn’t give it back. Love coursed through his veins, an uncontrolled electric current. It was torture that he couldn’t release it, but safety for them both in holding it back.

There was a sadness in Gale’s eyes, from Astarion’s inability to give him what he deserved or simply pity, the elf wasn’t sure.

Could Gale see it? That Astarion was clearly far too broken to be worthy of his affection. That Gale deserved so much more than he could give. That they were doomed from the start from all the lies Astarion was forced to spin between them. Astarion may not have been able to give it but he could give him everything else.

“You’re amazing, Gale. I…” Astarion began kissing every inch of him, his forehead, his temple, down his cheek and further still. He whispered into his neck, “I’ve never wanted anyone, anything, the way I want you.”

Astarion made his way down the man’s body, determined to mark every bit that he could reach. Barely to Gale’s hip and the man below him seemed to shake and quiver, coming undone at the seams.

Pulling back, he saw the red and purple coloring Gale’s skin, how it etched one word over and over in his mind. Mine.

“Gods, look at you. You fall apart so beautifully for me. I’ll take such good care of you, love.” Astarion’s voice came out in a low husky tone as he spread Gale’s legs apart and settled between them. He needed Gale to know there was so much more of him that he wanted, that he loved. That it wasn’t just the sex itself, it was being with Gale. Knowing Gale.

“Every inch of you is perfect. I could spend hours,” Astarion ghosts his lips over his inner thigh, looking up at Gale through his lashes, “right here.”

Every bruise, every bite, was a claim—a silent declaration that words couldn’t express. Each kiss and mark were words that didn’t need to be said. Gale moaned softly, his hands threading through Astarion’s silver hair, gripping tight as if anchoring himself.

Nothing could have ever prepared Gale for this. He was completely enamored by Astarion; everything about him sent him spiraling into a haze of desire. He wanted, needed, more, more, more.

Gale knew the danger in it, knew how far he was falling, knew he was giving too much of himself—letting Astarion take pieces of him, even as he held back truths that gnawed at the edges of his mind. But what did it matter? Right now, with Astarion between his legs, whispering praises filled with adoration and lavishing him with attention, none of it seemed important.

He was as greedy as he was ambitious. He’d never find another like Astarion.

The thought crossed his mind—Astarion reminded Gale of the stray cat that he often passed by on his way home. The way it had approached affection with such caution, hesitant and ready to bolt if things became too close, too vulnerable. Gale saw the same fear in Astarion’s eyes—needing, wanting, yet unable to express it.

But as much as Astarion would run, physically or mentally, Gale would chase after him. However long it took, however many times Astarion pushed away, Gale would be there, waiting.

Astarion traced his tongue down the pale pink stretch marks that etched into Gale’s inner thigh. Sliding his hand under Gale’s leg, Astarion squeezed down on the other side, feeling the firm muscles underneath. Astarion sucked hard on Gale’s thigh with a soft groan, grazing his teeth over the skin as the man keened.

He felt a hand run through his hair, calloused fingertips rubbing into his scalp. Gale’s thumb grazed down the shell of his ear and Astarion’s hips canted forward, pressing into the mattress. Every inch of him was on fire, burning with the need to have the man underneath him, but Astarion wanted to take things slowly, to savor and adore the man before him.

Astarion couldn’t help but think back to a passing comment Aurelia made at work the other day. “You seem happier lately.” 

Over the past few months he’d been keeping his relationship with Gale hidden, a secret buried under a loose plank in the floorboards. Confident that he had managed to appear unchanged, Aurelia’s words struck fear through him. He’d been so sure that his performance was up to par. That his feelings for Gale hadn’t poured into every moment that he wasn’t working. That no one could tell it was increasingly more difficult to separate himself from his work, especially when it came to missions involving grasping hands and demanding lips.

There had only been three since Amn, but each one stayed with him, like invisible ink marking every inch they touched. Stains he could never seem to scrub off. 

Astarion’s mind often went to Amn—to Gale—when putting on the performance necessary to seduce the target. He’d been so afraid that Gale would sense it, that his eyes would be a black light and every place he’d been touched would shine neon, a signal for the crimes committed there. But Gale’s eyes didn’t see the infidelity that came with his work. He trusted Astarion.

Worse, his touch seemed to be the only thing that cleansed the elf. Every place he kissed and caressed wiped the ink, replacing it with the warm heat that it seemed only Gale could give him. 

Love. 

Guilt and adoration swarmed around him, it took everything to focus on the latter, lest the prior consume him.

Astarion settled onto his knees between Gale’s legs, and reached for the lube. Slicking up his fingers and rubbing the excess into the other hand, he gently pressed the puckered skin of Gale’s entrance. He felt the brunet stiffen against him and Astarion wondered how long it had been since Gale was taken like this, if he had been at all.

“Relax, love. I’ve got you,” Astarion cooed, eyes roaming over Gale as he slowly stroked Gale’s cock, pre-cum dripping down the side of his shaft, adding to the slide of the lube already on his palm.

“Fuck, Astarion…” Gale whispered, voice cracking with need. “You—” His words faltered as a wave of pleasure hit him, leaving him breathless and trembling. His hand trailed down, cupping Astarion’s cheek with a trembling hand, thumb brushing over Astarion’s ear. “You have me. For as long as you want.”

Chest clenching, air sucked from his lungs, the elf held back a whimper. Astarion leaned into his touch, momentarily forgetting his movements as his eyes fluttered shut, losing himself in Gale’s words.

Gods, how Gale could say such things, such genuine heartfelt words, as if they weren’t cracking Astarion apart. Gale’s affection was an earthquake, shaking his foundation, shattering the glass, causing the walls he’d carefully built to collapse.

Legs spread with his knees slightly up to give Astarion access, hairy chest heaving and sheened in sweat. The small bruises Astarion sucked into his skin were scattered all over like red and purple constellations. The marks would fade but knowing they would stay past when he had to leave, that Gale would see them for the next few days and remember Astarion’s touch, scratched a persistent itch he hadn’t known he possessed.

“Gods, look at you… you’re perfect. I could keep you here forever. Let that school of yours be damned.” Sliding a finger inside Gale, Astarion groaned softly right along with him, “Fuck, Gale you’re so tight.”

How long had it been since Gale had done this? There were those occasional nights on call with Astarion, or by himself, when he’d stretch himself on his fingers, or a Mage Hand, taking a toy into him, all while pretending it was Astarion’s hands and cock. But he never did get a chance to know what they truly felt like.

Gale’s breath hitched as Astarion’s finger slid deeper, letting out a soft whine as the digit curved just right—“Fuck, love, there—” Gale managed out between breaths. His hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against the dual sensations of Astarion’s hand around his cock and the finger buried inside him.

It was only a single finger, yet he couldn’t imagine falsifying the real thing now. Every inch of him tingled with sensation, burning white-hot pleasure everywhere Astarion had touched and marked him. But they wouldn’t last forever.

He didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want Astarion to go. He wanted to be here forever. He groaned, a low, needy sound, cock throbbing beneath Astarion’s hand, head falling back against the pillows.

The press of a second finger tore a gasp from Gale’s lips, his thighs trembling as Astarion worked him open, slow and patient. His own fingers curled in Astarion’s hair, fighting not to pull too hard. The slick sounds of Astarion moving inside him filled the room, accompanied by Gale’s breathy moans.

“I want you,” Astarion breathed, crooking his fingers and searching for the sensitive bundle of nerves, “so much.”

Kissing the head of his cock, Astarion met Gale’s eyes as he wrapped his lips around him and slowly bobbed up and down. Every sound from Gale had him rocking his hips on empty air, his own arousal lightly slapping his stomach, dribbling slick where it hit and causing him to groan from the barest bit of stimulation it offered him.

Gale whimpered, explosions of pleasure taking his breath away with each press of Astarion’s fingers. “Then take me, please, I’m ready— Gods, you’re incredible. I want you, please, I need you.”

Gale’s words combined with the satisfying weight of him on Astarion’s tongue, had the elf moaning around his cock before finally pulling off. He felt a pull in his chest, a longing to give Gale everything he wanted, needed. Gods, if only Astarion were capable.

“Just a bit more,” Astarion carefully added a third finger, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The moment the words left his lips a heavy weight sunk into his stomach, like a cement block dropping him into the sea. He didn’t want to hurt Gale, not in any form. But Astarion knew that deep down he was a monster—it was an inevitability. The longer they spent together, the closer Astarion came to the day when Gale would realize it. 

Gods, if only the elf knew. The only one who would be hurt in this relationship would be Astarion if Gale pulled him closer. Closer to the edge, closer to the point of no return. Gale was an awful person, greedy, insatiable, but he couldn’t help it.

He wanted Astarion, more than he wanted anything in his life.

A third finger slid in, the stretch forcing out a gasp from his lips. He could only imagine what it would be like stretched out on Astarion’s cock, being claimed, being taken, over and over.  

Gale could die in his line of work. There could be targets on him and his loved ones. His mother and Tara were enough to worry about, but at least they knew. Astarion did not.

Astarion was in the dark, clueless about the blood spilt by Gale’s hands, clueless about the bodies in the river, the skeletons in the closet.

It had to remain that way.

The spreading guilt was a monster just like him, clawing its way into his heart, tearing it open and forcing tears to well up in his eyes. 

Yet he still held Astarion close, moaning his name and wrapping his legs tightly around the elf. He was greedy, selfish, always wanting more, more. Lips pressed against his, drowning out the guilt, but it would be back.

There was a slight furrow to Gale’s brows that Astarion attempted to distract with a kiss. He worked Gale open, scissoring his fingers and teasing the man’s sweet spot to swallow down the soft broken noises spilling from his lips. Finally, Astarion pulled out of him, chest heaving and heart racing as he slicked himself up.

“How do you want this, love?”

“Any way you want me. I just want you.”

Of course Gale didn’t demand or request anything at all. He gave himself readily in any way that Astarion would have him. And gods, did Astarion want to have him, in every way.

The need for Gale was an insatiable hunger, no amount sated him. His soul growled for Gale’s touch. His hands ached when they weren't on him. His teeth itched to bite him, to leave a lasting mark that could prove his presence there. Astarion never knew how badly he was starving until he tasted the ambrosia that was Gale’s affection.

How was he supposed to go back to Baldur’s Gate now? How did he ever wait this long?

Astarion reached over for one of the pillows next to Gale, and the brunet caught on quickly, bracing his feet on the mattress in order to lift his ass and hips off the bed. And hells, did he look gorgeous like that. Toned stomach tensed with his spit-drenched cock standing at attention and the muscles in his thighs flexing. Astarion had to tear his eyes away, focusing on the pillow in his hands in order to situate it properly underneath Gale.

“I want to take you just like this,” Astarion started as he lined himself up, his other hand running over Gale’s chest, his heart, “I want to see you when you cum for me. I want to watch you fall apart as I spill inside you. You’re doing so good for me love. So beautiful.”

Astarion realized he was babbling as he started to push the head of his cock inside Gale. No layer of latex between them; just the hot, wet heat of Gale’s puckered hole against him. The head breached into Gale, so tight, soft, and warm. Astarion let out a loud, “Ohhh,” before sucking in a short breath, his mouth open slack as he looked back at Gale in a cloud of lust and something Gale seemed to name so easily.

Words spilled from his lips, like the floorboards were being ripped up, everything laid bare for the man underneath him. “So beautiful. Gods, you’re perfect. Mmmpf , you feel so good around me, love.” Astarion pushed further inside him, a punishingly slow pace, but he was determined to see Gale’s reaction, to ensure he wasn’t in pain. 

“Want you so much. Hngh, need you so much. I—oh fu-ck. Gale.” Astarion’s hand tightened on Gale’s chest, feeling the thrum of the heart beneath it.

Gale’s hand reached up to hold Astarion’s against his chest, as if he could show him his heart, open and willing for the elf to have, to take.

“Fuck,” he breathed, clenching around Astarion’s cock, memorizing and molding himself to fit the perfect size and shape of him. If Astarion would be leaving tomorrow, he wanted this imprinted in his mind, on his body, longer than the marks from teeth. He wanted to be absolutely ruined by Astarion, for Astarion. 

Astarion, Astarion, Astarion.

He didn’t want to think about the future when Astarion would be gone, far away from him, the future where Gale would inevitably hurt him, the future with so much danger.

He wanted to focus on the here and now. With Astarion above him, in him, holding each other’s hand as tightly as they could.

“Fuck,” he repeated, exhaling shakily. “Gods you feel so good, so perfect, I want you so much, I love you so much, Astarion.”

Astarion cried out, hips stuttering forward as he moved his free hand to the back of Gale’s neck to pull him up into a ravenous kiss. Starving, he couldn’t get enough. Gale’s words fed a malnourished beast that might not ever be satisfied.

Just say it back, he begged himself. You love him. Just say it. Say it.

As Astarion pushed further inside him, he licked into Gale’s mouth to memorize every nook and cranny, holding him up. Gale’s hand clenched tightly over his, over his own heart that beat heavily against Astarion’s palm. The contrast of Astarion’s pale hand against Gale’s tan skin was a saccharine combination, like milk and honey. Gale’s warm touch over Astarion’s cool grasp, holding him there. 

The sun and the moon.

Gale’s whole body was rigid, something pained in his eyes. Astarion knew exactly what it was, and it was his own fault, his own inability to give Gale the words he deserved to hear. But Gale should hear it from a prince, and monsters don’t get to be princes.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t make this good for the other man. An aching pull in his sternum to give Gale everything he had. It wasn’t enough, he deserved so much more, so much better. 

But for tonight he would be selfish. He would indulge in the sweetness of honey and the warmth of the sun. Better to bask in the moment until Gale realized there was something broken here that couldn’t be fixed. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. The words echoed relentlessly in Gale’s mind, a mantra he couldn’t stop, yet he could see the inner turmoil in Astarion’s eyes whenever he said it. The slight wince when those words reached his ears, the cry that escaped his throat as they kissed.

Gale needed to stop saying it. Astarion wasn’t saying it back. It was hurting both of them.

Astarion gently nipped the professor’s bottom lip before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue. His thumb massaged into the side of Gale’s neck to ease the tension he felt there. His other hand pressed hard against Gale’s chest, as if to meld himself there with his heart. He felt Gale’s thighs quivering and clenching around him, the sweet warmth that enveloped his cock tightening.

Astarion whimpered against Gale’s mouth, parting to examine his face for any discomfort or pain. He found want, need, a raw vulnerability that almost hurt to look into. How did Gale manage it? To love so freely, so easily. A skill Astarion never possessed.

I love you. I love you. I love you. The words echoed relentlessly in Astarion’s mind, a mantra he couldn’t stop.

It was only three words, yet it had filled all the distance that was between them. At the same time, the weight of those same words pressed down on Gale like a burden too heavy to carry, trapping him in this endless cycle of pleasure and pain.

He needed to say it, needed Astarion to know. He was rolling this boulder of emotions up the hill like Sisyphus’s stone, hoping it would reach the summit, that Astarion might catch it, hold it, say it back.

The boulder was nothing but danger for them both.

It slipped from his grasp, tumbling back down, leaving him stranded at the bottom once more with the rubble of unspoken promises.

His mind raced as he spoke to Gale, “Is this okay, love?” Love. Godsdamnit. He could use the word yet not give the declaration back? Broken. He was utterly broken.

“More than,” Gale replied shakily, his voice soft but steady, as if the words could soothe both of them. His pulse thudded against the elf’s palm, and he squeezed Astarion’s hand over his heart again, holding him there like an anchor. “I want all of you.”

All of him. If only Astarion could give it.

I love you. I love you. I love you. On repeat silently between them both.

Gale felt Astarion’s whimper against his lips, the way he trembled. As if not believing he was worthy of those words. The elf pushed deeper into Gale, as if filling the space where words failed.

He leaned forward, tipping Gale backwards to rest his head on the pillow, hair fanned out underneath as Astarion hovered over him. Astarion tangled their fingers together to bring their hands to the mattress next to Gale’s head, the memory of Gale’s heartbeat still pulsing across the skin of his palm.

Astarion kissed down Gale’s jaw to his ear, a breathy whisper against it as he started to move his hips, not yet pulling out, more grinding against the man as if he could get deeper within him.

‘ I love you ’ in the shake of his voice.

“Gale, oh Gale, I. Oh gods , Gale.” Astarion pulled out a few inches and pressed back in slowly as he continued down Gale’s neck, soft groans and words pouring out from him between the wet press of his lips to Gale’s honeyed skin. “ Hnngh , oh Gale, Gale, Gale. I. Hells, I.”

‘ I love you ’ in the press of his lips.

A kiss right at the center of his chest where their hands had been. Curled hairs tickling his nose as he kissed warm skin misted with sweat, right over the heart he desperately wanted. That was offered. That was terrifying to take.

‘ I love you ’ in the squeeze of his hand.

Astarion’s grip on Gale was deathly tight as he began to pick up the pace, a steady rock like ocean waves crashing into the oak of a ship. His other hand continued down Gale’s sternum, passed his hip and back to knead into the flesh of his ass and pull him closer. Astarion felt himself getting closer, the taught line of his release becoming tighter. He poured his focus into shifting the angle of his hips, looking for the position that would make Gale see stars.

Gale gasped sharply as Astarion started rocking his hips, each slide back and forth pressed against his sweet spot just right, already so stimulated from Astarion’s fingers previously. “ Hahh —fuck, I—”

He could barely manage out any words, body arching instinctively into every movement, desperate for more. The sound of his name on Astarion’s lips sent shivers down his spine, each syllable a plea, a promise, a confession filled with so much want. 

Gale clung to him like he was drowning, pulling Astarion closer, nails scraping lightly down his back as he fought to keep himself grounded in the moment.

“I—Astarion,” he moaned, squeezing around the elf’s length as hard as he was holding his hand. “Don’t stop, please, mmph —Astarion.”

Astarion felt himself pulling apart at the seams. It hadn’t been like this in Amn. In Amn he could still tell himself that it wasn’t serious, it wasn’t anything but a fleeting moment to be savored. 

It was easier to ignore through distance, to detach and soothe himself with lies that it was casual dating, nothing serious. This felt permanent, Gale’s love seared into his skin like a brand.

The way Astarion held him—so trusting, so open—was driving Gale wild, unraveling him in the best way possible. The hand on his ass gripped tighter, pulling him flush against Astarion as he lost himself in the rhythm, in the heat, in the man above him, the man he loved so much.

His free hand trailed up Astarion’s back, fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him down for another kiss. Messy, desperate, moans swallowed by each other’s mouths, tongues sliding together as if to express everything words couldn't. His lips trailed down to suck a bruise on the side of the elf’s neck. A more physical reminder of what he felt for Astarion; love, adoration, need.

“I’ve got you darling. I won’t stop.” Astarion promised, sweat beading down his forehead, a bit stinging into his misting eyes. 

Astarion thrust harder into Gale, pulling back to the head of his cock before slamming back in, hoping Gale’s body would ache for him tomorrow. Biting his lip, Astarion grunted with each crash of his hips. The rhythmic current of their sex stirring into a maelstrom. Snaking his free hand down between them, Astarion stroked Gale’s cock in time with his thrusts as he pressed his face into Gale’s neck, murmuring senselessly into his neck.

“Perfect. I—Gale, I. You make me feel so—fuck. Oh, Gale. I can’t. I need you, please, please, please .” Astarion shook his head trying to stave off his approaching orgasm, not fully aware of the words leaving his lips. Lifting his head up, he kissed Gale again, never able to get enough of him, that hunger that couldn’t be sated.

Gale moaned into the kiss, his hands tightening in Astarion’s hair as each thrust sent waves of pleasure through him. His breath hitched at the pure desperation in Astarion’s words; he could feel the elf trembling, holding himself back, teetering on the edge but unwilling to fall until he’d given Gale everything first. 

The elf fucked into him harder, faster, like he was chasing something he couldn’t name, hand stroking him just as hard, wringing every ounce of pleasure from him.

“‘Starion—fuck, please, cum for me, fill me, I need—I need to feel you,” Galebabbled, holding himself on the brink of release, every nerve in his body singing for more.

“Oh fuck, Gale! I’m gonna— hnnngh!” Astarion buried his face in Gale’s neck. What started as a kiss became a rough bite as the thread snapped and his orgasm rocked through him. Ecstasy flooded his system. Stars danced at the edge of his vision as his moan reverberated against Gale’s skin.

Gale gasped, the warmth of Astarion’s seed unraveling what little control he had left. Feeling Astarion spill into him, pulse after pulse, was exquisite—everything he had wanted. The bite into his neck sent a jolt of pain laced with pleasure racing through his veins as his body clenched involuntarily around Astarion. 

The coil in Gale snapped violently, pleasure crashing through him in waves until he cried out, spilling into his lover’s hand and onto his own stomach as Astarion stroked him, coaxing, demanding, pleading.

“Astarion— gods —” His hands tangled in white curls, tugging weakly as if to keep him close, to anchor himself in the storm of sensation.

Astarion’s hand continued pumping his cock through the aftershocks, forehead pressed against his, until both of them collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and breathless moans. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke, coming down from their highs after so long without each other. Gale didn’t want this to end, this wonderful afterglow of being filled with pure Astarion, the weight of him grounding him in the moment.

His hand loosened in Astarion’s hair, trailing slowly down the back of his neck, his touch soft and reverent. “Gods, I missed this,” he murmured, still catching his breath. “I missed you. I love you so much, Astarion.”

He let out a shaky breath and swallowed, brushing away a curl that stuck to the elf’s forehead, layered in sweat. He’d said it plenty of times, but it wasn’t ever enough.

Every declaration from Gale was bittersweet on Astarion’s tongue. He’d said it countless times tonight, each one causing the elf’s heart to both soar and sink all at once.

Astarion felt himself ripped apart each time he heard it, I love you.

Torn asunder, he wanted so badly to return them. But to give Gale his love would be a curse, a death sentence. Astarion saw Leon’s solemn face at the funeral. His selfishness wanted to pour it out regardless. I love you , at the tip of his monstrous tongue. He turned his crimson eyes to Gale’s, lips parted but those words were silent as they left him with an exhale.

“Will… will you stay?” Gale asked. “Tonight? Tomorrow morning? Just… just for a while longer.”

Gale’s voice, a slight shake filled with longing. The light hitting his wide brown eyes as he waited for an answer, the wrinkles between his brows forming an open triangle. His expression the embodiment of lovelorn; an expectation for Astarion to run. And he wasn’t wrong for it.

Part of Astarion was itching to flee, to have his feet match the pace of his heart. A larger part of him wanted to stay here and never leave, to recklessly move his entire life to Waterdeep, to Gale. He couldn’t do any of it, all he knew was that he needed that look off of Gale’s face. He needed this night with him for as long as he could have it.

“Of course, my sweet. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.” A kiss placed between those furrowed brows, feeling them relax as he pulled away. Sweet honey on his tongue, bitter guilt at the back of his throat.

Astarion rolled to his side, pulling Gale over with him so they could stay entangled together. They would need to get up and shower at some point; Gale’s spend was pressed between both their stomachs and on Astarion’s hand, while his own was leaking out of the man’s hole. The elf held his hand up between them, looking from it to Gale with a mischievous glint. 

Holding Gale’s gaze like a siren, Astarion cleaned the back of his hand off in long broad strokes of his tongue. Astarion gave a soft groan at the taste, at knowing it was purely Gale on his tongue. The soft hitch in Gale’s breath as he watched sent warmth down Astarion’s spine. It was far too early to go again, especially with Gale’s human stamina but it didn’t stop how lovely the blush on that man’s face was.

The look in Astarion’s eyes made Gale’s spent body shudder with another wave of heat. He groaned softly, pink dusting his cheeks as he held Astarion closer. They had been apart for too long, and Gale had spent every sleepless night aching for this—for him. And even still, with Astarion here, with him, it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t ever be enough.

“A pity that so much went to waste,” Astarion purred, swiping a finger down Gale’s stomach and popping it into his mouth as if he were taking icing from a cake. “You’ll need to get some rest, darling, because I’m not done with you yet. We’ve only got so long to make up for these months apart.”

Astarion ignored the guilt that flared with that last statement. There had been plenty of opportunities to see Gale or send him on a flight to Baldur’s Gate. Lying next to him now, feeling the warmth of him, Astarion wasn’t sure he would last a week away.

Gale’s heart fluttered at Astarion’s promise. After the elf had left so hurriedly last time, he was afraid the same would happen again. He leaned in, placing a soft kiss to Astarion’s forehead, lingering there for a moment. The warmth of his skin, the way he felt so solid, so real, so present—it sent a surge of relief through Gale. He wouldn’t be waking up alone.

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured, but a tired grin tugged at the corner of his lips. He met Astarion’s gaze again, taking in every little detail of the elf’s features. He’d missed this; the photos sent over the phone and the grainy video calls could never do them justice. “But I love you for it.”

There it was again, the hint of hesitancy and fear in those crimson eyes when he said those three words. His smile faltered for a moment, then pulled Astarion in for another deep kiss. He’ll take whatever Astarion could give to him tonight. He couldn’t afford to ask for more, as greedy as he was. He couldn’t, not when they’d only just found each other again.

Eventually, Gale felt Astarion’s grip loosen and heard the other’s steady breathing; he must have fallen into a trance first, even with all the stickiness between them. Gale contemplated slipping out of Astarion’s arms for only half a second before deciding on whispering a spell to clean himself and Astarion up, unwilling to part even an inch from the elf. He held onto him like a lifeline, closer, tighter. Gods, if only this could last forever.

Chapter Text

Astarion couldn’t remember the last time he fell into a trance so easily. One moment he was lying in Gale’s arms, his head swimming in a vortex of lust, guilt and affection, the next he was standing in Cazador’s office with a report in his hands.

“You’re late, boy.”

“I came as soon as—” Astarion stopped abruptly, his head tilting at the sound coming from Cazador’s computer. It was his own voice. Recordings. Gods, he was looking at the fucking recordings.

A knowing grin graced Cazador’s lips, as he watched Astarion. With a thin black brow raised, he spewed, “I see you won’t even bother to finish whatever pathetic excuse you thought might suffice.”

Astarion’s jaw clenched, there was no point in responding. He placed the report on Cazador’s desk, waiting to be excused as his own voice began speaking in a lower, more seductive tone through the speakers.

“Now, come.” Cazador commanded, his eyes flitting to the spot beside him before turning back to his monitor.

If he could have ended his trance there, he would have. Just a bit of humiliation and rage before waking up. But it didn’t end there, Astarion watched himself through his own eyes as he walked behind Cazador’s desk to see his screen. He spent an hour reliving Cazador’s analysis of his mission seducing the target in order to get them alone before the kill.

It had been a difficult one; the target wanted to have their fun in a location with far too many witnesses. Astarion had almost botched it in his pressure to get them somewhere more private. 

Cazador enthusiastically picked the footage apart, repeating sections that he claimed Astarion needed to learn from. It wasn’t lost on him that Cazador consistently picked the ones Astarion would avert his eyes from, forcing him to take a closer look, to critique his technique. 

Shame and hatred heated his face to the tips of his ears. It roiled in his stomach like a ravenous displacer beast seeking to escape its cage.  His nails dug into his palm as he forced himself to nod along and give the appropriate responses.

Astarion woke up with a start. The feeling of warmth against his back and an arm around his waist briefly sending him into a panic. Had he fallen unconscious during a mission? Was he drugged? Fuck, he needs to–

A soft snore from Gale brought him back to the present moment. 

Oh.  

Astarion looked down to see Gale’s hand loosely over his waist, the white cotton sheets at some point placed over them were down past his hip. Carefully, Astarion twisted around to face the other man. Gale gave a soft grumble in his sleep, his arm around Astarion briefly tightening before he relaxed back into his slumber.

The small wrinkles that had been pronounced between his brows were smoothed away, his face completely relaxed. Astarion lost track of time as he lied there, eyes raking over every detail of the man in front of him. The way Gale’s lashes fanned out against his cheeks, a bit of sleep crusted at the outer corner of his eyes. The minuscule blackheads peppered over his slightly hooked nose. The thick lock of auburn hair that fell out of place, laying over his cheekbone and trailing down to point to his collarbone. Astarion reached out to tuck it behind his ear. Gale stirred softly at the contact and the elf found himself holding his breath. But the brunet didn’t wake, he nuzzled against his pillow, letting out a soft sigh.

There was an itch in his bones to flee, to carefully extricate himself from Gale’s grasp, slip his clothes from last night back on and leave. Astarion found himself considering flights, and whether he remembered an early morning one that he might switch over to.

He could run.

There was also a pull in his chest, like a thread connecting him with Gale, that the man’s sleeping form unknowingly reeled in. Astarion found himself leaning in closer, fingers brushing against the arm Gale had partially tucked under his pillow.

He could stay.

The promise to stay kept him anchored in place, though if he were more honest with himself he would admit it was his own selfish desire that held him there. There was only a few hours left before he had to catch his flight back to Baldur’s Gate. Every minute was precious and gone far too fast. Astarion sought to memorize every second, the memory of Cazador’s office fading from his system, only the hope that his next trance might be this, the safety of Gale’s arms.

Astarion was counting the faded freckles dotting Gale’s face and neck like forgotten constellations when he noticed those long lashes begin to flutter open. Gale’s eyes, foggy with sleep, crinkled at the outer corners with his smile as he mouthed a silent good morning.

Those words, stuck in Astarion’s throat, dancing at the tip of his tongue. They fought to break free each time that Gale had said them. “I love you.”

Astarion felt the words breach the bit of space between them and he found tension leaving him, those words a held breath finally released.

Gale’s mind stirred as he drifted between sleep and wakefulness, the events of last night playing in his head on repeat. Fragments of memories and desires. His body felt heavy with warmth, pulses of heat and need coursed through him. Astarion was there—above him, against him, his touch, his voice, all-consuming. Gale’s pulse quickened as Astarion moved closer, whispered soft words into his ear, nails scratching along skin, teeth grazing his neck. Gale let himself get lost in it, in the feel of Astarion’s lips against his throat, body pressing harder against his, hands trailing lower, lower—

Something woke him. Movement, light touches along his arm.

He blinked, vision blurry as he opened his eyes, staring at the beautiful pale elf in front of him, white curls in a mess, eyes still lidded sleepily, watching and examining him so closely. Ah, it was a dream. A pleasant one, if his body’s reaction was any indication. A slight flush rose to his cheeks as he felt the growing ache between his legs.

He mumbled out a quiet good morning, smiling at Astarion and shifting a bit so that his hardness wouldn’t press up right against the elf, who thankfully seemed unaware of the problem.

“I love you.”

Gale’s body froze. Had he heard that right? Was he still dreaming? He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He tried again.

“Say that again,” he whispered, barely audible. His arms tightened around Astarion, pulling him closer, as if making sure he was physical, that this was real. “Please, say that again."

Astarion felt the tips of his ears warm with a blush as Gale pulled him in closer, asking him to repeat it. For a moment, Astarion feared he wouldn’t be able to do it again. That the invisible hand of his guilt and self-hatred would continue covering his mouth each time he attempted. He leaned in, a soft kiss pressed to Gale’s sleep warmed lips.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“I love you, Gale.” Another whispered between them, a secret. As if rival agencies might hear, or he’d somehow arrived with one of the recording devices with Cazador on the other side.

Another kiss. Another. Quicker in intensity as the elf carded a hand through Gale’s hair to tug him closer, his leg wrapping up around Gale’s waist, a bit of space between them that he was determined to close as soon as possible. Another kiss against his bearded cheek, following down his neck between Astarion’s words, “Hells. I. Love. You. So. Much. I’m sorry I didn’t. Say. It. Before. I just.”

He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, there was so much he would never be able to say. Instead, Astarion made his way back up to Gale’s lips, interrupting himself with a passionate kiss.

Gale couldn’t get enough of those words. Three simple words, said time and time again, but in that order, directed at him, sent his heart soaring. If this was still a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.

His sleep-fogged mind struggled to keep up, each word a powerful incantation that broke through any shield he may have cast. The words were a spell—as was Astarion, the magic wrapping around him like the familiar surge of arcane energy that he wielded, now no longer under his control. Instead it was wild, unrestrained, bleeding into his heart and bringing tears to his eyes.

He loved him.

Astarion pulled him closer, the kisses adding an extra spark in the magic, weaving between, around, in them. Gale let out a soft whine, the warmth of Astarion’s lips and body against his not helping the way his cock pressed against the elf’s thigh, somehow harder than before. But he couldn’t pull away, not when Astarion was holding him so tightly, as if the three words were a confession that would whisk him away.

“Astarion,” he breathed, voice thick with sleep and emotion. “I love you, gods I love you, I love you, you have no idea—no idea how much I needed this—you.”

It was terrifying.

The last person Astarion said those words to and meant it died. Sebastion’s cold dead eyes flashed behind Astarion’s lids. Speaking those words now felt like branding a target into Gale’s skin, a signal for all that he should be eliminated at the first opportunity. Those words were as good as holding the knife himself.

The guilt and fear crawled up his back like spiders preparing to cocoon him in a web. Gale’s hand trailed down his spine, sending a wave of warmth that reverberated through the elf, scaring off eight-legged thoughts.

Astarion took in a sharp breath, Gale’s words enveloping him right as he recognized the hard press of his cock against the elf’s thigh. The heat down his spine quickly made its way to his gut. Before coming to Waterdeep he wouldn’t have dared say a thing as reckless as—

“I love you,” he muttered against Gale’s lips, ignoring the tight clenching in his chest and the moisture building at the edges of his vision.

Closing his eyes to hide them, Astarion wrapped his leg tighter around the other man’s waist as he licked into Gale’s parted lips. A desperation to his movements, that never ending hunger rearing its monstrous head as he attempted to devour him whole, one twist of his tongue at a time. And Gale met him without question, just as fierce and ravenous that had Astarion whimpering against him.

“Fuck, Gale.” Astarion muttered as he shifted slightly to grind against him, his own length pushing insistently against Gale’s hip, “Gods, I want you so badly—need you.”

That need, that never ending pull for Gale. It was all consuming. Terrifying. Yet Astarion couldn’t get enough.

Gale felt lightheaded, dizzy almost, floating on air, as if he were under the influence of some powerful spell. A spell of longing, of desperation, of love that transcended everything else. Astarion’s words echoed in his mind like from a hazy dream, and Gale couldn’t get enough of it.

The warmth radiated from their bodies and he lost himself in the heat of the moment, barely aware of how quickly desire was rising within him. Astarion pressed closer to him, and he could feel the elf’s hard length against him, grinding insistently against his hips. His own hips moved on their own to grind against Astarion’s thigh, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure coursing through him, mixing with the overwhelming love and adoration he felt for the elf. He moaned softly against Astarion’s lips, tongue dancing across the other’s.

“I love you,” he murmured again, wanting to etch the words onto Astarion’s skin, to make sure they were remembered forever. He could barely see out of his sleep-crusted eyes, but either way his vision was a blur of desperation for his lover, only seeing those mesmerizing crimson eyes. The hunger in Astarion’s gaze matched his own.

“I want you, too,” he breathed, words spilling out shakily. “Need you—for so long—gods, I love this, you.”

Astarion couldn’t remember a time he’d slept with someone and still wanted more the next day. Normally, there wouldn’t even be a next day. At most, it might be a quick escape in the morning before the other person woke. He never had the urge to continue things, to stay.

Then again, none of those people had been Gale. None of them had pushed past Astarion’s sardonic nature, his razor-sharp tongue. None of them had a chance, Astarion kept himself hidden away from the others. Hiding behind the curtain until calloused hands parted the thick velvet fabric. The same way Gale was parting the sheets now, uncovering them both before sliding his hand up the back of Astarion’s thigh.

With the hotel curtain’s parted, sunlight streamed through the window. Safe from prying eyes yet still feeling so exposed. Maybe it was the fact that they weren’t under the cover of night anymore. Maybe it was the little time they had left before Astarion would need to catch his plane. Maybe it was their constant declarations, each one a crashing wave that eroded Astarion’s resolve to close himself off. 

Regardless of the cause, Astarion’s heart picked up all the same.

Astarion slid a hand down from Gale’s hair to his shoulder, pushing him gently to lie on his back. The elf followed him, shifting to straddle the professor. Arching his back and stretching his arms out, Astarion watched his shadow eclipse Gale’s form from the window behind him.

Gale rubbed his eyes as Astarion adjusted their positions, needing to see Astarion clearly, to drink in every detail of the ethereal beauty above him. Framed by the golden light filtering through the window behind Astarion, the elf seemed like a being from another realm, too beautiful to be contained by this mortal plane. The glow of the sunlight softened the edges, highlighting the curve of Astarion’s shoulders, his torso, the mess of silver-white hair that spilled around his face. His skin almost shimmered, a pair of sun-crafted wings seemed to hover behind him.

An angel before him.

Gale swallowed hard as he took in the sight of Astarion, mesmerized by every detail. A pang of guilt twisted sharply in his chest.

An angel before him, caught by Gale, a devil, shackled to his own darkness, locked by the three simple words of devotion and promise. Gale was binding him to this possessive desire, desperate to hold on yet terrified of corrupting this pure being that was Astarion.

How could he, a man surrounded by so much danger, so much risk, so much darkness, deserve such a person who gave himself so freely to him? Who was he to trap this dove in a cage of fragile bars?

Astarion looked back at Gale with sleep hazed eyes and a warm smile. Gale’s hair was a tangled mess against the pillow, his skin marked to the hells from their night of passion, though it was curiously clean considering the mess they’d made before falling asleep. Astarion ran his fingers over the hairy chest below him, following the trail of hair down, down, down to wrap around Gale’s hot, hard length. His mouth watered at the sight of Gale, thick and long, curving towards his stomach. 

As badly as he wanted to taste him, he wanted to savor this more. Spitting that excess saliva into his hand, Astarion wrapped his wet hand around them both and rolled his hips. When he moaned there was no thought to neighboring rooms, the only thing on his mind was Gale.

Astarion’s words rushed out between panted breaths, “Ohh, Gale. I—fuck. Yes, like that, my love.”

Just as the guilt threatened to take Gale over, Astarion’s grip on him jolted him back. Gale’s thoughts scattered, the elf’s warm, wet hand grounding him in the soft pressure around their lengths. The sensation was electric, any traces of doubt forgotten and replaced by raw need.

Gale moaned loudly, hips instinctively pushing up to meet Astarion’s movements and his hands reaching up to grasp the elf’s thighs.

“Astarion,” he breathed, lifting his hand to trace over the curve of Astarion’s waist, savoring every bit of warmth and connection. He whispered it again and again, each time seemingly dragging the elf further in, into Gale’s arms, “Please, fuck, that’s good—just like that, love—"

With each rock of his hips Astarion leaned down further and further, as if each utterance of his name from Gale’s lips were pulling him in. There might as well have been an invisible rope tying them together, though a chain might be more apt in Gale’s case. Astarion could only hope that he wouldn’t weigh the other man down, that the deeper level of intimacy they’d found together wouldn’t put Gale in danger.

There was no going back from this, the moment he spoke those words out loud he’d opened Pandora’s box, unleashing every fear and affection he’d attempted to suppress out into the universe. Really, he’d opened that box the moment he’d asked Gale to get a drink with him that night in Amn. It all led him here, greedy for the love of the man that was rutting against him. Astarion wanted to drink in every touch from Gale and devour every sound from the sweet brunet’s lips. There was no such thing as full, Astarion was an endless pit of need for the man. Hells, he was truly gone, wasn’t he?

He could feel himself already getting closer, a sweet tug inside himself that became progressively more insistent with every stroke. The feeling of Gale hard against his own cock was its own symphony of pleasure. Their precum mixed together to add to the slide of Astarion’s hand still wrapped around them, pressed between their sternums.

“ Ahhn , so good like that… yes nhh , like that.”

Astarion felt Gale’s hand squeeze his hip, a rough callous on his thumb scratching softly against his skin. The elf placed his free hand over Gale’s, bringing his palm to Astarion’s lips before moving it to encompass his ear. Gale’s hand was a warm fire against him, Astarion pressed into the heat of it while he moved to tangle his free hand into Gale’s hair, cradling his face.

“Please, Gale… I want you to—” Astarion whimpered the moment Gale’s thumb slid down the shell of his ear. “Hnngh, yes—oh gods, yes!”

Astarion leaned closer and closer to Gale, their bodies fitting together perfectly as if meant to be. Gale could almost feel the elf’s heartbeat against his chest, his own heart thudding loudly as his hand was guided to the sensitive point of Astarion’s ear.

He traced a line down from the tip to the lobe, his other hand enveloping around Astarion’s between them, stroking along with him. Each moan and whimper, each shudder and twitch, was raw heat and desire flaring up in him, wanting more, needing more.

“You’re so perfect, Astarion—” Gale gasped, hand going up from the ear into hair. “Every piece of you—I can’t—gods, fuck, I’m close—can’t get enough.” Fingers tangled into white curls, holding him close as he leaned up to catch Astarion’s lips into another heated kiss. “Don’t stop, please,” he managed between breaths, nipping and sucking at the bottom lip, at tongue, at whatever he could get a taste of.

If he weren’t so far gone Astarion would have made a teasing remark about Gale begging him not to stop. There was no stopping this. They were chasing their release together in a nearly perfect synchronicity.

Astarion was losing himself in Gale, in every detail of their joining. Skin slick from a thin sheen of sweat. The hard angle of Astarion’s pelvis grinding into Gale as if he were still inside the man. The sharp nip of Gale’s teeth soothed over by the plushness of his kiss swollen lips and gentle tongue. The heat of Gale’s cock in his hand and against his own aching sex. Astarion felt his balls drawing up like waters pulling from the shore, his release a massive wave preparing to crest.

“I—I, oh hells, Gale I’m going to—“ Astarion buried his face in Gale’s neck as a wounded sound ripped through him. His hips stuttered with each spurt of cum coating both of their stomachs, but he didn’t stop, determined to feel the crash of Gale’s own wave against him.

Astarion lifted his head up to watch the other man as he pulled apart. “Cum for me, love.”

Gale felt the shudder of release rippling through the elf’s body, the warmth of Astarion’s spend coating the space between them, saw the glazed-over eyes that looked down at him in pure ecstasy and love and vulnerability. His whole body clenched and his head fell back, any remaining control shattered at Astarion’s words and the way he kept stroking and grinding against him.

“Astarion, I’m— fuck —” A broken moan escaped him, pleasure washing over him in large waves, consuming every thought, every fear. He came between them, spilling against their joined bodies, mixing in with Astarion’s.

His body shook with the force of it, and for a moment, he could only breathe heavily as he cradled Astarion’s head in his hand, pulling him in to press their foreheads together. They stayed there, tangled together in the golden morning light, letting the aftershocks pulse through them. Gale traced slow, gentle circles on Astarion’s lower back, savoring the warmth of his skin, the weight pressing him down still a grounding, real, force that he appreciated. He wanted this to last forever.

“I’m going to miss you when you leave,” Gale murmured softly, holding Astarion just a little tighter.

“I know.” The words were barely audible, more of a breath than a vocalization.

Astarion met Gale’s eyes, his chest clenching in time with the professor’s tightened grip. Right as he’d fallen into the comfort of the afterglow, the other man had to remind them that this moment was fleeting. Astarion felt like a displacer beast cornered and snarling, there was an urge to lash out at Gale for ruining the moment. But he pushed it back, resting his head on Gale’s chest, trying to soak in the way his chest hair tickled Astarion’s cheek.

He knew all the anger he felt was really towards himself. It was his own fault for allowing himself to get this close, to fall in love with a man who could never fully know him, no matter how much it felt like he might. There was a darkness within him that Gale could never be privy to. It was too intricately tied to his work at the agency, inextricably so.

A soothing warmth settled over him as Gale continued rubbing his back. For just a moment more, Astarion could try and convince himself that there was no world outside their hotel room. No Waterdeep waiting for Gale to teach classes. No Baldur’s Gate waiting for Astarion to do Cazador’s bidding. Nowhere else. Just them. Here.

It wasn’t long before they were making their way to the shower. It felt domestic, kissing Gale deeply with a sudsy loofah pressed to his chest. They took their time, washing each other, shampooing the other’s hair, letting the conditioner sit while Astarion dropped to his knees.

The cold tile was uncomfortable and Gale was quick to say it wasn’t necessary, that he likely couldn’t go again so soon. But there was so little time left and Astarion had never felt a hunger like this before. He couldn’t get enough of Gale and he had no idea when they would have each other like this again. 

Less than an hour later, under the now cool spray of the water, Gale had Astarion’s chest pressed against the tile wall as he thrust into the elf, his mouth clamped over the back of the elf's neck to muffle his groans.

Gale dried Astarion off tenderly after their shared shower, patting him down with a soft towel. His fingers gently traced along the reddened love marks and bruises that peppered the elf’s pale skin—not as much as he had himself; he saw that he was covered in them when he passed by the mirror. Gale could only hope they would persist long after his lover would need to leave.

These marks meant something more now, more than just possession and lust. There was so much more commitment now. Love, connection, something that felt undeniable and real.

Gale watched him with a soft smile, pressing another kiss on the mark on Astarion’s collarbone before giving him space for his hair and skincare routine—though, if Gale were to be asked, he’d say that Astarion looked perfect either way.

Meanwhile, Gale got dressed himself and called in room service, trying not to think of just how little time they had left together. Despite his efforts, he lingered on the thoughts of trying to convince himself that it was better this way—safer for Astarion to be far away from Gale. The elf could never know of Gale’s real life, and the wizard could keep his identity secret easier when he was further away.

He brightened up as Astarion finally emerged, gesturing to the patio for the breakfast he’d set up. He distracted himself from those depressing thoughts and instead focused on Astarion. It wasn’t difficult—there was so much he wanted to talk about with the elf, even if he could speak to him on the phone. It was different in person, seeing Astarion’s expression real-time. His excitement, his interest, his amusement, the way he smiled and laughed when Gale realized he was rambling too much.

He could tell Astarion was hanging on every word, on each mention of a future visit and an opportunity to try new foods and experiences. Together.

Astarion couldn’t stop looking at Gale as he talked about his favorite sights in the city, places they could go the next time Astarion was visiting. It was perfect, everything with Gale just felt… right. So lovely it was painful. 

When it was finally time to leave, Astarion stood in front of Gale with a small night bag slung on his arm. Arms wrapped around the professor’s neck, Astarion held him tightly, breathing him in, committing everything to memory.

Gale didn’t want to let Astarion go. Arms wrapped around him, Astarion’s scent filling his nostrils, the beat of his heart against his chest. The softness of the elf’s lips as he pressed one final kiss against them.

“How dare you be so far away.” Astarion was going for playful banter, but the shake in his voice gave him away. He kissed Gale deeply before looking in those chestnut eyes to say the words that had been impossible less than twenty-four hours ago. “I love you, Gale Dekarios.”

Everytime Astarion said it he felt lighter; loving Gale lifted a weight he hadn’t known he carried.

Gale chuckled sadly, the shake in Astarion’s voice clearly noticeable, but he chose not to mention it. His voice was the same when he replied. “I love you too, Astarion.”

When the door closed, he felt a strange sort of familiarity in the situation. It was quiet. Silent. Empty.

He looked around at the room, the scent of sex and Astarion lingering despite the open windows. There was a set of clothes laid out on the ruffled sheets of their night of passion. Astarion had left those behind, telling Gale teasingly that he wouldn’t have to go out in pajamas again. He picked them up, held them close, and took a deep breath.

This time, there was no hole in his heart. There were promises made, declarations said. He would see and hear from Astarion again, and he would be safe.

Chapter Text

Present Day

“I couldn’t imagine being that far from you again.”

Gale’s face crumpled as Astarion’s words hit him. There was the tremor in his husband’s voice, the ache of desperation he could hear beneath it. He tried to hold back, to be strong for Astarion, for them both, but thinking back on their times together when it was so much better, when there was so much more between them compared to now… he couldn’t help it.

A whimper escaped his lips, shoulders shaking as he buried his face against Astarion, his breaths growing shallow as the quiet sobs broke free. 

Astarion felt Gale’s whole body beginning to shudder as he curled into the elf. A silent sob that unmuted right as Astarion registered it. Soft broken rasps of sorrow that Astarion never heard from his husband. Gale’s always been soft smiles, somber eyes or witty retorts. At most indignant on Astarion’s behalf or disappointed by an awful circumstance. But this?

“Oh, darling, it’s okay. I’m so sorry. Please, come here, it’s alright.” Astarion couldn’t hear himself as he whispered out any words of comfort he could think of while wiping the tears from Gale’s cheeks. He kissed over where they’d been as if it might stop more from appearing.

He didn’t think the guilt could get any worse, but seeing Gale like this has him finding that he’s only barely touched its depth. The seafloor dropped out from under him the moment he felt Gale fall apart against him. Astarion was desperate to keep his head above water and find his husband, wherever he was as he continued drifting away.

Gale could barely hear the elf’s words of comfort, could barely feel the soft kisses against his cheeks as he tried to console him.

“I hate this,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I can’t lose you, Astarion. I can’t. I love you too much. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m —”

Sorry for everything. Sorry for bringing Astarion into the mess that was his life. Sorry for putting Astarion’s life at risk every second of the day. Sorry for being so weak, so selfish, so horrible. Sorry for loving him .

He couldn’t feel the warmth of Astarion’s arms around him, he couldn’t feel the same safety and comfort that his lover’s embrace once offered. No matter how close they held each other, the connection was broken, fractured, like an echo of something that had once been whole, and was now an endless void that couldn’t be filled.

Gale was unraveling against him, his breath coming in harsh quick intakes. If it continued at this rate, he’d be having a panic attack. Astarion knew that experience. Alone in hotel rooms after particularly difficult missions. It took years to bury that part of himself, but he still remembered the pain. The illogical terror of trying to run from a danger that could not be seen. He was determined to save his husband from it.

“No, no, no, no. Gale, love.” Astarion cradled his face in his hands, searching his eyes for recognition. “Please. Just breathe for me. Please, darling. Just breathe.”

Astarion pulled him to his chest, arms wrapped tight around Gale as he rocked. It was terrifying seeing his husband like this. And it was his doing, he did this to Gale. A monster, he was a fucking monster.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He should. He should get far away from Gale. Better he be sobbing than dead. “I love you far too much.” If only that weren’t true. A greedy, selfish, starving monster.

“There you go, love,” he continued. “You’re doing wonderfully. Keep breathing with me, just like that.” Astarion ran his hands through Gale’s hair where he rested his head on the elf’s chest. The words kept pouring out of him, a desperate need to fill the silence.

“Can you hear my heart? Listen to it now, hear how it beats for you, only you.” It shouldn’t beat at all. It should be frozen, unable to suck in sweet innocent lives like Gale. He was doomed to destroy him, he was seeing it now. Astarion pushed back images of Sebastion’s face from his mind as he continued soothing his husband.

Gale listened to Astarion’s heart. Beating. Beating for him.

How long would it keep beating for?

How long would it take until it stopped, cold and dead by Gale’s hand? 

His thoughts spiraled, a relentless flood of memories and regrets surging forth like a storm he couldn’t contain. He remembered the first time he’d killed someone—how it had twisted in his gut for weeks, months. He had a license to kill, yes, but that guilt, that horror of taking a life lingered long after it happened. Soon enough, though, killing, betraying, weaving webs of deception, was all second nature in his line of work. It was all for the greater good, for duty and with purpose.

But here, now, with Astarion, he felt the same pain as he did with his first kill. He was taking a life. Astarion’s life, piece by piece, with each millimeter of distance, each painful choice he made. And for what purpose? All for his own selfishness? 

The pain now was sharper than any blade he’d been stabbed with, more powerful than any magic or gunshot wound he’d been hit with. More controlling than any spell he’d been forced under.

His breaths came in stuttering gasps as he fought to hold himself together, each shaky exhale pressing him closer to Astarion. He tried to listen to Astarion, tried to follow that voice that so often soothed him and made everything right in the world.

Petting those tangled waves, Astarion listened as Gale’s breathing began to steady. “There you go, love. That’s perfect. You’re doing so wonderfully. It’s going to be alright. It’s been such a long day. You just need rest.” Astarion lifted up, adjusting the pillows to bring his and Gale’s together so they could stay resting in the middle. “Here we go. Just turn over, let me hold you tonight.”

Barely aware of his own movements, Gale rolled over at Astarion’s gentle encouragement. The world felt muted, body complying instinctively. He breathed, intake, outtake. His mind replayed flashes of their life together—of their late-night talks, of their bodies intertwining into one, of Astarion’s laughter, of the simple mornings just simply waking up besides one another. 

Eventually, Gale’s sobs softened, breaths shaky but evening out. The warmth of the elf against his back was familiar, and almost comforting like it used to be. Until he felt the elf’s hands slide over his own, and he felt fingers clasped with his. He could feel the wedding band on his ring finger—a symbol of their love and devotion, of promises they tried to keep.

Astarion’s ring finger was bare.

A fresh wave of dread clawed at Gale’s chest. He’d noticed it before, many times, and waved it off as Astarion simply forgetting.

It was too many times.

Astarion wrapped around Gale’s back like a poisonous shadow that was desperate to shed some light. The position felt like an echo of nights before, years ago when they were first living together. They used to take turns when being spoons—one night Gale would hold Astarion, the next night the elf would hold the human. They’d created a warping dip in the mattress from staying in the middle. Astarion couldn’t remember why they stopped.

Here they were now, years later and in a twisted version of the same image. Astarion pressed his forehead into the back of Gale’s neck, breathing in deeply with his hand over the professor’s chest to help guide them together.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“I missed this. Lying like this with you.” Astarion whispered into the night, a secret between them as he placed his left hand over Gale’s to interlace their fingers. He felt the cold, hard texture of Gale’s wedding ring and became vividly aware of how bare his own hand was.

The ring.

He often left it on the bathroom counter after his shower or in the glove box of his car when leaving for work. He used to place it back on when pulling in the driveway, or drying off after the shower. One night of simply forgetting became a week of questioning why he bothered to have it on at all. 

Gale never took his off.

Astarion felt Gale tense against him, a cold fear ran through him that his husband was noticing it as well. If only Astarion had a cyanide capsule to bite into. He deserved it for hurting the one person he cared most about as he was trying to comfort them.

Trying to distract from it, Astarion squeezed Gale’s hand, his thumb rubbing the ridges of the ring without thought, “All this talk of distance, like one of us would want to be anywhere else. You can’t tell me you still wished that you lived with your mother. I remember all those nights over the phone complaining about her habits.”

Astarion kissed the back of Gale’s head as he gave a soft empty chuckle. He was desperate to lighten the mood, to distract. Not only Gale, but himself as well. He couldn’t stop asking himself questions.

When did holding Gale stop feeling like standing under the sun on a summer’s day?

When did kissing him feel more like saying goodbye than hello?

When did their love become this?

The elf turned his face into the pillow to wipe his wet cheeks, resisting the urge to sniffle in case Gale caught on to his tears.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Astarion held onto Gale’s hand tightly, a lifeline. “Do you remember how relieved we both were when moving in together? I still trance it sometimes, a lovely memory. You insisted we didn’t need movers. I thought you were going to break in half from all that hard labor. But you really proved that those gorgeous muscles of yours aren’t just for show. Do you remember, Gale?”

The last question comes out softer, more tentative than he meant it to sound. A plea.

Gale’s fingers twitched in Astarion’s grip, his mind replaying that day they’d moved in together, a memory that felt both vivid and faded around the edges, like an old photograph. They’d been so full of energy, so sure that building a life together was as simple as stacking boxes and arranging furniture.

“I remember,” Gale murmured, a ghost of a smile at Astarion’s attempt to lighten the mood. A shaky inhale. “I remember.”

Chapter Text

November 5, 1998 Over Five (or Six) Years Earlier

Gale exhaled deeply, setting down a heavy box onto the living room floor. It was a mess currently, with cardboard boxes all over the place and unorganized. Despite that fact, Gale couldn’t help the large grin that spread over his face. 

This was really happening. Astarion was settling down with him, in a place they’ll call their own. Both of their names on the mortgage. They would both still have trips and travels they’d have to manage for work, but both would come back here, back to each other.

Gale’s heart swelled at the thought of it, taking a moment to look around the place, really look at it. Their place. Empty and bare for now, but soon so many memories would be made here. He couldn’t wait.

Tara and Gale’s mother were still throwing a bit of a fit over it. Gale’s mother wouldn’t stop bringing up the importance of honesty in a committed relationship, cautioning him about moving so quickly. Tara was less opinionated but refused to move in, pointing out that it messed with his cover that she was Morena’s familiar and Gale couldn’t argue that. It would be difficult to see so much less of Tara, but Gale planned to right that wrong with Tara’s Catflap of Displacement, a spell the two had been working on together in their spare time.

He wiped an arm across his forehead, sighing contentedly. It was hot outside—perhaps he could swap with Astarion who was organizing their bedroom upstairs. On second thought, Gale decided against it; he had insisted he be the one to start transferring the boxes from the truck into the house, as there were a couple weapons from work he had to make sure Astarion wouldn’t accidentally find when sorting through the boxes. 

There was a close call when Astarion took one of the boxes full of Gale’s weapons and confidential files, and the wizard had to hurriedly grab it from him, claiming it was a rare and possibly dangerous magical artifact that an organization had asked him to look into.

Another small wave of guilt crashed against him. It would be much more risky now, being so close together. But, Gale told himself, he could keep them both safe. He had to.

He made his way back to the van, refusing to let those thoughts ruin the mood. There were only a few boxes left, and those would go in the storage shed in the back. As Gale picked up the box, he spotted a figure by the entrance, watching him. He waved a hand at them, greeting them with a smile.

“Hello!” he called, putting the box back down to head over to the stranger. “You must be our neighbors—”

He suddenly stopped. The figure’s demeanor sounded alarms in Gale’s mind—too rigid, too careful. The stranger was dressed in sleek, dark clothes despite the warmth of the day, their gaze fixed on Gale with a sharp intensity that sent a chill down his spine. His relaxed smile dropped and he was immediately on guard.

This wasn’t a neighbor, or a casual passerby. He knew this person’s look. This was a professional—a hunter, a killer. He spotted the curve of a red raindrop-shaped mark on the man’s chest, barely concealed. He’d recognize that anywhere—it was part of that symbol of a Bhaalist, a skull with blood drops encircling it.

They were an assassin organization that Gale had dealt with before, had crossed paths with more times than he’d like. He had dangerous missions involving these people, and one he had barely escaped from alive.

Why have they come here? To his home? To… to Astarion.

That’s what it was, wasn’t it? The stranger’s eyes had a flicker of recognition as he stared at Gale, a faux innocent smile plastered on his face. He knew Gale. Perhaps had a grudge against him, wanted revenge. Or maybe he was a target, having interfered with their plans so much.

Gale steadied himself, plastering a calm smile over his face, but his mind was racing through options. A confrontation here would be risky. If the assassin had any backup… Gale tried to subtly scan the empty neighborhood, wondering if there were more hiding in nearby shadows, as unlikely as it seemed.

“Lovely day this, isn’t it?” he said, his tone light but edged with warning. “Can I help you with something?”

The stranger chuckled, taking a step closer into their property. His smile was cold, more baring of teeth than any expression of friendliness. “I believe you can, Gale.” The assassin knew his name. Fuck, of course he did. He knew Gale, knew what he was involved in. “You have a habit of meddling in places you shouldn’t.”

The man’s gaze flicked up to the second-floor window. The bedroom window. Astarion was there. Unaware, unprotected.

“What do you want?” Gale hissed. His fingers twitched to cast a spell.

The man laughed, and didn’t respond. Instead, he lunged forward, daggers suddenly in each hand.

Gale barely had a second to react. Instinctively, he threw up a shield of force, the chant spilling from his lips and fingers a blur to cast the spell just in time. The man’s blades collided with a translucent barrier, sparking with magical energy as they ground to a halt just inches from Gale’s chest.

Gale’s mind went into overdrive, the calm of earlier completely overrun with adrenaline. He had to pull this fight away from the house, away from Astarion. But there was nowhere to go without risking the attention, and the assassin was fast, relentless, closing in with each step Gale took backward as the wizard dodged and ducked, pulling up a shield if he couldn’t move in time. 

He needed to fight back, now.

Magic Missile was simple and quiet enough to push the assassin back in order for Gale to gather himself again. He swallowed, casting a quick look back at the house. Astarion was upstairs, likely still unpacking, completely unaware of the danger that had landed on their doorstep. He didn’t know about Gale’s past with this organization—or how easily they’d tracked him down. Gale needed to keep it that way.

He made it towards the back of the house, thankful that there were no windows from the bedroom here. Hands ready for another spell, he took a stance. The assassin had quickly caught up to him, snarling and angry. Gale’s fingers sparked with magic, and—

An uncomfortable wave of vulnerability hit him suddenly.

His magic—it felt weaker, fainter. What in the hells…?

Fuck, he should have checked this place more thoroughly before deciding on this house with Astarion. There were effects of Sussur lingering around here. Perhaps a hybrid tree that was once here and cut down.

Gale murmured a couple more chants, trying to gauge how strong the residual effects were. The Hold Person spell barely sputtered from his hands before fizzling out.

Gale cursed under his breath. The sensation was faint, but clearly potent enough to disrupt any complex magic he attempted. He needed to make his way back to the front of the house where he could use his magic to its full capabilities; it would be riskier, but it was a quiet neighborhood and he could always blame anything on the magical trinkets his mother insisted he bring with them if someone were to see something suspicious.

The assassin seemed to notice his frustration, his smirk widening with the realization that Gale’s spells weren’t working. “The wizard’s lost his touch?” he called out mockingly, twirling the daggers around his hands expertly.

“If you think I’m helpless, you’re sorely mistaken,” Gale growled out, and barely managed to dodge the next attack as the man lunged forward with renewed vigor.

Gale feinted left before twisting to the right, catching the assassin off guard and landing a sharp blow to his ribs. The man was barely fazed by that, and only sneered back angrily. The wizard cursed again, rolling off to the side to avoid another attack. He should have grabbed his weapons from the box earlier when he recognized the man; he was painfully unarmed against a trained assassin without his magic.

But, he was also a trained agent, magic or no.

Another thrust with the dagger barely nicking his cheek and drawing blood; this time Gale managed to get ahold of the assassin’s arm before he could withdraw. He yanked backwards, both avoiding the second dagger and pulling the man off balance. He could still feel the Sussur effects around him, but perhaps a smaller spell would do something….

The man cried out in surprise more than pain, dropping one of the daggers as Gale cast a Shocking Grasp. Weak, but it was enough.

He kicked the dagger away from the man, pushing him down to the ground. He picked the weapon back up as he ran towards the front yard again, noting

 the familiar warmth of magic trickling into him.

Feeling much safer with his magic back and the Bhaalist half-disarmed, Gale couldn’t help the confident smirk that pulled at his lips. Victory was assured.

He turned, watching as the assassin followed closely after him. If it was any other enemy, Gale would expect them to be furious, slipping up more as they lost their temper. But this one seemed to enjoy the thrill of the fight, the chase, lips spread in a manic smile and eyes wide with exhilaration. Bhaalists really were a crazy few.

Gale widened his stance as the assassin charged at him like a rampaging bull, hands moving swiftly to cast another spell. The man’s pace stuttered, as if preparing to dodge whatever evocation Gale would throw at him, but instead, the wizard lunged forward to grab the man by the collar.

In a blinding flash, they vanished from the front yard and reappeared in a closed-off alleyway several blocks away. Away from the house, away from Astarion. There would be no witnesses here.

The assassin barely had a second to orient himself before Gale cast another, stronger, Shocking Grasp, the force of the spell now unhindered by any lingering Sussur effects. The man convulsed, his sneer twisting into a pained gasp as arcs of electricity rippled through him.

“Swords, meet sorcery,” Gale murmured, his voice low, fierce. He pushed the man against brick wall, twisting the Bhaalist’s arms behind him and making him cry out again. The blade dropped from his hand, and Gale caught it before it hit the ground. “Not so clever now, are you?”

The assassin wriggled in his grasp, trying to get free, but Gale held him tight. He pressed the edge of the stolen dagger against the man’s throat.

“Tell me, what were you doing here? What were you after?”

The man forced out a laugh, glaring back at him. “You know how things are with us. Kill the target, simple as that.”

Gale switched hands with the dagger, freeing one to cast another spell. A purple sphere surrounded them, air glistening with a magical aura. Zone of Truth. “The target? Me?”

When the man didn’t answer, Gale brought his hand to the assassin’s neck, electricity dancing along his fingertips. “Death is but a word away.”

Not that he planned on letting the man live long. This man was a trained killer, a Bhaalist—letting him walk away was an invitation for further retaliation.

“You,” the assassin spat out, and Gale expected that answer. His stomach twisted as the man continued. “And Astarion Ancunín. I was sent to eliminate you for interference with our operations. Your relationship would have served as perfect leverage, but I wanted to—”

Gale stopped hearing things after that. Perfect leverage.

He pressed the dagger against the man’s throat again and with one swift, practiced move, ended the threat.

Gale watched him fall, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as the adrenaline left his veins. His pulse pounding as he imagined what might have happened if he hadn’t intercepted him. They knew about Astarion—knew enough to know they could use him as a bargaining chip or worse. He’d brought this danger into Astarion’s life, tangled him in the web of his own past.

But Gale couldn’t entertain the idea of leaving him, of removing himself from Astarion’s life for his safety. No—he loved Astarion too much to even consider it. He’d just have to protect him. Hide this. Somehow. He was an expert agent, top of the agency. He could do this.

He took a step back, watching the assassin’s still form for a moment. He had to hide this body somehow. He could teleport it away to the agency for his coworkers to deal with—it wouldn’t be the first time he’d dropped a dead body randomly at the agency. Or he could hide it with a simple illusion spell and deal with it later. The man had a Bhaalist tattoo on him; it wouldn’t be too messy even if officials were to find him. He left no traces of himself other than injuries caused by magic, and no one knew Gale Dekarios was a wizard.

He was safe. Astarion was safe.

Fuck. Astarion. Gale needed to get back home; Astarion must be done with the bedroom by now, wondering where Gale was.

Gale patted himself down, making sure there was no sign of a scuffle and casting a couple Prestidigitation spells on himself and the daggers to get rid of any fingerprints, before finally casting an illusion over the body. His mind raced to concoct some kind of story for where he’d been if Astarion noticed. He carefully exited the alleyway, making sure no one would see him. A small restaurant caught his eye.

Food. It was around lunchtime; he could tell Astarion he was getting food. With a sigh of relief, even though his heart was still trying to slow back down to a regular pace, he smoothed out his clothes again and ran a hand through his hair, ensuring he didn’t look too disheveled.

A few minutes later with sandwiches and drinks in hand, Gale took one last glance around to make sure he wasn’t being followed. There would be no signs of his recent fight—no blood on his clothes, no tremor in his voice. He would go home, bring lunch, and everything would be alright.

Another wave of guilt washed over him as he walked home. It was barely their first day together and he already brought so much danger to Astarion. He could only hope that this wouldn’t happen again, but knowing his line of work, it was highly unlikely. How much longer could he hide this?

That wasn’t a question he wanted an answer to. It had to be forever; Astarion could never see the blood on his hands.

He made it back home in just a couple minutes with how fast he was walking. The front yard was strangely quiet, the boxes still in the van untouched. Was Astarion not done yet? Or—

Gale nearly dropped the food and drinks, running up to the front door with another burst of adrenaline shooting through him again. Was there another killer that had targeted Astarion? Bhaalist assassin missions were usually solo, even with multiple targets, and the one he interrogated—albeit briefly—hadn’t mentioned an associate. But—

The door flung open before he got there, revealing his love, safe and sound.

He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Then intake, outtake, guising it as if he was catching his breath after running. Astarion was safe.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile…

Astarion stood back to admire his work. The walk-in closet was finished, his clothes color-coded and organized on the left hand side, Gale’s clothes given the same treatment on the right. It felt surreal seeing their personal effects there in the same room like they belonged there, because now they did.

When Gale was looking for a house in downtown Waterdeep, Astarion hadn’t expected him to offer for them to look for a house together. They’d gone from long-distance to homeowners. It should have felt too fast, rushed. But it didn’t. It felt strange… but right. 

Still, Astarion had to be difficult about it. Perhaps it was an attempt to push Gale away or assuage his guilt, regardless, he initially waved the idea of living in Waterdeep off, claiming the commute to Baldur’s Gate just wasn’t feasible. Of course, Gale had a solution: a membership for the portal system. 

Astarion had heard of the portals, one for every major city in Faerun. It was incredibly expensive; most people found flying to be more affordable. He knew Cazador used it as well as others that ran in more elite circles. Apparently, Gale’s work at the university was quite important as he received a discounted rate for the system. A discount that he was able to extend to Astarion when offering him an already-made portal pass.

At that point, how could he say no?

And now, standing in their main bedroom, Astarion couldn’t be happier that he’d made the decision. Sure, mixing their lives was going to be difficult. Gale still had no idea about Astarion’s real career and could never know. 

Astarion took it one day at a time. Plans had never been his forte anyway. Astarion was an agent, he worked best thinking on his feet. Like when moving his weaponry, Astarion insisted on packing items in his own car rather than the moving van. He gave excuses for those items being fragile or full of confidential case work that he couldn’t risk getting lost.

While Gale moved boxes with the label ‘kitchen’ or ‘study’, Astarion was hauling his Sussur plants upstairs and hiding them in a hidden closet in the guest room. He’d perfected a way to infuse Sussur in his gear, but it required fresh leaves. It had taken a long time to get these plants to survive on the surface as they needed specific conditions. It had been a pain to move it all over in secret. But Astarion had plenty of places to hide things after bribing the builder without Gale’s knowledge. 

Astarion had to ensure Gale was outside of the house before opening one of the purposefully mislabeled boxes and taking them to one of his hidden compartments to hide various weapons or gear. Guilt threatened to take him in as he did it, but Astarion was quick to push those thoughts away.

With all of his work-related items safely tucked away, Astarion was free to indulge in the more domestic parts of moving in with Gale. Like organizing their closet. The elf sighed with satisfaction as he ran his fingers down the racks of Gale’s clothes. So many tweed jackets and thick sweaters. One of these days Astarion was going to take his boyfriend shopping for better work clothes.

Now that still felt odd—calling Gale his boyfriend. Another moment of something being strange, but right. So many things with Gale felt that way.

Astarion’s ear twitched at the unexpected sound of movement in the bedroom. He smiled to himself before calling out, “Darling, I told you I was taking care of—”

He came to an abrupt stop when turning around and seeing a figure in all black in front of him. They held a dagger in each hand. Frozen, waiting for Astarion to make the first move. The elf smiled sickly sweet as he calculated the room for vantage points and makeshift weapons.

“I don’t recall inviting you, my dear.”

The moment Astarion lunged the figure shot forward.

Astarion cursed himself for not keeping a pistol tucked in the closet. He would need to remedy that after this. But first he needed to get rid of whoever the fuck was trying to slice his throat.

Thankfully, they had already brought the furniture up. The armchair served as a great distraction as Astarion kicked it toward his assailant. It thudded heavily against the rug, his opponent diving to the left to avoid getting hit. As they jumped back up, they slung one of the daggers in Astarion’s direction. The elf ducked, feeling the blade whizz by his ear and slice into the drywall.

Perfect.

Astarion pulled the dagger from the wall as he dashed from the room, turning the corner in the hallway and pressing against the wall. He could hear movement in the bedroom—gods this guy was terrible at stealth.

Glancing down at the weapon, Astarion recognized the symbol embossed in the hilt: a skull surrounded by droplets in a circular formation. Bhaal, but those assholes work with Cazador. So why the hells were they coming after Astarion?

“Come on out little elf,” The intruder called out softly, Astarion could hear their voice getting closer with each word, “or I’ll have to say hello to that sweet little—”

Astarion barely heard a word the moment he realized they were referring to Gale. He dropped down and turned back around the corner, lunging at the last second to sink the blade into the Bhaalist’s stomach. They jumped back in time, the blade only making a shallow stab, blood dripping on the hardwood as Astarion followed them into the bedroom. The elf listened intently for any other sounds in the house. He’d almost forgotten about Gale.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Was Gale in the house? Had he heard any of that?

A muffled laugh came from outside, in the direction of the front of the house. It didn’t sound like Gale. Astarion felt a rush of relief while dodging swipes of the Bhaalist’s blade. Gale must be talking with a neighbor, completely oblivious to the chaos happening inside. Astarion needed to end this quickly before Gale decided to introduce him.

Shit. Shit. Shit. There was no fucking time.

There was nothing to keep between them, forcing close combat that moved in motions so fast that Astarion relied on instinct to counter them. The Bhaalist grunted, slamming a fist against Astarion’s cheek, the other hand moving down to stab the elf in the side. Astarion moved with the punch, spinning around and ducking to the side with his leg extended to trip the intruder. They caught on to the move, jumping both feet in the air to avoid Astarion’s swipe. Blood dripped on the floor and a small splatter hit the wall.

Fucking hells, if he managed to get through this without Gale’s notice there would be a lot of clean up.

“Cazador isn’t going to take kindly to your organization coming after one of his best agents,” the elf hissed as they circled each other, both hunched low with their weapons ready.

The Bhaalist answered with a knowing laugh, lunging to Astarion’s left. He dodged, slamming their knife hand down, once, twice, then kneeing them in the stomach before following it with his blade.

Shit. He needed to get answers. Godsdamnit, this is what Aurelia was saying when critiquing him about not having a plan.

Eyes wide, the cloth covering the Bhaalist’s mouth dropped down to show their mouth open in surprise. Their arm arced up to stab into the elf, but Astarion was ready. He pivoted around them, contorting their arm behind, while reaching around with the other hand to press the blade harder into their gut, giving it a twist with a sneer.

They cried out as they dropped the dagger in their hand. Astarion covered their mouth to muffle the noise, removing the blade to stab into them again from the back.

Astarion listened intently as he dropped the limp intruder slowly to the ground. It was still silent in the house. Gale must still be outside. If he were living alone, he’d have tied them up, healed the wounds with a potion from the med kit and kept them there until the agency arrived to pick them up for interrogation. But there wasn’t time for that.

He needed to hide the body and clean the scene before Gale arrived. Astarion looked around the wrecked room, the blood splattered in various places.

There just wasn’t time.

It wouldn’t be possible to get rid of the body before Gale came back inside the house. Hells, he could walk in any minute. He needed to stash the assassin away until Gale left for work tomorrow, it was the soonest opening he had. Astarion could call the agency over then. There might even be enough time for someone to cast Speak With Dead and receive some answers.

Grabbing a potion from the med kit in their connected bathroom, Astarion poured the mixture on the body’s wounds to stop any further bleeding. Thank the gods they’d already put the cleaning supplies box in the bathroom. Astarion tossed the box onto the bed, catching sight of the large empty clothing boxes he’d carelessly tossed out into the hallway.

The first time Astarion tried to put the body into the box, the damned thing ripped apart. He attempted a second time, his arms straining to carefully drop the body in. There was blood all over his shirt and down his pants from holding the corpse. Shit.

The elf pulled off his clothes and added them to the box. He carefully pushed the packed body into the walk-in closet, tucking it under his side of the clothes rack. One more empty box placed upside down covered the top half of the corpse. Astarion grabbed a few pairs of shoes and balanced those on top before shifting the rack of clothes to cover it as best as he could.

Alright, that should do. He would just need to keep a careful eye on Gale and ensure he didn’t go snooping around Astarion’s side. At first glance, it should just appear the elf was still unpacking his clothes.

The entire time he cleaned the blood and mess in the room, his heart was hammering, ears twitching at any sound that might be Gale walking in. Guilt kept trying to worm its way into his head. Not even one day and already he was proving to be a massive danger to Gale. No, there was nothing he could do about it now. He needed to focus, he needed to hide this.

As if the gods were showing some kind of twisted mercy, Gale never came inside the house. Astarion was able to clean everything up and redress into a worn shirt and sweatpants. He ducked his head into the shower to wet his hair, for an alibi regarding his outfit change.

It was odd that Gale hadn’t returned yet; was the neighbor keeping him locked in conversation still? Honestly, with Gale’s verbose nature it might be the other way around. 

Astarion smiled softly to himself as he made his way downstairs; he better go check and get things moving. He still wanted to have time for an evening together resting after such an exhausting day filled with moving and murder.

It wasn’t until he stopped at the front door to put on his shoes that he realized he couldn’t hear any conversation on the other side of the door. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Adrenaline slammed back into him at the thought that there might have been another Bhaalist, that it might already be too late.

He flung open the front door, revealing his boyfriend, safe and sound.

Gale was safe.

Gale’s brows furrowed in concern upon seeing a large bruise on Astarion’s cheek, dark purple and blue. “Are you alright, my love?” he asked, setting down the items on the bench on their porch. “I went to go get lunch for us. We can take a break from all the moving and everything.”

Astarion’s shoulders sagged with relief when finding Gale. He quickly schooled his face into a casual smile. The alarm must have been written all over his face for Gale to ask if he was okay.

“Of course, darling. I was wondering where you ran off too. Aren’t you just the sweetest?” Astarion cooed, ignoring the food and drink in favor of putting his arms around Gale’s neck for a chaste kiss.

Panic was starting to bubble up inside him. It could have easily been Gale upstairs when the assassin snuck in. Astarion would have come up to find Gale dead on the floor with a knife in his back. Cold dead eyes would have stared up at him, the same as Sebastion’s. No, not now.

Gale’s eyes softened as Astarion pressed the kiss to his lips, his initial alarm easing just a bit. But the dark bruise that marred Astarion’s cheek pulled him back to reality, his gaze lingered with worry. He must have banged his face hard on something while moving things. Still, a bruise was better than a stab in the heart.

“That bruise looks like it hurts,” Gale murmured with a slight, reassuring smile as he wrapped his arms around Astarion in return. He gently brushed his thumb along Astarion’s uninjured cheek. “Here, why don’t you sit down and let me take a closer look at that?”

Astarion almost let the confusion cross his face, but quickly smothered the reaction with a soft appreciative smile. Internally, he was cursing himself. Why didn’t he check his reflection after changing his clothes? Or even when wetting his hair? He had literally walked right past a mirror yet hadn’t noticed a thing, as if his reflection didn’t exist. Idiot.

“Don’t worry yourself, my sweet.” Astarion covered the hand caressing his cheek before turning to lay a kiss inside Gale’s palm. Gods, he used to scoff at these types of displays of affection and now he melted like a popsicle on a hot summer’s day the moment Gale looked at him with those large doe eyes of his.

The elf continued talking as they made their way over to the kitchen, and Gale paused to grab their food and drinks. “It was a simple fumble when putting my shoes away in the closet, one of my boots slipped and clocked me before I could get out of the way. You know how terrible my reflexes are.”

Astarion hopped on the counter and took a sip of the drink Gale offered him—sweet lemonade with just the right amount of tartness to it.

“What would you do without me?” Gale teased, chuckling lightly.

Better, if he were to be honest, he thought to himself. Not hurting. Not in danger. Not at risk.

He smiled at Astarion and set the food and his drink down at the table, not bothering to take a sip of his until Astarion was looking and feeling better. He could tell the wound was bothering him; there was clear discomfort in his eyes.

“Sit tight, I’ll go get the med kit. It’s in the upstairs bathroom, right?”

“The med kit?” Astarion asked as if contemplating its whereabouts. He kept his body language relaxed as his heart thrummed in his chest. Gale was almost definitely looking for the healing potion in there. The healing potion that Astarion poured onto the corpse to keep it from continuing to bleed out. The corpse that was stuffed into a moving box in their closet. 

“Love, don’t bother. The potion bottle leaked out everywhere when I was unpacking. The damned thing must have cracked during the move.” Astarion put his drink back on the counter and pulled Gale closer, wrapping his legs around the brunet’s hips to keep him caged in.

“It’s fine, I’ll put some ice on it later, darling. You’ve been working hard, you need to eat.” Astarion trailed his fingers under the thick strap of Gale’s tank top, his skin hot from exertion. Gale looked gorgeous in his joggers and white tank, so much skin for Astarion to run his hands down. 

Oh, yes. He could think of a few ways to keep Gale distracted. 

It was still strange wanting someone physically as much as he wanted Gale. This ploy for distraction wasn’t merely strategic, this was honest, a desire that he hadn’t felt in so long before Gale. It hadn’t been safe to. It still wasn’t.

Gale’s frown didn’t fully disappear, but he let himself be reassured, at least for the moment. “Alright, if you say so.”

Astarion was right—they’d both been working tirelessly, and maybe the bruise wasn’t that bad. He allowed Astarion to pull him in close, enjoying the touch of his hands trailing down his arms, light and tempting. There was a familiar spark in Astarion’s gaze, one Gale recognized all too well, but the bruise still nagged at him.

“You’re not fooling me, you know,” Gale murmured with a half-smile, keeping his tone light but his concern genuine. 

Astarion’s eyes briefly flashed at Gale’s comment, he swallowed heavily, panic threatening to break the surface. What does Gale know? Did he hear more than he let on? It wasn’t possible for him to have been upstairs yet. Did he—

Gale took the cold lemonade from the counter, cupping the chilled glass in his hand before carefully pressing it to the side of Astarion’s face. “There—instant relief,” he hummed, brushing Astarion’s hair back so it wouldn’t stick to the condensation outside the cup.

The shock of the cold cup made Astarion flinch, but Gale’s words and soothing touch washed away the panic. A false alarm.

Everything was fine. Gale was safe and none the wiser. Astarion’s secret was still well hidden. The only thing he needed to worry about right now was how to get this ridiculously sweet man out of his clothes. Gods, the look of him in that tank top, sheened in sweat was driving the elf mad.

Astarion slid his arms around Gale’s neck again to pull him in for a kiss. Squeezing his thighs, Astarion savored the hitch in Gale’s breath. When they parted, the elf tucked loose chestnut strands behind Gale’s ear, revealing a shallow cut along his cheek.

“Now what sort of trouble did you get into, my dear?” Astarion asked with a teasing lilt to his voice, but internally he was cursing himself. 

He should have kept some of that potion rather than recklessly pour it all onto the corpse. Astarion knew the sting of shallow cuts, he hated the thought of Gale feeling that discomfort. Worse, he hated the thought of Gale hiding that discomfort while placing Astarion’s care ahead of his own. The guilt was thickening the air around him, Astarion didn’t deserve someone like Gale.

Gale froze for only a moment as Astarion pointed out the cut. He hadn’t even noticed it until Astarion’s fingers lightly brushed against it, having been so caught up with the fight and worrying over his lover. At least it wasn’t deep enough to arouse too much suspicion.

“Nothing to worry about, dear. Just a particularly vicious corner of a box,” he lied. A poor lie, all things considered. But perhaps he could distract Astarion before he’d think too much about it.

“These darned objects aren’t being very nice to us, are they?” he joked. With a chuckle, he smiled at the elf reassuringly, taking Astarion’s hand in his free one to kiss his palm. 

“It seems they aren’t.” Astarion smirked, eyes softening as he watched Gale. His stomach twisted at the fact that Gale had genuinely been hurt while moving, whereas Astarion’s story was a complete fabrication. Astarion leaned back, grabbing a napkin off the counter and wetting it with the condensation from his own cup.

“Here you are, so concerned about a little bruise, but look at you. Come closer, love. Let me clean this up.” The elf leaned in, cupping Gale’s jaw as he wiped the bit of dried blood from the cut. It was a fairly deep and clean cut for a cardboard box to have made. But that train of thought left him when Gale turned the cup in his own hand to ensure Astarion’s bruise was given a cold surface.

They stood there in a comfortable silence for a moment, each attending to the other’s wound. Astarion felt lost in Gale’s eyes, silent words of affection being passed between them. The elf swallowed heavily, averting his eyes for a moment before looking back. How did Gale do it? Just stay so unbelievably vulnerable and sweet?

No, Astarion knew exactly how, it was because Gale had nothing to hide. 

He wasn’t living a double life. He offered everything up to Astarion with an openness that the elf could never return. If Astarion were a better person he would end this and give Gale the opportunity to find someone who could give him what he deserved, an open, honest love.

But he wasn’t a better person. He was a selfish greedy creature, a monster that didn’t regret his choices despite the clear risk associated with them. There was no letting go of Gale, not after knowing the warm safety of his love. He’d simply have to do everything he could to protect him, no matter the cost.

Astarion twisted the napkin around from the damp edge and began patting Gale’s cheek dry. With a soft smile he added, “We’re quite the mess, aren’t we?”

Gale leaned into Astarion’s gentle touch, his gaze softening as Astarion wiped the blood from his cheek tenderly. Gale felt his heart twist with the guilt that he’d brought this danger so close to the man who cared for him just as much as Gale cared for him. The person he cared for most. Just hours into their new life together, and already Astarion had been hurt, even if it wasn’t involved with Gale’s work. It was as if he brought his bad luck into Astarion’s life.

But even so, Gale knew he didn’t want this to end, not when it’s only just started. He was a cruel, selfish monster, pulling Astarion deeper and deeper into the depths to his own sunken ship. He had to keep hiding everything from Astarion. His work, the blood on his hands, his true self, all of it. He had to keep Astarion away from all the risks and dangers of his world.

“A mess, but I can think of no other I’d rather go through it with,” he murmured. 

Gale’s hand found its way to Astarion’s cheek, mirroring the tender gesture. He brushed his thumb lightly over the bruise beneath the cup, already starting to lose its cool. His heart ached to cast what little healing magic he knew to soothe the wound completely. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t because he was a lying bastard that could never reveal anything.

Astarion gazed back at him, eyes unreadable yet so vulnerable, making Gale’s guilt grow deeper.

“Astarion, I….” He swallowed. What could he say without completely unraveling the whole web of lies and secrets he’d so carefully spun? “I can’t wait to start this new life with you. Together.”

Chapter Text

Present Day

They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

For the first time in years it seemed. It was a bit too warm, a bit uncomfortable. Astarion had trouble finding a good place for his right arm. He managed to snake it under Gale’s pillow, and it quickly went numb. He was too stubborn to move it. This was the closest he’d gotten to Gale in years, and judging by the other man’s broken sobs, it had been long overdue.

Astarion’s trance took hours to set in; it wasn’t a rare occurrence these past few years. He used to drift quickly in Gale’s arms, the warmth and safety of his lover like a sweet lullaby. Part of him thought it might happen that night, finally holding one another again.

But no, holding Gale felt like clutching the arms of someone dangling over the edge of a cliff, tense and terrifying. There was no safety here, it was desperate survival. A modicum of hope that if he could just hold on they might find a way out of this. When Gale finally fell asleep, his soft snores weren’t a lullaby, but rather an audible reminder of the life he was ruining.

Gale blinked himself awake. His eyes felt swollen and sore, heavy from the tears he’d cried before finally falling asleep. He was surprised he was still in Astarion’s arms—if not for the elf not wanting to be this close anymore, it would have been his restless sleep, tossing and turning throughout the night. Astarion must have held him tightly during his rest. Now his arm was wrapped around his waist in a loose embrace, steady breaths warm against the back of Gale’s neck.

It should be comforting.

It felt like a cage.

Gale was the cage. Trapping this sweet, innocent, beautiful dove, never to fly free again. He needed to open the door, but that would only leave Astarion to fend for himself, with the shadows of Gale’s past never letting him go. He knew the dangers Astarion would have to face alone, and the last thing he wanted was to throw him to the wolves. He had too many enemies who knew his weakness, and it was too late to leave Astarion now.

Gale swallowed, the bitterness raw in his throat. He traced his fingers over the back of Astarion’s hand, willing himself to just feel the warmth, the familiarity of his lover beside him. A small part of him feared moving, afraid that if he did, this fragile connection would break. But lying there, pretending he was alright—pretending they were alright—was harder than expected.

Carefully, he slipped out of Astarion’s hold, doing his best not to disturb him. Gale paused for a moment to look back at him, noticing the small crease between the elf’s brows and the way his hand instinctively reached for the warm spot Gale had left. Despite everything, he still felt that swell of affection for Astarion, aching and bittersweet.

He checked the time—it was earlier than when he usually woke up. Quietly, Gale made his way to the kitchen and started to prepare breakfast. Just like they used to, to try and get back together and find each other again, as hard as it might seem.

Once everything was ready, he set the tray, casting a quick Prestidigitation to cool the tea down just right. Balancing the tray carefully, he returned to the bedroom, only to pause in the doorway. Astarion was still asleep, his arm stretched out where Gale had been lying. His expression so calm and serene it almost broke Gale’s heart to look at him. How many mornings had he spent like this, watching Astarion rest, feeling a wave of love and contentment wash over him?

Recently it felt like he was always in a rush to get to work, barely having time to make breakfast for even himself.

Eventually exhaustion had taken Astarion, his own silent tears draining the energy from him. His trance took him to his mission in Waterdeep all those years ago. When he finally ignored his fear of getting closer and surprised the professor, waiting for him in the park. Astarion relived that moment sitting on that bench, scrolling through his phone aimlessly while on edge with excitement and nerves.

Then he heard it, Gale’s warm timbre calling out, “Lost in the big city, are you?” He felt the smile overtaking him, but before he could look up and see the man he loved, not yet ready to admit that it was love even to himself, Astarion’s trance ended.

Astarion woke with an ache in his heart, he wanted to shut his eyes and go back. Back to his lover, back to that warm passion and safety. But it was gone.

As Gale set the tray down at the bedside table, Astarion’s eyelids fluttered open, his brows furrowing. For a moment, his gaze was unfocused, bleary with the remnants of sleep. Then those ruby red eyes met Gale’s, and he spotted the flash of pain that cut through.

“Good morning,” Gale said softly, offering a smile that felt fake. He wanted to reach out, to smooth the lines of pain, but he’d only add more. Even so, he settled beside the elf, leaning down to press a soft kiss on Astarion’s forehead. His lips lingered there for a long moment before he pulled back.

It took a moment for Astarion to register his husband’s greeting. The scent of coffee and bacon hit his senses as he sat up with bleary eyes, crusted from his tearful rest. There Gale was with breakfast on a tray, like he had so many years before. A facsimile of sweet memories that tasted off when remade.

Astarion looked up to see Gale’s smile, his movements were all correct but there was a pained look in his eye, as if just being around the elf was difficult. Gale paused with his lips pressed to Astarion’s forehead and he wondered if his husband was searching for something there, a feeling or spark. Astarion closed his eyes, searching for that feeling, that spark. But there was nothing, only a longing for what once was. Gale must not have found it either because he looked even sadder than before when he pulled back.

“I wish….” Gale trailed off. He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He wished he didn’t have so many secrets. He wished he really was just a humble professor, lecturing and performing magic without any ulterior motive other than to teach and entertain. He wished he could love Astarion like he used to. He wished for so many things, all of which seemed impossible to have.

Astarion tilted his head, trying to decipher what his husband wasn’t saying. Did he wish this felt the way it used to? That they hadn’t let things get this bad? That they could just start over? None of it was possible. There was no going back, no saving Gale from being trapped in a dying marriage. They were here now, Astarion could only hope they could salvage what was left.

Gale cast his eyes downward, focusing on the sheets, unable to meet Astarion’s gaze. “Thank you, love.”

Voice so low he doubted Astarion would have heard him, but filled with as much genuinity as he could muster. Even with all the hurt and hardships plaguing Astarion’s heart, he still held Gale throughout the night, trying his best to comfort Gale, trying to fix a man who couldn’t be fixed. He was just a husk of a man, the lover that he could no longer be for Astarion, as much as he wanted to.

If it weren’t for Astarion’s elven hearing, he might not have heard his husband. Not even looking at him, Gale was focused on the bedding between them. The notion of thanking Astarion, after all the suffering he’d caused the other man, was ridiculous. It cut like a serrated blade, twisting when Gale refused to meet his eyes.

Sitting up, Astarion gently held Gale’s chin, he lifted his face up to gain his attention. The warm bloom he used to find from such touch felt muted.

“I should be thanking you. Not just for this,” Astarion motioned to the tray, “but for everything. I’m not—”

Gods, this was difficult. He wanted to break the tension with humor, with a flirtation, anything. But Gale needed something real. He deserved something real.

Astarion placed his hand on Gale’s knee and squeezed. “I’m not very good at this. I promise, I’m trying to do better. You were right to insist on therapy. We need it—no. I need it. Gods, Gale I… I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be,” Gale said softly. “You’re already doing better—better than I, I know this. We… we both needed it.”

Gale stared down at Astarion’s left hand as he squeezed his knee, his own hand settling over it and running a thumb over the elf’s knuckles.

One of theirs was bare.

A sharp twist in his gut.

He took a shuddering breath, forcing himself to continue. “I thought therapy would help us find our way back to each other. I don’t… I don’t know if it’s working, but…. We’re at least more aware of the problem now. We’re talking about it. We….”

There was nothing he could do about the problem. There was nothing he could say to progress this… this healing process. Like a lost limb, it couldn’t be reformed. Only phantom pain remained, haunting them both as they suffered the loss of what once was.

“I want….”

Yet again he couldn’t finish the sentence. He wanted so much. He wanted to protect Astarion from all the pain he was feeling. Wanted to protect him from Gale. He was the danger here, he was the one hurting Astarion. He needed to get far and away from his lover to avoid hurting him more. He needed to be closer to him to feel again, to protect him.

A shaky exhale. He looked away, squeezing Astarion’s hand for a brief moment before getting up and heading over to the closet. “I…. I should go get ready for work.”

Gale turned away before Astarion could say anything, something about it felt final, dismissive. Staying in the room was too difficult, Astarion felt the walls closing in on him. The smell of coffee and breakfast making his stomach turn. A hopeless effort to spark something that had long since cooled. He could feel himself starting to unravel at the seams. Out, Out, he needed to get out now.

Astarion mumbled something about taking a shower, making his way as casually to the bathroom as he could despite how badly his mind screamed for him to run. His hands shook as he turned the doorknob, closing the door behind himself.

His hands didn’t feel like his own as he turned on the shower, as he undressed and stood under the cold water. Astarion felt the mist forming in his eyes as he numbly scrubbed himself, but there was no ridding himself of the poison coating his skin. This wasn’t a dagger he could wipe clean, this was part of him.

Gale’s words played on repeat in the elf’s mind, a broken record of broken dreams. At the edge of a cliff, clinging to the rock. He couldn’t let himself lose his grip now. He needed to go to the office. He needed to get ready for recon this afternoon. He needed to show Gale they could get through this.

I thought therapy would help.

It was too much. The hopeless look in Gale’s eyes, the shake in his voice, the image of him turning away to get ready. His legs felt too weak to hold him, he sank to the shower floor. Astarion brought his knees up to his chest, hands threading through his curls and pulling. Any kind of pain to distract from the one in his chest. A hot tear spilled over his cheek and Astarion shook his head as if he could will it to stop.

I don’t know if it’s working.

Face twisting in agony, Astarion pressed his forehead to his knees and let himself fall. His breath shook, soft whimpers as his lip quivered and the pain in his chest cracked open. There was no time for this. He needed to get ready. Gale could walk in at any moment.

I should go.

Astarion’s arm muffled his sobs, he couldn’t let his husband hear this pathetic display. The sound of shuffling outside the door stopped Astarion in his place. The last thing he wanted was to burden Gale further with this. He’d done enough to ruin that man’s life, he could at least try not to make his day any worse.

Astarion finished his showering routine, sealing himself back up with each passing minute. Gale wasn’t in the bedroom when he walked out to get dressed. The room was empty, quiet, hollow.

The morning routine was a blur as Gale tried not to cry again. Perhaps it was his eyes that were blurry with held back tears. He cursed himself, rubbing his eyes furiously as if that might make the pain disappear.

Weak, he was weak. Too weak to protect Astarion, too weak to help them both, too weak to keep this marriage going.

Adjust his tie. Fold the collars down. Pull on his jacket. Tie his hair back.

He was at the door before he knew it, and only then realized he hadn’t eaten. He’d been so focused on Astarion that he’d forgotten to eat something himself. He also hadn’t washed up; the elf had been in the shower for a while.

He also hadn’t said goodbye to Astarion.

He hadn’t said goodbye to him in a while. Their mornings were often out of sync, one heading off already before the other was finished in the bathroom, or still asleep.

Goodbyes also felt final now.

He stood at the door for a moment before turning back to the bedroom. Astarion had just come out in a bathrobe, back facing him as he sorted through the closet, hair wet and dripping onto the floor. Another time Gale would have said something about it, but he couldn’t find it in himself to comment on it.

Gale quietly made his way in the bathroom, still trying to clear his mind to avoid breaking down again. Not when Astarion was right there; he couldn’t burden the elf with more of his own problems.

As he brushed his teeth, he spotted Astarion’s ring on the counter. More polished than Gale’s own, which he wore every day, never taking it off.

He rinsed his mouth, gaze still lingering on the item. Thinking back on the proposal. Thinking back on their wedding day. Sliding the ring on Astarion’s finger, promising a life that wasn’t this.

He considered taking it to Astarion. The elf was always forgetting it, it seemed.

Did it really not mean as much to Astarion if he was forgetting so often?

Maybe he wasn’t forgetting.

Maybe it was him trying to distance himself from Gale.

Maybe he didn’t want—

Gale grabbed the ring, clutching it tightly in his hand.

“Dove?” he called softly, the pet name feeling foreign on his lips. “You forgot your wedding ring.”

It wasn’t accusatory. At least, he hoped it wasn’t. He just… he just wanted Astarion to feel connected again. A part of the other, as connected as their last name.

Astarion started to apologize as he turned around, his shirt still half unbuttoned, when he made eye contact with Gale and froze. The look on Gale's face as his expression morphed from tentative to concerned threatened to undo all of Astarion's hard work. It had taken so much to close himself back up, to cool himself into ice during the rest of that shower. Clearly he'd done a poor job, that ice was only a thin layer, cracking the moment Gale looked at him.

Oh gods, his ring. His fucking ring.

The hatred for himself was white hot and never ending. Of all the times to forget his ring.

Gale deserved so much more. He needed a husband who was sweet and caring, not the guarded closed off feral beast that lived under Astarion's skin. At the very least, he deserved someone who remembered to wear the symbol of their love and devotion. How could Astarion forget it? He'd noticed the absence last night, had told himself he would put it on the moment he woke up. It slipped his mind again, as it had so many days before.

Astarion remembered how naked his hand used to feel when removing it before work. It felt wrong the first few months, like he was escaping off into the night for some illicit affair. The reality was having to stay the alluring fuckable mark Cazador wanted him to be. The first time he forgot to remove his wedding ring before a mission had been a disaster. His mark had fixated on it and despite Astarion's ability to get things back on track, Cazador's wrath had been at its worst afterward.

Gale paused in the doorway as Astarion turned to look at him. There were harsh red marks on Astarion’s skin, likely from scrubbing himself too hard. Eyes puffy and red, almost hiding the ruby irises.

“My love,” Gale murmured, feet shuffling quickly over to the elf to hold him in his arms. To comfort him as best he could. But there was nothing he could say to make this better, was there?

They both felt the broken connection between them, the bond that couldn’t be forged back together.

Clinging tightly around Gale's waist, far too tightly, Astarion took in a deep breath. The last thing he needed to be doing was making himself the victim here. He did this to them, the least he could do was take accountability. At least as much as he could through his carefully built lies.

The elf pulled back, looking to where Gale held the ring. "I've been so forgetful about it. With work and everything else on my mind. Thank you for getting it, love."

Gale looked down at the ring in his hand, feeling the weight of its meaning. It was more than just metal; it was a vow, a tether to the life they’d dreamed of together, promised each other.

His gaze flicked up, examining Astarion’s face, wishing he could soothe those harsh lines that held so much pain. The elf’s shoulders were tense, voice so fragile it could break with the shortest drop. Gale swallowed, grip tightening around the small band in his hand. A question nagged at him.

Brown eyes met scarlet. Searching, hesitating. He knew it might hurt to ask. But he needed to know, needed to understand. Gaze flicking down to the elf’s slender fingers, tenderly taking his left hand to slip the ring onto the bare finger where it belonged. His own hands shook as he did. This reminded him too much of the day he slid it onto Astarion’s hand for the first time.

“Astarion,” he started, voice barely above a whisper. “Why… why do you take the ring off so often?” He tried to force a smile, tried to keep his tone light. “I mean, I know it’s just a ring, but….”

He trailed off, smile dropping as quickly as it appeared. It meant so much to him. To them. Once.

Chapter Text

January 4, 1999  Five (or Six) Years Earlier

It had only been a few months of living together and Astarion was sure that he was certifiably insane. A ring. He’d bought a fucking ring. They hadn’t even known each other for a year and Astarion found himself daydreaming ceremonies while filling out paperwork at the office. 

If Gale was magically inclined, Astarion would think he was being charmed, but no. Gale was able to send him head over heels just by being himself. If only Astarion could say the same.

This was insane, truly insane. Which is why Astarion had held onto the ring for weeks, keeping it tucked in an inner pocket anytime he was around Gale. It was too soon… right? Then again, everything they’d done had been quick. It never felt rushed, it felt right. Well, as long as he ignored the guilt of hiding his profession.

Astarion swatted the guilt away like an errant fly in his face. Right now his focus was on getting to Waterdeep as soon as possible. He was running late from work, speed walking through the portal system to get to the Waterdeep entrance. Gods, the line was always terrible after work.

Gale soothed down his jacket nervously, taking another look at himself in the mirror before heading out. This was going to be the day.

This was going to be a mistake.

This was going to be perfect.

He’d been planning this out for weeks. Which, given that he and Astarion had only known each other for a couple months, was not a very long time.

Gale had spoken to his mother about it, this reckless decision of his. Even with all the concern and warnings from her and Tara, Gale needed to do this.

He loved Astarion too much. He wanted more with him. He took out the box that held the ring, staring at it tentatively. The ring he’d bought on a whim, just in case there was ever an occasion when he could—

Chain Astarion to his life. Put a target on his back.

—promise his life to Astarion. Devote himself to him. Start a new life with each other.

He mentally waved the guilt surrounding the other thought; it was not the day for this. They’d made it this far, and Gale had protected Astarion for this long.

Gale took a deep breath, pocketing the box again. He adjusted his glasses, feeling the See Invisibility enchantment beneath his fingertips. He could never be too safe. One final look over himself, and he headed towards the portal systems to meet Astarion. The lawyer should be done with work by now, and Gale wanted to surprise him with a special date in Waterdeep. 

He saw Astarion running out from the Baldur’s Gate portal just as he got there, and a wide smile spread across his face. 

“Gale? Darling, what are you doing here? I’m not running that behind schedule,” Astarion teased as he pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss before leaning back to overtly eye him from head to toe. “Sweetheart, you look positively stunning.”

He wore a slim-fitted jewel-toned suit, a gorgeous teal the color of peacock feathers, with a solid black, high-collar undershirt. His chestnut waves were in their usual half-bun with his brow-lined framed glasses. 

Astarion felt underdressed in his white button up with camel-toned slacks. The fabric was loose, cinched at the waist with a simple brown belt. Over his shoulders was a matching long coat. It wasn’t a terrible outfit by any means, but nothing felt comparable to the vision Gale was.

“I thought I’d surprise you here, my love,” Gale said, beaming at the elf. Gale smiled widely into the kiss, heart pounding fast even though they weren’t even at the restaurant yet. “I wanted to escort you to our date for this evening.” He clasped his hand with Astarion’s, hoping his palms weren’t too sweaty. “I found the perfect place in Castle Ward, one we’ve talked about before.”

The Asp’s Strike would be the perfect place to set the mood. Then a walk in the park in the setting sun, all romantic and beautiful, where he could tell Astarion just how much he wanted him. To seal their life together.

Perfectly planned.

“Oh my love,” Astarion smiled widely, taking Gale’s hand and kissing it. “How could I say no?”

Upon their arrival, Astarion found that The Asp’s Strike was a beautiful fine dining restaurant with low lighting and minimalistic modern decor. The walls were a dark blue with a large wall of windows that showed off a lovely view of the city. It was breathtaking. And so was Gale under the warm glow of the candle between them as they ate their dinner and talked about their days.

The ambiance, the food, the conversation, it all helped Gale calm his nerves as he prepared himself for something bigger. While he listened to Astarion recount the events of his day, he found himself lost in those carnelian eyes, those pale, slender fingers as the elf gestured them in the air.

He couldn’t wait to put a ring on one of them, if Astarion would let him.

Astarion was getting very practiced at being able to share without giving away the true nature of his work. A difficult mission became a difficult case. A deadly target became an infuriating client. It almost didn’t feel like lying. This was working, he could do this.

This evening felt like the perfect time to propose. Then again, the restaurant was rather crowded. He couldn’t ignore the itching fear that someone might recognize him. That it might get back to Cazador somehow. 

His boss had no idea Astarion was in a serious relationship; the elf shuddered to think how Cazador's treatment might change if he were to know. That elf had never stopped giving Leon difficulty for attempting a family life in their line of work. He wanted everyone committed to the agency with nothing else pulling their focus.

So Astarion kept the box in his pocket. He stayed adrift in Gale’s eyes, in his smile and his laugh. Gods, he was truly lost for the brunet. 

Gale recited his own workday with ease. The work he assigned his students—the mission he’d been assigned—had been easy this time, and they—he—were able to get it done early. Some of his students—colleagues—had stayed later to ask him questions, but it didn’t take too long. With his work wrapped up early, it gave him the entire afternoon to plan this.

After eating their meal, they shared a dance to the live piano music being played. It was a magical evening. Soon after they stepped outside of the restaurant, Gale buttoning his suit jacket and Astarion leaning closer to the man for warmth.

“That was such a wonderful surprise, darling.” Astarion cooed, placing a kiss on the corner of Gale’s mouth, “Now you must let me match it with my own.”

Gale took Astarion’s hand in his, putting them in his own pocket to keep them warm. The ring box in his other pocket suddenly felt very heavy as the moment drew closer.

“Oh?” Gale hummed, sneaking a fuller kiss on Astarion’s lips playfully. “What did you have in mind?”

Astarion merely winked, and Gale let him lead him to Fetlock Court; it was the way he was going anyway. The park was fairly simple, green fauna with a paved stage in the center for performing artists. Tonight there were no shows, and this late in the hour there were little to no other people around. Off in the corner was a more secluded area that Astarion remembered seeing on one of their afternoon dates. It consisted of a beautiful fountain and a large trellis with thick ivy growing over it. In the skyline one could see The Griffon, one of the massive walking statues of Waterdeep. It was fairly quiet, only the sounds of the city from behind them and the roar of the coast in front.

Astarion continued walking until they were under the trellis before turning back to Gale. 

The elf’s smile was bright as he looked at Gale, washing away any doubts he had. This was it. He was going to do it.

He looked perfect here, eyes wide as he took in the manicured fauna and large fountain on the other side of the archway. Gale was lost in the environment, the awe in his face cracked the last of Astarion’s resolve. This was the perfect place, it was now. He needed to do this now.

“Gale.” He dropped to his knee as he pulled the small black box from his pocket, ready to present the gold band with its inlaid purple amethyst for Gale to see.

Before Gale could say anything, Astarion dropped down. He realized what the elf was doing before he even took out the black box.

“Astarion—” he started, breath catching. No, no, this wasn’t what was planned. He dropped to his knee with him, heart pounding as a whirl of disbelief and overwhelming joy overtook him. “Astarion, I—”

He took out his own box, opening it with a shaky hand to reveal the gold band with an inlaid red garnet before Astarion could present his. The glimmer of the ring caught the low light, shining brightly in the night. Gale let out a breathy laugh, trying to will away the moisture in his eyes. 

“I… you… I had the same idea, love,” he breathed. “I… I know this is fast, but….” Now he knew Astarion wanted this just as much as well. Gods, this recited speech of his was all forgotten now from the unexpected surprise. “I…. Fuck, sorry, you just—you take all the words away from me.”

He met Astarion’s eyes, whispered warnings still echoing in his head, reminders of how dangerous this was, how risky it would make things, but he didn’t care at all right now.

This moment was all Astarion and how much Gale loved him. Wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.

“You’ve taken all the words away from me, just like you’ve taken my heart. You’ve been more than I have ever dared to hope for. Astarion Ancunín, will you marry me?”

Astarion couldn’t help the laugh bubbling out of him as tears formed in his eyes. “Godsdamnit Gale. You can’t be serious.”  He stifled a half-laugh half-sob pulling Gale into an embrace, almost knocking them over in the process with his own ring box still clutched in his hand. “Yes, yes of course!”

Astarion's laughter was magical as he accepted Gale's proposal. Gale could feel the emotions well up in his throat as he wrapped his arms tightly around Astarion, feeling the warmth and weight of the moment settle around them.

"Astarion, gods Astarion, I can't believe we both..." He laughed, pulling the elf in for a kiss. "I can't believe this. I can't believe...."

Astarion would be his. He'd be Astarion's.

He took his... fiancé's hand in his, beaming at him with bleary eyes as he slowly slipped the ring on Astarion's finger. "I love you so much, Astarion."

Astarion felt his heart stutter as the cold metal slid onto his finger. He opened his own ring box, plucking the gold band from it and dropping the box without a care. His hands shook as he delicately held Gale’s left hand, his own ring glinting in the light as he coaxed it onto Gale’s finger.

Looking from the ring to Gale’s face and back again, Astarion felt the warmth of happy tears sliding down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop laughing, he knew that he probably looked like a lunatic, but he couldn’t help it. Astarion caressed Gale’s cheek, his ring feeling so foreign yet so perfect. It looked right on his hand as he held Gale’s face.

“I love you too, so much. I can’t wait to make you Mr. Ancunín-Dekarios.”

March 7, 1999   A Few Months Later

The venue was perfect. The day was perfect. Gale’s suit was perfect—he hoped.

He adjusted the collar of his suit jacket, hands smoothing over the fabric for perhaps the hundredth time. He was more nervous for this than anything else in his life before, more nervous than any mission he’d been assigned, whether or not it was life or death.

This was surreal.

A light knock on the door snapped Gale from his thoughts. “Come in,” he called softly, silently cursing the nervous edge in his voice. His mother stepped in, beaming at him as she looked him over.

“Just checking up on you, dear. You look so handsome,” she hummed, approaching him to adjust the boutonnière on his suit. “Are you ready, Gale?”

Gale chuckled, taking his mother’s hand in his, hoping it would calm his nerves. “Thank you, mother. I’m… ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Morena nodded, but Gale could tell there was something more she wanted to say.

“Mother, please,” he murmured. “Not this again.”

“Gale, I truly think he deserves to know about everything. Your work. You’ll be joining your life with his, you must think about this carefully.”

Gale’s hands tightened around Morena’s, lips thinning into a line. His mother was right, and wrong. He himself had thought of it many times already, to tell Astarion of… everything. The blood on his hands, the shadows around him, the danger that followed wherever he went.

But no, he couldn’t. It was too far into this relationship, and Astarion didn’t need to be burdened with Gale’s problems. Gale could handle things himself. Including this secret.

“I know what I’m doing, mother,” he said simply, giving her a reassuring smile. “If anything happens to him because of what he knows, I could never forgive myself for it. I… I just want this day to be about us, and our future together. Not about this secret I’ve been keeping from him. Please.”

Morena sighed, searching his face for any doubts. “Alright. But at least promise me you’ll think about it. Secrets like these, Gale, they have a way of making themselves known in rather unexpected and inconvenient ways. It’s best you choose when.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Morena nodded, giving one last reassuring squeeze before stepping back, a supportive smile on her face. “Then go get him. Today is your day, dear.”

Astarion pulled his bowtie apart for the fifth time with an exasperated sigh. His curls were finally perfected, every other part of his outfit was done up to the nines. But the damned bowtie was crooked no matter how he did it. Fuck.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Yes?” Astarion asked more sharply than intended, feeling even more regret for his tone when sweet little miss Morena poked her head in the room.

“Feeling nervous, dear?” she asked as she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. Astarion shook his head, focusing on his reflection wishing he could glare the damned tie into submission. Morena clicked her tongue, tugging on Astarion’s shoulder to urge him to turn around. “Now come here, I’ll take care of it.”

There was a bit of an awkward silence between them, maybe more for Astarion than Morena as she hummed to herself fixing his bowtie. Once finished, she turned him back around and observed him in the full length mirror with a soft smile, her head tilted to rest against Astarion’s arm. It was… sweet… motherly. It felt altogether foreign, but nice.

“Your parents told me how proud they are; such a lovely couple.” Morena said, still watching Astarion in the mirror, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Yes, they are,” he agreed with a tight smile.

They weren’t his parents at all. They were hired actors. Astarion had almost forgotten that he’d never told Gale about being an orphan until his fiancé asked how his parents had reacted to the engagement. Then it all came back to him; early on in their relationship he’d kept with his usual cover: an only child with an upper-middle class background. It was far too late to correct that. If Gale learned about that lie, would he go searching for more? No, it was safer to stick with his story. So here Astarion was at his small, intimate wedding ceremony with his ‘parents’ as his guests and Gale’s mother as his.

Morena’s voice pulled Astarion from his thoughts. “You’re really good for him, you know.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Astarion offers politely, fixing a stray curl.

“No, I mean it. He was miserable with that vile woman. I celebrated the day they divorced.”

Wait, what the fuck?

“Oh, look at the time. I better get seated before the ceremony starts. Good luck, dear!” Morena gave Astarion a kiss on the cheek, running off without any notice to the shock on the elf’s face.

Divorced?

Wait.

What. The. Fuck.

Gale paced in the room, nerves coming back as quickly as they’d disappeared with the brief reprieve from his mother. He tried to focus on the ceremony ahead; he was ready, he could do this. He’d done this before, although he wished he hadn’t. Regardless, he was more ready and eager for this than he’d ever been for anything in his life.

He crossed the room, wanting to check outside to see if everything was set up properly. They’d spent a lot of money for the venue; it had to be perfect. He caught sight of Astarion’s parents talking near the doorway. John and Jane Ancunín, they had introduced themselves as. They were rather pleasant, from the brief conversation Gale had with them earlier. He was grateful that Astarion had some family support on this big day.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ancunín,” he greeted with a warm smile as he approached. Nerves came back, trying to make a good impression with his soon-to-be in-laws. “I’m honored you could both be here to celebrate with us.”

“Oh, of course, Gale!” Jane replied. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world. This is our son’s special day.”

John nodded beside her, adjusting his coat. “It’s so lovely to see Astarion finally settling down, too.”

Gale chuckled nervously. “I was thinking this wouldn’t be enough, honestly. It feels… small, too private. Astarion deserves something bigger, more special.”

But the privacy was important. If too many people knew about this, who knew how fast the word would spread to… undesirable people that Gale Dekarios had someone who meant the world to him. Too many targets would be put on him if enemies got ahold of this information.

“I think this is perfect,” John reassured. “Astarion would think so too. His siblings would have come as well, but Astarion insisted this be a small celebration.”

Siblings?

Jane chuckled, turning to her husband. “Angelina would be utterly disappointed to have missed out on this occasion.”

“I think Brad was rather pleased to not have to attend.”

The two continued to talk about Astarion’s siblings. Gale nodded, confused and trying his best to follow along. His fiancé specifically told him he was an only child; now his parents were saying he had siblings? Rather close as well, according to them.

Then they started mentioning how much fun their children had growing up in Amn. Was…. Did Astarion lie about his entire childhood?

The ceremony took place in their backyard at sunset, something small and intimate with only their parents (well, Gale’s mother and a pair of actors) as witnesses. They rented a simple archway with cream-colored chiffon draped over it, a bouquet of red dahlias and lavender with eucalyptus and baby's breath bunched on one corner. 

When Gale had suggested something small and intimate, Astarion did everything he could to not jump on it, feigning a slight interest in doing something grand.

But something private and understated was perfect. It was bad enough getting the third degree from Aurelia when she noticed the engagement ring. Astarion had been careful to keep his hand out of sight when around Cazador, either in his jacket pocket or behind his back. The vile man would notice eventually, but Astarion would rather avoid that for as long as possible.

Gale waited at the altar with his mother, who went through the trouble of getting ordained in order to officiate the wedding. All the little inconsistencies and oddities from his conversation with Astarion’s parents hung at the back of Gale’s mind as the moment approached. The doubts soon dissipated when his fiancé—his soon-to-be-husband—approached the altar. Astarion’s mother walked him down the aisle, giving him a kiss on the cheek and Gale a pat on the shoulder before taking her seat. The only other witnesses were a videographer and photographer at Morena’s insistence.

Gods, Astarion looked radiant in the setting sun, almost as if he was the sun, melting away all of Gale’s nerves in his warmth. The lanterns overhead cast a soft glow over Astarion’s features, illuminating the glimmer of tears in his eyes when they recited their vows.

Standing patiently, Astarion’s fiancé was gorgeous in a matching black tux with a red dahlia boutonniere to compliment his own lavender one. Gale adjusted his glasses as Astarion walked to the altar, his eyes already misting behind the lenses before they’d even begun.

Standing in front of Gale, Astarion’s heart felt ten times too big for his chest and a hundred times too heavy. There hadn’t been a moment to ask about this mystery ex-wife, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask right now. He tried not to let it taint the ceremony, assuring himself that Gale would never hold something important back. He was sweet and honest to a fault.

There must be a reason for it. Perhaps it had been a drunken mistake, something they annulled shortly after. Astarion could see not bothering to mention it then. Whatever it was, Astarion was able to forget all about it when Gale recited his vows. His voice shook through his own vows, treacherous tears smearing the bit of eyeliner that he’d smudged onto his lash line.

Everything moved in slow motion, yet before he knew it they were standing in the grass under the massive oak tree in their backyard, lanterns hung from the branches to light the area now that night had fallen. Gale hit play on a stereo, and soft piano drifted through the air as crickets chirped in the background.

Gale extended a hand for Astarion, guiding him to the oak tree. “May I have this dance, my husband?”

He savored the word as it slipped off his tongue, bringing tears to his eyes again. Astarion was his husband. His husband!

The night grew darker as clouds gathered overhead. Gale felt drops of rain against his skin despite the canopy overhead, but neither seemed to mind. It was a perfect mirror of their first dance together.

They were completely lost in each other. Despite that, his mind briefly wandered to what Astarion’s parents had said about supposed siblings. It seemed impossible to bring it up now in such a moment of bliss.

Yet, he was too curious. By the end of the dance, when they were more swaying than following the rhythm and movements of the dance, he kissed Astarion softly, savoring the moment. He wouldn’t ever get enough of him.

“I thought you were an only child,” Gale murmured with a smile, keeping his voice light and casual. “Your parents mentioned siblings? We could have invited them.”

It took everything for Astarion to not come to a stop right then. Gale said it so casually, but the look in his eyes bred nervousness. His back tensed under Astarion’s hand, his steps slightly off rhythm. He was suspicious.

“Siblings? They might have meant some neighbors we had. I was very close with them growing up, like siblings others would say. I haven’t spoken to them in years though.” Astarion gave a soft shrug, starting to lead the steps in their dance, to get them moving, rather than the slow shuffle they’d found themselves in.

Lying so blatantly to Gale felt like running solo on a mission that clearly required a team. He was ill equipped, underprepared and obviously unfit for the task. There was no one to call for backup, no one to guide him on escape routes. He just had to wing it and hope he survived.

Astarion’s shoes squished in the wet ground as they moved, the rain slowly beginning to increase in intensity. Some of the lanterns hanging from the tree branch flickered, the rain beginning to extinguish a few.

Gale blinked, the doubts starting to creep in again. Astarion’s parents had definitely said siblings. Brothers, sisters. Even said they grew up together. Either Astarion was bluntly lying to Gale, or there was some massive miscommunication between him and his parents.

“They… mentioned you growing up in Amn with them,” Gale said slowly. “Kept in touch with them, too.”

He should stop pressing. Clearly Astarion would have his reasons for lying to him.

Amn? What the fuck were these idiots saying to Gale when Astarion wasn't around? He'd given them a clear cut backstory, something simple. Astarion should have known they were shit when Yousen recommended them.

"I mean, we visited Amn a lot, they'd be brought along. You know how it is, bring the child a friend to entertain them." Astarion gave a soft laugh, turning them under the tree as another two lights flickered out. "Was it my father that said this? His memory has been fading the past few years."

The rain started drizzling down harder.

"Both of them said the same thing," Gale insisted. He should stop.

He had secrets himself, much worse than a simple childhood life story. They had just gotten married, they were bound together forever.

"They seemed rather sure of themselves. Especially when mentioning the parties you went to with them at the university in Amn. And the parties hosted for your birthday in the summer."

Astarion never went to parties. Astarion practiced law in Baldur's Gate. Astarion's birthday was in the winter.

So many things were wrong.

“I…” Astarion started, unsure of where the sentence ended. If this were a mission, the target wouldn’t care about his backstory this much. But this wasn’t a mission. And this wasn’t a target. This was Gale.

Their dancing came to a stop, the last of the lanterns flickering out under the rain. Their guests were already inside, having laughed and commented about the happy newlyweds getting carried away in the rain as they left. The music distorted before coming to a halt, unable to withstand exposure to the coming storm.

Astarion let go of Gale, stepping back with his hands around his chest to protect from the chill of the wind. If only his heart were still covered in that protective layer of ice, so thick that the thought of losing Gale couldn’t hurt him. “I don’t. I don’t know, Gale. Do we have to talk about this right now?"

Gale instinctively followed after him. Hands outstretched to the elf, hesitating for only a moment before going forward to hold him in his arms. Both to comfort and warm.

The elf couldn’t possibly have a worse secret than Gale did. Who was he to push so far, so hard?

“Alright,” he said softly, rubbing a soothing hand on Astarion’s back. Astarion had his reasons for lying, as did Gale with his own lies. “It’s alright, my love. You don’t have to tell me anything right now.”

But hopefully, soon.

Astarion almost wished that Gale had been angrier, more insistent, rather than the kindness and understanding he was showing. Even willing to wait to discuss the subject further to keep from ruining their first night has a married couple. Gods, it wasn’t right, letting Gale be chained to a deceitful snake like Astarion.

He didn’t deserve fake in-laws and a fake backstory.

He deserved something real.

“They aren’t my parents.”

A pause. "What... what do you mean?"

"They're actors... I hired them to come here."

"Why?"

"Because..."

Because I’m a spy. I work for a terrible agency with even worse enemies. Because I—

This was it.

It was over.

He just needed to tell him.

“Because I always tell people,” targets, “that I have parents. I don’t, though. I grew up in an orphanage.”

Gale’s arms loosened around Astarion as the words sank in. He paused, rain showering down on them as he tried to process the elf’s words.

The man he had just married was confessing that the family Gale thought he knew, had tried so hard to impress, was fake. And Astarion was….

He was alone. He’d been alone for so long.

And he didn’t want Gale to know that.

“Why?” Gale repeated.

“I’ve never had a relationship quite like this before, something so serious and committed. With everyone else, it was easier to just say what they expected to hear.”

He opened his mouth to say more. To just tell Gale everything. He deserved it.

But he couldn’t.

Lying about parents was one thing, but that… there was no way they would come back from that.

“I should have told you the truth. As time went on it just felt impossible to. I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry, Gale.”

Gale’s heart twisted at Astarion’s voice, guilt washing heavily over him just like the cold rain. Gale lifted a trembling hand to Astarion’s face, brushing a few damp curls from his cheek.

He would have found the irony of this situation funny if it weren’t for how dark and serious it was. The things Gale had lied about, the life he hid from Astarion. The missions, the lies, the blood on his hands. If Astarion’s lie made him feel so guilty and hurt, what would Gale’s do?

No, Gale could never reveal his past to Astarion. Never.

“Astarion, love,” he said gently. “It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend with me. I’m just…. I wish I could have been there for you.”

Astarion pulled Gale into a tight hug, burying his face in his fiance—no, his husband’s—neck. It felt so wrong to accept the comfort that Gale gave so freely, but Astarion was a selfish man. He devoured that comfort with greed, holding him in the pouring rain as thunder began to rumble.

He should bring Gale inside, get them both dried off and into a new set of clothes. Say goodbye to their guests and spend their first night as husbands together before the flight to Amn tomorrow, to their honeymoon. 

Now that things were settled, he should let that nagging question go. The one that’d been playing in the back of his mind since Morena visited him in the guestroom before the ceremony.

Yet he had never been good at choosing the things he should do. Often he followed his greed, his desire, his fear. Tonight was no exception.

“Gale…” Astarion began as he listed his head from Gale’s neck, “your mother said you have an ex-wife?”

Oh.

Of all the things his mother could have said to Astarion.

Lightning flashed across the sky, and Gale felt as if it had struck him directly.

“That…. I…. Yes, I was married before,” he admitted quietly. “It was years ago. Years before we even met. And it was complicated, to say the least.  We weren’t even technically married. That’s just how my mother puts it, with how…. Unreasonably obsessed with her I was.”

Gale swallowed, feeling a slight tingling in his left ear from the memory. He took Astarion’s hand gently. “It wasn’t anything like what we have. What we have is entirely different, Astarion.” Another pause, taking a deep breath as he met Astarion’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I suppose I just… I wanted to leave that part of my past behind.”

There’s so much unsaid, so much that doesn’t make sense without more information. But to ask more feels wrong. Astarion had kept so much, is it fair to interrogate Gale over something he was clearly struggling to reveal?

“I understand, love. I trust you,” Astarion added before pressing a kiss to Gale’s hand, right over the ring he’d placed on the other man less than an hour before. “You don’t need to keep things like that from me.” Like acid on his tongue the moment he says it. He’s nothing but a hypocritical monster in a soaked tux with white curls and red eyes.

The ring felt like a cuff.

Astarion kissed over it as if snapping it shut, with the key swallowed down along with the poisonous lies that Gale was keeping from Astarion.

Astarion trusted him. So much so that he married him not even an hour ago. Gale would do anything to not betray that trust and hurt his love.

“I know. I know.” He gave his husband a soft smile, another reassuring squeeze of his hand. He paused, bringing Astarion’s hand up to kiss over the knuckles in reassurance and appreciation for not prying. “Look at us, learning so much about each other on our first day of marriage already.” He tried to keep the words lighthearted, cheery, to bring the mood back. “I’ll be more honest with you about these sorts of things if you will. No more secrets like this."

Like this . His past life and marriage was certainly not in the same vein as a secret that involved murder and blackmail and the like.

“Of course, honesty is so important for a healthy marriage.” Astarion squeezed Gale’s hands looking into those loving eyes, more black than brown in the darkness around them. Acid thick on his tongue as he whispered, “No more secrets, I promise.”

"Promise."

Chapter Text

Present Day

Why do you take it off so often?

Gale’s question echoed through the room. There was no answer that could end well for them.

Astarion looked down at the ring in Gale’s hand as he held it up, the inner engraving glinting in the light. The name Dekarios glided against his knuckles until the ring was fully seated on his finger. The cold metal felt intrusive, wrong. Astarion wasn’t deserving of a ring bearing Gale’s name and Gale didn’t deserve to be cursed with a ring tying him to the name Ancunín.

“Well, it was on the bathroom counter, love.” How hollow that endearment sounded, pouring from his lips like cigarette smoke to choke the air between them. “I take it off when I wash my face at night. Lately, I keep forgetting to put it back on, work has just been so exhausting. My mind isn’t quite here most of the time it seems.”

It was difficult to look at Gale as he said it. Astarion kept averting his eyes to their interlocked palms. The sad warmth in his husband’s large brown eyes were more akin to a recently extinguished fire than the crackling flame Astarion remembered. Gale held tightly to his left hand, thumb tracing over the metal band as if reassuring himself that it was still there.

The answer sounded as true as Gale’s own backstory.

The words as Astarion spoke them sounded just like how he told Gale about his parents. About his childhood.

What else was a lie?

“Oh,” Gale murmured simply. “Yes, that makes sense.”

A hypocrite. A damned hypocrite was what he was.

He sat there, Astarion’s hand in his. Astarion leaned in to kiss him, but that felt as false as everything else.

The promise they made to each other hung above them, like a dozen arrows frozen in time. If only Gale could shield Astarion from them, take all the pain and suffering from this marriage built on lies away. He should run away.

He brought Astarion’s hand up, planting a soft kiss over the ring before letting go.

“I trust you.”

Astarion traced Gale’s jaw with his free hand, “I’ll be more mindful of it. It’s important and I’m sorry for making it seem like I didn’t care about it.”

He kissed Gale again softly before pulling away. The ghost of Gale’s lips followed him all the way to the car. It used to bring him warmth, a blooming field of orchids. But over the years, Astarion has grown far too cold to feel it anymore. He pressed his hand to the thick layer of ice that separates them, but there was no getting through it.

Gale sat in his own car minutes later, watching Astarion’s car leave before him, going the opposite way Gale would. It was how things should be, shouldn’t it?

He looked down at the ring on his own hand. A pause.

He twisted it around his finger, loosening it.

There was a faint red mark from how long it'd been there. Like a tight cuff holding him captive in this broken marriage. Chained to the partner he couldn't pull closer.

He examined the name engraved into it.

Ancunín.

Another pause, staring at the letters. The ring at the tip of his finger, barely held on. He slipped the ring back on fully.

He couldn’t let go.

In the parking garage to the portal station, Astarion sat in his car looking at the ring around his finger. He swore he could feel the letters pressed into his skin.

Dekarios.

Astarion slipped the ring off and placed it in the glove compartment.

Chapter Text

Present                (two months later)

Astarion woke up around four-thirty from his trance. Gale’s arm was loosely over his waist, his breath puffing against the back of Astarion’s neck as he softly snored. Carefully, Astarion turned over to face him, freezing when Gale briefly stirred before resuming his sleep.

He looked so peaceful like this, lashes fanned out on his cheeks, his mouth slack with the slightest hint of drool on the pillow. Astarion reached out to brush loose strands of his husband’s hair back, the metal of his wedding band glinting in the light.

It’d been a few months since they started therapy and things were going… alright. They weren’t great, but there were times when Astarion could feel the hint of something he thought might no longer exist. An ember in the ashes that they both worked tirelessly to protect from the harsh wind.

Astarion made it to the bathroom with Gale still lying peacefully in bed. He closed the door softly and turned on the light before standing in front of the toilet to relieve himself. Hopefully the sound of the flush and the shower turning on didn’t wake Gale; it was still an hour or so before his alarm would go off.

As the shower heated up, Astarion undressed, examining himself in the mirror. He checked over his skin, making sure there weren’t any marks from yesterday’s mission. Despite taking a healing potion on his way home, the paranoia that a hickey was still on his neck, or that bruises from demanding hands were still marking his hips was ever present. 

It had been a slight stressor at the beginning of their relationship, but the moment Cazador finally caught notice of the ring on Astarion’s hand, everything changed. Suddenly he was the only one assigned honeypot missions. Suddenly there was an uptick in the frequency of honeypots. Suddenly the strategy was chosen even when it could clearly be avoided.

Astarion wasn’t sure what he had done to earn his boss’s sadistic attention, not that the rest of the office was treated well, but Astarion seemed to attract a special level of hatred. As if his pain tasted the sweetest. 

Cazador saw any sign of a personal life as a threat; he wanted them dedicated to their work, nothing else. The only way to survive was to ice himself over again, to slowly push Gale further and further away until they’d ended up in Minsc’s office.

Now he was trying something different, trying to open up again, at least as much as he could without revealing his work. Evenings became less robotic, old routines changed, going for spontaneity. Astarion was mindful to reach out for more casual touch, to make an effort towards affection. 

But he saw the way Gale’s expression flickered when Astarion tensed under his husband’s touch. It wasn’t Gale that caused that tension, it was the fear that the elf somehow missed evidence, that Gale would see it and believe he was unfaithful.

You are unfaithful , poison seeped in his mind. Was it infidelity when you felt you had no choice?

The water was a few degrees too hot, but Astarion didn’t adjust it. He stepped in, turning his back so that it took the brunt of the spray. It helped soothe the aching muscles, an injury from last year that Gale didn’t know about.

He spent two weeks on an ‘international work trip’—the reality had been him in a hospital in Neverwinter receiving spinal surgery after Cazador refused to send back-up to extract him. It had taken weeks of healing sessions to at least fade the jagged scars to the point that they weren’t very noticeable by touch, though a bright light made them obvious.

For months after that, Astarion avoided sex with Gale, to the point that his husband stopped trying. Intimacy with Gale was a careful thing now. The frequency had increased since starting therapy, but Astarion still had to be on guard, careful of the lighting or their positions. It wasn’t possible to stay fully present, but he tried. He was trying.

With his shower finished, Astarion stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Before anything else, he picked up his ring from the counter. He ran his finger over the engraving, Dekarios etched deep into the metal, before placing it on and starting his morning routine.

Gale woke up to water running and lights from the bathroom. With a small groan, he turned around in the bed. Astarion had started waking up earlier the past couple days, and that was still something he needed to get used to. Usually it was Gale who woke up first.

With a sigh, Gale turned again when the toilet flushed loudly. He wasn’t getting back to sleep, was he? He had to get up soon anyway. As he sat up in bed, he let out a small grunt from a sharp stab of stinging pain against his ribs. Glancing at the closed bathroom door, Gale lifted his shirt up to quietly cast an illusion spell to hide the bruise that blossomed over his side. He had forgotten to restock the healing potions he usually had in his car, and hadn’t had the chance to grab one when he rushed home from work. Astarion could have seen him and gotten suspicious.

He let the target get too close to him in the previous mission. He couldn’t afford to make such a careless mistake again, especially with how many scars he was already hiding on his body. One day he might forget about one and Astarion would see, and he’d be unable to answer confidently.

The likelihood of that happening was steadily increasing as Gale felt a little… something between them. An ember in the ashes of what they once had, glowing faintly, giving just enough warmth for them to feel yet not live off. They were trying—both of them, to keep it going, to have it grow stronger. Things weren’t perfect, but it was something. Nothing intimate like before, and Gale both wished for and dreaded it.

He made his way to the closet, getting his clothes out while he waited for Astarion to finish up. He heard the shower turn on—Astarion was going to be in there for a while longer, wasn’t he?

Gale might as well go down to clean the dishes from last night; he hadn’t had the chance to cast a spell for them without Astarion seeing. He hadn’t had the chance to do any magic in general without Astarion seeing, lately. Their therapist had insisted for them to spend some more time together, much like they used to.

They had gone on a date for the first time in what felt like years last week. A simple dinner date and a walk in the park, stirring up long-forgotten memories of feelings and emotions that seemed to be emerging again. They had read together in bed, even laughed and talked extensively about the story itself. They had also picked up a shared hobby, as per Minsc’s instructions.

Godsdamned knitting.

Gale passed by the tangle of yarn at their living room couch, abandoned early by the both of them when they couldn’t figure out how to work the needles and yarn. A smile tugged at Gale’s lips as he recalled getting sidetracked teaching Astarion cat’s cradle. Things almost seemed normal then. Learning from one another, trying new things, smiling and laughing at silly jokes.

Another brief glance behind him when he reached the kitchen, and Gale cast Prestidigitation to clean the dishes in the sink. He’d rather not have to do those by hand again.

Things were looking hopeful for once, yet, just like the pile of yarn, the connection between them was blocked by a tangle of lies and deception from Gale. He couldn’t get too close.

Astarion exited the bathroom in his bathrobe to find the bed empty. He had hoped he wouldn’t wake his husband up, but Gale was rising with Astarion’s earlier hours as well. It was hard not to feel a bit guilty over it. An elven trance was typically much shorter than a human’s sleep. That was never a problem when Astarion struggled to rest, far from him on the other side of the bed.

Lately, they had been meeting each other in the middle. Gale typically spooned Astarion while sharing the history of a spell he was presenting on for a class until the elf drifted into a trance. It had been years since Astarion had slept that well. He remembered staying in bed for hours at the beginning of their relationship, relaxing in Gale’s arms, memorizing every freckle on his cheek until he fell into another short trance. Shortly after he would wake to Gale offering a cup of coffee.

Staying in bed was too difficult now. It left him alone with his thoughts, his guilt.

Astarion dressed quickly in charcoal slacks, a matching blazer and a powder blue button down. Poking his head out the bedroom door, he double checked that Gale was downstairs. When the sounds of dishes clanking confirmed it, Astarion quickly made for the hidden compartment on his side of the closet. Within thirty seconds he had four daggers hidden on his person. The rest of his equipment was left at headquarters where he would fully suit up for whatever assignment they had for him today.

“The shower is free if you need it, darling,” Astarion called out as he came down stairs, heading towards the kitchen to put some coffee on.

“Thank you, love,” Gale replied back, glancing over his shoulder just as Astarion made his way to the coffee machine. The wizard took another look, admiring his husband’s attire briefly. The powder blue always suited him—it contrasted the crimson red of the elf’s eyes and paired well with his white curls. He then looked back at the dishes, carefully setting the rest of them in the rack.

He quickly made his way to the bathroom to shower, the hot water easing the dull ache in his ribs. Only a few minutes later and he was done, casting another illusion spell over his body and looking over himself in the mirror to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots. He then pulled a white shirt and dark purple blazer over himself.

He peeked out the bedroom door, making sure Astarion was still busy in the kitchen. Relieved that he’d be safe for now, he quietly closed the door behind him and reached into the hidden compartment in the bookcase in their room for his component pouch and collapsible quarterstaff. He slipped them into the inner pocket of his coat and up his right sleeve, making sure they were both secure and hidden out of sight.

He then made his way to the kitchen, nose picking up the strong scent of coffee. Astarion was at the table, scrolling through his phone and sipping his cup with another one across from him. Gale smiled softly, walking over to him to take the untouched one. “Good morning, my love.”

Astarion quickly exited his email briefing the mission he was just assigned—another fucking honeypot, no surprise there.

Placing his phone face down, Astarion took a few steps over to close the distance between them. This morning needed to start off right. Minsc said to turn towards each other, not away. Astarion wasn't quite sure what it meant, but he was trying.

As Gale took a sip of his coffee, Astarion straightened his collar for him. "And what will the great professor Dekarios be up to today?"

Gale chuckled. “The usual things, nothing particularly special,” he hummed. “Identifying an artifact, locating its origins and purpose. We’ve been studying this one amulet that’s been stumping all of us, actually. People hear a voice when they put it on, and then start laughing hysterically. It must be cursed or something.” He gave Astarion a brief kiss on the forehead when he finished adjusting his collar. “And what about you?”

Astarion tilted his chin up, quickly moving to capture a kiss from Gale. A short soft peck, a small burst of warmth in his chest from it. Gods, such a small thing yet it was a breath of air each time he felt the return of it.

Taking Gale's coffee cup, Astarion placed it on the counter before pulling his husband closer in, hands around his waist. The air mixed with the scent of coffee and sandalwood, the smell of a perfect morning. The elf hummed as he nosed down Gale's jaw. That warmth in his chest intensified when Gale's breath stuttered.

"Nothing too exciting, going over paperwork mostly. All dreadfully boring." Astarion leaned in to whisper in Gale's ear with a devious grin. "I'd much rather stay home with you."

“As would I,” Gale murmured with a smile. His hand stroked the elf’s cheek with his knuckles, brushing a strand of hair away from crimson eyes that held a spark he hadn’t seen in what felt like years.

“Would you…” He paused, hand trailing down Astarion’s chin, barely touching the ear. An intimate, cherished spot. Gods, how long had it been since Astarion was this close, this comfortable? Gale missed this far too much. He wanted those moments back. “Would you like to do something when we’re both back home from work?”

Perhaps a small date together. A dinner out, a walk somewhere. Perhaps a quiet and relaxed reading time in the living room. Or something else. A subtle offer for something more.

Astarion's own breath caught when Gale's hand grazed his ear. He couldn't remember the last time Gale had touched him like that, so casual yet intimate. They didn't have time for this, but Astarion found that he didn't care. To hells with the agency, they could wait.

Trailing his hand down Gale's chest, Astarion kissed him. The bold taste of dark roast coffee on his lips. Normally, he preferred cream and sugar in his mug, but something about black coffee on Gale's tongue had him wanting to take it that way from then on. Gale’s hand tightened on Astarion’s waist, leaning into the deeper kiss Astarion pulled him into. 

"What did you have in mind?" the elf murmured against Gale's skin as he trailed kisses down his jaw, fingers toying with the professor's belt.

The elf was pulling in for more, mouth trailing down his jaw and fingers at his belt. Touches that were light, soft, and sent a familiar ache through Gale. His head tilted back slightly, allowing for the gentle assault from his lover’s lips. A shaky breath let out at the low murmur of Astarion’s words.

It’d been so long since they’d done something like this—something intimate, spontaneous. Full of desire. Gale could feel it in Astarion’s touch, his voice. Did Astarion truly want this again?

“I, ah—” Gale stumbled over his words, leaning back against the counter to support himself as Astarion stepped closer, “I was thinking we could go out for dinner… or a walk in the park. Something to… relive some memories.”

A smile danced over Astarion’s lips when hearing his husband stumble over himself. When was the last time he'd made Gale fluster like this? Gale leaned back against the counter as Astarion nipped gently on his neck, that warmth in his chest becoming a fire in his belly.

Undoing Gale's belt in a few quick movements, Astarion pulled back to scan over his husband's expression—to make sure he wanted this as much as he did. There was a heat in them that he'd almost forgotten. It was like being in that alley so many years ago, when they were unable to keep their hands off each other in order to get to the hotel room.

"Dinner? Hmm," Astarion hummed thoughtfully, unbuttoning Gale's pants and pulling down his zipper. "Tell me what you're in the mood for, my sweet."

Gale inhaled sharply, hand snaked over Astarion’s back and settled behind the elf's head, holding him close against his neck gently. Heat pooled in his abdomen, a familiar sensation he’d had to deal with through either a cold shower or his own hand for the past couple months.

But Astarion was here touching him, want and need in those fiery eyes of his. Burning for more. Was Gale reading that right? Could they finally find that connection again?

Gale's hand trailing over Astarion's back momentarily pulled the elf out of it. Shit.

Sure, there were multiple layers between his scars and his husband’s touch, but it was far too close for comfort. Godsdammit, this was why he'd avoided these things for so long.

Gale exhaled shakily, gripping the counter tighter with his other hand. “You,” he answered the elf’s question breathily, unaware of the war raging in his husband’s mind.

There had to be a way to make this happen. That fire inside Astarion begged to be fed. The countless times he'd smothered it to keep Gale from touching his back had only forced them further apart. They couldn't do that anymore. He needed this. They needed this.

Adrenaline pierced his heart, a cold ice spike that sent him into action before he fully registered it. Astarion moved Gale's hands to the counter with a commanding grip, he pressed his leg between his husband’s thighs as he leaned in to speak in his ear once more.

"You're going to be good for me and keep your hands right there, yes?"

The pressure of Gale's hardening length against his leg had his own cock twitching, but Astarion wasn't looking to satisfy that right now. He wanted to hear Gale come undone, to feel his thighs shake against Astarion's hands as he came down the elf's throat, everything else could wait.

Gale’s cock pressed harder against his slacks at Astarion’s sudden change in demeanor, a small moan escaping his lips. He nodded, both hands gripping the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Y-Yes,” he managed to say, voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, I can. I will.”

They were doing this. Astarion was doing this. They were going to be late for work, but at this moment, Gale couldn’t care less. He wanted this. He needed this, after so long without it.

"Very good. I know you'll do wonderfully for me," Astarion cooed, thumbs hooked under his briefs to uncover Gale's lower half as he pushed them down to his knees. His husband's cock sprung out from their cotton confines, precum already beginning to run down his rosy head.

It had been so long since he'd felt hunger like this. There had been whispers of it the past few weeks, heated kisses on the couch that naturally dissipated. Both of them touched the surface of the water but were too afraid to take the plunge.

Astarion dropped to his knees, squeezing the back of Gale's thighs before he moved one hand to take hold of his cock, he felt the thick vein under his hand throb with need. He licked the head of Gale's dick in a quick teasing move.

"So good for me, Gale," Astarion murmured before spitting into his hand and stroking him at torturously slow pace. "Stay there, just like that for me, love."

Gale was struggling to keep still, hips just barely rocking as he tried to hold back. The fucking sounds from him, little whimpers and groans as he bit his lip, watching helplessly.

"Gods, I missed hearing you like this," Astarion groaned before wrapping his lips around him and sliding down to the root without breaking eye contact.

Gale watched with flushed cheeks and deep breaths as Astarion sank down, the sight of him there making his cock throb with want. Gods, he’d missed this—Astarion’s hands, his lips, his tongue, the way he seemed to know exactly where and how to touch and kiss to make him fall completely apart. He felt himself spiraling, all sense of time and place melting away with Astarion slowly stroking him, the flick of his tongue so brief yet sending a strong jolt of pleasure that ran up his spine.

His hands remained on the countertop, fighting the urge to wind his fingers through the elf’s soft curls, to brush against his ear and elicit something more from the man, to bring some pleasure to him as well. But he kept his hands still. He needed to, needed to be good for Astarion.

“Fuck, Astarion—” Gale’s eyes fluttered shut as Astarion swallowed him down, a loud, broken moan escaping from him. He could feel Astarion over every inch of his body, hot and sensitive, pleasurable and overwhelming. Every bit of the elf’s movement was driving him to the brink, the warmth and pressure around his dick sending his mind into a blurry haze.

It was difficult for Astarion to stay present after so long only being physical with another when performing for a mission. The instinct to close off from himself and let his mind drift at sea was an instinctual pull at this point.

With Gale's eyes shut, the current became too strong, pulling Astarion away. He closed his own eyes, and let himself drop into the rhythm of sucking Gale off. His thoughts moved to paperwork, to today's scheduled meeting, to curiosity over the mission that was briefed in the email he hadn't finished reading when Gale walked in.

Then Gale's hips rocked against him, nearly causing Astarion to gag and he was back. Not in the office, back in the kitchen. Shit. No. This was Gale. He wanted to be here. Astarion pulled off abruptly, wiping the drool off his chin to keep it from hitting his clothes.

"Look at me, Gale. I want you to see me." His voice was raspy with the command, something in his chest aching. He needed to see Gale. To have Gale see him, at least as much as he could allow.

Gale’s eyes snapped open as the warmth, the tightness, Astarion disappeared. Astarion’s words cut through the air sharply. He heard the gag when he bucked his hips too hard, he registered the command in Astarion’s voice, that tightening of the elf’s grip on his thighs.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll keep still, I’ll—” He met Astarion’s eyes. His expression looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. Something he couldn’t quite read. “I… I see you,” he murmured, soft.

"Good," Astarion said with far less firmness than intended, the word more of a breath than anything.

Gale did exactly as he was told, eyes trained on Astarion as if his life depended on it. He stroked Gale off, mouth opening to offer heated praise yet he couldn't. Something in Gale's eyes, the softness in his voice.

I see you.

And now Astarion couldn't be anywhere else. The heat in those brown eyes a simmering fire that burned with his own. It should be lewd and filthy, swirling his tongue around the head of Gale's cock as he used one hand to massage his balls, the other stroking up and down his length. Yet it was more raw than anything, something about it keeping him tethered like an anchor. Safe. Seen. Known.

Astarion felt consumed by the flame within him, desperate to give Gale everything they'd lost. He deserved pleasure, passion, love. How badly he wanted to give that to him. They had been working so hard these last few months. It was finally feeling possible to have that closeness again despite the lies Astarion was forced to keep between them.

But that guilt couldn't touch him now, not with Gale's look of awe, his stuttered breath, the heavy weight of him filling Astarion's mouth. He began bobbing up and down Gale's length, groans vibrating at the base of Gale's cock when he held his head there, savoring the fullness of it all. With each passing second he could feel his husband getting closer, anticipation for it setting him afire. 

“Astarion— hahh —fuck, please, I— mmhh —” Gale was close, so close already. His knees felt weak, struggling to hold himself up as Astarion took him deeper. He remembered how it was before, how they’d cling to one another as if the world would tear them apart if they let go. And now here they were again. Gods, he missed this so fucking much, so much, so much, it was so much, he—

A slight jolt in his hips, a loud cry of his lover’s name. He was spilling down Astarion’s throat, every nerve alight as the elf’s mouth and hands worked him through it. This wasn’t just pleasure—it was reclamation, rediscovery, something to reconnect and find each other again. 

They could, they would, they had to.

Gale took in a shaky breath, hand reaching down to caress Astarion’s cheek in his palm. “Gods, you’re incredible,” he breathed. 

Yet a tendril of doubt sneaked its way into Gale’s mind as he came down from his high, as if ice-cold water was dumped on him. His chest heaved, breathing heavy. They could come back to the way things were before, but how long would it take until they repeated this same cycle of romance and burnout? The lies and deception stayed, the feeling of longing for more yet unable to have and take still there.

He looked into Astarion’s eyes, holding their gaze for a moment. There it was—that disconnect again in his husband’s eyes. “My love, my dearest,” he murmured softly. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Astarion stood up, wiping his mouth with the dishrag on the counter nearby while Gale redressed. It bought him a few seconds. What had Gale seen that he'd been unable to hide? Was it the fear that in an effort to reciprocate he might attempt to pull Astarion's shirt off, revealing the scars on his back? Or had he lost himself there at the end without even realizing it? Shit. Was he dissociating without even recognizing the loss in time now?

Far too many questions that he didn't have any time to explore. Not with Gale looking at him like a dove with a broken wing.

"Of course, darling." Astarion kept his posture relaxed, giving Gale a chaste kiss before asking, "Is there something on your mind?"

And just like that, what felt like progress immediately faded. One step forward, two steps back. There was that detached expression as Astarion spoke those words. A lost connection, something broken. Was it something Gale did?

He knew Astarion didn’t have the best relationship with sexual acts; since the beginning there was a sort of hesitancy within the eagerness, and over the first couple of years together, it had slowly but surely disappeared. Astarion’s desire for Gale was real, was love more than lust, and he knew he was safe with Gale. Knew he was seen, known.

Gale saw the hesitancy appear more often over the years, and just now.

He paused. He wanted to push down those gnawing doubts, wanted to reach across the canyon with the broken bridge that they had built one plank at a time. But that kiss, that casual, practiced smile—he knew it all too well.

“It’s… nothing,” Gale reassured. “I just—gods, I missed this, Astarion. I missed you.” He caressed Astarion’s cheek, slotting the elf’s ear between his pointer and middle. His other hand trailed down Astarion’s chest with a light, tentative touch. “I want to make you feel good, too. Can I?”

I missed you.

Gale's words left an ache inside Astarion, and he realized what it was. He missed it, too. Their closeness was at an apex in that first year, as time moved on they drifted further away. 

No, that wasn't true. Astarion drifted further away. 

So determined to keep Gale safe that he iced him out completely, a slow freeze that fully solidified after that mission in Neverwinter. These past few months, weeks especially, he could feel the warmth between them finally starting to melt that wall. He didn't want to lose that progress, to lose Gale.

The gentle touch against his ear had Astarion's breath hitching, Gale's finger down his chest made him shiver. It was still decently dark in the kitchen, only the light over the kitchen sink illuminating the space. If he kept his shirt on there would be nothing to hide. He could do this. He wanted this. He did.

"Oh my love, how could I say no?" Astarion asked with a breathy laugh as he leaned in for a kiss.

Gale reciprocated, eager to let it wash away the doubts in his mind. But even with the warmth and sweetness and the taste of himself on Astarion’s lips, there was that cold emptiness behind it. Even with the familiar press of Astarion body against his, there was that unseen pull away. Something felt… off. A subtle hesitance so brief he could have imagined it. Gale knew better than to ignore it.

Gale deepened the kiss, letting it linger for a moment before pulling back. His hand stayed on Astarion's cheek, lowering to brush his thumb against the elf’s jawline. Brown eyes searched scarlet.

“You know you can say no, right, my love?” he asked softly. “I know you, Astarion.”

Not as well as he should, could, had.

He didn’t know why Astarion was like this now, didn’t know what he did wrong, didn’t know Astarion well enough. Didn’t know how he could bring himself closer to Astarion without pushing him back again like he knew he would eventually. Didn’t have answers.

Astarion felt Gale's demeanor change, his gaze soft yet probing as he spoke. It would be a simple thing to lie, after all, it wasn't entirely untrue. He wanted to be close to Gale like this again. He wanted them to find physical pleasure in each other, to connect at that level in a way they'd avoided for nearly half a year by this point. It had been far too long.

And that's what Gale could see, wasn't it? The pressure. 

The squeeze of it tainted the moment between them. Astarion was crushed between two walls: keeping the scars hidden and continuing the progress they'd made. Gale offered a lifeline, the chance to pause all movement. To breathe.

So why did it feel so painful when he closed his eyes and whispered, "No."

He didn't feel safe. He didn't want to be seen. He didn't want to be known

Like sand between his fingers, there was no taking it back. He could only hope to soften its sting, to try and spin a better view of his failing. Astarion covered Gale's hand on his cheek, trying to keep him there before their contact inevitably broke.

“We're already running late for work, love. Having this with you was more than enough for me. Besides,” Astarion added with a soft kiss to his husband's lips, “it'll only leave us both wanting for more tonight.”

Gale swallowed hard, pressing his forehead against Astarion’s. He lingered there, feeling the warmth of Astarion’s touch, savoring this moment of contact between them that Gale felt was increasingly unwanted. He straightened back, letting his hand slip between the elf’s cheek and forcing a small smile.

“Of course, you’re right,” he agreed with a reluctant nod. The problem wasn’t just the time—it was Astarion. No, it was Gale . Guilt overrode any pleasure and hope Gale had felt in the past couple minutes. He couldn’t reciprocate, Astarion didn’t want him to reciprocate.

Didn’t want Gale. Didn’t want to be touched. Didn’t want Gale.

‘Tonight’—would there still be anything left tonight?

Gale stepped back, tucking himself back in his pants and smoothing down his clothes. He finished the rest of the coffee, cold and bitter, just like the connection between them, before grabbing his briefcase and giving Astarion a final kiss on the cheek goodbye.

“I’m… glad you enjoyed this morning,” he finally said as they prepared to go their separate ways at the door. “Tonight….”

He didn’t want to push, didn’t want to press Astarion for something he clearly wasn’t ready to give. But he had to know. Something, anything. What did he do wrong? What could he do differently? Did Astarion see past all the lies that he’d been keeping?

“Tonight… please talk to me?” Gale pleaded softly.

Chapter Text

There was no getting a damn thing done at work. The briefing had gone in one ear and out the other, not one note taken. Astarion would have to get with Aurelia later to find out what exactly it was they wanted him doing tomorrow. All Astarion could think about was Gale’s request when parting that morning. The concern weighing his gaze as he made it.

Tonight… please talk to me?

Gale clearly wanted to talk about it—their lack of intimacy. Where Astarion saw avoiding the discovery of what his back had become, Gale likely only saw mixed signals. Astarion couldn’t share anything about his work, but if he could somehow explain the scars they could be intimate without the current omnipresent fear of his husband discovering them.

But how does a lawyer obtain that? These weren’t some half hazard slashes that one might liken to an accident. This was carefully carved into him over hours until Cazador finally decided Astarion was worth extracting. His already complicated life further complicated so that the agency could steal one fucking artifact. Another hidden layer, a horrifying and painful one, for a necklace. How does one explain those curved and jagged lines without telling it all?

You see, darling, on my international trip last year I decided to get some scar work done. It’s not an incredibly common artform, but it struck my fancy. Why didn’t I tell you about it? Oh, well you see—

No. There was no explaining that.

His best bet was deflection. They’d been making progress towards romance and genuine connection, they could keep making it. They just needed to look past this and keep moving. As long as the lights were low, Gale wouldn’t notice a thing. Astarion had spent an extra week with the clerics to ensure his skin was fairly smooth to the touch. With the right set up, they could have this night. It would just take careful preparation.

Gale drove the car in silence, gripping the steering wheel hard as he stared ahead. The morning was a whirlwind of emotions with Astarion. One moment, it felt like they were together, truly together, for the first time in years. There was warmth, light, hope. And then the next… it was as if Astarion had vanished, even as he stood there in front of him.

He braked at a red light, exhaling slowly through his nose. The quieter streets made it easier to think, and he hated it.

He could still see those scarlet eyes, holding so much fear and hesitance. Gale could only blame himself. Had he pushed too much? Misread the signs? Did Astarion truly enjoy that moment of connection with him? Was Gale just a selfish, greedy monster who had used Astarion for his own self-pleasure, blind to Astarion’s needs and boundaries?

Gale had made a mistake, hadn’t he?

He braked harder at the next red light, the halt jolting him forward and out of his thoughts as abruptly as the moment between him and Astarion. Eyes flicked over to the time. He’d have to teleport himself if he were to get there on time. Not that it mattered if he was late; he was only supposed to be there to receive the files for the mission. He’d gotten some details over the email, but the full mission brief was to be obtained at the agency, for confidentiality purposes.

Once he arrived, the morning was the same as always, no one really noticing his late presence. Polite nods and smiles and greetings, check-ins with colleagues, a quick debrief on his last assignment. The file given to him by Elminster had his next target’s information, nothing standing out to him besides this one being more important.

Everything assigned to him was deemed more and more important; Gale treated them the same either way. He scanned the intel, recognizing the target.

Petras Podex, a human under careful scrutiny, using multiple names and disguises. Gale had investigated the man before, clearing out the false identities and obtaining his real name and figuring out his connections. The man would be meeting with some dealers at the Yawning Portal, and Gale was to gather information about how their deals were to be made and where, keeping a low profile, reporting back any pertinent details, and putting a tracker on him if possible.

Gale closed the folder, letting out a deep sigh. Another on-field mission. Shouldn’t be too hard, though. This was routine, a standard assignment, just like all the others. He spent the rest of the day checking through the files of the associates, barely taking in any more information as his mind wandered to Astarion once again.

The day went by quickly, morning soon turned to afternoon, soon turned to evening. Closer and closer to the talk he’d asked Astarion for. He dreaded it as he drove back home. A cruel hypocrite he was, asking Astarion to talk about what he was hiding, what was wrong, when Gale himself couldn’t about his own secrets.

He stayed in his car in the garage, reluctant to leave. The wedding ring on his finger kept his thoughts in one place, hoping Astarion had it on. The elf had always worn it since the conversation came up, but Gale always had the nagging fear that his lover would soon start to forget again, that the connection they were rebuilding would be torn apart once more.

Astarion arrived home early, Gale’s favorite take away in a large paper bag, a bottle of wine tucked under his arm, and a bouquet composed of red dahlias and lavender in his hand. He quickly changed into a loose, deep red, silk blouse and black slacks that were tailored to hug his form perfectly.

With lights dimmed low, Astarion set up a candlelit dinner, the takeout boxes traded for plates to better the presentation. He placed dolmades in a circular pattern on a small plate between them, moussaka on Gale’s side and spanakopita for himself.

The front door clicked open as Astarion carefully placed the bouquet in a vase at the center of the table. He popped the cork on the bottle as Gale walked in, briefcase in hand.

The smell of lavender and vanilla bean hit Gale’s nostrils as soon as he stepped inside the house. He barely had time to set down his briefcase before Astarion appeared, sleek and radiant in his blouse and slacks, the colors complimenting him beautifully.

“Good evening, darling,” Astarion greeted, placing the bottle on the table and meeting Gale in the doorway, hands wrapping around his waist as he kissed him. “I thought instead of eating out I might bring it to us instead.”

They didn’t need to talk about anything tonight. Couldn’t Gale see that the night could be so much better without it?

Gale melted into the kiss, hands settling on Astarion’s back as they pulled each other together.

The moment was quickly ruined as Gale felt the elf tense.

Gale’s hand on Astarion’s back was like stepping through a laser tripwire, alarms instantly ringing through his body. It was ridiculous, there was no reason Gale couldn’t touch his back. The scars had been made fairly smooth to the touch, they were so faint now that only direct lighting would give them away. Yet he froze all the same, grateful that his husband failed to notice.

Gale let go, smiling at Astarion casually to try and return to the lovely evening his husband had clearly laid out for him.

“Evening,” he replied softly, pressing another kiss to Astarion’s forehead. He let the elf lead him to the dining room, eyes widening at the sight. It had been a while since they’d set up something like this for each other. Scented candles, wine, flowers, and the plates arranged carefully so they would sit next to each other.

So thoughtful, so lovely.

Yet… it didn’t quite feel real.

Astarion had clearly gone out of his way to set this moment up, this light atmosphere, and Gale wanted to believe it was for them. A gesture of love, for connection, not a distraction from the conversation they both knew they needed to have.

But….

Gale masked his sigh with an exhale in awe, smiling at Astarion warmly. “This looks… incredible,” he breathed, sitting down at the table. For now, he’d enjoy this moment. “You didn’t have to do this, love.”

Astarion sat down with Gale, placing his hand on his husband’s thigh with a reassuring squeeze as he sipped from his wine glass. “Think nothing of it. I thought we were overdue for a little indulgence tonight.”

It felt better than any successful mission, having Gale breathless with wonder from the dinner laid out before him. Though it was short lived upon the realization that Gale shouldn’t be so amazed by takeout and candles. He should be used to Astarion bringing him flowers. But he wasn’t. Because Astarion never did.

As the guilt roiled in his stomach, the spanakopita began to taste more like ash than anything else. When making eye contact with his husband, Astarion was sure to wear a relaxed smile, to tilt his head as if lost in thought of his love. A well honed skill. The realization of it, that he was falling back on training rather than being present, had him feeling more lost than anything.

“Tell me all about your day, my sweet.” Astarion bid him, crossing his ankle with Gale’s as if he could hook himself into the other man and ensure they didn’t drift any further away. They’d made so much progress, just a bit more. They could get there. Astarion felt the ache for it, like a master lock he’d spent far too long trying to crack. If he could just try one more time, have a bit more patience, surely he could solve it.

They should talk.

“Oh, it was fine,” Gale responded with a smile. Talk, talk. About this morning. About their relationship. About them. “That amulet I told you about this morning? Turns out the person who turned it in wanted it back. Looks like we’re never finding out the truth behind it.”

They should talk.

Instead he was going on about fake scenarios he’d recited, ones he made certain to never repeat.

“What about you? All the same as usual?” He gave his husband a sympathetic smile. If it was all like he said, it would just be boring paperwork and clients to get through.

They should talk.

“Actually, you don’t need to bore me with it,” Gale continued with a small wave of his hand. “We don’t need to ruin the night with work talk.”

He didn’t need to crush this lovely night with the weight of a heavy conversation they needed to have.

Astarion chuckled softly when Gale rescinded his offer. "Are you sure, Gale?"

The years had made Astarion well-versed in passing off bits of his workday as if they really had taken place at a law firm. Gale didn't need to know that they were reports on mission, not reports on cases. Or that the coworker annoying him that day had actually been bothering him while they were interrogating someone for information.

"You don't want to hear all about the hedge fund that threw a tantrum over misaligned paperclips? Or about the one form that we're updating into three separate ones?" Astarion rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his wine.

Gale laughed lightly, giving a sympathetic smile as Astarion continued.

"Gods, I swear if they over complicate things anymore I might just have to change careers all together."

If only it were that easy.

There was no leaving Cazador's agency outside of a body bag. If Astarion had known better, he would have turned down the dark-haired elf's offer and risked dying on the streets. His boss had sunk his claws into the agent when he was young. An orphan running cheap cons with barely anything to his name, Astarion was doomed the moment Cazador laid eyes on him.

Suddenly the wine tasted more like vinegar. Astarion sat his glass down on the table and knocked knees with Gale, attempting to keep the moment light despite the heaviness trying to build within himself.

"I've been thinking, we should take a vacation soon. It's been so long since we've had a getaway. I know work is busy for us both, but if you could go anywhere and none of that mattered, where would you have us?"

Gale sipped his wine, letting the richness of it linger on his tongue as he tried to find the right words.

“Hm… maybe Neverwinter. It’s supposed to be warm all year round, it would be nice to visit this winter. Oh—I suppose that’s why it’s called Neverwinter.” Gale gave a light chuckle, swirling his glass idly. “Or maybe we can visit Candlekeep; I haven’t been there in a good while and I’d love to see how much their already massive collection of books and scrolls have grown since my last visit. Though, perhaps you wouldn’t quite enjoy it as much as I would, would you?” He took another sip, smiling at the elf over the rim of the glass. “Or…” he continued with a faint ache in his chest. “Amn.”

He paused, staring down at the last bit of wine in his glass with a small smile still lingering on his lips. “Maybe for our anniversary. It would be nice to relive the memories of when….”

Another pause, letting the weight of what was unsaid hang above them. When things were all so new, so exciting, so much better. When the conversations between them weren’t as dangerous, weren't as forced. Sure, he had dodged questions about his work, lied and deflected on some topics, but he was still able to talk about real things, about the real him.

Now he had run out of real things to say.

He finished the last bit of food, thinking over his words. Gods, if only he could just leave that double life behind, start a new one, with real stories of his day he could tell Astarion about, to laugh with about, to complain to about.

He reached over to take Astarion’s hand, running his thumb over the elf’s knuckles. “To be honest, I’d go anywhere with you. It wouldn’t be about the place, really. It’s about the company.”

Gale referred to their time in Amn as if it were a loved one that had passed away, the out-of-reach memories too painful to even fully refer to. The way they danced around things often felt like death. Their touches, when especially disconnected, held a mournful quality to them.

The meat of Gale’s palm grazed the elf's wedding band as his thumb slid back and forth in a soothing windshield wiper motion. His words didn't wreak of bereavement, of desperately clutching the husk of what was. They felt honest, real.

Astarion watched the way their hands fit together. The striking color of Gale's tan against his own pale skin. The sensation of his dry, rough hands brushing Astarion's calloused knuckles. He looked up to meet the warm fire of Gale's brown eyes and his own heart ached. Was love supposed to be this painful?

"How sweet," was all he could manage in a whisper, blissfully trapped in the lines of chestnut, oak and honey that encircled Gale's pupils.

Astarion didn’t lean in so much as find himself drawn in by Gale's gravitational pull. His lips found safety landing against his husbands, the brush of his beard lightly scratching his chin. Astarion exhaled through his nose, the barest whine at the back of his throat as they parted.

A chaste kiss, so simple and sweet, like a ripened fruit not yet bitten. Astarion tucked a strand behind Gale's ear as they pulled back.

"I've missed you." It left him before he realized it, his heart somersaulting over itself with fear of what questions that might bring. He pressed another kiss to Gale's lips, praying he hadn't spoiled the fruit of their affection.

Gale lingered in the kiss, savoring its warmth and simplicity, despite the dread that came along with it. When Astarion pulled away, Gale caught the faint tremble in his voice, the delicate admission slipping out like a secret not meant to be heard. The elf pulled him in again, as if to catch that secret back before it could be spoiled.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Gale murmured when he pulled back. Voice steady, soft, needing to anchor them both in the present moment. He let his forehead rest gently against Astarion’s, hand still holding the other’s, afraid to let go.

But he did, eventually. Slowly, carefully, as if letting go too quickly might shatter the fragile moment of peace they had found. “I’ll clear the table,” Gale offered, already reaching for their plates. “You’ve done enough for the night. I’ll take care of this.”

"Nonsense," Astarion replied, ushering Gale away with a wave of his hand. Gale spent most nights taking care of the dishes, Astarion wanted to show his appreciation for him, to take care of the chore so that his husband could relax. Gale never seemed to mind the chore, but that was besides the point.

“If you insist,” Gale sighed with a smile, reluctantly handing his plate to the elf.

Nodding towards the hallway, Astarion starts gathering the dirty dishes. "Why don't you get the fireplace going in the library? I'll join you for some evening reading."

Astarion paused with the plates in his hand, a tentative smile overpowering his usual performative charm. "You know it's been some time since we read the same book together. I'd love to tonight, if that sounds like something you'd enjoy?"

A quiet evening together, reading books to escape from reality. It would help get their minds off things and relive those moments.

Avoid the conversation a little longer.

“That would be lovely,” Gale murmured. He pressed another kiss to Astarion’s temple, the contact lingering for a moment, much like all the other forms of affection they’d been giving each other. “I think I have a book in mind.”

He left Astarion to it, heading for the library. Quickly looking over his shoulder, he threw a small Firebolt at the fireplace to light it up, then walked over to the shelves, running his fingers over the spines of the books before settling on a particular one. An old collection of elven poetry, one he’d been reading by himself over the years. He hadn’t had the time to revisit the book lately, nor learn more of the beautiful language, but he still retained most of the skills needed to read the book out loud and manage some words in casual conversation.

Perhaps tonight could be the night he surprised the elf with this.

With only their plates and utensils to wash, Astarion was able to make fast work of the dishes. He rinsed them off, scrubbing away any stubborn foods before loading them into the dishwasher. Looking up from the sink, Astarion saw his reflection in the window. A tired elf with sunken eyes and deep lines in his face looked back at him.

"Let's show him a good night, darling. He deserves the best, after all," he whispered to the tired elf reflecting back, playfully blowing him a kiss.

Snagging their wine glasses and the bottle, Astarion headed to the library to join his husband. When he approached the doorway he could hear Gale humming to himself with the relaxing ambience of the crackling fireplace. Astarion paused, watching as Gale flicked through the pages of a novel where he stood by the bookshelf.

The flames reflected against the lenses of his glasses, hiding his eyes from view. A strand of hair had fallen loose from his bun at some point, one of the silver strands sparkling in the light. He nodded along as he read over the pages, tilting his head to the side when scratching his chin. When he looked up, a soft smile surfaced on his lips upon seeing Astarion, and the air left his lungs.

"You're beautiful, Gale. I don't tell you nearly enough." Astarion crossed the room, wrapping his arms around his husband's waist.

Gale chuckled softly, a faint blush coming across his cheeks at the elf’s compliments. “Neither do I, my sweet love,” he murmured. The fire’s light highlighted Astarion’s silver curls much like the sun’s rays, the orange and yellow light flickering beautifully in the dim room. He never realized how much he'd glossed over Astarion's appearance recently, barely taking him in. That needed to change.

He moved the book out of the way, resting it on the shelf to free his hands so that he could reciprocate the embrace. Blocking his husband's view of the fireplace, Astarion could see into his eyes—a sweet, yet curious expression on his face.

How could Astarion not kiss him? One soft kiss, then another because he could and Astarion pulled his head back to look at Gale with a pleased smile.

"I like this, being here with you. We need to do this more." Astarion nodded to the fireplace. "You've been getting some practice lighting that without me. How did you get it going so quickly?"

“Apparently the way you stack the logs matter a lot,” Gale answered smoothly. Much like the fire, guilt burned through him with the lies and deflections he was saying. “I’ve been stacking it wrong the whole time, which made it difficult to keep the fire burning properly. I looked it up recently, actually, the different ways to do it. Did you know the wood has to be less than half the height of the space inside the fireplace?” He paused, stopping himself before rambling too much about kindling and lighting a fire, offering a sheepish smile. “I think the new lighter I bought also helped a lot.”

With a slight squeeze of his arms around Astarion, he sat down at the couch, bringing the Elvish book with him. He gave the elf a soft smile as he offered his arms out for his husband to cuddle up next to him.

Astarion quietly laughed under his breath as he joined Gale on the couch. Of course the man would research the best practice in lighting a fireplace.

Tucking his feet up under him, Astarion leaned into Gale’s side, eyeing the book in his husband’s lap. It was an Elvish book, but Gale couldn’t understand Elvish.

“Elvish poetry, Gale?” Astarion asked as he tilted forward to top off their wine glasses, taking a small sip before resting into Gale’s side, a hand held out for the book. “My reading may be a little rusty, but I’m sure with the right flourish you won’t know the difference.”

“A little rusty, hm?” Gale hummed. “I suppose that makes two of us.” He gave Astarion a cheeky grin, wrapping his arms around the elf and getting in a comfortable position for them both while also being able to hold the book for them to read together.

He flipped open to the first page before clearing his throat, reading aloud the first stanza of the first poem. He stumbled a few times on the first couple words, memory still catching up on the skill he hadn’t practiced in a long while.

It took everything not to show the shock that flooded Astarion. Gale was reading Elvish. Gale was speaking Elvish. Gale knew Elvish.

How had he hidden this? Was he saving it for a special reveal? But of all the questions his husband’s unexpected skill brought was one that left Astarion terrified. Had Gale ever heard him discussing missions?

Like a fool, Astarion would take calls from the other agents with Gale in the room or barely within earshot. They didn’t discuss classified information, rather they danced around it in Elvish. Discussions of deadlines or codenames for locations. Sometimes Dal would call just to bitch about her day.

Did Gale ever understand what was being said? He never asked about it. Maybe everything was fine. It was fine, right?

Astarion forced himself to relax against Gale, taking in the smell of his cologne, the comfort of his hard muscles against his own slender frame, the warmth radiating from him. It almost felt like he was trying to savor something before its loss. Astarion held tight to it, every detail, clutching each part of the experience so that it couldn’t be pried from his hands.

Gale noticed the slight shift in Astarion’s breathing and the tensing of his body, pausing a moment in his reading. Was the elf that surprised at him knowing Elvish? He carried on regardless, finding a steady rhythm in the words, letting the syllables carry over his tongue. Another stanza, focusing less on the pronunciation and more on the words themselves, weaving in the emotions of the poetry on his barely-fluent tongue.

Finally, he finished the poem and took a deep breath. “Are you alright, dove?” he murmured, fingers brushing against Astarion’s arm soothingly. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Astarion sat up a bit, still pressed against Gale but better able to face him. Brown eyes met his full of worry, a self-conscious quality to them. The need to soothe him was an undeniable ache.

“It was perfect.” Astarion murmured as he kissed him, trailing down his jaw as he continued. “You’re perfect. You know that, don’t you love?”

They were close like this, but not nearly close enough. Astarion sought to remedy that by sliding into Gale’s lap, his thighs cradling the professor’s hips with the book still between them. Like this, he was slightly above Gale, his husband’s chin tilted up to watch him, a slight frown to his lips. He wasn’t so easily distracted, apparently still caught up on the tension from earlier. Astarion couldn’t give him full honesty, it wasn’t possible.

Sorry, love. For a moment there, I thought you’d been able to understand me when I discussed information that would put a hit on you if anyone knew you heard it. Or at the very least have you realizing that I’m not who you think I am. I’ve never been.

Instead he gave the best he could offer, “I had no idea you’d been studying Elvish. To think I’ve only spoken it when gossiping with my parents or complaining to my coworkers. When the whole time I could have been whispering sweet nothings to you here and you’d know enough to be melting for me.”

Gale felt his nerves calm under the warmth of Astarion’s touch and soothing words, much like being put under a charm. There was something off, but Gale chose to let it go for now.

His hands settled on Astarion’s hips, steadying the elf comfortably on his lap as he smiled up at him, his earlier frown softening. “You’re too kind to me, my love,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. “I’d melt for you regardless of what you speak in, just from the sound of your voice.”

Another kiss and then Astarion was tapping the spine of the book to bring it to Gale’s attention. “Show me your favorite one in here. I could listen to you all night; my people’s words sound so beautiful from your lips.”

Gale looked back down to the book, flipping a few pages. “Favorite one, hm….” His fingers paused over a section. “Jabberwocky, I would say. A nonsensical poem, but in Elvish, it feels like a spell. Learning this one was rather difficult with the strange words, but also very fun. I’m no wizard, but all these little bits of tongue-twisty Elvish pronunciations on my Common tongue makes it feel like I’m casting magic.” He chuckled lightly, meeting Astarion’s gaze. “There’s something charming about how Elvish turns even the most absurd words into something melodic.”

He cleared his throat again, beginning to read aloud. The opening stanza tripped off his tongue, full of lilting syllables that wove the bizarre tale of the Jabberwock.

Astarion watched Gale as he read the poem, his brown eyes firmly on the pages as he focused on pronouncing the Elvish correctly. He felt himself relax with every word.

Gale didn’t comment on Astarion’s phone calls. He must not have paid attention to them. Perhaps he’s only learned the Elvish in the poems and never bothered to piece together what Astarion said on the phone. Either way, he’d be thinking twice before talking about missions around Gale now that there was a risk of him understanding. Gods, it was reckless to do it at all in the first place. What was he thinking?

Regardless, tonight wasn’t about missions or his cover. It was about Gale. About them. Their marriage. Their love. He couldn’t be lost in thought, he needed to be present.

Gale finished the poem, looking up at Astarion with a soft smile. It was impossible not to melt at the sight of him, he shined in the firelight. Silver strands and chestnut eyes. The brightest star in the darkness of his miserable light. The center of his universe. Just as he’d seen him that first night, he was the sun.

Moving the book from between them, Astarion wrapped his arms around Gale’s neck and shifted closer. Want built at the base of his spine. Heat grew between his thighs. Gale’s beard scratched softly against his palm as Astarion caressed him.

“Your pronunciation is impressive, my sweet. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion asks with silent laughter before leaning in to place a chaste kiss to Gale’s lips.

Gale chuckled lightly against Astarion’s lips, setting the book down to the side and sliding his hand up from the elf’s waist to rest gently on his back. The kiss quickly turned into something deeper, as Gale tilted his head slightly to meet Astarion’s lips more fully. For a moment, he let himself drown in the affection, the way Astarion’s fingers tangled in his hair, the faint scent of his cologne, their soft breath mingling with the crackle of the fire. The heat between them was undeniable, and he felt it simmering low in his chest, spreading through his body.

A familiar tug at the back of his mind pulled him back. The earlier tension lingered there as well as in the elf's body, even as they held each other close. Though Astarion's words and touch reassured him, he kept telling himself the conversation still needed to happen.

But even as he pulled back, a smile still lingered on his lips, acting as though nothing was wrong. He didn’t need to ruin such a good night Astarion went out of his way to prepare for them.

“It’s all too easy to forget about everything else when I’m with you,” Gale murmured, pressing another chaste kiss to the elf’s lips. “Ai armiel telere maenen hir.” [You hold my heart forever.]

Forever, even if this thing between them was ripped apart and torn to shreds. Forever, even if it couldn’t be mended together again.

Gale felt the weight of those words as he spoke them, even in the light and graceful Elvish language. He didn’t say things like this lightly, not to anyone, and certainly not in Astarion’s mother tongue. But Astarion deserved that weight, deserved the sincerity of it. And hopefully, even if Gale couldn’t be the husband he wished he was, Astarion would know the effort he’d spent connecting with him, to truly want things back to the way things were before.

“Ai armiel telere maenen hir?” Astarion repeated in question, the words washing over him like a gentle patter of rain sprinkling overhead. He could feel the tears threatening to come, a pull behind his eyes as he wet his lips, shaking his head.

“No, no, no,” he whispered, taking Gale’s hand in his, placing it over his heart. “Ai armiel telere maenen hir.”

After all these years, this distance as they sat in the same room. The pining pain of wanting the other when they were right there. That Gale could keep such a sweet romantic surprise, hidden away for when he could best reveal it. To pick now, when Astarion had failed him again that morning. That Gale saw his pathetic attempt at reconnecting, that he knew, that he saw.

It was as if every crackle from the fireplace behind them was deep inside Astarion’s chest. No ice, nothing between them except for what had to be. He looked in Gale’s eyes and saw Amn. He saw their first date in Waterdeep. He saw the tearful joy as the professor slipped on that engagement ring in the park.

Kissing him deeply, Astarion cradled Gale’s face with both hands as if to keep him there—as if this dream of a man might fade into mist. “Lle naa i' center en' amin iluov.” [You are the center of my universe.] He murmured between fervent kisses down Gale’s jaw, arching his back to press them flush against each other. Reaching Gale’s ear his next words were breathy and full of need. “Karna mela a' amin amin shinien anar.” [Make love to me my shining sun.]

Gale’s breath hitched as he took in Astarion’s words, mind taking a moment to translate it. The Elvish words, so tender and intimate, hit him like a spell. His heart stuttered, tilting his head to capture the elf’s lips once more. Kisses deep and unrestrained, pouring everything he felt into it—love, devotion, longing.

“Amin elen, amin kua, melamin,” he whispered. [My star, my dove, my love.] His hands slid up Astarion’s waist, pressing them together as if even the slightest space between them was too much. Heat spread between them from where they touched. Desire, need, want. He felt Astarion’s growing arousal against his own, and his hips instinctively bucked up for more. “Amin mela lle.” [I love you.]

Astarion rocked against Gale with sharp intake of breath. His husband’s voice was low and soft as he cooed Elvish sweet nothings that had Astarion melting into him. The sweet pleasure of grinding down into his lap was a single verse amidst the song his body sang for the man underneath him.

”Amin mela lle. Gale, oh fuck Gale. Amin mela lle.” Astarion whimpered as Gale rocked in rhythm with him, strong hands holding the elf tightly around his waist.

He felt anchored there with his husband, both of them riding the current together. That insatiable hunger he’d learned to stifle the past few years was at an all time high. With every crashing wave he wanted more of him, anything and everything the other would be willing to give. It’d been far too long since they’d had this. They needed this, they had needed it for far too long.

“Amin mela lle, amin mela lle, amin mela lle,” Gale murmured out repeatedly. [I love you, I love you, I love you.] It was all he could manage with his limited Elvish knowledge in this whirlwind of want.

His hands shook as they fumbled over Astarion’s shirt, scratching over buttons as he tried to undo them, mind caught in the haze of desire. His lips never left Astarion’s, kisses growing more desperate, hungrier. His mind barely kept up with the Elvish phrases spilling from the elf’s lips between kisses, words of love and adoration that all seemed so new.

It was new. Though the same words were spoken time and time again between them, something about these being said in the Elvish tongue made so much of a difference.

The firelight flickered, casting golden hues across Astarion’s pale skin as Gale pushed the fabric open, exposing the elf’s bare chest. He leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss along the collarbone, up his neck, over Astarion’s throat, savoring the way Astarion shivered beneath his touch.

“You are my everything,” Gale murmured against his skin. The words tumbled out in Common now as his thoughts grew less coherent, hips still grinding against each other as they pushed closer together, even with no space between them.

Astarion was lost in Gale’s loving words, his insatiable touch with those hands that gripped him firmly. Kiss swollen lips on the sensitive skin of his neck. Astarion pulled Gale’s shirt up over his head, his glasses going askew and his bun loosening. He looked a mess, perfect in the light of the fire.

Astarion tossed the shirt to the cushion next to them before pulling Gale’s glasses off and adding them to the pile. He kissed Gale deeply, swiping his tongue over his husband’s bottom lip. Gale was quick to part his lips, their tongues sliding together as they groaned into each other’s mouths. Astarion tangled his fingers in Gale’s hair, pulling the loose bun free as his other hand trailed down to loosen his belt.

There was a quiet voice of alarm in the back of Astarion’s mind, whispering warnings about the light of the fire in the room exposing the faint scar lines on his back. Gale’s glasses were off, the room wasn’t very bright, but the whispers grew louder still as his shirt fell down around his shoulders.

Astarion grinded down on Gale’s cock, the hard press of him had him whimper with want. He stood up clumsily, pulling Gale with him. Part of him wanted to drop to his knees right then, his mouth watering at the thought of Gale fucking into his mouth the way he had that morning. But he remembered how he couldn’t let his husband reciprocate in the morning light. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

He stroked Gale over his pants, relishing the sensation of his husband bucking his hips for more. Astarion sucked a bruise into Gale’s neck, no thought to the fact that he has work tomorrow, that his students or coworkers might see. Let them, let them know he was—

“Mine,” Astarion growled out before tugging him towards the hall. “Bedroom. Now.”

Chapter Text

Gale’s breath hitched at Astarion’s possessive growl, the single word, Mine, igniting a blazing inferno within him. His knees nearly buckled as Astarion stroked him through his pants, legs unsteady while the elf dragged them to their bedroom.

“Yours,” Gale murmured breathlessly, lips brushing against the elf’s ear as they stumbled down the hall. “I’m yours.”

He could barely see the path in the dim firelight and the haze of passion and desire, but Gale didn’t care. His hands sought Astarion’s waist, his lips finding the elf’s neck as they made it clumsily into the bedroom, bumping against the doorframe in their haste. Gale’s mouth worked feverishly, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites along Astarion’s exposed skin. Along his jawline, along the edge of his ear. Hands worked at the belt and buttons of Astarion’s pants, teasing along the hard press of his cock.

Astarion turned them to press Gale against the wall. His mind flashed back to tressym pajama pants and brick walls in dark alleys. It was like back then but so much more, to be here now, to come back from so much pain. The ache of missing Gale, of all the longing he tried not to feel, it tore him apart. The sweetness of Gale’s words and touch stitching him back together.

“Amin naa lle,” Gale managed to bring up in a low moan. [I am yours.]

Astarion shrugged his shirt the rest of the way off, finally able to forget about the disturbing curves and slashes etched into his skin with the lights off. Moonlight pushed through the curtains; a cool dim lighting around them. Astarion was shielded in darkness, finally free to connect with Gale now that they were far from accusing lights.

“No, amin naa lle, Gale. Amin naa lle,” Astarion purred as he unbuckled Gale’s belt, nipping at his shoulder and soothing the spot with open mouthed kisses.

They stumbled together towards the bed while undressing one another with impatient hands. Gale reached towards the lamp and Astarion quickly tugged him away, rolling them over so that Gale was on top at the center of the bed.

“Amin naa lle ar' lle naa amin.” Astarion’s voice was rough like gravel in the air between them, touching their foreheads together before kissing him fiercely. [I am yours and you are mine.]

Gale must have been studying for a while considering the wanton moan that answered back to him. The elf continued as Gale kissed down his neck. “Tenna' i' palurin lanta ndu. Until the world falls down, my love.”

Astarion’s body was hot against Gale as the last of their clothing joined the pile on the floor. Gale had to take a moment to lean back and look at the sight before him.

Astarion was sprawled across the bed, pale skin illuminated by the faint moonlight from the window, bathing the elf in a silvery glow. Gale trailed his hands over Astarion’s chest, brushing over a nipple and continuing up to trace along his collarbone, moving even higher to caress the elf’s face. Lips slightly parted as he watched every twitch and shiver beneath his fingertips.

“It’s been too long,” Gale breathed, voice thick with emotion. “How did I ever go so long without this? Without you?”

He leaned down, pressing kisses to Astarion’s skin, soft and reverent as he trailed along the elf’s jawline, up to the edges of his ear. Hips slowly grinding up against each other still.

Astarion keened as Gale’s lips brushed against his ear, hot breath sending sparks of pleasure through him. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d touched like this, connected like this.

“Vanima,” Gale whispered. [Beautiful.] “How do you want me, love?”

The careful consideration of Gale’s question made Astarion’s heart ache; even in a lustful haze his first thought was to Astarion’s wants or desires. Too long had it been since sex felt like more than a tool to complete a mission. Too long since their own trysts in the night were more than just chasing release together. Too long, it had been far too long.

“Just like this, please, Gale. I need you. Missed you so badly.” A tear dropped from the outer corner of his eye and into his hairline, his voice came out ragged as he all but begged. “Amin naa lle sana amin melamin. Take me, Gale. Take me.” [I am yours, take me, my love.]

Pre-cum dripped on Astarion’s stomach from Gale’s cock rutting against him. Astarion snaked his hand down to loosely grip them both, a string of curses murmured under his breath as he stroked them together. Gale felt perfect in his hand, hot and hard against him, their slick dripping together as they both shook with need.

Gale let out a soft moan against Astarion’s ear as a hand wrapped around both their lengths, the hard, wet heat against his own sending a shudder through him. He felt wetness against his cheek, and turned to kiss the tear away, even as his own eyes welled up with emotions he’d forced himself to hold back over the years.

He had to let them go now, and pour it all into this moment of reconnection, of desire, of love.

He reluctantly pulled back, reaching over to the bedside drawer to search for the lube.

Alarms rang in Astarion’s mind at the motion, at the thought that Gale might be moving for the bedside lamp again. But the sound of the drawer opening instantly relaxed him. They could do this, the scars wouldn't get in the way, they wouldn't stop them from having the intimacy they've both been aching for.

Gale bit back a curse as he fumbled through the drawer for the lube; it had been some time since they last used it. Once he did find the bottle, however, he was quickly back on Astarion, pressing deep kisses against his lips. Less about hunger or lust and more focused on providing affection and reassurance.

He blindly pumped the bottle, pooling the substance onto his fingers messily with no care for the sheets.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured breathlessly. “So much, my love, I want you so much.”

Astarion's breath hitched when he felt Gale's slick finger circle around his hole. He placed his foot down on the mattress, hiking his knee up to offer Gale more room. Just the sound of gasping breath and soft moans in the room, interrupted a mix of Elvish and Common as they both begged for each other.

It felt like an ending to the darkness they'd been walking through, both on either side of a canyon, too afraid to risk walking that narrow rope between them. He'd been terrified that Gale wouldn't trust him to take them there, that he'd still be stuck on Astarion's stumble this morning. But they could make this work if the elf was just careful about how they did this. In the dark, or with his back out of view, they could do this. They could be one again.

Astarion thought of that damned fake fiddle leaf fig in the therapist's office, but this wasn't plastic and sharp edges. This was flourishing with life and growing by the second as Gale kissed every inch he could reach. He carefully pressed a digit in as Astarion fisted his chestnut waves and dug his nails into Gale's bicep.

"Sana amin melamin. I can take it." [Take me, my love.] Astarion rocked back against Gale's finger, desperate to have him.

The desperation, the rawness of Astarion’s voice, the way he pushed back against his hand, all but begged him to close the distance between them entirely. But Gale didn’t rush, couldn’t. Not after everything. It had been too long since they’ve done this, he wouldn’t dare hurt Astarion by rushing this moment.

“No, let me love you properly, my star,” Gale murmured softly, though his voice trembled with desire. He pulled a pillow down to place beneath Astarion’s hips, his lips finding Astarion’s again, kissing him tenderly as another finger joined the first. Then back next to his ear, whispering soft praises and sweet nothings.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, working Astarion open slowly, fingers curling just slightly to coax soft moans from the elf. “I’ve missed every piece of you. The sound of your voice. The way you look at me. The way you let me see you.”

Gale was pulling Astarion apart slowly with every kiss, every word, every careful thrust of his fingers. The elf felt the threads of himself come undone, laid bare on the mattress under Gale as his husband's voice encompassed everything. Thank the gods for the darkness, that the shadows kept his secrets hidden, only what he wanted Gale to see was out there for the taking.

"Oh gods, Gale. There, just like that." Astarion cried out as Gale teased the bundle of nerves that sparked stars in his vision. He was pulled between continuing to beg Gale to take him and staying like this with him for as long as they could. He wanted all of it.

What Gale couldn’t give this morning he needed to give back now tenfold, pressing another finger into him to thrust against that spot and drink up all the sounds of pleasure from the elf’s lips. The grip on his arms, the tangling of fingers in his hair, all grounded him in the moment. Gods, how he’d missed this, Astarion’s touch, Astarion’s voice, Astarion’s pleasure. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion.

He finally pulled back, still thrusting his fingers in shallowly just to offer the elf some stimulation as his other hand wrapped around his own cock, slicking himself up. His eyes roamed over Astarion, spread out and willing beneath him, breathing hard and looking back at him with so much trust and want.

They were doing this.

Astarion wanted him.

Astarion wanted him again.

The moment he saw Gale slicking himself up, Astarion’s desperation renewed. The ravenous beast inside him was screaming for more, more, more. Astarion wrapped his legs around Gale's waist, pulling him closer.

"Gale, please. Oh gods, please." Astarion kissed him, pushing his hair back as he looked pleadingly into those chestnut eyes. "Take me now. I can't wait any longer. I need you."

The moment Gale removed his fingers, wiping them on the bed spread, Astarion pressed Gale’s hand to his chest, his beating heart. For you, he thought, it beats for you.

"Now, Gale."

Gale took a deep breath, looking into Astarion’s eyes—his love, his star, his everything, laid bare before him. Shining brighter than the moonlight that bathed them. He felt the pounding of Astarion’s heart beneath his hand, beating steadily. He might have even heard it if he tried.

Ai armiel telere maenen hir. [You hold my heart forever.]

This heart was Gale’s, forever. And he would take care of it, protect it, with his own life. Forever.

Finally, Gale positioned himself, pressing the blunt tip of his cock against the elf’s entrance. He leaned down, kissing the corner of Astarion’s mouth. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “I’ve always got you.”

With one steady motion, Gale began to push inside, his own breath hitching at the exquisite heat that welcomed him. Slowly, so slowly, giving Astarion time to adjust, until he was finally fully in. He stopped, pressing their foreheads together as he took a shaky breath.

Astarion’s mouth dropped open, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head as Gale’s dick stretched him further until he was down to the root. Gods, he was full, so undeniably full. Finally whole, reunited completely with the one man that understood him. At least the parts of him that he was allowed to see.

“You’re perfect.” Gale’s voice broke through the guilt before it could settle. A life preserver sent into his arms before he could drop below the surface. “So perfect. Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me anything, my love.”

“Too much? No, never.” Astarion squeezed his hand and rocked up into Gale, urging him on.

Tell me anything, my love.

There was only one thing that mattered, already said between them but never said enough. Astarion used his free hand to cradle the back of Gale’s neck, keeping him close.

“I love you, Gale Ancunín-Dekarios.” The words felt easier than breathing, more important than any covert operation. It was the only thing that truly mattered to him. Astarion dug the heels of his feet into the back of Gale’s thighs in a silent bid for more.

Even now, even after years together, hearing I love you in that voice—raw, vulnerable, and so achingly sincere—was unlike any other time in the past couple of years. They’ve said it so much to each other it felt more like a greeting and farewell to a friend rather than words of lovers. But now….

Gale pressed a kiss to Astarion’s lips, slow and lingering. “I love you too, Astarion Ancunín-Dekarios,” he murmured. His hand tightened around Astarion’s, holding it firmly to his chest. “Always.”

Hearing his name, their name, brought tears to Astarion’s eyes; the addition of always brimming one hot droplet down his cheek.

Everything was going perfectly, it was all that he’d hoped the night would be and more. His goal had been largely distraction, if possible connection. But this, this was a level of connection he hadn’t hoped possible. If Gale had learned the magic his mother practiced, Astarion would have thought the man had cast Wish. Magic wasn’t responsible for this, it was purely them—their love, their devotion.

Gale began to move. Slow, drawing his hips back just enough before pushing forward again. Shallow, careful, measured, savoring every gasp and shudder that escaped Astarion’s lips. He wanted to feel every inch of him, to take in the way his body reacted, as if to recover past memories lost to time and disconnect.

He buried his face in the crook of Astarion’s neck, lips grazing over pale skin as he whispered more praises. Common, Elvish, whatever he could think of.

Hope bloomed within Astarion like a thousand night orchids reaching for the stars. Gale’s slow, gentle movements as he pulled in and out was sweet agony. Astarion bit his lip and took in a sharp breath as Gale sucked a bruise into porcelain skin. He’d have to take a healing potion before work tomorrow, but the urge to keep it like a precious memento was strong.

Tomorrow.

Astarion’s mind was held hostage before he could stop it. Tomorrow he would have to prepare for next week’s mission. Another fucking honeypot. Another day of using his body to accomplish Cazador’s goals. Another night of pretending he wanted a stranger to use him.

How would he stand it after this? Would he crumble the moment an offending hand touched him?

He could build that icy wall back in time, surely. Just thick enough to get through the mission without breaking down the way he used to in the beginning. Just enough to feel nothing while performing to Cazador’s standards. All the right movements, the right sounds and expressions. If not, he’d feel it all again. The self-hatred, the guilt, the burning shame. Worst of all the pleasure, his own body betraying him in the worst way by enjoying the sacrifice it was making.

Betraying Gale.

Gods, if Gale had any idea that he—

“Astarion?”

Gale froze mid-movement, immediately noticing the subtle change in Astarion’s body. He knew the elf too well, knew that something was wrong. He pulled back just slightly, his hand coming to rest against Astarion’s cheek, gently turning his face toward him. “Astarion,” Gale murmured again, his voice soft but insistent. “Look at me.”

Crimson eyes looked back at him, and Gale could see a far off storm behind them, a battle being waged somewhere unseen.

“Come back to me, my love,” he whispered, his thumb brushing lightly over Astarion’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”

Gale’s calloused thumb ran across Astarion’s cheek as he held him like broken glass, careful of sharp edges. Was it only a few seconds or minutes that passed before Astarion finally recognized that Gale was talking to him? The elf didn’t know.

His mind was in a fog. No, fog wasn’t the word for it. It was heavy smoke flooding the room, an untamed fire that blocked all exits. He was suffocating and blinded.

His husband begged him to come back. The horror that Gale knew he’d left at all, worse that he hadn’t realized he wasn’t there until it was too late. Astarion thought keeping his back hidden was key to fixing things. He was a fool. There was no fixing this. He was broken.

“I’m here, darling. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” Astarion ignored the question, leaning up to kiss Gale as he pressed on the man’s lower back to urge him on.

Stop.

Gale needed to stop.

They needed to stop.

Gale felt it. Astarion was thinking about something else amongst everything else. Something bad. There was a haze in those crimson eyes. There was a tremble in his limbs. There was a shake in his voice.

Pleasure. Pain. Pleasure. Pain.

Discomfort. Reluctance. Hesitance.

A wave of ice-cold water crashed into him once more, just as it had in the morning.

“Astarion,” he murmured, voice cracking in the middle of the name. He shifted to slowly pull out of the elf, the moment of intimacy gone. “We need to talk. Please.”

Fear pierced into him like shards of ice. Astarion's grip tightened, clinging to Gale as if he were the edge of a rock face and letting go meant certain death. He tried to pull Gale closer, but his husband resisted.

Astarion couldn't let this stop now.

They couldn't let this stop now.

The walls were closing in. He was so close. No. They were so close. They didn't need to stop. They didn't need to lose this. It was a minor set back, a barely there bump in the road. It was nothing. They could look past it.

It wasn't the first time it had happened and Gale had listened before. He was tentative, but he relented.

Not this time.

Discomfort. Reluctance. Hesitance.

"Melamin, saesa uma il-kela amin. Don't stop now." [My love, please don't leave me.] The words were out before he realized their meaning. Astarion lifted up on his elbows, the cool air touching his shoulder blades like a warning of what could be revealed if he became too careless. He kissed down Gale's jaw as he spoke, fear spiking with how stiff Gale was in response. "It's nothing. Please. Saesa, melamin, saesa." [Please, my love, please.]

“No, no, we can’t, I can’t, I—” Gale’s heart shattered at Astarion’s words, the desperation to keep this going, to keep from ruining this night, to have Gale stay with him. But the space between was back, an endless abyss he couldn’t cross. Gale’s hand trembled as he caressed Astarion’s cheek, trying to keep them both grounded.

“I’m sorry, I… I can’t. Not when… not when you’re….”

Not here.

Lost.

Hurting.

“I’ve been patient,” Gale said quietly. “I’ve tried to be understanding, to respect your space, to wait for you to open up when you were ready, but….”

He swallowed hard, gaze flickering to the sheets to avoid Astarion’s eyes before forcing them back. “I can’t keep ignoring it, Astarion. I can’t.”

Astarion had always been difficult to read, but ever since the beginning Gale knew there was something wrong. He’d tentatively brought up the subject before, and the elf had brushed it off each time. The issue went unaddressed for too long.

“I see you, my love,” he murmured, voice shaking. “I see the way you pull back, the way you hesitate, like I’m doing something wrong. You don’t have to tell me everything, but…. I want to help you, Astarion.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong.” Astarion shook his head in denial, his jaw clenching as he held back treacherous tears. He needed to keep it together, to show that everything was fine. He couldn’t let Gale see just how terrified he felt with every word said.

Gale had gently asked questions in the beginning. Wondering if someone had hurt him (gods, someone, if only it had been one) or if there was anything he could do to help Astarion feel safe during sex.

Astarion chalked it up to a poor performance, he simply needed to mask it better. There was no need to spin more lies that would only further complicate things. He didn’t think Gale would accept it when he said he didn’t want to discuss it. He didn’t think that Gale would listen when he assured him that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, it was fine.

But he did.

His husband held his hand and pressed a kiss to Astarion’s knuckles, telling him that it was okay. He’d be there when Astarion was ready to talk about it. So patient. So kind. So understanding.

How long had Gale been waiting?

How long had he continued to notice these things and said nothing?

The floor was falling out from under him, the walls closing in, oxygen depleting. Death, imminent death. An unseen countdown taking place and Astarion had no idea how much time was on it. His heart raced and stopped all at once. His vision blurred. He was panicking. He was a fucking agent and sitting in the bedroom with his husband had him fucking panicking. It was pathetic.

Cornered. Helpless. Trapped.

There was no headset to subtly press for an emergency extraction. No hidden weapons on his person to fight his way out. Only his trembling hands that gripped the sheets as Gale pulled away to sit up. Only his broken voice cracking in the air between them as he pleaded. “Please, Gale.”

He was foolish to trust that they could do this without Astarion fucking it up beyond recognition. Foolish to think that Gale could ever miss just how clearly broken he was. Even more foolish to think he could ever be in this line of work, do the things he does and still have a marriage with someone like Gale.

His husband turned away to reach for the lamp, the one Astarion had managed to steer him away from earlier. Had Gale noticed then? How much did he recognize and turn a blind eye to in order to salvage this wreckage?

The dim light was blinding. It felt like the bright spotlights used during interrogation to confuse and exhaust the target. Astarion shut his eyes only to open them the moment those wretched tears spilled over, warm lines of humiliation streaming down his cheeks that he immediately wiped away. But Gale saw them, of course he did.

“It’s fine.” The wrong thing to say. Gale looked away with a furrowed brow. Disappointment.

Gale’s heart sank. The words sounded fake, hallow.

The realization hit him like a Shocking Grasp, electrocuting his whole being, leaving him breathless and shaking with aftershocks.

Astarion had been forcing himself, hadn’t he? For his sake. For Gale’s pleasure.

His vision was a blur as he got up from the bed, static in his ears. They needed to have this conversation. They needed to, they needed to talk. Why did it have to come up this way? Why did Gale have to ruin a perfectly good night?

He felt a sharp sting in his chest as he considered the possibility that Astarion had been suffering in silence, perhaps for much longer than he’d known. And he hadn’t seen it. He hadn’t noticed.

How had he missed it? The mixed signals weren’t mixed, they were clearly all red, weren’t they? And Gale had just been colorblind to it all. The signs, the subtle ways Astarion pulled back, the hesitations, the walls that had been slowly but surely building between them—Gale had thought they were just his fears, his own insecurities, from all the secrets he’d been hiding, the lies he was telling.

But now, knowing what he did, it felt like every single time Astarion had smiled or laughed or kissed him, there was something buried beneath it all.

Gale had prided himself on being observant, on seeing what others couldn’t. Hells, he was a spy for a living. His whole purpose was to uncover what people were hiding. But here he was, in the worst possible way, utterly blind to the person who mattered most to him. Astarion. His husband. The man who held his heart. The man whose heart he held.

And Gale had let it drop to the ground, shattered and fractured into a million pieces.

He should have known. He should have seen.

I see you.

How many times has he said that to Astarion?

How many times had it been a lie, unbeknownst to himself?

He wasn’t the husband Astarion deserved. He wasn’t the partner who could make Astarion feel safe, loved, cherished, no matter what. He was the one who had kept secrets, who had lied—who had hidden parts of himself from Astarion in the name of protecting him. But now, it was clear that it wasn’t protection at all. It was distance. It was more isolation.

He stared at the door.

He needed out.

He needed to get away, far, far away from Astarion. Being close would only hurt him more.

When Gale stood up, turning his back to grab clothes from the dresser, Astarion moved to dress himself as well. Gods, what if Gale was leaving now? He was, wasn't he? Why wouldn't he? He needed to be able to follow him. It sounded insane but he needed to—

He needed to cover his back. Astarion abandoned his slacks for a wrinkled shirt on top of the clothes hamper. It was one of Gale’s sleep shirts, of course it was. The smell of lavender and sandalwood reminded him of everything he would lose. Gale turned around to face Astarion in a pair of sweats and an old university sweatshirt. He looked tired. Done.

He was going to leave. He was going to leave. He was going to leave.

“Please, Gale.” Astarion whispered, barely able to see his husband through the shame clouding his eyes. He needed to reach out, stop him from leaving. But he was frozen. Trapped. “Please, don’t do this.”

Gale finally looked back to Astarion, and guilt swallowed him whole. Tears staining his cheeks, panic in his eyes, breathing hard and fast, hands shaking as he reached out for someone who burned him.

Astarion likened him to the sun, bright and warm.

Gale could only burn and blind.

He rushed back to Astarion despite it all. A monster, he was a monster. He couldn’t leave Astarion like this. Taking Astarion in an embrace that would burn him to ashes. “Astarion,” he whispered, voice cracking, shaking. “I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t enough.

It wouldn’t ever be enough.

He wouldn’t ever be enough.

Astarion crumbled in Gale’s arms, feeling like a monster for it. He didn’t deserve Gale’s comfort. His husband was holding him and apologizing. Fucking apologizing. As if Gale had done anything wrong. The only mistake that man made was saying yes to a night out in Amn. And now he was apologizing, holding Astarion tightly in his arms.

Had Sebastian been given the merciful fate to have died rather than be left to a life like this?

A selfish beast. Clinging to Gale. Letting out a ragged sob as his knees buckled and his husband held his weight, carefully lowering them both to the ground with whispered reassurances. Each syllable was like sandpaper against Astarion’s skin. He didn’t deserve words of comfort. Yelling and accusations would be more preferable, more bearable. He deserved ire and resentment, not this.

Astarion tried to focus on bringing his breathing under control. He counted backwards from five, losing his train of thought before he could even reach two. Every time his lids closed he saw Gale’s face in the fire light morphing into Sebastian’s face. Cold, dead unseeing eyes. Astarion’s fingers held tightly to Gale’s sweatshirt, desperate to stay there with him, to fix this. Somehow.

Tucked against Gale’s chest like a child, more tears than he could ever remember crying. As if all the melted ice in his chest was pouring from him now, a broken dam that he was helpless to repair. He could only cling to Gale and hope to survive the flood.

Five.

Gale sitting on the patio in Amn, looking out at the city. So relaxed in the evening light. The way he smiled politely when he realized Astarion was there.

Four.

The first time Gale said I love you, a fracture of hurt in his eyes when Astarion didn’t say it back.

Three.

The sound of Elvish from Gale’s tongue as he caressed Astarion’s cheek and kissed him with more love than he could ever hope to deserve.

Two.

The disappointment in Gale’s eyes during their therapy session when Astarion claimed that they only needed a tune up.

One.

“Okay,” Astarion whispered hoarsely before clearing his throat and sitting up to look his husband in the eyes. “Okay, let’s talk.”

Chapter Text

Gale held Astarion in his arms, feeling the shaking, the wetness of his tears, hearing the shaky breaths, the sniffles, the quiet sobs.

He tried to be strong for Astarion. His mind was blank as he rubbed soothing circles on Astarion’s back, the touches trying to remind the elf he was here, would still be here, will always be here.

No, you don’t have to. You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready for. I don’t want to force you to tell me what you don’t want to. Your past is yours, I won’t push you to share.

Words Gale had said time and time again, trying to be kind, understanding. But now he’d realized that avoiding this had only made things worse.

He’d been trying. Again and again. So. Very. Hard.

For him, for them, for everything.

He was a failure.

Could he really fix this?

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he finally whispered, pulling back to meet scarlet eyes, wet and blurry with tears. His hand moved to brush them away gently.

He had to keep trying.

“It’s complicated.” It wasn’t.

Lies covered in thin organza, a red herring of honesty to soothe his own self-inflicted wounds. Selfish, a selfish fucking monster. Astarion might as well have sharp fangs and pointed claws, at least then Gale would be able to better recognize him for what he truly was.

“It was a long time ago.” No, it started a long time ago. Decades. Fucking decades of this shit.

Astarion talked as if he completed the first mission and that was it; that it ended there. It should have. He should have gotten out then. An utter fool to think it was a temporary assignment. He believed Cazador when he said that he would save him, that he would give him a new life—a better one. It would have been better to stay on the streets, better to die in a gutter than be the worst thing that ever happened to Gale.

Gale stayed quiet, rubbing soothing circles on Astarion’s back, at the center of the scars. His sweatshirt was damp from the tears Astarion had soaked into him, his cheek pressed to Gale’s chest. His husband waited patiently for Astarion to continue, he had always waited patiently. He deserved more, even if all Astarion could give him were lies. The sickening guilt he’d feel over that would be worth offering some form of relief to the other. It was selfish to have put it off this long, to leave Gale so obviously in the dark. Astarion took a deep breath before offering the love of his life some false light to soothe him.

“There were things I had to do to survive. There wasn’t any other choice. I don’t—” I don’t want to lie to you . Astarion pulled back from Gale, sitting on the floor with his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. He didn’t deserve comfort during this. “For a long time,” even still , “my body was not my own.”

Astarion chanced a look at Gale, deep brown eyes watching him in concern. The elf hoped it was enough, let it be enough. If it wasn’t he’d give Gale more, but the lies would only grow, they had to.

My body was not my own.

The words were fragile, yet heavy, enough to shatter him.

Gale knelt onto the floor with Astarion, hands hovering just short of touching. He wanted to reach out for Astarion, wanted to pull him close again, wanted to wrap him in the warmth of his arms and whisper reassurances until the pain faded away. But his hand stayed trembling in the air. This wasn’t about what he wanted. It never had been.

It took a long moment of silence for him to find his voice again. When he did, he offered his hand out to the elf, voice soft, careful. “Astarion,” he murmured. “I… I had no idea.” He had theories, of course he did, but to hear it from his own husband’s lips, so pained and broken, the knowledge, the confirmation of it hit harder than it should.

Even still, he couldn’t help the gnawing guilt of wanting to know more. He knew Astarion was holding things back, he knew, he knew there were more secrets, more pain Astarion was hiding. How could Gale ask for more when he himself was keeping skeletons in the closet?

“Thank you for telling me,” he continued. “Even just this much.” He swallowed, looking into Astarion’s eyes to show just how much he meant these words. “You don’t have to tell me anything else. Not if it hurts too much, not if you’re not ready. But… please, at least talk to someone about it. A therapist, maybe. Look at how much couples therapy had… had helped.”

It had, hadn’t it? There was so much progress to show for it.

Until it all went downhill now.

“If not,” Gale went on, “I’m here. I’ll always be here.” He paused, thumb rubbing circles on the back of Astarion’s hand. “We don’t have to do... this anymore, if you don’t want to. I’m happy so long as you are, my love.”

A therapist? Astarion wanted to scoff at the notion. Another person to feed lies to? Confidentiality be damned, Astarion wasn’t going to take a chance telling Cazador’s secrets to anyone else. He would find out somehow, there wasn’t any use in attempting that.

Besides, what could a therapist do for him? This wasn’t some past trauma to heal from. It was happening now. But there was no explaining that to Gale.

“I’ll consider it.” Astarion sighed, running a hand through his curls and pulling slightly to try to bring himself back. He felt so foggy after everything, like he was only partially there, a ghost of himself after shedding so much repressed emotion.

“Maybe we can talk to Minsc about it. Therapy has helped. And you have helped, Gale. You have no idea how much.” Astarion covered Gale’s hand with his own. His eyes misted again as he finished speaking, voice quivering on the last few words. At least that last bit was true, complete honesty. A healing truth floating on top of an ocean of lies. Hopefully it could survive the current.

Gale nodded slowly, not fully convinced but he needed to drop this now. Astarion was clearly going through so much pain just thinking about it. They’ll get through this one step at a time. Hopefully.

He wanted to believe Astarion’s words. He wanted to be reassured that he’d done something right in all of this. But no, he’d been doing so much wrong, he’d been hurting this relationship for so long.

He didn’t voice those fears. He couldn’t. Not when Astarion was already holding on by a thread. His hand tightened gently around Astarion’s. “Minsc is a good idea,” he said softly, carefully. “We can talk to him together, or you can speak with him alone if that feels safer. Whatever you need.”

He went to pull the elf in for a hug, then hesitated. Instead, he leaned back on the side of the bed, spreading his legs to offer Astarion space to come in for an embrace.

Astarion saw the hesitation in Gale, his husband stopping himself from touching him. Fuck. This was the way it would be now, wouldn’t it? Being treated like a cracked vase on the edge of shattering. The worst part was that it wasn’t completely untrue. But he didn’t want this. He didn’t want Gale to be afraid of touching him.

“Please, Gale,” Astarion began as he moved into his husband’s arms, face burying into the crook of his neck. “Don’t do that. Please. I can’t have you looking at me like that.”

Oh, gods, there were the tears again. Astarion shook his head, tears sliding from his cheeks and onto Gale’s skin. He kept talking, unwilling to look at Gale as he spoke. “Don’t be afraid to—” To hold me, touch me, make love to me . “I just. You’re the only one I feel safe with.”

Do you? Gale thought. Do you really? You shouldn’t.

Gale’s arms closed around Astarion as the elf nestled into him, and he held him tightly, protectively. He pressed his lips to Astarion’s hair, not trusting his voice right away. What could he say to that?

“I…” he started, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again, forcing steadiness into his tone. “I’m sorry. I’ll never stop trying to be that for you, Astarion. To be someone you can trust, someone you can lean on.”

It was what Astarion deserved, but how could he promise safety when anything he did—or didn’t do—was hurting him now? The words felt hollow.

Astarion deserved so much more than what Gale could be, could give.

Tightening his arms around Gale’s neck, Astarion pressed in closer, their bodies fitting like puzzle pieces with the elf cradled back in his lap. Safe. He truly did feel safe here. Even though that safety came with a deep seeded hate for himself, because though he felt safe he knew Gale was not. Gale was in horrible danger being with him.

But Astarion was a monster, a selfish monster. He chose his own comfort over Gale’s with every moment that he allowed himself to be loved by the other man.

Astarion shifted to be eye level with Gale. Caressing his husband’s cheek, Astarion used his thumb to wipe the tear making its descent. Far too often had he been the cause of his pain. It felt like they came so close to something different tonight, something more.

“You are.” I wish I could be that for you. Astarion kissed the words over his tear stained cheeks, softly across his lips.

Gale’s eyes fluttered closed as Astarion brushed the drops of tears away. Then back open, meeting the elf’s scarlet eyes.

“I love you,” Gale whispered against his husband’s lips, his voice breaking. The words spilled out unrestrained, the weight of them heavier than ever. He kissed Astarion again, lingering this time, his forehead resting against the elf’s when they finally broke apart.

Except he didn’t know if it was right this time.

His hands cradled Astarion’s face, trembling as his fingers ran through silver curls. Another kiss, slow and tender, a desperate attempt to pour his unspoken fears and guilt into the connection.

They kissed for what felt like forever, as if it could finish what they couldn’t have that night. When Astarion nuzzled into Gale’s neck, Gale buried his nose in Astarion’s hair, inhaling deeply.

They had talked.

One step forward, two steps back.

Chapter Text

Astarion hated the couch in Minsc’s office. It was cheap, stiff, and the material was all scratchy. He’d told the hulking man a few times when trying to distract from the subject, but Minsc caught on to the tactic… or his hamster. It was hard to tell.

They’d spent most of the session talking about that night. The one where Astarion couldn’t have just one night of intimacy with his husband without fucking it up beyond repair. Now they were here, talking about their feelings. Gods, it was exhausting.

The distance between them, much like their very first time, felt like a canyon despite all the progress they’d made, despite the fact that Gale sat next to Astarion without the space of a single cushion.

The couch seemed to become more and more uncomfortable as Astarion brought it up again and again. It was difficult, Gale knew, for Astarion to talk about this. It was difficult for Gale to listen to. To know about his pain now, really know it, yet not fully understand it, nor know the full truth behind it. After so long of ignoring it, he needed to push through. He needed both of them to.

It was one thing to try and open up. Astarion had been getting better at that, actually. They’d found moments in the past where they’d assumed each other’s intentions. They focused more on connection at home, rather than getting lost in their evening routine. Things had been improving. The most difficult part was finding ways to communicate honestly in therapy without telling Gale he was a fucking spy. Especially when talking about intimacy.

If he could at the very least tell Gale about the damned scars. It would have been more convenient if Cazador had left him stranded to be tortured for days on end before he’d met Gale. He could have claimed the design was an artistic choice, an infatuation with infernal and ritualistic art. Gale had touched every inch of him before that mission, hells they used to trade backrubs early on in the relationship. That can’t be explained away in the context of being a corporate lawyer. Fuck.

Minsc turned his attention to Astarion and the elf felt himself stiffen in response.

“Astarion, we have but a few moments before the end of session today. Have you put thought to Gale’s request that you attend your own sessions to help with this burden you carry from your past?” Boo sat up on his hind legs and stared pointedly at Astarion as if he too were waiting for an answer.

Astarion rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, of course he’s trying to lock down a sale.

“I’m thinking about it.” The elf replied a bit more petulantly than intended.

Gale bit back a comment. Thinking about it was at least something—not a no. But gods damn it did it hurt to know his husband was still keeping all that pain inside with no outlet.

Minsc nodded thoughtfully, unbothered by the edge in Astarion’s response. Neither was the hamster. Instead, oblivious as ever, he gave them both an encouraging smile. “Thinking is good! Thinking is a step. So long as you keep thinking, you keep planning, and planning becomes doing! If you plan to do, that is.” He thumped a hand against his chest. “And that’s how we can heal.”

Gale offered a polite smile. Though the therapist’s optimism was appreciated, he wasn’t quite sure this advice was the right one for Astarion. He wasn’t all too sure of how accurate the statement was, really.

Astarion could feel the tension in Gale as he nodded along to Minsc’s encouragement. Something sick and venomous in him wanted to poke. A need to anger Gale, to see a rage he had yet to witness. Call it self-destructive or call it toxic, Astarion saw it as an effort to give himself what he deserved. Gale should hate him and in these moments he couldn’t help but seek it.

Stretching an arm back over the sofa to encompass Gale, Astarion squeezed his shoulder and prodded. “Come now, darling. We’ve been working so hard on communication and I see you biting your tongue. Won’t you share with the class?”

Minsc looked between the two with his eyebrows raised up. His little hamster Boo ran down his arm and sat in his hand, as if to get a closer look.

Gale shuffled closer to Astarion, leaning into the arm around him. The elf’s words seemed so light, so… flippant. As if what happened was just a brief argument and nothing else, as if their conversation with each other had solved the problem.

Gods, they couldn’t keep ignoring it like that. Gale had been so absorbed with his work he’d failed to notice just how bad it had gotten, failed to realize what Astarion needed. And it wasn’t this… this continuous act of a happy, successful relationship. He needed Astarion to see the reality of it all. He needed him to take this seriously.

Gale brought his hand up to intertwine with Astarion’s, hearing the faint clink of their wedding bangs touching. “It hurts me when you make light of such important matters,” he said quietly. “I know it’s how you cope, but it hurts me nonetheless.”

Astarion’s hand tightened around Gale’s as he resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Then the damned therapist started talking and ruined everything.

“Minsc sees that the two of you are better understanding how each one handles discomfort.” Minsc addressed Astarion directly and the elf’s eye twitches. “Astarion, what say you of Gale’s pain?”

Right as Astarion had felt his anger smothering, Minsc’s asinine question flared it back into a roaring blaze. His foot tapped impatiently as the hand not held in Gale’s itched to lean down and grab one of the weapons hidden on his person. Preferably the .22, it would look lovely pressed against that stupid purple tattoo.

“What say I? Gods, this is ridiculous. Obviously I don’t like upsetting my husband. This is just… I don’t know. A lot. What do you want me to say? That I’ll start going to another therapy immediately? Next you’ll want me shoving pills down my throat or doing fucking yoga,” Astarion scoffed and looked away, silence in the room as the clock ticked between the three of them.

Gale squeezed Astarion’s hand, thumb petting slightly to try and soothe his husband, quell the anger. His frown deepened as Minsc just nodded along to the elf.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

The sound reminded Gale of the new one at home Astarion had recently bought when the old one stopped working. He had asked Astarion to return it and get a different one that was silent. The current one reminded him of the ticking bomb he'd been nearly unable to diffuse on a mission in Athkalta.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Astarion said he didn’t like upsetting him, yet…. The clock was still there reminding him of one of his most stressful missions, nearly dying because he hadn't been given proper training on defusing and his partner was downed before accomplishing the task. Sometimes, it seemed like Astarion got on his nerves on purpose. Sometimes, it seemed like he didn’t want this marriage to be fixed. Sometimes, it seemed like all of their progress was for nothing.

He inhaled deeply, willing away the bubbling frustration. It wouldn’t do for both of them to be angry.

Exhale, giving Astarion’s hand another firm squeeze. “I’m scared, Astarion,” he finally said. His voice was quieter than the ticks of the clock. “I know this is a lot, but… I just…. It’s us trying to save what we have.”

Astarion had a snarky reply ready for whatever Minsc would say next, but all of it fell from him the moment those words left Gale’s lips.

Fuck. Gale knew exactly how to take the sharpness from his blade. All the bite taken from him, Astarion felt like a feral cat wrapped tightly in a towel. There was just no use in fighting it. The only time he had ever heard Gale raise his voice was when he’d hammered his thumb on a nail. The most anger he ever received from Gale was a clenched jaw and a glare.

And Astarion had tried to set Gale off, gods had he tried. It didn’t matter how low Astarion went, Gale remained calm, kind. Couldn’t that man see that Astarion was terrible for him?

With a deep breath, Astarion closed his eyes and tried to smother the self-destructive rage that rattled inside his rib cage. Something dark and insidious inside himself, it couldn’t be soothed with Gale’s kindness, but it could be muffled by the guilt of hearing those words.

It’s us trying to save what we have.

Was it possible? He wasn’t sure, but Gale was right. They were trying.

“I know. I know,” Astarion conceded softly. “I don’t want to keep doing this. I just don’t think we have to uncover every little thing to get past this, Gale. We’re trying to talk about our sex life here, can we just focus on that today?”

Minsc perked up, Boo squeaking about on his hand. The therapist looked at the hamster as if listening intently before offering Boo to Astarion. Oh, gods. He was going to have to hold the damn thing again.

“Fine, but if it shits on me you’re paying for my dry cleaning.” Astarion gingerly took Boo, ignoring the bit of warmth he felt holding the soft fragile creature.

Gale felt Astarion’s tense body relax a touch, and he gave a soft, appreciative kiss on the back of the elf’s hand.

“Minsc thinks Astarion makes a great suggestion! Gale, please tell us about your sex life.” Minsc looked excitedly to Gale and Astarion had to suppress a smile, knowing just how flustered Gale became when asked to speak on that subject directly. He held out the hamster to his husband.

“Would you like an emotional support rodent for this one, darling?”

Gale tensed at Minsc’s question, pursing his lips uncomfortably. “Me? Shouldn’t you be asking As—“ Gale paused, glancing back at his husband. Shouldn’t Minsc be asking Astarion that, because of his problems concerning sex, and the troubles he had with Gale concerning sex? Gale sighed, taking the offered hamster and feeling the warm weight in his palm.

They were in this together.

“My sex life… well, it’s only been with Astarion ever since we met. I’ve had… other partners before him, but they had never been as wonderful as with Astarion. He—“ A small smile graced his lips as he turned to look at the elf. “—he’s the only one for me. Not just in sex, but everything else. Just spending time with him, talking with him, sometimes not even talking but just being there, enjoying his presence.”

His smile faltered, looking down at Boo and petting the fuzzy head between the ears. “I miss when those moments meant so much more. We had that, for a moment, a couple days ago. But when it came to sex, everything just… disappeared.”

He stared into those beady black eyes watching him so intently, the hamster’s ears twitching occasionally. Another glance back to Astarion. “We—I’m trying to figure out why.”

Of course it had only been Astarion since they were married, that was what one would typically expect in a monogamous relationship. Yet Astarion could not say the same. There had been too many to count since he met Gale. Too many targets pressing him into whatever surface was around. Too many hands taking whatever they wanted.

Gale looked at him with so much love. So much devotion. Until he spoke about that night. How close they’d come to touching the intimacy they’d had before when everything fell apart without warning. How confused Gale was regarding the cause, he walked through a field of landmines when touching Astarion, no idea that the landmine he kept hitting was the one on the elf’s back.

“It’s hard to explain, Gale.” That much was true, at least for the explanations that kept Astarion’s secret.

Boo gave a small squeak and jumped from Gale’s hand, landing in Astarion’s lap. He scooped the little rat up before he could ruin the fine linen of his shirt. It was infuriating how calming holding the damn fluff ball was.

Astarion kept his eyes firmly on their intertwined fingers, on the two silver bands. He could almost feel the inscription of his own ring, Dekarios pressed against his finger.

“I have a complicated relationship with sex. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.” The elf chanced a look at his husband, umber eyes watching him with a sorrowful yearning. Astarion continued, Gale needed to know.

“I want it with you, Gale. I don’t want you to stop just because I’m… I don’t know, broken? I know I get lost sometimes, but I came back to you. We didn’t have to stop.” He ignored the ache in his chest and blinked a bit more to ensure his eyes didn’t water. Boo nuzzled into his hand.

If Astarion truly wanted him, why did it feel so… detached when they tried? Why did those moments, the ones that had once been so vibrant and affirming, now feel like they were skimming a surface neither dared to dive beneath? Astarion kept saying he wanted it with Gale. The intimacy, the physical connection. He wanted to believe it. He really wanted to. But the belief was poisoned by darker thoughts, that Astarion was pushing through the pain for his sake, for his desire.

And gods, did that idea twist the knife.

He remained silent about it, instead turning to glance at Boo. The hamster, ironically, seemed to be doing a better job calming Astarion than Gale had managed in months. He looked back up to meet Astarion’s eyes, brushing a white curl away from his face.

“You’re not broken,” Gale said softly. “Please don’t say that.”

If anything, it was Astarion’s heart that was broken, and Gale had done that himself. He could never forgive himself for that. He could only hope to redeem himself of it by mending what shards he could pick up from this shattered relationship.

“I'm sorry we couldn’t have it, Astarion,” Gale murmured. “But I'm not sorry for stopping. If we continued… I don’t think it would have been you that was with me.”

Astarion opened his mouth to argue, but Minsc interrupted. Boo felt heavy in his hand, he looked down and saw the rodent was asleep. How ridiculous. Some emotional support animal he was, sleeping on the job.

As Minsc discussed boundaries and communication and “sex therapy” (were they going to have sex in front of him?) Astarion watched Boo’s breathing, his little body pulsing softly with each intake.

He found himself lulled into a sense of security, barely even hearing the therapist’s word until he addressed him directly. “Astarion, why don’t you share about your sex life?”

Shit. He should have known he’d be next.

“I don’t know. Before Gale sex was more of a tool than anything. But it’s different with him.” Astarion’s tone started off sharp and defensive but it softened the longer he spoke, his eyes kept firmly on Boo’s golden fur. “It’s always been different with Gale. That first time… I… I didn’t know it could feel that way anymore. To feel so connected so… safe.”

Astarion shifted to face Gale and Boo lifted his head up, watching as they spoke. “I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose this. And it… well it feels like the more you know the more you’re afraid to touch me. So if you don’t want me saying I’m broken then don’t treat me like I am, Gale.”

“I don’t treat you like you’re broken,” Gale said, voice faltering before he even got the second word out. He didn’t believe it. He had pulled back, hesitated, worried, every time he reached out to Astarion. “I… I want to know why you seem to tense when I touch you sometimes. Why you sometimes… leave.”

Gale sighed, eyes trained on the hamster as he spoke. “The thought of being the reason you feel unsafe, even for a moment, terrifies me.” He met Astarion’s gaze again, sincerity in his eyes. “But you’re right. I shouldn’t assume I know what you need or how you feel. I’m sorry.”

Gale was the farthest thing from safety for Astarion. Every touch, every word from him, it all seemed to form more cracks in his husband. But if Astarion was shattered glass, Gale needed him even if his hands would be covered in cuts and blood.

Gale’s apology sat sour in Astarion’s stomach. His husband just wanted to understand why Astarion reacted the way he did. But there was no telling him, the only real option was to lie. There was only so long Gale would accept this lie of omission, he was clearly reaching the end of that thread. One day soon the elf would have to tell him some bullshit reasoning for why he tensed, why his mind sometimes left him.

Today would not be that day.

They finished the session. There was no overarching healing moment, no sudden realization, no tears of relief. The rest of their time consisted of careful nods, soft spoken answers and Minsc going on a twenty minute lecture on sexual trauma. Despite the man’s odd nature, he was rather informative.

As Boo made his way over to Gale, crawling into his shirt’s front pocket, the therapist explained trauma responses. From flashbacks, to dissociation, to triggers, to everything under the fucking sun. Astarion could feel Gale recognizing symptoms, it made the smooth scars on his back itch.

The rest of therapy was somehow worse for Gale. Doubts and guilt drove into him like a spear, twisting and turning harshly. He recognized the signs in Minsc’s explanation of Astarion’s trauma—flashbacks, dissociation, triggers.

But what exactly was Astarion flashbacking to? What were the triggers?

Gods, if only Gale could ask. Yet he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.

Astarion had already shared so much today. And that night. Gale had to take it at his pace—there was at least some progress.

Solutions were discussed, referrals were made. Astarion hated that last one, not more therapists. By the end of it, the two hour session had felt like six. They made their way quietly to the parking lot, there was still a whole day of work ahead. Astarion needed to prepare for an upcoming mission, another fucking honeypot.

Gale sighed as walked out the building, clicking the car unlocked. Every glance back to Astarion during the session told Gale his husband was trying his damnedest to share, to say anything that wasn’t a snarky comment, a deflection, an insult. Even now, watching the elf stop at the car, the frustration remained in the lines on his face.

He wanted to reassure Astarion that he wasn’t going to push, that they’d take the smallest of steps if that was what he needed. He wanted to say so many things, yet all the words died in his throat when Astarion looked up at him with pleading red eyes, full of so much emotion.

Astarion could feel the apology in the warm oak of his irises. Gale opened his mouth, something sorrowful surely to follow it and Astarion couldn’t take it. That just wouldn’t do. He pulled Gale into a kiss, his hands clawing and tight, his lips soft and careful.

Gale barely opened his mouth when Astarion surged forward, closing the space between them with a kiss. It caught Gale off guard—much like the dinner date at home, it seemed like this one was also aimed to distract.

No.

He was reading this all wrong.

He had to believe Astarion.

Astarion was kissing him because he wanted to kiss him, wanted to be with him, wanted him to stay, wanted them to be together, wanted—

Just wanted him.

Right?

Gale leaned in, raising a hand to Astarion’s waist to pull him in. Higher, up the elf’s back to caress his head and—

That subtle stiffness again.

He couldn’t keep ignoring this.

It’s fine, Astarion’s voice echoed.

He couldn’t keep ignoring this.

Melamin, saesa uma il- kela amin. [My love, please don't leave me.]

He couldn’t keep ignoring this.

I want it with you, Gale.

Gale finally pulled away with a soft smile, brushing away a stray curl from Astarion’s face. “Let’s go home, love.”

Another pause of silence between them as he opened the passenger door for the elf. The warm smile remained on his lips as he walked over to the driver’s side, settling in and starting the car. The start of music playing lightly. A hand reaching over to clasp Astarion’s hand in his. Cool metal of the wedding band against his warm hand.

This was going to be okay.

Suddenly, a couple minutes later on the highway, he felt a twitch against his chest.

Fuck.

“We have to go back,” Gale sighed.

“What?”

“Boo’s still in my pocket.”

Chapter Text

The mission was asinine. There was no reason for it to be a fucking honeypot. They had Astarion posing as a BDSM prostitute, sent to pleasure some moron CEO named Nere that someone somewhere wanted dead. As if making the target cum changed anything about the end result.

It was shit, pure shit.

Astarion arrived at the hotel in a dark trench coat. The only part of his outfit showing being the black, laced up five-inch heels with red polished toes peeking out. They made a satisfying click as he sauntered across the marble tiled lobby, his leather pants squeaking softly between his thighs. The mission might be terrible, but at least he enjoyed the outfit. He was definitely keeping this one.

An elevator took him straight to the penthouse suite. Two armed guards outside the door let him in, a pistol holstered on their hips, likely another firearm strapped to their ankle. Three more guards were inside the suite watching an episode of Real Housewives of Neverwinter. Astarion resisted the urge to scoff, he’d already seen this episode. It was a waste of time, complete filler.

One of the guards stood, leading Astarion to the main bedroom, another guard waiting outside that door. There was a good amount of distance between the lone guard and the three fucking off in the living room. This wouldn’t be that difficult. He could easily do this without using his body. Of course, that meant invoking Cazador’s wrath after.

In two hours he’d be having dinner with Gale. They were planning to have a night in watching a movie together. He already texted his husband that he would likely be a bit late due to a high workload at the office, but regardless of being late or not, he’d still have to cuddle up next to Gale after this. He’d have to take a hot shower beforehand to try to scrub the feeling of another person off his skin. He’d have to use his amulet of restoration in the glovebox and be reminded about the risk these fucking missions pose to his own health and in turn to Gale’s should he forget to cast the damned spell. It’d be another night of tension that his husband would surely catch on to.

Astarion offered the guard a demure smile before turning the handle and entering the bedroom.

A drow with dusk grey skin and long white hair swept back sat in an armchair in the corner with a sneer. Astarion looked down his nose at the CEO, a viscous grin on his face as he pretended to assess the man.

“An elf? I specifically asked for a tabaxi. Leave me.” The drow’s red eyes flicked to the window dismissively as he sipped his beverage, a whiskey if the half empty bottle next to him was any clue.

The mark wanted to put up a fight and had a preference for consensual non-consent. It was perfect for the assassination, albeit unnecessary in Astarion’s opinion. A piece of cake.

When Dal said it during the briefing, Astarion rolled his eyes. If it was so easy why didn’t they have anyone else do it? There was no point in asking that question, though, he knew exactly why.

Astarion’s heels thudded against the thin carpet as he walked over to the drow, stopping a few meters away. The target squinted his eyes, placing his glass on the table next to him. His red eyes landed back on Astarion with a scoff.

“I told you to leave.”

It would be so simple to close the distance and stab him in the throat. But his left earring was recording video of everything. Cazador would review the footage when he turned his gear in tomorrow. It wasn’t worth it.

Astarion held eye contact with the CEO as he untied his trench coat, shrugging the material off so that it fell to the ground behind him. The drow swallowed as he took in Astarion’s outfit: tight leather pants with his entire chest and abdomen bare. The only thing on his upper half was long, leather sleeves that connected over his collarbones. When the drow finally met Astarion’s eyes again, the elf smirked.

Astarion’s next words came out slow like thick sap dripping down tree bark. “On your knees, darling.”

The drow was silent, looking over Astarion with disdain, but the elf could see the subtle changes. Dilating pupils, shallow breath, the way his hands bit into the arms of the chair. The drow was aroused and itching for a fight.

"I told you to leave. Do you want me to call my men out there? They'll get you in seconds. You're nothing but a pathetic whore. Now leave."

Thank the fucking gods the drow wanted it rough. Astarion could definitely be rough after that comment.

Astarion didn't move an inch, he didn't show any kind of reaction except for a slight smile in his eyes that sent the CEO into a rage. He stood up from his chair and took three long strides towards the other elf. A pale hand was around his throat instantly, his leather sleeve shining in the lamp light. The drow froze, his pants tenting noticeably as Astarion squeezed.

"I told you," Astarion whispered darkly as he applied pressure in a downward force, "to get on your knees." The drow slowly complied, dropping to the ground.

"You better—" The rest of the CEO's words were cut off by a hard slap.

"You brought toys, mutt. Where are they?" Astarion demanded, looking down his nose.

It would be simple to just shove a blade into the drow now. The job would be done almost instantly. Once he reassembled the silenced pistol strapped down his legs Astarion could take out the guards quickly and get the fuck out of here. He wouldn't have to use his body. He could come home to Gale and hug him without feeling sick.

But the mission was to sleep with the target first. Wholly unnecessary but expected of him nonetheless. Not meeting that expectation came with consequences.

The drow's eyes flicked to underneath the bed as he shook under Astarion's tight grip. Astarion walked around him, hand loosening and fingers trailing around until he could tangle them in the back of those long white strands. The drow hissed when Astarion pulled his head back sharply, crouching down behind him to reach the box under the bed.

Less than a minute later Astarion had his hands cuffed behind his back with his eyes covered by a black satin blindfold. Still on his knees but the asshole wouldn’t shut up.

“Is this all you’ve got? As if I can’t call out to my men right now. Honestly, it shouldn’t be this difficult to get a proper whore. Take this blind fold off, I want to at least see what I’m payi—aghhh!”

Astarion shoved his thumb in the drow’s mouth to force him to open wider before spitting, hitting the back of the drow’s throat. He didn’t give the CEO time to respond; a ball gag ensured that the elf wouldn’t have to hear anymore.

“That’s better,” Astarion sighed, rolling his shoulders back and cracking his neck. “Gods, you are the fucking worst. I should have gutted you instantly.”

The drow moaned.

“Oh, you like that?” Astarion asked before barking with laughter as he pulled a dagger out from under his sleeve. “Why don’t I tell you exactly how I’d like to take this dagger to your throat and watch you bleed out slowly on the floor?”

The drow’s hips canted in response, his answer muffled by the gag. Astarion pressed his heeled foot into the CEO’s groin, pushing down hard in a sudden shove that forced the drow onto his back with a grunt. His legs folded underneath him at an uncomfortable angle. Astarion didn’t give him any time to fix his position, he stepped forward, hovering his shoe over the man’s balls, noticing a chip in his toenail polish. Damn, he literally just painted them last night, how were they already chipped?

“You like the pain,” Astarion stated matter-of-factly as he slowly put his entire weight onto the drow’s dick, the CEO’s muffled cries filling the room. “Don’t worry darling, I can give you pain.”

He was supposed to keep this up for hours. He was supposed to fill the room with the sounds of pain and sex to keep the guards from going on alert. He was supposed to slice his throat at the last second before making a run for it, taking out the rest of the suite if his invisibility potion wasn’t enough to get out.

Astarion twisted his ankle, grinding down at a merciless pressure. Despite knowing the drow took pleasure in it, his pain was still satisfying. There was something familiar in him. When the drow turned his face, chest heaving, Astarion was suddenly able to place it.

Cazador.

Maybe it was the long swept back straight hair with his pointed ears. Maybe it was the way he spoke to Astarion like he was less than a dog, more akin to a possession. Maybe it didn’t matter.

All Astarion knew was that he was too angry to care anymore. Satisfaction flared through him as he jammed the blade into the drow’s gut. Everything went dull as he pulled the dagger back out and plunged it back in. Over and over and over and over and over.

Until everything was quiet except for the Astarion’s grunts and the wet sounds of his bloodied stabbing. His fingers slid against the hilt, warm and wet with the CEO’s blood.

For a moment, Astarion was at peace.

The entire universe pinpointed to his blade as it sunk countless times into the drow’s abdomen. The simple button down shirt he wore was torn to shreds halfway through. It became difficult to know what was shredded flesh, fabric or bone. Astarion didn’t remember sinking down to the ground to bend over him. He didn’t remember moving up from the drow’s stomach to his chest, driving the blade into the man’s heart as if ensuring it wouldn’t be allowed to beat. He didn’t remember crying.

Godsdamnit. Gods-fucking-damnit.

As the blade clattered to the floor Astarion felt the weight of what he’d done. This was not how this was supposed to go. He shouldn’t be finished for over an hour now. The kill was supposed to be clean so that others would assume the target was sleeping at first glance. But this…

Astarion looked down at the blood pooling around the corpse, at the splatters that decorated around the room, at the amount covering his hands. Looking down at the rest of himself, Astarion could see that it was more than just his hands. His entire front was painted like a rorschach and a quick glance to the mirror across the room showed his face and hair were in much the same condition.

First, he needed to get out of here. Astarion snagged his dagger back off of the ground and sheathed it, resisting the urge to stab a few more times into the corpse. He’d give anything to keep going, imagining Cazador’s face behind that blindfold. Instead, he takes a moment to assemble his silenced pistol.

The movements were instinct as he inserted the barrel into the slide, pressing the spring down into the slide until it hit the notch, then lining up the rails on the gun and racking it twice to ensure it was on there securely. Silencer screwed on. Trigger clicked twice. Insert mag. Done.

Astarion leaned against the bed to twist off the heel of each shoe and retrieve the items hidden in them, one vial of invisibility and a tightly rolled-up Feather Fall scroll. After reading the scroll, the elf replaced the heels of his shoes and swallowed down the invisibility potion. Stepping out onto the patio, Astarion looked over the ledge to see his getaway car below. It looked like a toy from this high up, gods he hated this part.

With a deep breath, Astarion closed his eyes and jumped. It was just so disorienting to move this slowly in a fall from over fifty stories up. He ignored the churning in his gut and reviewed the streets, making sure he had the route back to the safe house down. It was only a few blocks over, he just needed to get there, clean himself off, change, and get to the portal station.

Astarion finally dropped down next to the car and hurriedly got into it as his invisibility dropped. That was when he saw the time.

Shit.

He was so fucked.

Gale was going to be home in less than an hour. Astarion needed to be at the station now, there was no time for the safe house. He took a left to head straight for the portal station. At a red light Astarion reached for the center console and pulled out the false bottom to retrieve a scroll of Prestidigitation. Of course the light turned green then. The agent cursed under his breath, using his elbow to keep the steering wheel straight while he cast the spell.

Once he was home he needed to change quickly before his husband arrived. Astarion could hide the clothes until he brought them back to the office tomorrow. But gods, he did like this outfit and wanted to keep it. Astarion couldn’t help but imagine Gale’s reaction to seeing him in it some time in the future when the moment was right.

They’d been making progress the past month; Gale’s touch was still a bit tentative but he was trying. He didn’t ask questions when Astarion said he preferred the lights to be low, that he wanted them to face each other. His husband squeezed his hand empathetically and nodded at the time, clearly assuming it was related to some traumatic past and not Astarion maintaining his fucking lies.

On the drive back, his mind kept going back to Cazador. The man was a looming threat now, more so than ever. Astarion could see it now, the moment he came back to the office tomorrow that vile elf would be waiting for him. They would need to go over the footage, likely bringing up past footage. The moment Astarion’s eyes glazed over he would be made to reiterate everything said to him.

It had been a while since he disobeyed like this, not that it would earn him any leniency. If anything Cazador would be itching to sink his claws in. Hells, there was going to be a massive uptick in these missions for sure.

He was so fucked, in far too many senses of the word.

Astarion held the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip, his bare back starting to sweat against the leather seat behind him. He went back to stabbing the drow, how he could only see Cazador’s face as he sunk the blade in.

“Fuck you,” he muttered as if his boss could hear him as he pulled into the driveway, feeling a sense of relief when Gale’s car wasn’t there yet.

Time to move.

Astarion entered the house and went straight upstairs when his phone started ringing.

Petras.

Ignore.

The phone rang again.

Petras.

Lathander’s shining ballsack, he wasn’t going to leave Astarion alone. Picking up the call as he reached the top of the stairs, Astarion growled out, “What.”

“Now come on, brother. Is that any way to treat family? We’ve got a mission coming up and—”

“You aren’t family. Stop calling me brother before I cut your tongue out,” Astarion retorted as he turned into the bedroom. “Whatever it is you need to tell me, it can wait until tomorrow. Do not call me again.”

Right as Astarion silenced his phone the bedroom door opened. Turning around like a deer in headlights, Astarion faced his husband whose jaw was practically on the ground.

He was fucked.

Gale stood outside the Yawning Portal, checking over himself quickly. It would be a simple mission tonight; gather information, tag the targets of the receiving party, and assassinate the other party. The wizard checked over the targets’ appearances and info one more time on his phone before taking a steadying breath. With a hand over his tressym feather necklace, he cast a few spells in preparation.

The light scent of alcohol bled into his clothes. The fake cash he pulled out turned to realistic twenties and fifties. Then the disguise. His facial structure changed, brown hair and eyes turned jet black, chin bare with no beard. Cheeks reddened to add to the drunken look he was going for.

Ugh. Even if it was an illusion, he hated how he looked in the mirror.

A few mumbles to himself to get in the act of a different man with an entirely different cadence, speech pattern. Slurred enough to insinuate light drunkenness, but not enough to impair his speech. He walked to the door, adjusting his posture into one far less commanding. Someone unassuming, harmless.

Alright. Showtime.

Gale stepped into the tavern, acting as if he was here earlier and had just gone out for a breath of fresh air. As if he knew where he was going. With how busy it was tonight, it was unlikely that the common people would notice him anyway.

He made it to the back easily, ‘accidentally’ stumbling to the staff room where he’d heard the targets would be waiting.

A small group of three was playing poker at a table—the people that Petras would be meeting with to discuss the deals. It seemed that man was not yet here.

One of them—Gheris, Gale recognized—snapped their head up to look at Gale, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here? It’s staff only, read the sign,” he scoffed, looking back at his cards.

Gale looked around dumbly, leaning on the door that was slowly swinging away. He stumbled, barely catching himself. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, ‘m just looking for the—” He paused, looking over to the table. “Hey, you guys playing poker? Can I—”

“No, get out,” another snapped—Blaise—starting to stand up.

“Hey, look, man,” Gale slurred, reaching into his pocket for the cash. His lidded eyes quickly scanned their reactions—from guarded stiffness, reading to grab for their not-so-concealed weapons, to faint interest. “I got cash.”

“What part of ‘get out’ do you not understand?” Gheris snarled, reaching out to grab Gale’s collar.

Gale allowed him. He raised his hands up in defense, but smirked at the man, wiggling the wad of cash in his hands. “Alright, alright, not interested I see. Think I’ll clean y’all out?”

The third man, Duver, stood up to put a hand on Gheris’s shoulder. “Let him sit,” he said slowly, eyeing the money with a grin. “Let’s see how much we can get out of this guy. Petras is late anyway, we gotta get something outta this.”

Gale eagerly sat once they settled down, a dopey grin on his face as he subtly analyzed the men at the table. Guns at the belts, partially concealed daggers under the jacket. One of them, Blaise, seemed to be a spellcaster—a poor one at that, judging by the abysmally concealed spell he casted on the deck of cards, probably to try and cheat. Gods, Gale was already playing a drunkard, were they that bad at poker?

He joined the game regardless, playing his part until Petras would eventually show up. He laughed loudly at jokes—mostly directed at himself—occasionally made clumsy plays, and cursed his luck when he folded too early. Meanwhile, a Mage Hand tacked on trackers, cameras, and voice recorders on each of them. Under the folds of their collars, on their shoes, in the folds of the edges of their pants. It wasn’t hard, with them being distracted by Gale making a fool of himself.

He finished that task in just a couple rounds, the rest of the men lowering their guards easily already. It was now just waiting for Petras Podex to show up so Gale could bug him and be on his way. Once the artifact was exchanged between them, Gale could assassinate the lone man once these three left and retrieve the item.

Gale gave a subtle glance to his watch, silently cursing in his head. He was going to be late getting home; Astarion would be wondering where was. Petras must be one inconsiderate—or stupid—bastard to be keeping these people waiting. If Gale wasn’t here to keep them entertained, he doubted they’d be very forgiving.

Finally, after a couple more rounds of him ‘losing’ and stubbornly refusing to give up, he heard the door open behind him.

The air shifted again as the three men were immediately tense, watching the newcomer warily just as they had with Gale.

The wizard tilted his head back, offering the stranger a grin. “‘Ey, here to come join the fun?” he slurred.

This wasn’t Petras.

“Staff only,” Gheris pointed out the sign again with a glare. “Get out.”

The stranger raised an eyebrow. “I’m here as Petras’ replacement. He’s not making it tonight.”

“What do you mean he’s not making it tonight? He’s the one who we’re supposed to hand the goods to.”

“Hey, shut the fuck up,” Blaise snapped. He tilted his head towards Gale. The wizard looked between the two with a confused expression, playing dumb. “He’s still here, idiot.”

“Oh, he’s drunk enough to forget all this later,” Duver said, waving a hand. Regardless, Gale felt a hand around his arm, pulling him up and towards the door.

“Hey, hey, I’m not done here,” Gale protested, weakly trying to get back. “I gotta win my money back!”

“Too late,” Duver sneered. “Thanks for the entertainment and cash, buddy.”

He shoved Gale out and onto the floor, then slammed the door in his face. Rude.

Gale stared at the door for a moment, then slowly got up. The men were all bugged; he’d be able to track, watch, and listen to them.

He quickly made his way out, putting an earpiece in as soon as possible to connect with the listening devices so he wouldn’t miss anything.

Something about the Petras person fucking things up, the three men wanting the exchange happening in a different time and location because they didn’t trust the new person, one of them getting angry and upset, and another saying that it wasn’t that much of a waste of time thanks to the drunkard’s money.

Gale made it to his car with a sigh of frustration. He could attack the trio for the artifact, he didn’t doubt his abilities to win against them one against three, but this was not the plan. He didn’t know if they had the item on them, or if it was somewhere else. It was supposed to be one assassination, and any more would raise suspicion, especially in a busy tavern like this one.

Besides, Gale was late for dinner.

He had trackers on them; he and his associates would be able to gain more information on their future exchange and obtain the item later.

Gale waited a few minutes before deciding whether or not to abandon the mission and drive home, listening intently to the conversation through his earpiece.

The new person had left, and the trio were discussing what to do next.

“Next time, it’ll be a private location,” one of them said. “I’m not dealing with random drunkards and civilians again. And, we contact Petras directly. We’ve wasted enough time sorting this out.”

“Yeah, let’s get going. I don’t want to risk anything keeping this thing on us for any longer than we need to.”

Gale perked up at that, glancing back at the tavern. So they did have the item on them. Before he could even consider going back in and trying to steal it from them, they continued. “You have the teleportation item, right? Come on, let’s go.”

A muttered insult about rushing him, a chant of a teleportation spell, and the swirling sound of a portal being summoned.

Gale sighed, leaning back into his seat as he took out the earpiece. He tried to focus on the scent of the lavender air freshener to soothe his nerves. The mission wasn’t a total loss—everything would be recorded and tracked. Still, it irked him that the night didn’t go according to plan.

With a quick glance at the rearview mirror, he realized he was still in his drunkard disguise. He waved his hand, and the air shimmered around him as the magic was dispelled. Dark hair and eyes lighter, beard back on his face—thank gods—and the wedding band returning to visibility around his finger.

He started the car, taking a deep breath. Everything was as it should be.

Gale drove back home going over excuses and stories for why he was home late; perhaps some spell mishap or the like, or a colleague keeping him. Traffic was a common but reasonable one—but Astarion went the same route Gale did today, and maybe the elf would be suspicious if it wasn’t slow.

He pulled up into the driveway, grimacing at Astarion’s already parked car. Gods, how many lies can he tell over and over again until Astarion found out and stopped believing anything he said?

Another quick look in the rearview mirror to check himself again, making sure he looked the same as usual and giving his hand a sniff to see if the alcohol scent had disappeared. With that, he adjusted the collar of his shirt and straightened his clothes before heading in.

“I’m home!” he called instinctively as he came in. He hung up his jacket, making sure his component pouch didn’t stick out from the inner pocket.

It had become a habit over the years; “I’m home” followed by a “welcome home”, sometimes one of them greeting the other at the door with a kiss, offering a warm cup of tea or coffee if it was cold out. There was no reply from his husband like there usually was this time.

“Astarion?” he called, listening for any signs of the elf. Maybe he was showering or napping, exhausted after a long day’s work. Gale made his way upstairs quietly, if that was the case, but then heard movement in their bedroom. Perhaps Astarion just hadn’t heard him.

“Hello, love,” Gale started, pushing the door open, “sorry I’m late again tonight, I—”

He stopped, shocked by the sight that greeted him.

His husband stood frozen by the closet, phone in hand, staring at him with wide eyes. Black leather clung to his body, from sleek low rise pants to leather sleeves that connected over his collarbones. His entire chest and abdomen was bare, pale and catching the dim light of the room.

An outfit clearly not intended for a casual night together.

Chapter Text

Gale was reminded of their first night together in the hotel all those years ago, Astarion’s shoe in his hand, frozen yet ready to run at the slightest movement. Scared to have something more than one night.

This time, scared… of what?

Gale blinked, utterly speechless, trying to analyze and make sense of what he was seeing. An outfit like this was… it wasn’t…. Was this a message? Was Astarion trying to suggest something tonight?

His mind flashed back to the countless hours he’d spent researching on improving intimacy in a failing relationship, which rabbit-holed down into BDSM culture, delving into the power dynamics between partners. He had read about how these practices could be tools used for healing, for connection, for building or rebuilding confidence in oneself and trust in others.

Gale’s cheeks burned as he realized he was staring. Astarin’s expression was unreadable now. Did he misread the elf’s fear as something else? Was he nervous? Expectant?

Was this… an invitation?

Gale took a cautious step forward, gaze sweeping over the outfit again. Warmth pooled in his abdomen, mingling with his confusion and nerves. “This is… unexpected,” he said, voice soft but slightly wavering in his usual steadiness. He paused, thoughts racing. “Did… did you want to try… this… together?”

Astarion clutched the question like a lifeline, immediately switching into a coy smile as he lifted a hand, tracing a finger down Gale's jaw.

"Do you feel like playing tonight, love?" Astarion asked in a lower register as he leaned in closer and whispered, "It could be fun."

This could work.

He could make this work.

Thank the fucking gods Gale assumed the outfit was for him. Now he just needed to roll with this. Astarion had never been dominant with Gale, but he'd played the part plenty of times on missions. He just needed to pull from that. Everything would be fine.

Gale nodded dumbly, swallowing hard as his brain worked overtime to continue processing the situation. Was this Astarion’s way of addressing their struggles? Was this his attempt at bridging the emotional distance that still lingered between them?

“I-I do,” he finally managed out, leaning slightly into Astarion’s touch. “If you do as well, of course. I mean, after, well, everything, you know.... And I just... wasn’t expecting this. I, ah, didn’t know you had this planned for us. You look…” He stumbled over his sentences, hesitating as he tried to find the right word. “Exquisite.”

"I thought you might enjoy a little surprise," Astarion lied as he caressed Gale's cheek, his thumb stroking gently across his beard. "First, tell me, love. Do you want a firm hand tonight? Does the thought of being at my mercy harden that thick cock of yours?"

It was important to know that Gale wanted this. This wasn't some mark he needed to murder or steal from. ThisThis was Gale.

Gale’s breath hitched at Astarion’s words, another rush of warmth surging through his body. Astarion’s voice was like velvet—deep, commanding, and utterly irresistible. This side of him was rare, and gods, it stirred something deep in Gale’s chest. The idea of surrendering, of giving himself over to Astarion, was tantalizing. He wanted this, but… more importantly, he realized how much Astarion may need this.

This wasn’t just about desire; it was something more. Astarion was trying, but was this an attempt to rekindle their intimacy, or to distract Gale from something else? Perhaps both?

Gale’s hand reached up to take Astarion’s gently, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “Are you… are you sure you want this?” he asked tentatively. “That this isn’t just for me? That this is for us, for you.”

Warmth appeared in his chest like sunlight cresting over the horizon when Gale kissed his hand. Astarion leaned in and pressed his lips gently against Gale's, trying to think carefully of how to answer this.

Did he want this? It hadn't been planned, but it wasn't like he could back out now. In that moment, so close to Gale and hearing the way his breath hitched, Astarion felt the stir of want. It may not have been planned, but it wasn't like he didn't want Gale. No, the more he thought about it, the more he did want.

Astarion leaned in, kissing his cheek as he continued forward to whisper in Gale's ear. "I want you." Not a lie.

That was all Gale needed for confirmation.

"Now tell me... " Astarion began as he slid his hand down from Gale's jaw to the base of his neck, a firm pressure but not tight enough to restrict his airway. His breath came in hot against Gale's ear as he continued in more of a command than a question. "Do you want to play? Because I won't be asking again."

Maybe Gale was desperate after last time had gone downhill. Maybe he was misreading things again. But there was truth behind the words, the commitment, the want, the need. It was there.

He nodded, letting out a sharp exhale and a breathy, “Yes.”

Astarion's mouth was on his neck instantly, hands moving up to pull the hair tie out of Gale's hair so he could thread his fingers through the man's waves. Gale let out a soft moan as teeth sunk in, marking him, just as a vampire would bite and claim and take, take, take.

Gale's hand running down his spine knocked a bit of sense into the elf. His back. He couldn't let Gale see his back. The scars might be mostly smooth to the touch but they'd be visible close up.

Astarion didn't break his pace, well trained in maintaining performance as he calculated. He groaned against Gale, sucking down hard on his neck to leave a bruise where he’d claimed him.

Fuck. This was starting to feel like a mission. Astarion's fingers in Gale's hair tightened, but the anxiety and a need for more control guided his grip.

Heat kept pooling in his gut despite it all, with all of Gale’s reactions to his roughness. Astarion wanted this. It wasn't a lie. He wouldn't let it become a lie. He took in the disheveled look of his husband, the heat in his eyes, the way his tie had gone crooked in their embrace.

Oh, he wanted him. And he would have him. Gale was his tonight. The word repeating in his mind as he eyed the fresh bruise with an imprint from his teeth on his husband's neck: Mine.

"On your knees, darling," Astarion commanded with a smirk. Where the words had felt hollow on his mission earlier that night, they now felt weighted and powerful. Real.

Gale shivered at the elf's words, lowering himself immediately at the command, keeping his eyes locked on Astarion's. He wanted this, wanted Astarion, and most of all, he wanted Astarion to feel in control, to feel how trustful and willing Gale was.

"Very good, pet," Astarion whispered, stepping closer to stroke his husband's hair before circling around him and stopping out of Gale’s view. He looked damn near ready to worship kneeled down on the ground, watching Astarion as if it weren't even possible to look anywhere else.

Gale shivered at the pet name, heat building up so rapidly in his chest, his abdomen, cock filling slowly yet surely. How easily Astarion made him forget about everything. The mission, his work, the lies, the wire he was walking on.

He started to turn his head to watch Astarion, pausing mid-motion as he felt the elf's foot against his back. The flat sole of his shoe pressed right between his shoulder blades, the point of his heel barely digging in with pressure.

Astarion paused. Every cell in his body was on fire with anticipation, but he waited. Gale said yes, but they hadn't discussed limits. He needed to make sure. "Color?"

A single word whispered with authority yet edged with care. "Green," Gale answered in a murmur. "I trust you, love."

Astarion ignored the pang of guilt that came with that. This entire scenario may be founded on a lie but that didn't mean all of it was false. Nothing had ever felt more real than the way he loved Gale. It was the one thing that truly tethered him to this plane. And now Gale wanted to give him this trust, this gift of submission.

Leaning down on the foot resting between Gale's shoulder blades, Astarion slid his fingers up the back of Gale's head to fist into his hair. As he pulled, he dragged his foot down to the base of Gale's spine, the sharp heel catching and fighting the fabric of his shirt. His husband arched his back beautifully, jaw tensed and throat exposed. A lamb waiting to be gutted.

Gale couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped him as sharp pain dragged down his back, a trail of fire scorching into him. He’d felt pain before, much worse than this, but never in this way. A white-hot heat that spread across his entire body, searing into him like a brand, like ownership,

I love you, Astarion thought as he bared his teeth and dropped his grip on Gale's hair, shoving his foot down to force the professor on his hands and knees.

"Mm, much better. Eyes on the floor, pet." The elf tutted as he carefully walked past Gale, to seat himself on the armchair a few meters in front of his husband. It helped that the lights were dim, that the window was behind the chair, casting him in darkness from Gale’s view. It didn’t fully erase the tension that Gale might see, but it helped.

Gale was perfectly obedient, eyes trained on the floor at Astarion’s command even after Astarion was comfortably seated.

There was an urge to bark with laughter that Astarion had to stop himself from giving in to. He felt so alive. He'd done these same moves many times, always feeling numb or vaguely unclean. Now he felt like a live wire touching the water, volts crackling untamed within him. Sharp. Powerful. Hungry.

Gale waited so patiently, head down, hair curtained around him as he gripped the carpet like the wind might carry him away. "Look at me, Gale."

Umber met crimson and Astarion's breath hitched. He wet his lips, hand tightening on the arm of the chair before giving his next command.

"Now crawl."

Gale looked back up, lips slightly parted in sharp breaths as he took in how Astarion sat so casually in the armchair, so in command, one leg over the other, hand palming himself through the tight leather pants.

There was something so satisfying about Astarion being just as worked up as him that had him immediately crawling towards the elf, fast and wanting, yet forcing himself to slow, to not seem as desperate.

One hand in front of the other, one knee sliding in front of the other. He was reminded of all the times he’d crawled through tight spaces for a mission, infiltrating a location trying to assassinate a target or obtain a valuable item, lining himself for a clear shot of an enemy without their notice.

No.

This wasn’t danger, this wasn’t a mission. He felt small, but not for the purpose of avoiding being seen. He felt the same way here, but crimson eyes bore into him, making him feel more visible and seen than ever before. This was humiliation, submission, truly giving himself over to his lover, and gods did it make him feel so, so alive.

He made it in front of Astarion before stopping, looking up obediently at the man who owned every inch of him in this moment. Only a thin rim of chestnut around his large pupils as he waited.

Astarion took his time, rolling his neck and briefly checking his nails. Every second between them was thick and heated. As his husband's posture began to relax, Astarion tilted in his chair so that the toe of his shoe could graze against Gale's cheek.

"Do you like them?" Astarion whispered between them, referring to the heels as if it were a secret. He smiled deviously as he circled his ankle to hook his toe under Gale's chin and force the man's head higher up.

Gale tilted his head, gaze still fixed onto the elf, pliant at the lightest touch from Astarion.

"I adore them," he murmured, voice hoarse with desire. He did. They suited the elf well. They stood out against pale skin, made him seem taller, more imposing. He tilted his head slightly, planting a soft kiss against the exposed skin of Astarion's foot. Then another, on the side of the shoe, then nuzzling his cheek against him.

Astarion pressed the side of his foot against Gale's cheek a moment longer, drinking in the way his olive tone's contrasted with the black leather, the way his beard scratched against it as he slid his foot down. Focusing on the point of his heel, Astarion dragged down Gale's neck, watching his skin bloom a faint red to mark where he'd been.

Gale inhaled sharply, a twitch in his hips as he seemed to suppress the urge to cant them. He was doing so good.

The elf continued curving his heel down, flexing to focus on the toe of his shoe, feeling the fabric of Gale's tie against his exposed toes as he pressed in a silent command for Gale to sit back.

Astarion's shoe was like a knife carving its way into Gale's skin. He sat back, resting his hands on his thighs again as he resisted the urge to palm himself through his pants.

Uncrossing his legs, Astarion leaned forward to run his finger over the raised red line along Gale’s neck, feeling how hot to the touch it was.

"You're doing so well for me," the elf cooed before pulling back an inch to hold out his hand, palm up. His tone dropped, sharp and commanding. "Tie."

Gale shuddered under his touch, breaths coming out heavier as Astarion's words commanded him like a spell. He tugged at the knot of his tie, carefully undoing it with trembling hands. The tie slipped free, and Gale placed it in Astarion's waiting palm.

The elf leaned back in his chair, widening his legs as he pulled the tie taut between his hands like a rope. It was a silken black thing with subtle matte cat paws patterned over it. He couldn't help but smile fondly as he eyed the piece, love blooming bright in his chest like a field buttercups under the morning sun.

Gale watched as Astarion examined the tie, catching that subtle smile, fond and out of character of the current scene. Astarion was still here, present, and he couldn't help the warmth of affection mixing with the heat and lust.

Part of Astarion wanted to pull Gale into a deep kiss, to press him back into the carpet and make tender love to him. Instead, he bit his lip, sliding down a few inches in his chair and draping the tie across his stomach. He crooked two fingers to command Gale closer.

He obeyed eagerly, shuffling forward on his knees so his chest was almost flush against the armchair, body bracketed by Astarion's legs.

How had they not done this before? Gale was gorgeous like this, his brilliant, handsome and charming husband made so pliant. Every time Gale obeyed, it felt like a sacrifice placed upon Astarion's altar. There was nothing like it.

Astarion trailed his hand along the tie across his stomach, watching Gale follow the motion as he moved high up to pinch one of his own nipples. Sucking air in through his teeth at the sharp pleasurable sensation, Astarion's eyes fluttered for a moment before turning his attention back to Gale.

"You do look so wonderful there, darling." The elf sighed, brushing a loose strand behind Gale's ear and continuing the motion to cup the back of his head. Astarion guided him down closer to the ties of his leather pants.

Taking the tie in his hands, Astarion blindfolded Gale in a few swift practiced motions.

Gale's breath hitched as the world was plunged into darkness, the lack of sight heightening every other sensation—the silky fabric tightening just enough to block his sight without discomfort, the barest hint of salt on Astarion's finger that thrust into his mouth before pulling away, the faint rustle of Astarion shifting above him. The heat of his husband’s hard cock against his face as a hand fisted into his hair and his head was pushed into the elf’s groin.

Two short rolls of his hips and Astarion was angling Gale's face back, every sharp breath from his husband going straight to his cock. His mouth dropped open in a silent moan. "What's your color, pet?"

"G-green," Gale breathed, fighting the urge to wrap his mouth around Astarion's clothed cock. Maybe he could taste it through the leather if he tried hard enough. But no, not yet. Not without Astarion's permission. "Can—can I touch you, please, sir?"

It took everything for Astarion not to audibly groan at the honorific. Fucking hells, Gale had never called him that before and it sounded positively sinful from his lips.

He hummed noncommittally, guiding Gale's mouth back to his laced pants. "Untie them."

The moment Gale began to lift his hands Astarion tightened his grip in the other man's hair, briefly digging his nails into his scalp and drawing out a soft gasp from the man.

"I didn't say to use your hands, pet," the elf added darkly and Gale nodded, immediately settling his hands back on his thighs in a tight grip.

He leaned forward again, feeling with his tongue the laces of the elf's pants. It took a few moments, but he managed to get a hold of the lace between his teeth, tugging slightly to loosen the knot. He could feel the leather pants stretching out as the waistband loosened, the elf's cock shifting to escape its confines.

It would be so simple to continue mouthing him, moving in for more, but he held back. Astarion only said to untie, after all.

Astarion thought Gale might continue, almost hoped he would. Not only for the pleasure of it but the ability to provide a swift punishment afterward.

"Such a talented tongue." Astarion murmured as he pulled Gale's head back just enough to free himself. He gave his husband's face one, two, three firm taps with his cock as those soft lips opened in surprise.

Gale's lips parted further, his tongue darting out instinctively as Astarion tapped the head of his cock against them. The taste of salt and the faint musk of the elf's arousal sent a surge of heat through his entire body.

"Go ahead, you've earned a taste."

He went in eagerly as soon as Astarion gave him permission, wrapping his lips around his length and relaxing his jaw to push forward until the head hit the back of his throat. Gale moaned around Astarion’s cock, tongue swirling around the tip and savoring the taste.

It'd been far too long.

After all those failed attempts at bringing his husband pleasure, he was determined to succeed this time, to completely give himself and everything else over to Astarion.

Astarion's head dropped back, biting his lip with a groan. His husband's mouth was wet and hot, drool already pooling at the base of his cock. That talented tongue swirled and pressed against him, cheeks hollowing as he sucked down. Lips coral pink and shining in the dim light of the bedroom. Astarion reached out and stroked his cheek, thumb lightly brushing his bottom lip as Gale's mouth stretched over him.

Then there were the moans, low at the back of his husband’s throat, vibrating against his length and full of a deep-seated hunger. Gods, Astarion hadn't realized how much he'd missed that sound.

Hand moving from his cheek to fist back into those brown waves, the feeling so right as Astarion tangled his pale fingers through Gale's hair, like they belonged there. He forced Gale to stop with a tightened grip and a twist of his wrist to bring him back up until he barely held the head, tongue flat against him but still—waiting for direction.

Astarion used his other hand to bring Gale's palm to his thigh. He briefly squeezed his hand before letting it go to hold the arm of the chair, voice rough as he gave direction. "You will tap twice if you need to breathe. Do it now."

Gale nodded slightly once, not letting the tip of Astarion's cock leave his lips. He immediately followed the elf's command, tapping twice on the elf's thigh.

The reassurance of the gesture, of Astarion ensuring his comfort even in such a commanding position, sent a wave of warmth through him. It was moments like these, hidden beneath the intensity, that made Gale trust his husband implicitly.

He suckled on the head of Astarion's cock, tongue trembling flat beneath the frenulum, silently begging to continue. To have his mouth filled, used, fucked. To have Astarion take as much pleasure as he'd like from him.

Astarion began a slow and steady pull of his hand in his husband’s hair as he guided Gale to bob progressively down to the base of his dick. Gale’s mouth was fucking sinful, the way he sucked and swallowed, the way he twisted and curled his tongue. Part of Astarion wanted to pull the blindfold off so that he could watch those brown eyes water with his mouth stretched around the elf’s length.

But Gale’s eyes needed to be shut. He needed him blinded. Unable to see the shameful scarring on Astarion’s back should the elf turn around at any point. Even with Gale under his command, Astarion knew that giving him sight would only leave him tense and ruin the dynamic between them tonight.

It was frustrating, no, it was enraging, the way Cazador fucking him over on that mission had played a part in corrupting the little hope left for their marriage. Astarion was moving Gale’s head at a faster rate before he realized it, the anger seeping into his hand as his grip tightened, nails digging in.

Gale felt the slight stinging pain in his scalp, but he didn't pull away from it. He leaned into them instead, letting it ground him and reveling in the feeling of Astarion lost in him.

Astarion was here, Gale reminded himself again. Lost in him, not lost in whatever world it was that brought them so far apart all those other times.

He fought the urge to gag as he was pushed deeper, moaning around the elf's cock despite it all.

Astarion took in a sharp breath and the muscles in his stomach tensed as Gale moaned, the vibration working up his spine.

“Gods, Gale. Just like that.” Astarion grunted out as he picked up the pace, starting to thrust up as he pressed Gale down to make him take every inch. It was rough and unforgiving, but sweet hells how could he stop when Gale took it so wonderfully?

At one point, Astarion held him down on his cock, feeling Gale’s throat spasm around him as he gagged. It felt more powerful than any target under his thumb, better than any completed kill or any well timed escape.

Knowing that Gale wanted this, that his submission was a gift, it made everything all the more intense. Astarion loosened his grip to allow Gale the ability to breathe again. He sucked in a breath with him, not realizing he’d been holding his own.

It had been so long since he felt desire like this. The last time being the night everything fell apart and Gale refused to keep going. And though it wasn’t planned, this time feels set up for success. No risk of being seen, no concerns that a move might be made before he can calculate the risk. It was freeing, for once Astarion felt almost free of everything Cazador had done to him. And gods, did he want every minute of it.

"Ah, hnggh—oh Guh-ale." Astarion moaned as he came, pulling out halfway through. His cum spurted across Gale's beard and open mouth, the last of it dropping down his chin.

Gale swallowed as much as he could like a man starved—and in a way he was. After not having this for so long, the taste of Astarion on his tongue, in his mouth, down his throat, the taste of his pleasure…. It was ambrosia. It was heaven. The Weave could not compare.

Putting his heel on Gale’s chest, Astarion placed a bit of pressure in warning. “Back up, my sweet. I want to see all of you.”

Gale backed up immediately, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The sudden absence of Astarion's cock left him feeling more empty than he'd thought possible, lips tingling and jaw sore.

He leaned back onto his heels, hands settling back on his lap as he looked towards his husband, though his vision remained obscured by the blindfold. Gods, how he wished he could see him, how he wished he could see if he looked as wonderfully fallen apart as he sounded.

Gale knew he himself looked no better; he could feel his hair framing his face loosely in a mess, but he didn't move to brush the strands away. His lips were wet with his saliva and Astarion's cum as he swiped his tongue across them.

Astarion resisted the urge to follow Gale and taste himself on his husband’s lips. The elf spent a moment just watching Gale catch his breath as the man waited patiently. Hair mussed, shirt collar askew, panting for breath with swollen lips--he looked completely debauched, but Astarion was nowhere near done with him.

Standing up, Astarion tucked himself back into his pants and circled fully around Gale. He gave a disapproving hum. "Hm, how unfortunate. I don't think you're listening very well tonight."

Astarion took Gale's chin roughly in his hand and forced his face up, relishing the hitch in his breath. "I said I want to see all of you, pet. Unless you're looking for punishment, you'll listen more closely."

With that, he let go and stepped back to watch.

Gale swallowed hard, head nodding slightly in Astarion's hand. "Y-yes, sorry sir," he managed out breathily. A shiver at Astarion's voice, low and commanding, at his words, at the prospect of punishment.

No. Good, he wanted to be good, he wanted to be good for Astarion.

He could feel the elf's gaze piercing into him as he raised a trembling hand up to his collar, undoing the buttons of his shirt. Astarion was looking for a show, and Gale was eager to provide, stripping himself of his work clothes while blindfolded as quickly as he could.

There was no doubt a flush on his skin, traveling up his neck, knowing that Astarion was watching so intently. It was certainly not the first time he did this in front of him but this time was so much... more. He slowly stood to take his pants off completely, along with his underwear. Finally, he let them drop to the side somewhere before settling back on his knees.

Bending down, Astarion took one of Gale's hands in his and straightened up to lead him. "Stand for me, pet. I want you lying back on the bed now."

Gale nodded, standing up again with a sharp intake of breath. He blindly reached out, trusting Astarion implicitly as the elf led him forward and to the bed.

He laid back against the plush pillows, resting his arms beside his head as he waited for the next order. His chest rose and fell, the blindfold heightening his senses. He could feel every brush of Astarion's movements, the faint sound of the elf's breath, the taste of him still lingering on his tongue.

He wanted more.

Astarion stood next to the bed, hovered over Gale as he brushed errant strands out of his face before leaning down to kiss his forehead, holding his lips there for a moment as he breathed him in.

His chest felt like it might burst, so full of love for the man before him. Loving Gale was a painful thing, in both the secrets Astarion kept but also in just the act of simply loving him. There was an emptiness when going without his touch, yet an overwhelming fullness when having it. Like choosing between darkness and the midday sun, there was no in-between.

Astarion straightened back up, undressing audibly for Gale to hear. First his shoes, each one clattering to the floor. Then the leather sleeves dropping behind him. Last were his leather pants, his heart racing when he saw the straps from the pistol he’d stored in parts earlier on his calves. But Gale was none-the-wiser, blindfolded and waiting patiently.

Gale waited in anticipation as he listened to Astarion undress, the clacks of heels and the creaking of the leather loud in the quiet room. He wished again he could see his husband, to see those piercing red eyes gazing upon him with so much lust and desire, to see those beautiful curves and delicate fingers as they touched him softly, roughly, any way at all.

Astarion slid the straps off and tucked them in his dresser drawer, pausing when he caught sight of his ties. Grabbing two of them, Astarion walked back over to Gale with a mischievous smile that was impossible to miss in his voice.

“You’re doing so well for me tonight. I think I’d like to reward you.” The elf brought Gale’s hands up to rest on either side of his pillow as he continued, fastening the ties around his wrist with the other end securely to the headboard. “Why don’t you sit back for the rest of this and show me just how much you can take?”

A nod at Astarion's question, prepared to take anything the elf would give. He wanted anything and everything. Soft hands guided his hands above him higher, cloth wrapped around his wrists and tightening around them. He gently tugged at them, letting out a soft breath as he realized his arms were bound to the headboard.

Vulnerable.

Once he was done, Astarion trailed his fingers down to Gale’s cheek, down his neck, and further down to comb his nails through his chest hair. He felt Gale’s chest expand into the touch. Astarion teased figure eights as he leaned forward to speak into his husband’s ear.

“For some pain would be the punishment. But I don’t think it’s like that for you, is it, my sweet?” Finding his nipple, Astarion pinched the sensitive flesh quick and hard before offering soothing circles from his thumb.

Gale let out a soft gasp at the pinch, cock twitching at the sensation. The pain was quick, sharp, and immediately soothed over by the elf's soft hands.

"N-no," Gale admitted in a soft whisper. He'd never known himself to be a masochist—the pain and injuries he'd sustained over the years as a spy was enough as it were—but this sort of pain, this controlled and carefully enacted pain from his lover, was something else altogether, driving heat and desire for more surging through him. "It isn't."

Astarion laughed under his breath, a taunting cruel sound as he continued cycling between pinching, pulling and rubbing the pebbled nub between his fingers. Every sound from Gale, every hitch, sigh, and whimper, was symphony to his elven ears. He wanted more, needed more.

Astarion focused his attention on the other nipple as he grazed his lips over Gale’s temple and cheek, a tease of a kiss that never came until he reached his neck.

Gale couldn't help any of the noises that came from him. Tingling sensations of pain and pleasure swam across his chest as Astarion's hand worked magic on him, his own hands clenched tightly in fists as he tried not to pull too hard on his binds.

He'd been tied before in missions in his first couple months as a spy, inexperienced and new to the world of stealth and espionage. But he was always able to get out of those binds—most didn't know he was a wizard and hadn't gagged him or restrained his hands enough. He would be able to get out these binds, too. They were only ties, after all, but Gale found himself not wanting to. He wanted to remain bound at Astarion's mercy. He wanted to suffer his relentless touches that blended two conflicting sensations together. He wanted—

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharper pain at his neck as he felt teeth sink in. A moan punched out of him, loud and unrestrained.

Astarion groaned against his neck in tandem with Gale’s moan. His one hand on Gale’s chest pressed flat against him, holding him down as he arched up in surprise. The elf was panting when he finally pulled off after soothing the bruise with open mouthed kisses.

“You’re doing so wonderfully. Gods, you should see yourself. I almost want to drag you to the front lawn and take you right there in front of the neighbors. Let them all see what a perfectly obedient pet you are.” Astarion clicked his tongue, looking over Gale as he spoke. He traced his hand lower, curving around his husband’s hip to avoid his weeping prick, instead finding the soft flesh of his inner thigh and kneading it.

More heat crept up Gale’s cheeks at the thought of others seeing him like this, so ready and willing for Astarion to take whatever he wanted from him. There was no doubt how absolutely wrecked he was already from just a few teasing touches and a bit of pain.

He shook his head slightly though, a soft whine escaping as Astarion's hand trailed down his body, avoiding his aching cock. "O-Only for you," he whispered.

Astarion leaned down and gave Gale’s nipple a wet lick, swirling his tongue before blowing cool air over him. His hand moved up from Gale’s thigh to his balls, cradling them in his palm as he continued teasing.

“Now, now. There’s no need to play shy. Your body gives you away. I can see the way that gorgeous cock of yours twitches at the thought of everyone watching you get blindly fucked into the dirt.” Astarion squeezed firmly at points to emphasize his words. Not enough to bring any pain, but enough to show he was capable of it. A threat or promise, depending on Gale’s reaction.

Gale’s breath hitched at Astarion's words, not quite able to deny the arousal he felt at the idea of people seeing him under the elf's mercy, fucked hard and rough wherever he wanted. His hips jerked instinctively when a hand cupped his balls, the firm pressure sending another wave of heat through him. A low, broken moan escaped his lips, a sound of pure need.

“But there’s no time for that tonight, I’ve only just begun to sink my teeth into you.” Without pause Astarion sucked Gale’s nipple into his mouth briefly before opening wide and biting around it.

Soft moans turned into a strangled gasp as Astarion's teeth sank into him again, into the sensitive flesh around his nipple. The pain melded seamlessly with pleasure as a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing just enough to keep him grounded in the overwhelming sensations.

His head pressed back into the pillows, blindfold shifting slightly against his skin as he tugged slightly at the ties restraining his hands. He wanted to see and touch Astarion so badly, to thread his fingers through soft curls, to pull him closer, to claw at his back if only to anchor himself.

Astarion was true to his word, taking his time with Gale as he marked him with bruising bites between teasing touches. From the soft skin of his inner arm to the divot in his hips. Astarion covered Gale in claiming bites as he writhed under him, hips desperately pressing up for relief that Astarion wouldn’t give him. At most the elf squeezed the base of his dick in a false promise of more.

Astarion’s own breath hitched towards the end of his sentence when he gave himself a short stroke for a bit of relief. Gods, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out like this.

Gale's hips bucked up with every teasing touch, each time pushed back down, denied over and over.

When pre dripped down Gale’s length to meet Astarion’s hand, the elf brought it to Gale’s lips. “Can you taste how badly you want it?”

Gale felt warm, wet fingers against his lips and he immediately parted his lips, letting Astarion stick his fingers in. Tongue swirled around them, tasting his own desperation and Astarion's sweat mixed with it. He nodded slightly with a soft moan around the digits.

“Fuck, Gale.” Astarion gritted out as he pulled his hand away, moving to straddle his chest. There was no planning with this, no scene to play out. Just pure want and need. Just the instinct for more, more, more.

“That fucking mouth of yours, gods.” Astarion growled as he gripped the headboard with one hand and fisted Gale’s hair with the other. He pressed the head of his cock to Gale’s lips, thrusting in the moment he felt his mouth open around him.

Gale’s lips parted willingly, a soft whimper of desire escaping. His mouth closed around the elf's cock, tongue immediately working to taste him, swirling and pressing as he took him deeper. The weight and heat of Astarion in his mouth sent a heady wave of pleasure through him, knowing that his husband was truly getting off on using him, that Gale was truly making him feel good. He rutted uselessly against the air, cock twitching for friction but not finding any, but he could almost cum from this if he tried.

His bound hands flexed against the ties as he tried to pull Astarion closer with just the tilt of his head. He relaxed his throat, taking him deeper with each thrust, his tongue pressing against the underside of his shaft, trying to coax more noises of pleasure from his lover.

Astarion’s knuckles were white from gripping the headboard so tightly as he thrust steadily into Gale’s mouth. He was quickly coming apart, the thread of his release pulling taught. Astarion fought to keep it from snapping, pulling back just enough to ensure Gale could breathe before giving his next order.

“Stay still. Just like that. I don’t want you moving a muscle.” Astarion rolled his shoulders back and sighed, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the warmth of Gale’s mouth around him.

Gale let out a soft whine at the order, but stilled immediately after a small nod. His eyes shut tightly despite having a blindfold already on, trying hard to focus on the task.

He breathed through his nose, the smell of his lover so close, so intoxicating. His tongue trembled against Astarion's heavy cock in his mouth, and he could feel drool sliding down the corner of his lips. Gods, he could do this forever, yet he wanted Astarion to continue at the same time.

It was difficult to resist the urge to move, but Astarion held still, eyes closed as he focused on coming back down. Gale was wonderfully obedient, patiently holding Astarion in his mouth. Exhales from his nose against Astarion’s skin sent shivers down his spine, bordering on overstimulation.

The elf chanced a look down at him and cursed under his breath. His hips twitched up into his mouth and he held them there, restricting the airflow for a moment. Astarion cooed praises as Gale continued staying in place.

“Perfect… hells, Gale. You doing so—hngh, you’re doing so good for me, love.”

The lack of air and praise only served to bring Gale closer to the edge, completely untouched, and gods wouldn't that be such a humiliating pleasure. He moaned around Astarion's length, letting the vibrations work around it even if his tongue and lips weren’t allowed to.

Astarion couldn't hold back any longer, he began slowly thrusting again. Holding it each time he pressed in to restrict Gale's breathing. Praise fell from his lips as he stroked his husband’s hair and cradled his jaw, thumb pressing into the hollow of his cheek to feel his length sliding in on the other side.

"Gods, I could keep you like this forever," Astarion groaned, thrusting in once more and holding it as he pulled on Gale's scalp with a loud moan. He was so close, it was taking everything not to give in.

Gale could do this forever, mouth open and pliant for Astarion to fuck into, each deep thrust cutting his airflow but the relief and pleasure that followed was enough for him to want more, more.

Stilling himself deep within Gale's slick drooling mouth, Astarion stayed until he felt his husband start to gag. He pulled back enough for him to breathe, catching his own breath as well.

It was as if the past few years hadn't happened. There were no missions to push from his mind, no secrets or lies to keep track of, no urge to put distance between them in an effort to protect him. There was only the two of them, sharing in each other, giving themselves over completely.

As secure as the blindfold made him feel, the elf desperately needed to look into the eyes of his love. Astarion lifted the blind fold up just enough to allow Gale to see.

"Do you see what you do to me?" Astarion breathed as he rolled his hips, briefly closing his eyes before opening them again to look at Gale as his next words fell from his lips like autumn leaves from a tree. "Hells, Gale. I. I love you. So much. I—Ohhh."

Gale blinked rapidly, desperately, trying to adjust to the light again to see. See just what he was doing to Astarion, see just how much pleasure he was bringing his love, see absolutely how magnificent the elf was above him.

The sight was breathtaking. Pale skin flushed a pretty pink, white curls damp with sweat as it stuck to his forehead, pupils blown wide with lust and desire. All of it paired with those three words spoken with so much tenderness despite the dominance and control from earlier brought him over the edge. His hips bucked up for contact, friction, anything, and he ended up not needing it as he moaned around Astarion's cock, cumming hard onto his stomach.

Astarion gasped when he felt warm spend hit his lower back, realizing that Gale was cumming. Gale came and hard just from sucking Astarion's cock.

One hand moved back to the headboard to hold himself steady, Astarion held his cock as he caught his breath, unable to tear his eyes from Gale's as he blinked up at the elf, coming down from his own release and catching his breath in deep inhales and exhales.

Holding Gale’s gaze, Astarion reached behind himself and swiped the bit of Gale’s cum off of his back, lashes fluttering shut as he licked the digits clean. Gale’s cum was a touch salty and bitter with an almost sweet aftertaste. Gods, he wanted to turn around lick the man clean. Instead, he took those same spit-slick fingers and wiped his own cum from Gale’s cheek, holding them out in offering just an inch of so from the brunet’s lips.

Astarion bit back a whimper as he watched Gale clean his hand with broad swipes of his tongue. His spent cock, twitched in interest, though there was no way he'd be able to get hard this quickly. A devilish grin crossed his lips as he thought about the ways he'd like to spend the time until then.

"My love, I'm going to devour you until there's nothing left." Astarion pulled his hand away and shifted back so that he could lean down to kiss him. Gale's face was a mess, lips swollen, face sheened in sweat with cum and drool decorating his beard. Astarion groaned into the kiss, licking into Gale's mouth to taste himself and pour every once of his desire into the man. "Are you ready to be good for me again, pet?"

Gale nodded, breathing out a soft, "Yes."

"Excellent," Astarion praised, his voice hardening back into steel. He left Gale's face in its debauched state as he switched positioning to be sitting between his husband’s legs, spreading them wide.

"Look at the mess you made." Astarion tsked as he smeared it on Gale's stomach into his skin. "And come to think of it. I don't recall telling you to cum."

The soft pads of his fingers on Gale's stomach shifted to the sharp sensation of his nails as he raked down his ribs. Astarion felt Gale tense under him and that jolt of power washed through him. The elf chased after it by leaning down and biting hard on Gale's inner thigh.

Gale let out another strangled cry as Astarion's teeth sank into the sensitive flesh. The sharp pain was electric, cutting through the lingering haze of his release. His hips jerked instinctively, hands tugging on the ties again.

"A-apologies, sir," he breathed, voice trembling slightly. "Couldn't help it, I missed you so much, you drive me insane...."

"Missed me, did you?" Astarion teased against his skin, though his voice was far softer than intended.

Dry soil finding water. Darkness blanketed by the sun. Drooping leaves that rise to the light. The opening of a bud to unfurl silken petals. It was impossible not to bloom under the rays of Gale's raw affection.

Gale nodded, sighing out a shaky, "Yes."

Pulling back enough to hook his hands under Gale's knees, Astarion lifted to bend his legs and ensure he had proper access. Gale seemed to catch on, parting his legs more without thought, his chest beginning to rise and fall at a faster rate in anticipation.

"Well darling, I'll be sure not to stop until I'm confident that we are both well and truly satisfied."

Gale closed his eyes as Astarion’s voice moved further, further down between his legs, slightly muffled. Warm breath near his spent cock, below the his balls, and—

A gasp escaped his lips as a hot, wet tongue pressed against his hole suddenly. "S-Star..."

Astarion gave a short an answering groan as he continued licking into Gale. He used his hands to spread him further to afford better access, thrusting and curling his tongue as he drank in every sound and twitch from his husband.

Right as Gale began to relax, Astarion blindly reached up to wrap a hand around the brunet’s spent cock to give him a few firm, slow strokes.

Gale’s breaths became heavier and louder as Astarion continued, unable and unwilling to do anything but take it.

He nearly jolted off the bed as he felt a hand wrap around his cock, a wave of overstimulation crashing into him. “F-fu—aah.”

A whimper escaped him, body twisting into, towards, away. Astarion’s grip and the ties prevented him from getting much movement regardless of what he wanted.

Astarion moved to grip Gale's hips with an unforgiving pressure that was sure to bruise. Lifting his head up, Astarion paused midway to mouth at his balls, grazing teeth against the sensitive skin before sucking on them one at a time, Gale twitching with hitching breath all the while.

Gale clutched at the sheets, hips instinctively trying to move away from the overwhelming stimulation. Hands held him down tightly, mouth wet and hot around his balls.

Astarion pulled off of Gale with a slick sound, the lower half of his face soakedwith spit as he huffed hotly against Gale's skin. Turning his head, Astarion nipped at the man's thigh where a deep red bite mark was already formed.

Feeling Gale completely overwhelmed but wanting more was like downing a potion of hill giant strength. He’d never felt more in control, or more trusted.

After finding the lube and slicking up his fingers, Astarion pressed two digits into him. “I told you I wasn’t done with you yet, pet.”

Gale let out a soft breath as Astarion's fingers pressed into him, slowly stretching him out. When was the last time he had done this?

Too long.

They'd been so far apart for far too long.

He strained against the ties again, wanting to reach out for Astarion. He wanted to touch, to hold, to kiss. But Astarion was still here, still speaking to him, still wanting him, and Gale had to take what he could get, even if it wasn't enough.

Astarion watched Gale pull at the binds around his wrists, teeth biting into his lower lip in frustration. Part of Astarion wanted to untie him and feel those hands anywhere and everywhere, but another part of him wanted to see Gale squirm. He wanted to watch as Gale fought to be obedient, to feel him give in no matter how desperate he was to touch.

“Maybe next time we can get some quality rope and bind you up all proper.” Astarion teased as he scissored his fingers and pressed in deeper.

Gale did have rope, as well as cuffs. He'd used them on occasion when a Hold Person spell wasn't enough on his targets. But he couldn't tell Astarion that, and besides, proper, quality rope for this setting would be different. Softer material, if he wanted, and—

He cried out as Astarion's fingers curled just right, clenching around the digits as they pressed against that bundle of nerves inside him. Entire body trembling, pulling at the ties yet stopping himself as best he could when he felt the weak fabric loosen.

“There you are,” Astarion breathed before using his other hand to stroke Gale’s length as he wrapped his mouth around him.

"F-Fuck," Gale gasped, bucking into the elf's mouth. "P-Please..." The words came out nearly broken between breaths. "I need you, 'starion."

Astarion’s dick throbbed at the broken sound of Gale begging for him but he continued a bit longer until his husband was all but thrashing under him. He pulled off once Gale was fully hard, the taste of precum on his tongue as he removed his fingers.

“I think you’ve earned it, love,” Astarion teased, his voice a bit hoarse from sucking Gale off.

When he saw the looseness of Gale’s binds, Astarion’s heart raced. He couldn’t let Gale touch him. If his hands went to his back he’d tense up again and everything would be ruined. The elf reached up to tighten the binds, tutting in Gale’s ear as he did it.

“Can’t have you getting loose now, my sweet. Not when you’ve been so wonderfully obedient for me.” Astarion’s fingers traced over the blindfold. “But you’ve worked so hard tonight. It would be cruel not to give you a treat.”

Astarion lined himself up and entered Gale in one smooth thrust.

Gale’s head fell back against the pillow as a guttural moan tore from his throat, his body arching into the intrusion. The fullness was overwhelming, a delicious burn that reminded him of just how long it had been. His wrists strained against the tightened bonds, his fingers curling helplessly against empty air as Astarion stilled, fully seated inside him.

Bliss, pure bliss.

He blinked up at his husband, panting for breath as he adjusted. "I missed you," he managed out. "Amin mela lle." [I love you.]

“Oh melamin, amin nwalya ten' lle. Endlessly. Amin mela lle.” Astarion whispered against Gale’s lips as he kissed him throughout. [Oh my love, I ache for you. Endlessly. I love you.]

They hadn’t spoken Elvish to each other since that night when they came so close to connecting only to fall apart. Now Astarion found himself right back where he was, the words pouring from his lips without a second thought.

The only reminder that they were in a scene was Gale’s bound wrists, but everything else seemed to fall away at the brunet’s words.

Astarion reached out to squeeze Gale’s hand as he moved his hips at a torturously slow pace. He kissed every part of Gale he could reach, his lips, cheeks, jaw, his ear and then down his neck, murmuring words of love and devotion in Elvish all the while.

Astarion's words washed over him soothingly, a harsh contrast to the rougher treatment from earlier. It was mind-melting, the way the elf brought him so much joy and pleasure and warmth no matter what he did.

Gale moaned softly as the elf slowly thrusted in and out, the fullness and stretch overwhelming when paired with Astarion's elvish words.

It was cruel how close he was already, Astarion cursed under his breath as he leaned back. He hooked his arms under Gale’s knees to lift his legs up and thrust at a deeper angle, practically folding the other man in half when he moved in for another kiss.

Increasing the pace, the elf shifted the angle of his hips, searching for the best position to bring Gale back over the edge.

"Oh, fuck," Gale gasped as the elf pushed even deeper, harder.

"There," he choked out, his voice strained as his body nearly arched off the bed. His bound hands clenched into fists, nails no doubt leaving crescent marks on his palm, every nerve alight as Astarion found that perfect angle. "G-Gods, right there—please—don’t stop, don’t stop—"

Astarion bit down hard on his own lip as he groaned deep in the back of his throat, forehead dropping down to Gale’s chest where he placed a kiss to sweat slick skin without slowing his pace. Gale was clenching tightly around him, like hot velvet as the head of his cock slid against his husband’s prostate repeatedly.

Astarion’s hands clasped tightly to Gale’s muscled forearms as his movements became rougher and more desperate, knees digging down into the mattress.

“Lle sana amin ikotane eithel, melamin,” Astarion cried out in Elvish, turning his head to kiss the side of Gale’s knee. [You take me so well, my love.] He reached down to stroke Gale’s cock as he urged him on. “Tul a ten' amin, tul a ten' amin sii'.” [Come for me, come for me now.]

Gale could barely understand the Elvish words in his mind, nearly too far gone to translate, but once he did it was like being hit with a Command spell.

Pleasure rushed over him in waves with each thrust, each drag of Astarion's cock rubbing against his prostate. Gale came with a loud cry as the elf's hand wrapped around his length again, everything so incredibly overwhelming yet not enough at the same time.

"Melamin, amin elen," Gale whimpered, "quanta amin, saesa. Sana amin." [My love, my star, fill me, please. Take me.]

Astarion gasped as Gale tightened impossibly further around him, warm spend spurting between them in weak pulses as the elf continued his thrusting.

Gale hadn’t even finished speaking before Astarion was coming with a toe-curling shout. There was a moment of quiet between them as they came down with heavy pants.

A short hysterical giggle bubbled out from Astarion’s chest as he looked at the mess between them and pulled out, guiding Gale’s legs back down to the mattress.

Astarion moved off the mattress, bending down to kiss Gale softly. “You’ve done so perfectly for me, melamin. Stay right there for me, I’m going to get you cleaned up.”

Gale let out a shaky breath as Astarion shifted, bringing his legs down and pulling out of him. It felt so empty to be detached from him after that, having him after so long without him. Fuck, he'd missed this so godsdamned much, he could swear he felt tears welling up in his eyes.

He tried to chase after Astarion's lips, but the ties around his wrists kept him from following after the elf. He felt the sweat soaking through the ties, the cum quickly cooling and drying on his chest, Astarion's cum slowly leaking out of him. He blinked, vision blurry with tears as he watched his husband leave.

It was suddenly cold, despite the natural heat that came from their physical exertion. Gale tried to speak, tried to ask Astarion to come back. Come back, come back, please, come back, I need you. Please. He couldn’t form the words. Something inside him had cracked open and now it wouldn’t close.

Astarion could see the rigidity in Gale’s body, the clench in his jaw. Most of all, he could see the plea in his eyes, begging to be released and held close without saying a word. He needed so much more than Astarion could give him.

Astarion sat back down on the bed and renewed the kiss when seeing Gale start to drop. At the back of his mind he thought about the damned scars. Having lost himself in the moment, he took the blindfold away when it was the one thing that ensured Gale couldn’t see them. And now he needed to find a way to care for Gale while still keeping his shame hidden.

“Shh, my sweet. Don’t fret. I’m right here,” Astarion murmured, kissing the side of Gale’s mouth then up his cheek, over his brow and holding one last one to his forehead as he pet sweat-soaked strands of hair out of his eyes.

A thought occurred to him, like a stone that might silence two birds at once. Astarion reached for the makeshift blindfold and presented it to Gale.

“Do you trust me?” The words come out soft and comforting, but his tongue felt sharp and vile.

Gale blinked up at the elf, chest still heaving from exertion, vision blurry with the haze of pleasure and unshed tears. Despite that, he could see the nervous tension in Astarion's eyes. Something was wrong.

"I trust you," he whispered without hesitation. He wasn’t lying, but doubt suddenly curled in his gut. It wasn’t distrust, not really. It was worry. Worry that his husband was still hiding something that he wasn’t ready to share. A nagging sense of curiosity, of... fear... started seeping deep into the back of his mind. Fear that this was all a mistake again.

The ties around his wrists suddenly seem tighter, more restraining, keeping him from comforting Astarion, comfort that Astarion didn't seem to want. He took in shallow breaths, closing his eyes in resignation as he waited for the blindfold to be put on again, trying not to spiral.

Had Astarion pushed himself for Gale's sake? Just to try and fix this for them both? Was this all an act? What went wrong? Why didn't Astarion want Gale to see him?

Astarion caught the upturn in Gale’s brows, the slight frown to his lips and the way he closed his eyes for the blindfold as if waiting for sentencing.

Gale didn’t want this.

Chapter Text

The elf looked down at the tie in his hand and back to his husband’s face. Gale waited patiently, his body tight, jaw tense. Astarion wanted to say he changed his mind, the words at the tip of his tongue.

There was a reality where he untied the binds around Gale’s wrists, where he held him close and whispered sweet nothings in Elvish until they both fell asleep.

Perhaps Gale would get up first and Astarion could keep his back to the wall as he put on a shirt to hide the scars.

Perhaps Gale wouldn’t want to go to sleep at all, and instead insist on an intimate shower together to wash them clean. It had been years since they showered together, since the scars.

Perhaps Gale’s hands would roam and when Astarion inevitably tensed at the fingers sliding down his back, it would begin the entire dance from before again.

In every one, he only lets Gale down. In every one, it’s simply not safe to give him what he wants, not without risking his husband learning everything.

Astarion watched his hands as they wrapped the blindfold. His own eyes misting as he tightened it. A fool to have thought that having this again was possible. A fool to have held hope in his heart. Only a fool would think he could have his lies and have his lover close all at once.

Astarion’s secrets and lies were a smog surrounding them. It was impossible for Gale to see him through the haze. And each time they both reached out through it, they never could quite judge the distance right. Again he’d miscalculated. A poor planner as always, he hadn’t thought things through.

So Astarion blinded Gale one more time, hoping to ease the sting of his blade with a comforting kiss, slotting his body against Gale’s in an embrace Gale was bound through. How apt, that his husband was tied and blinded as Astarion held him tightly. The reality of their marriage in physical form.

Gale’s breath hitched as the blindfold tightened, the soft fabric brushing against his damp skin. It wasn’t painful, it wasn’t uncomfortable. But it was… so much. Too much.

“Now my love, I’m not done taking care of you yet,” Astarion whispered in Gale’s ear, his voice smooth as silk despite the tear falling down his cheek. “I feel your tension. I need you to trust me. Completely.”

Astarion ran his hand down Gale’s side, a kiss against his jaw and down against his pulse. Like a snake wrapping itself around prey. He truly was a monster with his love. A loathsome vile monster.

“I know it’s not easy. You’ve done so well for me. Can you trust me, just a little further?” Astarion asked as he cradled Gale’s jaw internally begging him not to see. To stay blinded and learn to love the darkness. To truly see each other only spelled their end.

Gale whispered out a shaky, “Yes.”

Yes, he still trusted Astarion. Yes, he could trust him completely.

He wanted to trust Astarion. Gods, he did trust him. But why did it feel like there was a wall between them? The warmth of his body, the softness of his touch—it wasn’t enough to drown out the cold creeping into Gale’s heart.

He wanted to scream, to cry, to beg Astarion to stop. But the blindfold muffled more than his sight—it silenced him, made him feel small, powerless. Only moments ago that feeling was euphoric. Now it was suffocating.

Astarion kissed and caressed, he whispered praise in both Common and Elvish yet Gale continued to be wound tight, stiff like unworked leather. Years of honeypot missions had taught him the best strategies on soothing a difficult target, on sliding through one's defenses with ease. But Gale wasn't a target.

After so many years of deception, this one was the most painful. Gale needed reassurance and connection, he needed to be held and to hold as he came down. He was far too close to a dangerous drop. Astarion knew the signs, was practiced in preventing them. Never did he think he'd fail to keep the one person he truly cared for from feeling abandoned, afraid.

It was a cruel irony that Astarion's desperate attempt to hide his identity was getting Gale closer than ever to feeling what a vile person he really was. He wasn't Astarion the lawyer, the boyfriend, or the husband. He was Astarion the liar, the murderer, and the whore.

"No," Astarion said more to himself than anything as he pulled the blindfold up to uncover Gale's eyes, his heart cracking at the tears hiding under them.

"Do you know why I chose to bind and blind you, melamin?" he asked softly while untying his husband's wrists.

There might be a way out of this with everything still intact, but one wrong move and Gale would see everything. Astarion stayed mindful of facing Gale fully as he massaged Gale's wrists and waited for a reply. He couldn't force Gale into the darkness with him, he could only hope that Gale wouldn't force him into the light.

Gale blinked up rapidly as the blindfold was removed again, panic welling up in his chest. The moment Gale's wrists were free, he wanted to reach out, wanted to pull Astarion close, wanted to bury his face against his husband's chest and drown in his warmth and closeness, wanted to focus on tonight's connection, of the love and adoration exchanged between them for the first time in what felt like centuries.

Instead his arms wrapped around himself, shutting his eyes as his chest heaved with restrained sobs he didn’t want to let escape.

He was a terrible husband, a terrible lover. He couldn't seem to trust Astarion or even himself. All he could think about was every time he’d failed Astarion—not just tonight. The times when he’d hesitated too long before offering comfort, when he’d pulled back instead of leaning in. When he’d let his own insecurities creep in, to keep things from his own husband, making it harder to bridge the gap.

"I'm sorry," Gale whispered, voice cracking with the effort. "I'm sorry, I just—I don't know what's wrong with me. I trust you, I do, I—I really do, Astarion, I do—"

Astarion rushed to crush their lips together in a desperate attempt to quiet Gale. He slowly eased the pressure into one more gentle and sweet as he guided Gale’s hand to his chest, over his heart.

“I know. I know,” Astarion murmured against his lips. “Stay with me, Gale. I need you to stay with me.”

The elf was thankful his eyes were closed as he spoke, capturing Gale’s mouth into another kiss as if it might soothe all the wounds he’d given his husband without the man even being aware that it was Astarion who held the blade. Gale deserved so much more, but Astarion the liar was honest when he selfishly begged. Stay with me.

Gale froze as Astarion kissed him, the intensity of it stopping his spiral for just a moment. His hand pressed against the elf's chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding him like a lifeline. It was such a simple thing, that heartbeat—proof that Astarion was here, alive, with him.

Gale melted beneath his husband, trying so desperately to pull himself together. When he finally pulled back, his breath came out in uneven pants as he struggled to steady himself. "I'm sorry," he repeated weakly, the words a mantra he couldn’t stop. "I-I'm here."

Gods if he could stay here. If he could have stayed present, stayed in the moment, this wouldn't have happened.

“None of that,” Astarion admonished softly, barely above a whisper as he brushed Gale’s hair back, thumb stroking across his brow.

The elf settled into his side, hitching a leg over Gale’s thigh and sliding an arm around his waist. Hoping he felt less like a snake to Gale than he did to himself.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Astarion moved Gale’s arms to wrap around his neck, kissing the soft skin of his inner forearm. “Just hold me, Gale. Nothing else matters right now.”

Gale followed Astarion’s directions instinctively. Arms wrapped around the elf’s bare torso, fingers digging into his back, clinging to him as if, truly, nothing else mattered.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, gods fucking damnit, he was an agent, trained to keep calm under any circumstance, yet here he was breaking down before his own husband.

Astarion didn’t deserve this.

After a long moment, the elf’s voice seemed to catch up to him, the consoling words easing a bit of tension in his voice, in his chest. “Why?” he whispered, meeting Astarion’s eyes finally. Why blind him, why restrain him, why take his one source of comfort away like that?

Why was there that tension in those bright crimson eyes? In his words? In his body? Why was he nervous?

Why didn’t he want Gale to see him?

Astarion was so focused on not tensing at Gale’s touch on his back that he barely heard the question. His husband’s nails dug into the skin, not enough to break it, but enough to bring back memories of a needle sharp blade and hours upon hours of slow torture.

But then those wide watery eyes were searching his own and he realized what Gale had asked. He deserved an answer. He deserved the truth.

Astarion sighed, weaving through all the things Gale couldn’t know and searching for what truth he could give. “I didn’t expect you to be home yet,” he finally said. “I was planning to surprise you with that outfit in the future. But then you saw me and I…I wanted to try.” He held Gale tight in his arms, kneading firmly into the tensed muscles in an effort to soothe him.

“I’ve missed your touch terribly, melamin. But I didn’t want to fail you like before. I want this. I want you.” The edges of Astarion’s vision blurred as it became more difficult to go on. “I thought if I could just take a bit more control, I could know that it wouldn’t happen again. That you’d be safe from my past. And for a moment there you were. Gods, I’ve missed you. And to have you like that… you gave yourself fully, without question. You were wonderful. I didn’t want it to be over. I just wanted that control a bit longer as I cared for you.”

Closing his eyes, Astarion felt defeat sinking into his bones. Shame coating them like a second skin. Gale deserved the truth. Not a hollow version of it. A good man would come clean. A good man never would have done it in the first place. But Astarion had never been a good man.

“It was wrong. I chose what I wanted over what you needed.” Astarion’s voice broke as he continued, his eyes not moving from Gale’s. He needed him to know he meant the words, even if there was so much left unsaid. “There are things I wish I could tell you. If you knew them you wouldn’t look at me the same, but I just can’t, Gale. And I don’t want to lose you over it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His grip tightened, the snake desperately keeping hold of its prey. But was it still prey when you wanted more than anything to not be the death of them?

Gale stared at Astarion, his heart breaking with every word, every tremble in the elf’s voice. Guilt churned violently in his stomach.

He’d forced Astarion to do this tonight, didn’t he? He’d given the elf no choice but to go through with it.

Tears slid down Gale’s cheeks as he shifted closer, burying his face into Astarion’s neck. His grip tightened, breaths shaking with the effort of trying to stay present for Astarion, to stay calm, to be strong. The effort of everything.

“No, no,” he whispered. “You’ve done nothing wrong. This—none of this is your fault. If anyone failed tonight, it’s me. I pushed you, didn’t I? You felt you had to…”

He should’ve seen the signs. He’d seen the fear in Astarion’s eyes when he came into the room. He’d ignored it the moment his desire-ridden brain made him second-guess himself. He’d prioritized only his own lust, his own wants. He was a cockbrained fool of a husband. He shouldn’t be his husband.

He shouldn’t be touching Astarion.

His hands let go of the elf, desperate to get as far away from him as possible. Frantic thoughts created a storm in his mind, blaming him for everything tonight. Gale hurt him. Gale forced him.

“Gods, no,” Astarion corrected emphatically, holding Gale’s hands gently to stop him and tilting his chin to ensure he had his direct attention. “Gale, look at me.”

Desperate brown eyes looked back, though he almost squinted as he did so, as if it were painful. Astarion stayed there until Gale held his gaze steadily.

“I told you I wanted to and I meant it. And before I pushed you too far I thought… I thought it was good, that I’d found you again.” Astarion swallowed heavily as he stroked Gale’s hair.

Gale fell silent, but his mind did not. The fingers in his hair felt as if they were digging through his scalp, searching his brain for all the secrets he was keeping.

He blinked through tears, gaze searching Astarion's face as if looking for cracks in his words, some hidden bitterness or blame beneath them. But all he found was the truth and vulnerability of the man he loved—the man who loved him in return, despite it all.

But how could he trust what he saw now?

He hugged Astarion tighter, the warmth and presence of his husband comforting him even when his own thoughts screamed of how he should be far, far away from Astarion. He was selfish, ignorant.

His body continued to betray him, thoughts melting into a haze and exhaustion weighing heavily on him. Eventually, though, his breaths evened out, sleep finally taking him despite the mess he laid in and the mess of a life he'd created.

Astarion waited until Gale had been sleeping steadily for over an hour before attempting to extract himself. He stared blankly at the ceiling the entire time, his mind somewhere far away. Anywhere that wasn’t there. If he let himself think about this night he would break.

And what an absurd notion that was, that this could break him when decades of high-risk missions and countless hours of torture had not. Even Sebastian’s death hadn’t cracked him, it merely thickened the ice around him until he was unable to let anyone in—until Gale.

Gale barely stirred, his brow furrowing as Astarion shifted away. He quickly padded to the bathroom, silently closing the door behind himself before turning on the light. Astarion pointedly ignored his reflection as he washed his face and wiped down with a washcloth.

Taking another warm damp cloth with him, he came back into the bedroom and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. He grabbed another set for Gale before sitting on the edge of the bed with the warm cloth. Gale was out cold, barely stirring as the elf wiped him clean. He considered waking him for the clothes, but the thought of Gale’s panicked expression earlier stopped him. No, Gale deserved some rest after what Astarion put him through.

With some gentle maneuvering, Astarion was able to cover Gale in blankets before tucking in next to him. Astarion laid on his side across from Gale, watching the rise and fall of his chest and listening to the beat of his breaths. He wanted to hold him, to wake him and tell him everything, to finally close the gaping void between them that they’d been working so hard to change.

But it was impossible to close with Astarion’s lies buried in the dirt between them. He couldn’t tell him without risking everything, from Cazador’s wrath to the possibility of another situation like Sebastian. Astarion closed his eyes, curling in on himself and trying to ignore the way Gale’s exhales reminded him of Sebastian’s last breath.

Astarion couldn’t trance for more than a few minutes at a time. His mind took him back to mission after mission. From assassinations to infiltrations, each time he closed his eyes he found himself in a different one. When he saw Sebastian he refused to go back into a trance, watching the steady rise and fall of Gale’s chest until it was an appropriate time to get ready for work.

Astarion quietly left the bed and picked an outfit suitable for a lawyer, an all black suit with navy button down. He wouldn’t be wearing the suit long; he’d have to change for the mission today when he made it to headquarters.

Two missions back-to-back, it was ridiculous.

Team members rarely were put in back-to-back missions. But that was Cazador, the vile elf was just itching to see if he could break Astarion.

Taking the clothes to the bathroom, Astarion showered quickly and changed. Gods, he missed long hot showers, but he couldn’t risk Gale wanting to join him and seeing his back. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. 

It had been over a year since the mission that mutilated him and it was getting harder and harder to keep it hidden. Especially now that they were trying to get closer again, at some point Gale was going to realize Astarion was hiding his back. 

It was inevitable.

Gale tossed and turned in his sleep, unable to fully rest in a shadow of vague nightmares, until he finally woke to the sound of water running.

He blinked awake, a heaviness in his limbs and a fog in his mind. The room was dimly lit, the morning light only just starting to filter through the curtains. He’d woken up later than usual. Turning his head to the side, Gale winced as he felt the soreness in his muscles and the tender marks on his skin. Evidence of their shared intimacy.

A deep sigh escaped him as he laid there, staring at the ceiling, the memories of last night creeping up to him along with the sharp claws of dread. Last night felt like a dream and a nightmare tangled together—a mix of pleasure, pain, trust, doubt. They were so, so close to having a night to indulge in nothing but each other. But then he’d broken down again in front of his husband.

He slowly sat up, tracing a finger lightly over one particularly vivid bruise below his pec, just above a small scar from a past mission.

Fuck.

The scars.

The illusions he’d cast over himself had faded. When? Did Astarion see them last night before he fell asleep? He glanced over at the closed bathroom door, taking shallow breaths as he quickly recast the spells.

It was fine. Gale had gone over his lies plenty of times in case Astarion ever found out.

The room spun slightly as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Lies, lies, lies. Everyday was more and more lies, wasn’t it? Hopefully Astarion didn’t notice them. Hopefully Gale didn’t need to tell him more of these fabrications. Hopefully…. He shook his head, as if that would get rid of the guilt and doubt and impending sense of doom crawling up his spine.

Gale needed to get up, to face the day, to go to work as if everything was normal.

Astarion dressed and fixed his hair while thinking of scenarios where he could pretend the scars were purposeful. Perhaps when he came back from this mission he could claim his scars were an impulsive choice.

See darling, there was a lovely establishment that offered scarification and I just couldn’t pass it up. I decided to just let them do whatever they wanted, I mean, why not?

Would Gale see through it?

Hopefully not, especially if he spent every free minute practicing until he saw Gale tomorrow night.

Astarion left the bathroom to see the bed was empty.

The elf’s skin itched at the thought of their impending conversation. Gale was going to want to talk about last night. There was no doubt about it. Each step down the stairs to make his way towards the kitchen felt closer and closer to walking to his doom. Taking in a deep breath, Astarion affixed a relaxed expression upon himself, preparing to poison their morning together with even more lies.

Gale’s morning routine felt different despite going through the same motions he did everyday.

Check to make sure that his magic items and components were carefully in his work bag and in the inner pockets of his jacket while Astarion was occupied in the shower. Put together a quick breakfast, typically prepackaged nonsense as they both kept hurried morning routines. Brew and pour two cups of coffee. Tell Astarion good morning and have a bit of small talk over coffee before washing up and getting dressed.

Every second was plagued by thoughts of last night. They needed to talk about it. Gale knew Astarion would avoid a talk again. Even now he was avoiding it—hiding in the bathroom with the door locked. Gale found himself thinking back on why that habit started anyway. In the beginning they got ready together, sharing the bathroom and having a shower together. Why had it stopped?

Gale nearly burned himself as he poured the coffee, cursing quietly as a bit spilled onto his fingers. Gods, he was out of it this morning.

He sighed, quickly wiping the spill before pouring another cup for Astarion. It wasn’t long before he heard the elf come down, faint steps followed by a deep breath reaching Gale’s ears.

“Good morning, dove,” Gale greeted softly, setting their coffee’s down at the table. A brief hesitation as he sat at the seat adjacent to Astarion’s. Another pause, staring down at the package of store-bought muffins between them before finally meeting the elf’s eyes. “I… I enjoyed last night.” He mentally cursed the shake in his voice. “I’m sorry it ended like that.”

Astarion looked down at the table. It was sweet of Gale to have sat down at the breakfast table rather than their usual lean against the kitchen counter, though it felt more like a trap than a consideration with everything unsaid between them. Astarion initially planned to claim he needed to leave early but going now would feel more cruel than strategic. 

“It’s alright, my dear. It was my mistake that led things to go so… poorly. Let’s not worry about it today. You know I have that overnight trip and I don’t want us to leave things like this.” Astarion reached over to take Gale’s hand.

“Can we revisit it when we see Minsc? It might be more helpful that way.” He kept hold of Gale’s gaze despite how much the eye contact burned. He never felt anything when lying to targets, but lying so blatantly to Gale was like driving a stake through his own heart. But he had no choice, there was no other way.

Gale nodded. Right, the overnight trip. It wasn’t the first time, of course, nor the longest time apart by far, but right now, the distance would hurt more than ever. 

As if this was an escape from each other.

Gale’s thumb brushed across the metal of Astarion’s ring, bringing the elf’s hand to his lips for a brief kiss, hand trembling slightly as he did. He wanted to believe his husband’s words, to accept the reassurance and discuss it later, but he knew the weight of last night was going to press heavily on his chest.

“Alright,” Gale murmured softly, trying to muster a smile. “We can talk more after the trip.” At least it was Astarion who offered to talk to Minsc about it—it showed his progress on being more open about repairing their relationship. 

Astarion withdrew his hand slowly, the contact feeling both comforting and suffocating at the same time. His appetite had vanished, but he forced himself to eat, taking small bites to appease the appearance of normalcy.

It felt like all the progress they’d made had never happened. And it was Astarion’s fault. He was the one wearing the mask again as Gale trusted him to be honest the way he always had. Astarion had never felt further from him. It wasn’t a canyon anymore, it was a fucking continent. 

There was no saving this. They were a sinking ship refusing to acknowledge the rising water.

Chapter Text

Astarion kissed Gale goodbye and watched his car leave the driveway, making an excuse to stay at the house a bit longer. Something about needing to pack his bag for the trip.

When he was sure Gale had made it down the street he went into action, opening the coat closet and following the seam of the bottom shelf to open a hidden compartment in the wall. He took out the Sussur daggers there and a few vials of poison—the good shit he didn’t want Petras fucking with.

Making his way back into the kitchen, Astarion set the oven to preheat at 952 degrees. A chime went off and the oven flashed blue three times. When he opened it a case was sitting on the rack. Astarion checked over his silenced pistol along with the magazine of bullets enchanted with Darkness.

He felt empty the entire time, fully dissociated as he walked up the stairs and changed from his suit into an all-black outfit more suitable for the mission. His enchanted drow armor was at headquarters to throw over this when he got there.

Astarion tossed his crumpled suit and another change of clothes into an overnight bag before taking everything down to the car. As he crossed the yard over to the garage he heard a voice call out, “Good morning, Mr. Ancunín-Dekarios!”

Astarion turned to see their elderly neighbor Ms. Ethel at the end of her driveway with the newspaper in her hand.

“Good morning!” Astarion called out as he continued walking, his heart picking up. It was fine; none of the contents were visible from the cases he carried. It simply looked like he had extra paperwork for a case. That was all. Extra paperwork.

“My, your hands are full. Are you going on a trip?” Ethel called.

Astarion paused outside the garage door and turned to give her a strained smile. Gods, he fucking hated having neighbors.

“Yes, Ms. Ethel, I’ll be out of town for a work trip. Do keep an eye on Gale for me, will you?” he asked with a cheeky smile, entering the garage before she could say anymore.

Astarion drove down to the portal to Baldur's Gate and suited up the rest of the way at headquarters. Aurelia was his assigned tech today and for that he was grateful; they'd been training Yousen on tech lately and he was gods-awful. Aurelia helped guide most of his missions when Cazador deemed him worthy of having one. She was especially helpful today since his partner was annoying the ever living shit out of him.

He sat in the passenger seat of the undercover car, a blue Kia Soul with silly bumper stickers on the back. It felt ridiculous for this mission, but the elf knew the vehicle was suited up for a high-speed chase should it come to that. Besides, the little yellow hedgehog stuffy hanging from the rearview mirror was adorable.

"I don't see why they're having you tag along, brother," Petras said immediately upon opening his door and hopping in. He was wearing his typical street wear with a baggy jersey and basketball shorts as well as an oversized flat-billed baseball hat askew on his head. He looked like a twat. Not that it was unusual.

"Someone needs to make sure you don't fuck this one up, Petras. Especially after the last important exchange." Astarion responded smoothly while sharpening a throwing dagger.

Petras sneered, the silver grill over his top teeth glinting in the light. There was a foul, gleaming look in his eyes. "I'm surprised you can even sit down for the drive, brother. After Nere fucked you, I thought you'd need to call in a sick day to nurse yourself back to health."

Astarion's knuckles tightened over the hilt of his dagger, refusing to look up as Petras continued, "Though I guess you're all loose from the thousands of others who have had their fill."

"Drive," Astarion growled. But it only fueled his partner further as Petras turned the key and made his way towards Skullport.

"Sartep. Shut the fuck up. You both need to focus," Aurelia admonished Petras over the headset, using his code name.

A bit quieter and likely only in his ear, Aurelia added. "Don't let him distract you, Pale Elf."

"I'm fine."

"I'm serious. There's been talk of us possibly being compromised. Something wasn't right about correspondence."

"Then why the fuck is it just me and this idiot?"

"Fuck you!" Petras interjected.

"Father doesn't think it's legitimate. Hopefully he's correct and it's just faulty tech. But I want your eyes peeled. This artifact is important to him, you can't fail."

Astarion didn’t bother to respond. He put the hood up on his armor to cover everything but his eyes and continued sharpening his blades as Petras drove. It wasn't until they were a block from their destination that he finished recleaning his hand crossbows, preloading them with silence bolts.

"Alright Sartep, let Pale Elf out here," Aurelia directed. Astarion ignored whatever snide remark Petras made as he exited the vehicle and walked the block to watch the exchange from around the corner.

There was a sinking feeling in his gut as Petras pulled up and exited the car. There wasn’t anything specifically out of the ordinary. Yet things seemed… off. Aurelia was on to something; nothing about this felt right.

The car ride to the agency was silent. Usually Gale would have music playing low in the background, but this time the silence was loud enough. He exchanged cars there into an undercover suburban that would be helping make his and his partners' escape after their ambush.

He distracted himself going over the next steps of the mission today. He was to meet with Karlach and Lae’zel at the outskirts of Waterdeep, near a supposed entrance to Skullport. That was where the artifact was to be traded—the bugs Gale had placed the day before were useful and his associates were able to find out the valuable information they needed to be prepared to intercept them.

Unfortunately, Gale was to be on field with the brute force team—they needed an expert mage to help with the combat in case things took a turn, and to use the tech to verify the artifact’s authenticity. Rolan was on communications this time. Even if Gale would prefer that role, the tiefling did seem to be doing his job a lot better ever since Lorroakan was fired.

Gale connected the earpiece to his ear as he pulled over to the meetup spot, spotting the githyanki already there.

“You’re late,” Lae’zel’s voice, blunt as ever, spoke into his ear.

“Apologies, there was some trouble back at home,” Gale sighed. “Has there been any signs of the target?”

The githyanki glared at him, lips in a tight frown. She had already given Gale plenty of warnings and told him of the risks he was making when he had gotten married. She huffed, turning his back to him. “You’re lucky they haven’t showed up yet. Karlach is already at her designated spot, ready for ambush. Let’s go.”

The githyanki continued to detail the plan, directing Gale to his location where he would wait in the car, with an illusion cast over it for their getaway. Rolan would give them a heads up for when the targets would arrive, and then the signal to attack.

Gale nodded, trying to follow along and forget about the morning. The same things as usual.

Gale cast a modified illusion spell on himself and the car. It disguised him as an orc in a construction uniform while blending the car into the environment. This way if he needed to get out of the car it wouldn’t be immediately obvious an archmage was in their midst. Lae’zel left to join Karlach at their ambush location where they would down invisibility potions. There were only two of them for close combat, but Gale knew they were a force to be reckoned with even by themselves.

He set up the laptop for verifying the item later, listening to Rolan through his headset as the tiefling reported the targets getting closer to the location. The receiving party was even closer, set to arrive in an estimated five minutes.

The wizard idly fidgeted with the feather around his neck. Even with his many years of this job, he couldn’t help tapping anxiously on the steering wheel as he waited.

Finally, a car pulled up.

Two cars, actually. Both parties were on time, it seemed. Someone must have been berated for yesterday’s fuck up.

One person came out from each car, both of them armed in some way from what Gale could tell from his location. Half a second later, Rolan reported that multiple people were exiting one of the cars from around the corner, an entourage of sorts. Hooded figures, masks, hats. The less masked ones could be disguises. They kept to the shadows as they crept in closer, clearly trying not to be recognized. There were no invisible targets from what Gale could tell through his enchanted lenses, thankfully.

"Careful," Rolan's voice came through. "They must be backup. The symbols look to be Bane."

Gale nodded even if Rolan couldn't see him. Thankfully they weren't from Petras' team, otherwise it would have been more complicated to ambush them.

Astarion watched from the shadows as Petras pulled up at the same time as the other car. They both exited their vehicles, a white dragonborn stepping out of the passenger side with a briefcase. Godsdammit, it was fucking Durge.

"Well, who do we have here? And all by your lonesome," Astarion heard Durge taunt through Petras' headset.

"Fucking great. You didn't say we were dealing with those assholes. They're fucking unpredictable," Astarion murmured to Aurelia under his breath while Petras puffed out his chest with a smart remark.

"It was in the briefing, Pale Elf. Pay more attention next time. Though having someone as high up as Durge here is a red flag. Keep your wits about you." Aurelia cursed and Astarion could hear her rapid firing on her keyboard. "I fucking knew we needed more feet on the ground for this."

"Well, it's too fucking late," Astarion shot back as he watched Petras take off his hat to pull a thick envelope of cash out from under it.

Astarion's heart pounded as he listened in on the interaction. This was all wrong. He kept aim on Durge's head with his crossbow as the dragonborn scoffed at his partner.

"That's it? You should have at least two of those." Durge crossed his arms, suitcase in hand.

This was taking too long, the exchange should be quick.

Aurelia was immediately in Petras' ear with the same line of thinking. "Don't fall for the bait, Sartep. Make him open the case."

"It's what we agreed on. Now show me the goods."

Durge rolled his eyes and popped the suitcase open just enough for Petras to see the artifact.

"We needed to be gone five minutes ago, make the switch now," Astarion growled under his breath, eyes scanning the environment for any movement.

"You want the money, or what?" Petras asked, waving the envelope. "Don't you want daddy to be happy? He won't like how sloppy you're being right now."

"I could say the same to you." Something feral glinted in Durge's eyes as he stepped closer, Petras taking a slight step back. "But I'm not running errands for 'daddy'..."

"Get out Sartep! Get the fuck out! There's more!" Aurelia urged into the headset as a handful of figures stepped out from the shadows, surrounding Petras.

"Sonofabitch." Astarion muttered, keeping his crossbow trained on Durge and raising up his second one for the next shot.

"I'll send Enver your regards." Durge winked before pouncing with a blade.

“They’ve been double-crossed,” Rolan reported just as Gale saw the flash of steel and blades. “I’ve cut into their communications; they’re planning on keeping the artifact, taking the money, and leaving no witnesses behind.”

“If they never intended on giving the artifact, it can’t be real then,” Karlach’s voice came through, lower than usual. “We need to leave.”

“No, it’s real. Scans confirmed. Perhaps they plan on using the artifact to help in combat. Grab it before they use it.”

Gale cursed, keeping an eye out for them as his fingers twitched to cast a spell. Easier said than done.

“We can take advantage of this distraction,” Lae’zel said. “I have a clear view of the objective. Carve out a path for me.”

The tiefling’s laugh and battlecry was loud enough to be heard through the headset and in person. Gale watched the invisibility wear off from Karlach as she burst into the fray, swinging her axe left and right to head straight towards the holder of the artifact.

Gods, Gale could never understand her love for battle.

Regardless, he kept an eye out for Lae’zel. If she couldn’t obtain it, Gale could teleport in and grab it. Hopefully with the element of surprise in their favor, things would go smoothly.

Astarion fired a bolt at the dragonborn but a quick casting of Shield deflected it. Petras disengaged from Durge and took cover behind his car while screaming for backup. Astarion ripped his headset out, sending poisoned arrows flying at the new targets while keeping a visual on Durge.

A massive tiefling woman barged in from seemingly nowhere, swinging her axe with a manic laugh as she went into a rage.

“Fucking hells—” Astarion muttered as he sent a darkness arrow next to Petras to give him cover before sneaking over to a closer location.

That woman was definitely not Bhaal or Bane, and the same could be said for the githyanki suddenly revealed as she swung her greatsword down on a target while beelining for Durge. As helpful as that was, Astarion needed to eliminate that target and fast. They couldn’t let the artifact get away and he highly doubted these intruders were here to help his team.

Astarion shoved his headphone back in to hear Aurelia promising backup in 7 minutes.

“That’s too fucking late! We’re being ambushed and they’ve brought fucking dozens!” Petras yelled as he dashed out from the darkness briefly to take out two targets with his pistol.

Astarion dodged a Banite’s blade before throwing two daggers at the githyanki coated with Malice to poison to blind her. The first dagger missed but the second one stabbed right into her forearm. Astarion immediately ducked down to stay hidden, reloading the crossbow with silence bolts and sending them to a few nearby targets he’d seen cast.

The darkness was starting to dissipate around Petras who began heading straight to Durge. The fucking idiot was going to get himself killed.

Astarion did his best to cover him, throwing two more daggers before finally taking out his pistol.

Shots of arrows, bullets, and fire were being thrown. Gale honed in on the only thing that mattered—the artifact. What the Banites lacked in skill they made up for in numbers, even their magic was novice at best. Lae’zel and Karlach were able to take many of them down quickly, as if herding them away from the artifact.

Gale spotted the path immediately. Petras was going after the dragonborn as well, and there was still that one hooded and masked man covering him, but the wizard made it there faster with a Misty Step. A Shocking Grasp from behind knocked the staff from the man’s hand, a Mage Hand snatched it from the air and tossed it into Gale’s own.

The magic flowing through it was immediate. Gale could feel its power surging through him just from the contact alone. This was real. He could use it in this battle.

Gale ducked and rolled as the dragonborn let out a snarl, a wave of ice-cold energy flashing right where he was. Before the enemy turned his head to aim at Gale, the wizard swung the staff forward, hitting the dragonborn square on the snout.

“You’ve got it, let’s go, soldier, let’s go!” Karlach shouted over her shoulder. Gale nodded, grip tightening on his weapon as he turned to follow his teammates. The objective was the item only.

Astarion watched as a large orc appeared in the middle of the battle scene and laid a Shocking Grasp on Durge before quickly swiping the staff from the Dragonborn. A fucking construction worker? Undercover wizard or sorcerer more like. As if this mission couldn’t get anymore fucked.

He heard one of the other targets yell to leave and immediately went into action, sending two bullets in the orc’s direction. He needed to eliminate him fast; mages were not a target you kept on the scene.

The moment the bullet connected the orc cried out and the illusion dropped. He wasn’t an orc. He was a human man—Gale.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

Astarion froze, his eyes widening as he watched the man bare his teeth in pain from the bullet wound in his arm. He made eye contact with Astarion and paused, confusion etching his face. Same brown hair, same bearded face.

It was Gale.

It had to be.

“What are you doing, Pale Elf? Take him out! Now! We need that artifact.” Aurelia urged in his ear.

Astarion felt a bullet graze his thigh, the pain was like a spray of ice water, forcing him back into the moment. He lifted his pistol and aimed at the man, at Gale, before pivoting at the last second to the car behind the man who looked like his husband. He fired three shots at the gas tank, the ensuing explosion serving as a distraction so that he and his partner could run.

But of course Petras didn’t take the opportunity.

Astarion crouched down out of sight while Petras headed straight for the wizard.

For Gale.

Gale let out a sharp cry as something hit him in the arm. A bullet. He stumbled with a grunt, but Lae'zel was there in an instant, hauling him to his feet.

Gale looked towards the direction the bullet came from to cast a retaliating spell. The hooded figure, pistol still aimed at him. A flash of red eyes widening as Gale raised his free hand up. Suddenly, he recognized the familiar effects of Sussur flowing through him, nearly negating the magic from the staff.

Fuck, of course they had Sussur bullets. Regardless, while he couldn't draw on the Weave within him, he could still cast from the staff. Lae'zel tackled him to the ground as more shots were fired. Spells from the Banites crackled through the air, targeting both Gale's allies and Petras and his partner. Karlach fended the melee combatants off, urging them towards the car.

"Come on, we need to move!" she shouted, her axe swinging in wide arcs as she cleared a path towards their escape route. As they sprinted towards their getaway car, more bullets struck it, causing it to explode into a fiery inferno.

Lae'zel cursed next to him. "Use the staff, istik!"

Gale nodded, his mind in a slight daze from the bullet. Still, he focused on the task at hand, channeling the staff's energy. According to reports, the item's power depended on the skill of the user, and Gale had no doubts of his own abilities.

"Submit!" Gale's voice rang out with authority, amplified by the staff's magic. Many of the enemies began to falter, movements slowing as they succumbed to the magical compulsion. A few Banites weren't within range, but soon realized what had happened and started to retreat.

Astarion felt the change in the air as Gale’s voice echoed out with his command.

What in the Nine Hells? He’d never heard Gale yell like that. This had to be some kind of spell warping Astarion’s perception. It just couldn’t be him, it wasn’t possible.

“Where the fuck are you, Astarion?!” Petras yelled as he headed straight for the artifact with his pistol raised. The idiot must have been missed by the compulsion and now he was blowing Astarion’s cover by forgetting to use his code name.

“Run, you idiot,” Astarion growled into the headset, keeping low to avoid detection. He peered over in time to see the Gale look-alike turn towards Petras.

Astarion?

Gale's head snapped towards Petras. Was that what he said? No, that couldn't be right.

There was no time to linger on the thought.

The compulsion magic flowed freely from the staff into Gale, channeled out into the air in an aura around him. Gale pointed it at the man, directing it straight at him to force him down right before he reached them.

The wizard heaved, the effort of wielding this magic already catching up to him, especially with the godsdamned bullet still in his arm, weakening him. Who knew when the spell would fall on everyone here and overwhelm him and his teammates? He needed to teleport them out, now.

"Get the damned bullet out of me," Gale said through gritted teeth. "I'll teleport us out."

"Hey, now," Karlach started, "we can—"

Lae'zel dug her fingers into Gale's shoulder, drawing out a hoarse cry from the wizard, but soon enough the bullet was extracted. Thankfully it wasn't too deep in him. Messy, and painful as all hells, but it would do. The Sussur poison was out of him.

"Hold on," Gale muttered, blinking away the dark spots in his vision. Karlach and Laezel held onto him, both of them grabbing Petras and a Banite lying nearby for interrogation later. With a murmured chant and a wave of his hand, he teleported them back to headquarters.

“There’s no getting him, he’s off the map. You need to leave now, Pale Elf. Now! You’re going to be surrounded in minutes. Backup has been canceled. You need to lay low.”

Astarion barely heard Aurelia in his ear. He was still staring at the place Gale had been standing before he disappeared. It wasn’t until he noticed the compelled Banites begin to come that he sprang into action. Astarion dashed across the scene, swiping a laptop from the wreckage of the car as he ran for it, tossing back an invisibility potion.

He made it three blocks before he found an empty street with a car parked. Aurelia yelled in his ear the entire time. She wanted him to lockpick his way into an abandoned building, not into a getaway car.

“Alright, fine. Get to a safe house and stay put,” Aurelia huffed as Astarion hot wired the car and pulled his hood back for a breath of fresh air.

“I’m not going to a safe house,” Astarion replied flatly.

He was going to the university. He was going to find Gale.

The teleportation room faded into existence and Gale immediately collapsed onto the floor, the runes glowing softly beneath him. He nearly puked as the adrenaline from the fight started wearing off. Rolan’s worried voice shifted from the earpiece to in person, Shadowheart following close behind the tiefling.

A few other of Gale’s associates came to tend to their wounds, secure the artifact, and bring the hostages away, who started swearing at them once the compulsion magic wore off as well. They would be brought to another location where they would be interrogated for more information.

Gale, Karlach, and Lae’zel were brought to the infirmary, despite the latter’s protests of not needing it.

Karlach’s boisterous laugh was loud next to Gale’s ear. “You did great, magic man! You shoulda seen yourself, all high and mighty wielding that staff.” A hand slapped the wizard’s shoulder and he let out a sharp gasp, glaring at the tiefling who returned a sheepish smile. “Sorry!”

The wizard sighed, letting out a light chuckle that died as soon as it left his lips when he saw the state Karlach was in. Blood was all over her face, her limbs, coating her weapons. On closer inspection though, very few splotches were actually from her own wounds. Gale raised an eyebrow at a particularly nasty slash on her side.

“You…. Are you doing alright?” he asked.

“Oh, this?” Karlach laughed again. “Barely felt it. But you, soldier, look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

“I’ll be fine.” There were more important things at hand. Gale stilled as Shadowheart’s healing spell soothed over his wounds, and he quickly downed the healing potion offered to him.

“You took a nasty hit earlier,” the cleric murmured, frowning at him, “but you’ll be alright with some rest.”

“I’ll be fine,” Gale repeated. He gave Shadowheart a grateful nod, but quickly started getting up again. He staggered slightly, caught by the half-elf’s arms. “I’m going to the interrogation room. I need to talk to Petras.”

“Gale—”

“Now.”

Petras had called for Astarion. Gale was sure of it.

Chapter Text

A guard raised an eyebrow at them, hesitantly opening the door to the interrogation room to reveal Petras already cuffed to a chair with a sardonic smirk etched across his face. He sat relaxed and unbothered, even with the cuts and bruises on his face from the earlier scuffle.

They hadn’t given him time to rest, of course; it was purposeful to exhaust the prisoner and extract information easier without directly torturing them. Such practices were frowned upon within the agency unless absolutely necessary.

“Gale, we should leave this to the others,” Shadowheart insisted. “You’re clearly not in the right mind to be doing any interrogation.”

“I am perfectly fine,” Gale reassured. “Besides, you’ll need a Zone of Truth for this. Rolan’s away making his report of the mission and the other mages on shift today are examining the weapon, aren’t they?”

Shadowheart sighed, stepping back to leave him and Karlach to it.

Gale took a deep breath, turning to their prisoner. Before he could say anything, however, Petras interrupted him. “You’re Gale?” he sneered incredulously. “Gale Dekarios? Astarion’s ‘husband’?”

Confusion and anger swam through Gale’s mind before he realized it.

“What do you know about him? Why did you call for him?” he snapped, stepping forward to tower over Petras intimidatingly. The man didn’t seem fazed by it, instead just grinning mockingly back.

Gale muttered a spell, waving his hand quickly in the air. The air crackled with energy as a Zone of Truth was summoned. “You do not want to make me angry.”

“You saw what he could do back there,” Karlach spoke up behind him, leaning against the wall with arms crossed. “You either tell us now or you’ll be forced to once our best charming wizard gets here. And trust me, he’s not charming at all.”

Petras looked between the two, his smirk faltering slightly before slumping back in the chair. “Astarion’s one of us,” he said plainly.

“What do you mean, one of you?” Gale asked impatiently. “You’re black market dealers, assassins. Criminals. Astarion is not that.”

“Astarion is exactly that. Look, man, fooling you is part of his job. He’s been tasked to do anything it takes to gain a target’s trust. Use his wits and body to obtain whatever our boss wants; mostly his body, if you ask me, he’s lucky he’s got good looks.

Nothing he was saying was making any sense to Gale. Gain a target’s trust? Use his body? What the fuck was he talking about?

“It’s strange this was kept secret for us,” Petras continued. “You being a spy is news to me, but I’m sure Astarion knew all along and played you easily to try and gain information about the agency. That’s what he does.”

Astarion? Using him? Knowing he’s a spy? Impossible.

“Bullshit,” Gale hissed. The Zone of Truth still crackled around them. It ensured that the truth was being spoken, or at least as truthful as the speaker could manage and what they believe to be true.

Petras laughed. “You’re completely in the dark, huh? Astarion is a perfect tool in our agency—a honeypot, trained to seduce and discard. He’d spread his legs and drop to his knees for anyone like a good little slut if it meant—”

Before Petras could finish, Gale’s fist connected with his jaw.

A satisfying crack echoed through the room, the blow snapping Petras’s head to the side. The wizard pulled back, chest heaving, blood pounding in his ears as he saw red. Karlach had to hold him back as he brought his arm back to swing another punch at this fucking bastard.

Petras turned back slowly, smug despite the blood trickling from the corner of his lips. “Touched a nerve, did I?” he sneered. “Or maybe you’re just angry at yourself for being so easily fooled.”

Karlach’s arms tightened around Gale as he strained against her. “Watch it, soldier, he’s just trying to rile you up.”

“Say what you want about me, insult me all you want,” Gale whispered, his voice low, dangerous. “But don’t you dare talk of my husband like that. You don’t know a damn thing about him, about us.”

“Oh, I know this ‘husband’ of yours better than you ever will,” Petras retorted, leaning forward. “You really think he fell for you? Please. You’re nothing but an asset to him. He’s done this to hundreds if not thousands of people—acting like a doting lover, pretending to care, wearing whatever mask his mission needed. It’s a well-honed routine by now.”

He laughed. A cruel, sharp laugh. “Honestly, it’s pathetic, hearing you fall for it. How long have you been married? Five years?”

“Six.” Even through the haze of rage and confusion, Gale forced himself to calm. Karlach was right. He tapped her arm, and once the tiefling loosened her hold, he stepped back with a deep breath.

Six.

Six years of lies. Was that all this was?

No.

It couldn’t be.

He thought of everything they’d been through. Their time together. Lunch and dinner dates, chatting happily as they ate. Breakfast in bed, after waking up in the other’s arms. Quiet nights together telling each other stories of their lives. Smiles over their wine glasses as they listened to each other.

His hands balled into fists. Petras had to be lying—but the Zone of Truth around the man was still there, air crackling with magical energy.

“Six years and you never knew,” Petras continued with a taunting smile. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

“Shut up.”

Six years that seemed so happy until recently. Until now. Until the end.

No, it couldn’t be the end.

“Do you know how many times he’s done this? He might even have a dozen other partners, spouses even, like you currently, all as clueless as you were.”

“Oi, shut the hells up or I’ll burn your tongue off,” Karlach threatened, taking a step towards Petras. She put a hand on Gale comfortingly, firmly, but the wizard didn’t move.

He kept thinking through the number, skipping in his mind like a stone over water—not breaking the water’s surface until the ripples overlaid each other in a mess of swirls and lines, each thought deepening the ache as it skipped further away from him, until it finally broke the surface and sunk deep into the ocean of uncertainty.

Six.

He heard Astarion’s voice in his mind, his soothing tone, his sharp wit, his snarky but charming attitude. The warmth around his heart as he offered it to the elf. Both of them wanting more of each other, never having enough, until now.

He looked down at the wedding band on his finger, mind going back to the day Astarion slid it on him. The soft smile on his love’s face, bright scarlet eyes full of so much love and devotion. Gale remembered how it brought tears to his eyes. It had been impossible to hold them back.

Was that all a lie?

Six.

“No.” Gale’s voice came out soft, quiet. The wedding band was bloodied from how hard he’d been clenching his fists, nails digging into his palm. “No, you’re wrong.”

He turned around, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him. No one stopped him.

Traffic was worse than the hells but eventually Astarion made it all the way up to the university. Gale was typically still working by this time and he mentioned a presentation that might even keep him late the other day. He should be there. He had to be.

Astarion used his Disguise Self ring before exiting the car. As far as Gale knew, he was on his overnight work trip in Neverwinter and he couldn’t be seen here. He had to ask three different students where to find Professor Dekarios’ office. When the first person had no idea who that was, his heart did somersaults but he didn’t let himself panic. It didn’t mean that Gale was really there earlier. That could have been a spell fucking with his mind. Phantasmal Force or something. Anything. It couldn’t be Gale.

The next student sent him in the wrong direction but the third one actually walked with him since they were headed in the same direction. Astarion made small talk pretending to be a new student trying to learn the ropes.

When he reached the office it was dark, but there it was. Professor Dekarios printed on the nameplate by his door. Astarion sighed a breath of relief. Yet still something squirmed in his brain like a worm urging him to keep digging. He needed to see Gale. He needed to know he was here.

“Do you know where I can find Professor Dekarios’?” Astarion asked the office receptionist. Gale was currently in a lecture, according to them. Which was odd, Gale said he only taught online classes and only came up to the university for research or presentations.

It was just a presentation. The receptionist had it wrong. Astarion repeated it to himself the whole way across campus to the lecture hall he’d been directed to. The door to the lecture hall was closed with a small window for looking in.

A pudgy human man with short brown hair and thick glasses stood at the podium straightening his papers as students began filtering out. That wasn’t Gale. Astarion must have the wrong class.

“Excuse me, who was teaching that class?” Astarion asked a student walking out.

“Professor Dekarios, why?”

“No reason.” Astarion murmured as he turned back to ‘Professor Dekarios’. No. It couldn’t be.

Astarion felt his feet carrying him into the classroom. It was a misunderstanding. This was a substitute that was covering for Gale while he did his presentation. That’s what was happening.

“Yes?” the other man asked politely, packing his satchel.

“I’m sorry. I’m looking for Professor Dekarios.”

“You’ve found him.” The imposter smiled brightly.

“Gale Dekarios?”

The man laughed a bit under his breath with a surprised look in his eyes. “It’s not often that students use full names. But yes, there are no other Professor Dekarios’ here, young man. Is there something I can help you with?”

Astarion stood there staring for a moment before making an excuse about considering a change in major. Professor Dekarios continued the discussion before politely excusing himself to his next lecture, giving Astarion his office hours in case he’d like to continue the conversation.

Astarion stood in the empty classroom for a few more minutes.

It wasn’t possible.

It couldn’t be.

Gale was a professor here. He was. But that wasn’t Gale.

Who was the man he called his husband?

Astarion felt numb as he walked back to Gale’s office. He slipped inside and locked the door behind him.

There was no evidence of his Gale anywhere in here. The pictures were all wrong. That human man with a wife and child. A picture of his two dogs.

What is happening?

Astarion felt the world spin underneath him as he sat down at Gale’s desk. Not his Gale. The other Gale, Not-Gale.

It hadn’t been some spell or toxin messing with his perception. He’d really seen him there. Gale infiltrated the mission. He cast spells. He was a fucking wizard. How long had he planned on fooling Astarion?

Anger curled inside the elf’s veins like an old friend offering comfort. He leaned back in the chair and propped his feet up on the desk, smudging dirt on the papers stacked there.

It was all a lie. He’d been a pawn the entire time.

All of it?

Astarion sealed himself shut before he could think about it any further. There still might be some insane explanation. Something. Anything.

Astarion took out his phone and called Gale.

>

Gale walked through headquarters in a daze, mind racing through thoughts and memories.

The love Astarion had given him. The care, the comfort. Was it really all a lie? Did Astarion really know who Gale was, that he was a spy? Was he using him all along?

He remembered their first meeting together, how Astarion had been avoiding the police. Gale had assumed he didn’t want to deal with all the paperwork and being taken away just for being a tourist traveling alone.

He remembered their wedding, how they’d given each other their hearts, their lives, their promises. Astarion’s parents were fake. Was the officiant fake too? Were their marriage papers forged?

Gale remembered last night. The connection they had, the love and softness Astarion gave him through the pain and after it when he really was suffering mentally. The way Astarion had hesitated in his movements. The way he wanted to bind Gale, blindfold him. How he said he wasn’t expecting Gale to be home and was caught in that outfit.

Pieces clicked together, forming an ugly picture Gale didn’t want to look at.

Honeypot, Petra’s had said. Other partners.

The forgotten wedding ring.

The tension in his body when Gale touched him.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. His husband’s name displayed on the screen.

Husband.

His husband was sleeping with other people.

Gale picked up, forcing his voice to be steady. Astarion surely didn’t know that Gale knew now. “Hello, love,” he greeted lightly. The name sounded more foreign than ever on his tongue. “Did you make it to Neverwinter safely? How was the case?”

There it was, Gale’s voice on the other end of the line. Talking to Astarion like it were any other day. Like the elf hadn’t shot him in the fucking arm earlier.

“Ah, that case was cut short actually. Competitor took it out from under us at the last second.” Astarion responded coolly, nudging the framed photo of Not-Gale and his family with his boot. “What are you up to, my sweet?”

Like acid on his tongue. Astarion stared blankly ahead as he waited on Gale’s reply.

Cut short? Gale thought curiously. Would Astarion be home earlier then?

It was all a lie—Astarion wasn't a lawyer, there was no case to be had. There was a different reason the elf was coming home earlier.

A failed mission, perhaps.

The one Gale was just on.

"Just the usual, dear," Gale said plainly. "I'm in my office working on some research papers before I leave. Will you be back home by tonight, then?"

“Working late in your office before you come home?” Astarion echoed as his eyes roamed around the office Gale was supposedly sitting in right this moment. “Darling, you work too hard.”

Gale was lying. Astarion was sure of it now.

Gale wasn’t a professor. There were no research papers to be worked on. There was a different reason Gale was out.

A successful mission, perhaps.

The one Astarion was just on.

But Gale was none the wiser that Astarion was there. Assuming he hadn’t heard Petras use his fucking name. Assuming Petras had the sense to keep his mouth shut while the agency tracked him down. It was far too much assuming for Astarion’s liking.

“Not sure, love. I’ll see what I can do. It would be lovely to see you tonight. I’ve missed you terribly,” Astarion said with his lip curled, rage swimming around him.

"I have too," Gale replied softly, swallowing down the bitterness that came with it. "Stay safe, my love."

He hung up just as Shadowheart came up beside him.

"Gale," she said seriously. "Your... your husband... I know how much he means to you, but you must think rationally. He's been tricking you the whole—"

"I am thinking rationally," Gale snapped. "We don't know how much he knows about me, how much he knows about the agency from me. I've kept all my work information top secret from him, you know that. He could have just been using me as a cover for his own work." A lawyer with a simple life with his husband is a simple disguise.

"Gale," Shadowheart repeated. "You have to take him out."

"What?"

"He's part of a private agency specializing in black market trade. They use assassination, deception, anything to get their hands on what they want. Dangerous artifacts like the one today. We can't let them run freely." Shadowheart sighed, putting a hand on Gale's shoulder. "With you so close to him, you can neutralize him and obtain information on who's in charge."

"I...." Gale stood frozen, taking in her words. "My illusion dropped back at the ambush earlier. He may have seen me. If he didn't know before, he does now."

"You can ambush him in your own home. We can send backup your way."

"No." The wizard shook his head, turning around to grab his things. "No, I'll deal with this myself. There must be something... some explanation, some truth to this all."

"He’ll try to kill you, Gale," Shadowheart warned. "He's a danger to you."

"And I thought I was a danger to him the whole time." Gale clenched the car keys in his hand, refusing to look at the cleric, refusing to believe her words. "I still am."

Astarion resisted the urge to set the office on fire, instead focusing on getting home as quickly as possible. He drove straight to the safe house, rushing to change back into his suit from that morning before hopping into his car. Aurelia was freaking the fuck out over the phone when he finally called her back.

"Where the hells are you?!" she growled softly into the phone, while the sound of Cazador berating others in the background carried through.

"I'm on my way home but I left a laptop at the drop near the university. Have someone scan it for information. Tell me who it belongs to."

There was a pause on the other end before Aurelia asked. "You already know, don't you?"

"It's Gale," Astarion answered in a hoarse tone, his eyes misting. He couldn't stop seeing Gale on their wedding day every time he closed his eyes. Had any of it been real?

"You can't mean—"

"My fucking husband, Aurelia. He's not a godsdamned professor. He works for someone. I don't know who. It wasn't Bane, they were ambushed as well."

"There was a third group there? Astarion, I need a report from you. Come back to headquarters now. That's not a request."

"I'm going home. He's going to be there."

"Astarion, he took Petras. He has the artifact. He could compel you. You can't go in there. I'm sending a team—"

"No," Astarion interrupted. "I'm doing this alone. He didn't see me."

"Petras shouted your fucking name! How many Astarion's do you think there are around here? I'm sending back up."

Astarion gripped the steering wheel tightly as he turned into his neighborhood, stopping a few blocks away to ditch the stolen car. "I can handle this, Aurelia."

"What are you going to do? Ask him nicely to return Petras and give the artifact back? Will it count as an early anniversary present? Wake up Astarion. He was fucking using you—"

"I KNOW!" Astarion screamed, tears finally bursting over. "I fucking know... This is my target Aurelia. No one else's. If you send anyone, I'll kill them myself."

"This is a bad idea, Astarion."

"I know," he repeated softly before hanging up and running to the house.

Gale's car wasn't in the driveway, but that didn't mean he wasn't waiting to ambush Astarion. The elf entered through the backdoor silently, there was no sign of anyone home. It seemed Gale was still busy celebrating a successful mission.

Astarion microwaved leftover spaghetti, turning on some soft jazz as he hummed to himself, grabbing a bottle of wine. The table was set, spaghetti getting cold as Astarion played with a throwing knife, tucking it into his inner pocket as soon as he heard the front door open.

Showtime.

Chapter Text

~the professor~

The lights were on in the house and Astarion’s car was in the driveway already. Of course it was. The phone call had been a mask to ask where Gale was. Astarion had to make sure he could ambush Gale once he was home.

No, that couldn’t be. If it was an ambush Astarion would have hid the car, probably.

Gale kept everything on him this time as he stepped out of the car instead of placing them in the glovebox. His components, the collapsible staff in his sleeve. An illusion over the gun and the holster at his belt.

He hoped he wouldn’t need any of it.

Would his husband really try to kill him?

Gale unlocked the door, stepping in quietly and cautiously.

He considered calling out a greeting like usual, but it would be giving away his location, wouldn’t it?

Fuck, his mind was molding this into a stealth mission in his own home.

Best case scenario, Astarion was only using him for a cover and didn’t know Gale was a spy. He’d be able to play this off easily as if nothing happened.

Worst case, and the most probable, Astarion was about to attack him.

Gale still had hope.

“I’m home!” he called out, body tense and heart racing.

~the lawyer~

Either Gale didn’t realize Astarion was on site for the mission earlier today or he was playing innocent. Astarion ran his tongue over his teeth before slowly standing up, rolling his shoulders back. Discarding his suit jacket and pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, Astarion called back as nonchalantly as possible while seething with rage. “Perfect timing, dinner’s all set.”

Astarion unbuttoned down the neckline of his shirt with one hand as he walked towards the archway. Best to look as enticing as possible.

Gale wasn’t his husband. He was a target.

Astarion needed to start acting like it.

Leaning against the doorway, Astarion was able to keep an arm behind him in reach of a hidden blade tucked in his waistband. His wedding band rubbed against the hilt.

It was painful seeing Gale look back at Astarion as if it were any other day. It burned the elf’s retinas like staring into the sun. He should have known all those years ago when Gale felt like sunshine incarnate that he’d be burned alive if he stayed close.

Astarion pulled a smile on his face, biting his lip softly as he watched Gale draw closer. This was the performance of a lifetime, he needed it to be perfect. If Gale made one wrong move the blade within reach would need to go straight to his heart.

“How was work, love?” Astarion asked casually. “Did the conference go well?” Did it ever mean anything to you?

No, he couldn’t think about that now. Astarion needed to focus. Don’t play the part, be the part. Just as Cazador instructed. And right now he needed to be a lawyer in love with his professor husband.

~the professor~

Gale was still unscathed when Astarion called out, save for the faint soreness from the injuries he’d sustained only a few hours ago.

He kept his eyes on Astarion as the elf came up to him, analyzing his moves and how he held himself.

Astarion’s pale chest was framed evenly by the collar of this shirt. A sway to his hips, a flutter of his lashes. Lips slightly wet as he spoke.

Lips that have kissed others who weren’t Gale.

Muscle memory told him to hold Astarion close, to offer him a kiss after their short time apart. Gut instincts and common sense told him to stay back.

This was all a practiced, trained routine for the elf, wasn’t it? To seduce and use and discard.

Gale meant nothing to him.

“It was quite alright today,” Gale replied smoothly. “I was able to get a lot done ahead of time, and the conference went flawlessly.”

There was a reason Astarion wasn’t attacking him now. Perhaps the elf didn’t know about Gale. Perhaps he didn’t know Gale knew about him. Perhaps he was simply waiting for Gale to make the first move. Either way, Gale needed to act normal and figure out his intentions.

He forced a smile, trying to relax the tension in his body as he followed routine, giving his husband a kiss. Swallowing down the bile in his throat at the thought of where those lips had been. “I’m glad you’re home early, love.”

Gale tried not to think of the talk they had planned to have once they were back home together.

Did last night mean nothing to him? Was the comfort all a lie?

~the lawyer~

Gale’s lips felt like a kiss of death. As his husband pulled away, Astarion realized it would likely be the last one. He barely even heard a word said as he thought back to their first kiss, standing in the park in Amn, as they danced in the rain. How an easy act felt so real, how quickly it did become real.

At least for Astarion.

Not only was he the liar, the thief, the whore; he could now add the fool. It may have been real for Astarion, but to Gale it must have been nothing. He must have known the entire time. How could he have not?

How long did he track Astarion before whoever he worked for thought a long term honeypot would be most effective?

The fucking irony. Astarion had spent years working on a target once, and here he was finding out his love wasn’t a love at all, but a sweet trap that ensnared him. It serves Astarion right after everything with Sebastian.

Gale’s words hit him at a two second delay. I’m glad you’re home early, love.

It was horrendously difficult to suppress the urge to laugh hysterically. Instead, Astarion cleared his throat and led the way back into the dining room, keeping an eye on the mirror in his peripheral vision to ensure Gale wasn’t reaching for anything.

“Likewise, darling. Besides, that case was nothing compared to being home with you. You’re far more compelling,” Astarion called out over his shoulder before taking a seat at the end of the table.

~the professor~

Gale’s gaze lingered in Astarion’s crimson eyes before they parted, searching. Did he word that last bit purposefully? Somewhere in there, there had to be something real, right?

It just couldn’t be that everything between them was all a ruse for Astarion’s own goals.

But like every other time in the past couple of weeks, months, years… a fog of uncertainty clouded the space between them. Gale couldn’t help the doubts, couldn’t help the hate and anger and fear at the feeling of betrayal, at the idea of Astarion’s love being fake.

“And as much as I enjoy the wonders of magical studies and its fascinating discoveries to be had,” Gale murmured softly, “I’d much rather be in your company.”

He sat down at the adjacent seat, scanning the contents of the plate. Microwaved spaghetti from last night, looking untampered. Certainly Astarion wouldn’t poison him?

As if every time Astarion cooked wasn’t like he wanted to poison Gale already. The wizard almost let out a snort at that. Astarion, slowly poisoning him with his cooking over the years. It wasn’t all that far fetched now.

He picked up his fork, twirling it in the spaghetti as he attempted small talk. “How was the case, anyhow? I hope the defeat wasn’t too disheartening.”

Gale had to act as if he still believed Astarion was a lawyer instead of a liar, but he couldn’t help lacing the question with a slight push in making the parallel with the mission’s results. He met Astarion’s eyes, offering a comforting smile to disguise his analyzing of the elf’s reaction.

~the lawyer~

“Not much to tell. We were all set and then a mysterious competitor swooped in at the last minute. Honestly, the timing of it was uncanny, like magic.” Astarion responded with a bored expression, making eye contact during the last sentence.

The elf smiled, taking a sip of water before asking, “What about your day, my love? Anything exciting happen?” How long did you plan on keeping this mission going? Did you think about ending it early when I stopped being an easy fuck?

Astarion watched Gale twirl his fork, clearly hesitating to take a bite. His husband was looking at his meal with a nervous glint that he tried to cover with conversation, but Astarion caught it.

Gale had to know. Fucking Petras, not that it was surprising.

But did he know that Astarion knew? What a fun little game.

The elf kept his eyes on Gale’s fork, pointedly waiting for him to take a bite. Watching Gale squirm couldn’t erase half a decade of wasted time, but it was a start.

~the professor~

Like magic.

Astarion definitely knew. That smile as he met Gale's eyes told him everything.

"How strange,” Gale commented, unnecessarily cutting his meatball into tiny chunks. “Do you happen to know anything about this mysterious competitor? Certainly someone that good would be a well-known lawyer."

How long was Astarion going to keep up this charade of a lover? Perhaps not for long now that his identity and work was in danger with Petras in their hands. It wouldn't be long until he received word that his peers told everything about whatever sick agency Astarion worked for, and then the elf would have to abandon this life, wouldn't he?

Gale stared down at the food, stabbing at the strands more with the fork. He should have taken a protection from poison potion or asked Shadowheart to cast it on him. He should have let his coworkers take care of this—he was too caught up in personal affairs and his emotions. This was a mistake.

He sighed, setting the fork down and getting up. No, this was exactly the reason it had to be him to deal with Astarion alone. He made the mistake of getting ensnared by a honeypot agent. This was his problem, his life with Astarion.

"I'll pour us some wine," Gale offered as he reached for the bottle between them.

~the lawyer~

Astarion subtly straightened in his seat as Gale stood up. He set his water glass down, eyeing the red wine bottle with the two empty wine glasses. Astarion was at a disadvantage sitting like this, but luckily he hadn’t tucked his chair in all the way, keeping one leg angled slightly out in case he needed to move quickly.

“Oh darling, in my line of work the best are the ones you know nothing about.” Astarion answered with a raised brow, watching as Gale reached for the wine and uncorked it. “But you know how much I hate talking about work. It all feels rather pointless.”

Astarion poured all his focus into watching every movement from Gale, his own hand on the arm of the chair. His finger tips toyed with the hilt of the thin Sussur blade hidden there, a pleased smile curling his lips. Gale would need to get at least a few feet away to cast anything, assuming Astarion didn’t stab his blade into the man’s gut before he could get away.

~the professor~

Gale kept Astarion in his peripherals as he reached for the wine. He noted the way the elf straightened up, a hand out of view, eyes on Gale's own movements.

Neither of them could keep this going for much longer. Astarion seemed ready to pounce. Gale needed a distraction to get out of here and get his weapons.

Gale uncorked the bottle, taking the empty glass. Set it below the lip of the bottle. Tilted. Let his fingers slide.

The bottle slipped from his hand.

~the agents~

Without looking away from Gale, Astarion’s hand toying with the dagger instantly reached out to catch the bottle with expert reflexes.

The tension between them was a pulled wire seconds from snapping.

For half a second they merely stared at each other. Handing the bottle back would only continue this charade. They both knew. Someone would strike any second and it needed to be Astarion.

Opening his palm to let the bottle finish its descent, Astarion felt the wire snap as the wine hit the ground.

Those reflexes were not those of the husband Gale was familiar with. Astarion acted on instinct, as if the bottle were a weapon Gale was going to use against him. He was too on edge, too tense.

"I'll go get a towel," Gale said immediately, turning quickly around the doorway to their living room, where he'd kept most of his hidden stash of weapons. There were towels in the cabinets of the kitchen, of course, but it wasn't like Astarion would believe a word he said. They were practically done playing pretend and ignoring what they needed to do.

Astarion was flooded with adrenaline. He fucked up royally, falling right into Gale’s trap and reflexively grabbing the wine before he even registered it dropping. The moment Gale turned away he ran in the opposite direction.

Gale could hear Astarion's swift steps in the opposite direction, possibly to look for weapons. This was real. Astarion truly planned on hurting him. On killing him.

It made sense now why Gale always felt patches of anti-magic effects everywhere in the house. Astarion must have had Sussur blooms hidden everywhere. He knew Gale was a wizard all along, didn't he?

The wizard kept regular weapons around as a precaution due to the amount of Sussur aura in his own home. He didn’t want to rely on magic if there was an attack at home, when there was a sweet husband at home to protect. It was horrible to realize that the weapons were serving a much different purpose.

Quickly scanning the books on the shelf, Gale searched for the right titles. He pulled out five of them and a secret compartment behind an empty section opened up.

There were his weapons—guns, daggers, magical components, and an extra quarterstaff. He hesitated on the pistols.

Would he be able to pull the trigger if it came to it?

Six years of lies and deception. Astarion was only using him. Gale's love meant nothing to his husband. But that didn't mean it wasn't real.

Gale couldn't help the trembling of his hands as he took them out, adjusting the holsters on his belt and sliding them in. He'll only shoot if absolutely necessary. He'll only attack to defend. There had to be some way to stop Astarion and have a civilized talk about this without hurting his husband. If 'husband' was even the right term now. Who knew if their wedding had been staged, if the papers were forged.

On the other side of the house, Astarion was berating himself. If he were a better agent Astarion would have ran after Gale with his blade. He would have stabbed the mage in the back and ended this now.

But he didn’t.

Instead his treacherous feet had carried him swiftly out the front door until he was in his car. He couldn’t do this. He needed to get back to the agency.

Gale cautiously made his way to the front entrance, spotting the door slightly ajar. Was Astarion running away? Why? He thought the elf was intent on attacking him.

It was laughable that Astarion pretended he could come here. It was clear now that under all his anger he’d been holding onto a pathetic hope that Gale would explain everything. That it wasn’t all lies and deception. That it was real. Any of it.

“Stupid, so fucking stupid. What was I thinking?” Astarion muttered as he backed out into the street.

It wasn’t until he looked forward again that he saw Gale sprinting across the yard towards the car.

Years of training, so much instinct to fall back on, yet Astarion froze.

“Astarion!” Gale called. “Wait, Astarion! Let’s talk about this!”

Something in Gale's shout woke Astarion up, he shook his head to himself. It was clearly a ploy to get him to stay so that he could finish the kill. Astarion wasn't going to fall for it. He pressed the gas as Gale asked to talk. To talk, Astarion scoffed silently, not believing a word out of that man's mouth.

The car didn’t stop. Desperately, Gale climbed over their fence, shouting out once more before deciding to cast a Magic Missile, aiming for the tires. In his haste, he stumbled over the fence, and the missile hit straight through the back window.

“Fuck,” he cursed, panic swelling up in his chest. Did it hit Astarion? “Astarion!”

In the rearview mirror, Astarion saw a flash of red soar towards him. Glass shattered behind the elf and he slammed on the brakes, his mouth dropping open.

Was that a fucking Magic Missile?

Gale watched as the car halted suddenly, quickly casting a Misty Step to teleport in front of the car.

“Accident!” Gale shouted insistently, pleadingly. “It was an accident! I was aiming for the wheels, Astarion. Please, let’s talk about this.”

Astarion stared incredulously at Gale, his eyes narrowing, jaw clenching, and nails digging into the steering wheel. It was a fucking Magic Missile. They don't miss. Gods, did he think Astarion was an idiot?

After fooling him for six fucking years, Gale must. And perhaps he wasn't wrong. Astarion had been a fool, a complete fool. Thinking he could have the love of another while doing the work that he does. Such a fucking idiot.

Astarion pressed the gas pedal down to the floorboard, heading straight for his husband.

“Astarion!” Gale shouted again, holding his hands up. The car didn’t stop. At the last moment, he cast Shield and jumped, blocking most of the force from the impact and rolling over the hood of the car.

Grabbing on tightly to the fin, he swung his legs through shattered window and into the seat behind Astarion.

“Astarion,” he tried once more. “Stop the car, Astarion!”

Fucking wizards. They were always such a pain in the ass to evade and Gale was no exception. But typically they weren't as acrobatic. Astarion could barely believe it when he realized Gale didn't magic himself into the backseat but swung in from the roof.

"Ast—"

Without a word, the elf pressed hard on the gas before opening the door and rolling out as the car headed straight for a dead end surrounded by trees.

Refusing to look back, Astarion ran for it, cutting through the neighbors bushes and heading in the direction of the portal station.

Gale's eyes widened as the car sped towards a tree, quickly Misty Stepping out of the car.

A loud crash sounded behind him, followed by a series of loud beeping. He didn't have time to worry about that right now. The wizard looked around, searching for Astarion.

He was nowhere in sight.

Gale made his way back to their block, running through the neighborhood and scanning the streets for Astarion. He was running high on adrenaline, fingers twitching to cast a defensive spell in case Astarion planned to attack him again. Minutes passed without any sign of him.

"Fuck," Gale hissed, blinking the blurriness from his eyes. Why was he bothering trying anyway? Astarion made it clear he had no intention of talking. He never did like talking, even in their fake relationship. It all made sense why now; it was too risky, too close to giving Gale a hint on who he really was.

Gale cursed again, running a hand through his hair. He felt something on the back of his hand. Rain. Of course.

He looked back to their home. The home they'd found and bought together.

There was no going back home now, it wasn't safe. He couldn't go back to the agency, he couldn't deal with his coworkers telling him what to do, that his former husband was a criminal, a liar, a target.

There was only one place he could go. Only one person now who could offer him comfort now that his husband was gone.

Chapter Text

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Gale was exhausted. Physically, mentally. He should probably call to say that he was coming over, but he knew that they’d be worrying over him during the few minutes it would take to get there.

Instead he drove the car in silence, training his eyes in front of him and trying not to think. He followed the swish of the windshield wipers on every red light, watching the heavy rain drizzle down the pane. The trip there was a blur until he was knocking on the front door.

The door opened to no one.

“Mr. Dekarios!” Gale looked down to see Tara, gazing up at him in mild surprise. Her mage hand shimmered above her, clearly her method of opening the door. “You’re soaking wet, dear. Come in, hurry now.”

“Tara!” Gale couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face, despite everything. He stepped in and closed the door behind him before reaching down to take his familiar in his arms. “Gods, I’ve missed you.”

Tara’s ears twitched in annoyance, her claws digging into Gale’s arms as she scrambled to get out. “Let me down, Mr. Dekarios! You’re getting my fur all wet.”

Gale chuckled softly as Tara wriggled out of his arms, her annoyance evident in the flick of her tail and the grooming that followed. “Apologies,” he murmured before straightening back up. “Where is mother, by the way?”

Before the tressym could answer, Morena's voice called from behind him. His mother appeared beside him, turning him around to examine him, brushing his hair from his face and a worry clear in her expression. "Gale, dear, what happened? You look like a mess!"

"I... I uh..." Gale swallowed, unable to say anything as his mother checked over him. The words caught in his throat. He couldn't help the crack in his voice. "It's about Astarion."

A few minutes later, Morena was pouring tea for them both as Gale settled onto the couch in the living room. Tara made herself at home in Gale’s lap, purring contentedly as the wizard idly pet her. Despite the events today, the place was a sanctuary for him.

Gale felt ready to talk after a few bites and sips of his mother’s biscuits and tea. He explained everything. His mission, the interrogation, Astarion being a spy and a honeypot agent, the brief fight earlier. He paused between things to process his own words, taking shaky breaths with tears in his eyes. Morena waited patiently, quietly, letting him take his time and continue.

His mother and Tara were always people he could confide in, could trust. Astarion used to be on that list.

“Oh, Gale, sweetheart,” Morena finally murmured, shifting closer to comfort Gale in an embrace.

Tara sighed, rubbing her head gently into Gale’s palm. “I’d feared something like this would happen.”

“Tara, I don’t think any of us anticipated something to this extent,” Morena chided softly. “Gale, you should have told Astarion about your job from the beginning.”

“Mother,” Gale said exasperatedly. “He was a spy. He hid things from me! He lied, he played me for a fool, he… he….”

“And isn’t that ironic? Now you’re both paying the price of secrecy and lies.” Her tone was soft, not criticizing or condemning Gale of his actions. Her sympathy was clear as she clasped Gale’s hand in hers.

It was silly, curling up against his mother like a child, trying not to let tears fall. Gods, he was a grown man, and he’d broken down too many times in the past month, had cried enough to fill an ocean. Astarion had always been there to comfort him and wipe away those tears. But now he was gone.

“You need to find out more about him,” Tara finally said. “His agency, his mission. Why he did what he did, if he won’t tell you. That man is not to be trusted. I’d Fireball him myself if I could.”

“Tara…” Gale started.

“He hurt you, Mr. Dekarios! He betrayed your trust!” Tara’s tail flicked, wings fluttering in agitation.

Morena quieted the tressym with a hand on her head, petting reassuringly. “Gale, dear. Do you still love him?”

“Of course I do,” Gale said immediately. “You know that. But… I don’t think he ever truly loved me.”

“Is it so hard to believe that he did?”

Gale paused mid-nod. His fingers threaded tighter into Tara’s fur.

“Do as Tara suggests, dear. Look into him more. I’m sure there’s some reasonable explanation as to why he did it. Or some kind of mistake. I have met Astarion enough times to believe he has good in him.” His mother’s words of reassurance did little to settle the doubts in his mind, but it was comforting nonetheless. “For now, let’s get you some rest, shall we? You look like you need it.”

Gale woke the next morning with Tara on his chest, purring as soon as he woke up. Despite that and Morena’s efforts to comfort him the previous night, sleep had been fitful and his dreams were haunted by memories of Astarion.

Waking up with an empty space next to him had never felt lonelier.

Gale scrolled through his phone for a few minutes, checking on his dozens of messages and notifications from the agency and his coworkers. Some of them asking as friends if he was doing alright. He sighed, dragging himself out of bed before heading to the bathroom where he splashed some water on his face and made his way downstairs.

Morena was already there with breakfast ready, offering him a small smile and insisting he have something to eat before he had to leave.

Gale agreed quietly, engaging in light conversation with his mother as he tried to return to some semblance of normalcy for the morning. He did the dishes, fed Tara—even though she insisted she could hunt for herself—promised Morena he would call her more often, and with a farewell hug, he left for work.

He had a job to do.

At the agency, the atmosphere was tense. A complete whiplash from the comfort of his mother’s home. Shadowheart approached Gale with a grim expression the moment he came in, talking as they walked.

“There was a recording device on Petras,” she reported. “We didn’t pat him down before the interrogation yesterday, but thankfully we didn’t reveal anything too important that could have made it to the enemy.”

“Apologies,” Gale murmured. “I was in such a haste to ask him questions that I didn’t even think to make sure he had anything on him.”

Shadowheart regarded him for a moment. “It’s alright, Gale. Just… focus on the task. We managed to extract information on who he works for. The Martinet Corporation. There’s nothing suspicious about them at first glance—just some organization for overseas trade.

“Following that thread we were able to find a connection to your—well, to the Szarr agent. It seems Martinet is the umbrella and Szarr Law firm is one of their ‘acquisitions’. Anyway, long story short we’ve already traced their main server locations. We need you to hack into their systems to find out more about them.”

“Consider it done.” Gale nodded blankly, opening the door to his office. “I’ll find out everything we can about their operations and their connections.”

“Gale,” the cleric sighed. “I know you’re still upset about your husband. But you must see the truth, right? You were nothing but a tool and cover for him.”

Upset was an understatement. Gale nodded again, refusing to meet Shadowheart’s eyes. She didn’t sugarcoat it, but her tone was kinder than how Petras broke it to him.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, though he knew Shadowheart didn’t believe him. He didn’t believe himself either.

He shut the door behind and went straight to his task, settling into his desk and turning on his computer.

There were more important things at hand to worry about. His relationship with Astarion was to be dealt with later. He had to focus on hacking into The Martinet Corporation's secure networks.

Hours passed in tense silence broken only by the occasional tapping of keys and clicks of the mouse. The digital defenses of The Martinet Corporation proved formidable, but Gale was skilled. He let his code break through firewalls, bypass encryption protocols, and sift through layers of data.

It wasn’t the most difficult hacking job Gale had done, but it did take longer than he would have liked. Perhaps it was because he was distracted. After all, this was the organization that Astarion was working for. There was part of him that didn’t want to know what he was involved in.

But he had to do it. Eventually, he broke through, a wall of files appearing on his screen. The head of the agency likely wouldn’t have anything on himself, but perhaps there was a location they could use to track him down….

There were meticulously organized files with the agency’s missions and their details, and a folder with information on all the agents involved in the organization. Gale searched for Petras’ name, pointedly avoiding looking for anything on Astarion.

There should be information on the most recent mission regarding the artifact they’ve obtained. Various file types loaded in, all labeled with dates and mission code names. Sorting by most recent, Gale found the audio file with him in it from yesterday. Gods, he should have been more careful with that. Thankfully, with a quick listen through the audio, he made certain there was nothing important being said.

Other than the truth about Astarion.

He’s been tasked to do anything it takes to gain a target’s trust. Use his wits and body to obtain whatever our boss wants; mostly his body, if you ask me, he’s lucky he’s got good looks.

He closed the window, hesitating as he stared at the list of other files to look through. Did Astarion have videos like these? Were all his missions recorded? Even with the recording closed out, Gale couldn’t stop hearing that foul agent’s words about the man he called his husband.

Astarion is a perfect tool in our agency—a honeypot, trained to seduce and discard.

Gale went back to the list of agents. Astarion’s folder was at the top. Hovering his cursor over a few others, he could see that Astarion’s folder size was larger than the rest.

He shouldn’t.

He’d spread his legs and drop to his knees for anyone like a good little slut if it meant—

He opened the folder. Documents, videos, and audio files filled his screen.

There was a file with identification papers on Astarion. Gale hesitated another moment before opening it up. The paper was scanned, with brief handwritten notes on the bottom.

Astarion Ancunín. Elf. Male. 37.

Currently undercover long-term in Waterdeep with spouse Gale Dekarios.

Gale read over the line again. And again.

It couldn’t be true, he told himself.

A cold chill ran up his spine as he sorted by most recent and saw a file with his name on it. He was in the video. The date was just two nights ago, when he’d put all his trust in Astarion and let him take whatever he wanted from him. Gale willingly let him hurt him, let him use him for both their pleasure.

That night was all recorded.

It was a mission.

He was a target.

Gale tasted bile on his tongue as he scanned the contents in the folder. Thousands of files, days worth of footage. Hundreds of names he didn’t recognize. Nere, Zeirta, Gustav, Kander, Ragzlin, Adarbren, Jade, Mirna, Aradin, Vicar, Sebastian, Quil, Jade, Yunis, Reinma—it just kept going.

He clicked onto the next video file with a date the same day as his own file’s.

It was from Astarion’s perspective; the camera must have been attached to his person. Gale could see Astarion’s leather pants and the heels, the same ones he wore that night with Gale. The target was a drow. Bound, gagged, blindfolded, not unlike how Gale was before. Minutes later the drow was on the floor, stabbed relentlessly and choking on his own blood.

Gale couldn’t stop as he clicked through. Video and audio files played one after another.

Some were simple assassinations, with Astarion infiltrating a place and taking out targets. Most were conversations with flirtatious remarks. Seduction, manipulation. Sex, distractions.

There was one with Astarion level to someone’s crotch, as the other person undid their belt. For a moment Gale could tell himself the camera wasn’t on Astarion, that it was someone else. But pale hands came into view to grip onto thighs, and it was clear it was him.

The elf’s ringless hand was too familiar a sight.

He went to another audio file before he saw what happened next. He didn't want to see it.

It started out as idle conversation that soon devolved into something more salacious. And then a few more minutes in the sound of Astarion’s moans as someone else made ‘love’ to him.

There was no helping it.

He continued scrolling, past the year that he and Astarion met.

Another was a video file with Astarion looking down at someone between his legs.

Another as Astarion spoke honeyed words of filth to someone naked and vulnerable beneath him.

More words of love and devotion said to unsuspecting targets.

The same words said to others that were said to Gale.

He should stop.

Until finally he did stop, frozen with a video still playing. One from before they’d met. Astarion’s words sounded as real as how he spoke to Gale with this target.

Sebastian, gods, you’re amazing.

I need you so badly, I want you here inside me. Please, love, please.

I can’t wait any longer, love. I need you so badly. I, mmm, oh that’s nice.

You’re doing so good for me. So beautiful.

He needed to stop.

There were more videos with this man. It must have been a long-term mission.

Sweetheart, you look positively stunning.

Shh, my sweet. I’m right here.

Stop.

Melamin.

Stop.

Amin mela lle.

Stop.

I love you.

The next video was Astarion’s pale hands wrapped around Sebastian’s throat, the life slowly fading from his eyes.

The man in that video meant nothing to Astarion.

He slammed his laptop closed and threw his headphones across the room, dropping his face into his hands.

Gale meant nothing to Astarion.

Chapter Text

Astarion hid in a neighbor’s shed as the rain poured down until the ride he ordered finally arrived. The elf made his way to the portal station to get to Baldur’s Gate, watching over his shoulder the entire time in case Gale followed him or thought to look for him there. He couldn't feel anything the entire ride to the agency. A wall of ice encompassed him, thicker than ever before.

'The Palace' as Cazador referred to it, was a high rise building in downtown Baldur's Gate. The ‘Szarr Law Firm’ owned the uppermost twenty floors and Cazador's office took up the entire top floor. It was completely unnecessary and grandiose like all things Cazador Szarr. Astarion hated that damned floor and he knew for a fact he would be visiting it today. When Astarion exited the elevator at the employee level, Aurelia stood up from her desk and ran to meet him.

"Are you okay? Did you kill him? Did you find Petras? What happened? Tell me everything."

Astarion ignored her, walking straight to his cubicle. She continued after him with question after question, one blurring into another.

"Aurelia," Dal's voice commanded, looking over the cubicle wall from her own side like a friendly neighbor might over a wooden fence. "Give him a minute."

"Father is going to want to—" Aurelia started, but Dal cut her off.

"It can wait."

Astarion sat down at his desk, staring at the login screen on his computer with a blank expression. Aurelia's steps could be heard retreating, and then there was just silence.

Until a wadded post-it note hit Astarion in the face.

He flinched, cursing under his breath and looking up at Dal who gave him a knowing look.

"You back with us, now?" she asked.

Astarion shrugged.

"Good enough." Dal sighed before asking softly, "Did you do it?"

Astarion shook his head, staring at his keyboard.

"Look. This fucking sucks. Bad. But you've dealt with worse. We'll find the prick, take him out, and if we're lucky we get our one asshole back." Dal offers a grim smile before adding. "If we're luckier he's dead, too. Just kidding. Kind of."

"Astarion," Aurelia started, appearing back at the elf's cubicle and earning a glare from Dal. "It's Father. He knows your back and wants you in his office immediately."

Shit.

Without a word Astarion made his way to the top floor. When he exited the elevator, Cazador’s assistant, Dufay, was waiting for him.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Dufay hissed, leading the way to Cazador’s office. “That mage better be dead or it’s your neck, whore.”

Before Dufay could blink, Astarion had him against the wall, hands on his neck.

The rage finally came to a head, but it was quickly interrupted by a voice behind him. “You will unhand my assistant, boy.”

Astarion swallowed, a chill running down his spine at the sound of Cazador’s voice. Dufay smirked as he let go, straightening his collar. The elf turned to see Cazador standing in the doorway of his office, his eyes practically glowing red with a quiet rage.

It felt final when the office door closed behind Astarion. Cazador stood at his bar cart, pouring a glass of scotch. Astarion sat down without a word in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. He knew better than to speak.

The glass was placed in front of him. Cazador sat down at his desk, nodding to the drink in a simple command.

It was poisoned, it had to be.

Astarion cursed himself for not taking a resist poison potion beforehand. Cazador was going to sit here and watch him squirm in pain as his insides burned. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Best to get it over with. Astarion put the glass to his lips and knocked it back in one go.

Cazador dropped his elbows on his desk, interlacing his fingers and resting his chin atop them. His voice was far too soft when he asked, “Have you been working with him?”

“No.” The word left Astarion before he realized it.

“Is he dead?”

“No.” Again, the word was out without thought.

“Why?”

Astarion hesitated, biting his lip to try and pause, to think, but he had no choice.

“I love him.”

A low mocking laugh echoed throughout the office, slowly growing louder as Cazador’s shoulders shook.

“Did you learn nothing from the one before? Stupid boy. Do you not remember how easily he turned on you? And now he’s dead. Gods, what was that imbecile’s name?”

“Sebastian.” The name left his lips, melodic, like a lyric on his tongue.

“You can remember that, but not how pointless, no reckless, it is to have others close to you.” Cazador’s mocking smile turned into a glare, his voice darkening as he began typing on his computer, turning the monitor so that it faced Astarion.

“You mean nothing to him,” Cazador continued, clicking play on the video.

It was Gale. Blinded by his black tie, bound to the bed and naked, sheened in sweat as the video rocked back and forth from Astarion’s thrusts into him. Gale’s cries of pleasure filled the room. The agent averted his eyes, but Cazador’s growl told him to look back.

The earring. The fucking earring. Astarion forgot he was still wearing the recording device the entire time he was with Gale. Cazador saw it all. Gale at his most vulnerable. Did he see the fight afterward? The way Astarion begged his husband not to leave. How Gale held him. When did he take the camera off? Was it before or after? Astarion couldn’t remember. Fuck. It was so careless—reckless.

He stared into the screen without taking in the information, simply berating himself and feeling on the verge of throwing up. His boss clicked the mouse further down the bar, letting it play where Gale could be seen sleeping, Astarion’s pale fingers pushing a strand of hair out of his face. He’d had the earring on the whole time. Cazador saw everything.

“He is no different than any other target.” Cazador clicked to another file, showing the CEO drow that he was tasked with assassinating that same night.

Astarion watched as the blade stabbed relentlessly into him, he listened to his own huffs of exertion, not all that unlike the sounds he’d made in the clip before.

Cazador cut the footage, turning the monitor back as he spoke.“You will find him, and you will bring him to me. If all else fails, you will kill him.”

Astarion nodded, staring blankly behind his wall of ice.

“Look at me when I am speaking to you, boy!” Cazador demanded in a jarring scream.

Astarion instantly looked into Cazador’s blood red eyes. Obedient. Broken.

He fell asleep in his cubicle just before sunrise after answering question after question, only the truth able to fall from his lips. All the lies and treachery he was capable of locked inside, screaming to protect him but unable to be let out.

After hours of interrogation going over every detail of his marriage, of his ex-lover, it was clear now that Astarion had been a mission from the very start. Cazador mocked him relentlessly for it.

In Amn? Really. He was there for the same mission, you imbecile. Gods.

Cazador was able to stream from Petras' recording device for a short time, until the other agency found it. He didn't show Astarion that footage, but he was happy to berate him about it.

You were fucking a rival agent for years and couldn't uncover it? The amount of money and people we've lost because you couldn't lift your head up and see exactly who's cock it was that you were sucking.

Cazador spent a significant amount of time ensuring that Astarion understood his mission.

You are nothing to him. You are but a thing to be consumed. You will bring him to me in 48 hours, whether that be his warm body or his head.

Dal woke him, nudging him gently where he was leaning over his desk, a report that barely made any sense due to his exhaustion still unfinished on his desktop. "Time to go, Pale Elf."

When Astarion looked back with confusion, her face softened. That was when he realized she was dressed for a mission, all black and her gun holstered at her side.

"We can do it without you, it's fine. Why don't you head to the safe house and rest. I'll tell him you were there—"

"Where?" Astarion cut in, his nails digging into his palm with the effort to keep his voice down.

Dal placed a hand on Astarion's shoulder as if it might lessen the blow. "Your place. Aurelia is working on the laptop you recovered to see if there's any more information on it. The rest of us are to be there in Waterdeep in an hour."

Astarion's blood ran cold. Their home. Cazador was going to rip his home apart.

"What is he looking for?" the elf asked softly, immediately gathering his things and turning off the computer.

Dal watched him as if seeing a terminal patient insist they were on the mend.

"Everything."

Astarion left immediately, but they were already there. The house was in chaos.

He walked in through the front door to see Leon taking photos of their pictures hung on the walls like it were a crime scene. He turned to Astarion and scowled.

“Well look who it is, the man that took my day off from me.”

“Fuck off, Leon. There are more important things than scratching your ass while you watch a football game.”

Dal grabbed Astarion’s arm, steering him out of the room before it could escalate further. From behind him, Astarion could hear one of the frames fall from the wall and hit the floor, glass shattering. That asshole.

Astarion came to a sudden halt when they reached the living room. Yousen was methodically ripping into the couch cushions, checking inside and then discarding them.

Violet sat at the coffee table, two laptops in front of her, one of which being the damaged computer Astarion recovered from his mission. She held the tv remote in her hand, eyes flicking between her computer and the television.

Astarion knew the footage playing on the TV. Had been there that day. He watched Gale’s face as the officiant read the declaration of intent.

“Do you, Gale Dekarios, take this man, Astarion Ancunín, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

Gale smiled warmly, tears in his eyes as he nodded, hoarsely stating, “I do.”

“Astarion?” Dal asked, snapping her fingers. “I need you to focus. Did you have hidden weapons in the house?”

Astarion glared back. “That’s a rather stupid question, Dal.”

“I just need to know where they are so we know if we’ve found a WEAVE stash or our own.” Dal motioned for Astarion to lead the way.

WEAVE.

He knew that name.

“He’s a wizard cop,” Astarion muttered as he led Dal to the kitchen, pressing the code to the oven to reveal a stash. Dal made an impressed sound as she noted it and took a photo before glancing around to ensure they were alone.

“Wizarding Enterprises: Artifacts of the Vigilant Eyes. One of the agencies we are constantly trying to avoid. Some of us have done better than others at that it seems.” Dal elbowed him in an effort to lighten the mood but Astarion didn’t react, he simply stared blankly at the open oven with his silver case presented on the unused grill rack.

“We’ve been pulling files and digging deeper than usual. Before they were a nasty fly to keep away, but now they’re infiltrating us.” Dal eyed him for a moment before leaning against the counter and crossing her arms. “Would you like the briefing on him now or later?”

It felt ridiculous, that he was being offered a briefing on his own husband. A man he has been married to for years. Someone he lo—

“Go ahead,” Astarion responded flatly as he led the way to the dining room, pushing a hidden button under the side table that popped open a secret drawer on the side.

Dal nodded, taking notes and photos as she spoke. “The place is run by Eliminster Aumar, an incredibly powerful mage. He’s practically ancient and due for retirement. Gale Dekarios was Aumar’s right hand man. He was due to take over for him when he was nearly killed and left weaker than before. There’s talk that he’s still being offered the position but refusing it. We’ve tried to uncover what it was that nearly took him out, but that level of security has been too difficult to hack.”

“When did—”

“It was before Amn.”

Astarion nodded, jaw flexing as he led Dal upstairs into their guest room. At the back of the closet he opened a hidden door and ushered Dal inside. It was an extremely cramped room, barely enough for the both of them. The walls were lined with weapons, armor and supplies that Astarion had collected over the years.

Dal whistled, taking photos as she continued. “And it’s not just wizards. They’ve branched out over the years and have taken in many professions. The wizards tend to be in charge though. WEAVE is all over Faerun, but the branch your mark works at is the Waterdeep one, unsurprisingly. We don’t have the location down yet but we know they’re here somewhere. Perhaps near the university if not hidden within it.”

By the time Dal was finished, Astarion was leading her to the main bedroom. The bed was still unmade from the previous morning with a cup of water on Gale’s side table, a pair of reading glasses and a book. Astarion’s side was empty, save for the other matching lamp. It looked like Gale lived alone.

Astarion opened the drawer, removing books he never read to reveal the false bottom. Dal leaned in to take a photo. The entire walk felt like documenting a crime scene, pictures of all his lies. Not that Gale didn’t clearly have his own hidden around here.

“It’s been difficult to get information on the target’s current activity. We’re fairly certain he’s been one of the people attempting to intercept our black market. The latest mission seems to confirm it. We’ve not had them interrupt so blatantly before, the artifact must have been important to them. Which makes sense considering how important it was to Father.”

Astarion sneered. In front of the others he understood, Dal was good at appearing subservient. But they were alone. “Don’t call him that.”

“Szarr,” Dal corrected with a sigh.

“The staff he took…” Astarion started, all the air leaving him when referring to Gale. “It allowed him to compel people.”

“Oh, that definitely would have a pretty copper behind it. That explains why Szarr is so upset. His buyer must be livid.”

“Who’s the buyer?”

“No idea. But that’s not uncommon. Deep pockets prefer to go unnamed.” Dal turned to him more directly, hand on his shoulder. Astarion looked at the hand then back to her.

“You can take a backseat on this. I can’t imagine what this is like for you Astarion.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. It’s—”

“Oh look, it’s the man of the house,” Leon interrupted, walking into the room with a knife and evidence bag. “I grabbed something to eat out of the fridge, by the way. You’re running low on mustard.”

Astarion ignored the comment. “Have you found anything?”

“Hatch in the kitchen floor with some wizard shit. Violet is working on his computer in the study,” Leon answered absently as he took a device from his back pocket and started hovering it around, pausing at a painting hung on the wall.

Astarion watched as Leon dropped it down carelessly, the frame splintering. Morena gave them that painting, one she’d made herself. It was a portrait of her familiar, Tara, resting on a windowsill. Leon used the hilt of his knife to knock into the drywall. He marked it with an X with his blade before continuing his scan.

Dal nudged Astarion’s shoulder. “Star, are you listening?” She’d been talking, apparently.

“Yes,” he lied. Dal wasn’t buying it.

He shifted to look at her more directly, opening his mouth to tell her he was fine. This was his mission, his mess. It wasn’t like Cazador would let him take the backseat.

In the corner of his eye he saw Leon pick up the bat; the purple plush that Gale gave him their first night together. Astarion’s heart quickened.

“Wait—”

Yousen ran into the room with a photo album in hand. “Dal, we found more of them.”

Their wedding album.

Yousen pointed to a tiefling man with large rounded horns and a false stone eye. “We’ve gotten reports of this one working for WEAVE. I’m sure if we keep looking we’ll find more of those wannabe heroes.”

Astarion stared at the photo, remembering shaking the man’s hand on his wedding day. ‘An old friend’, Gale called him.

From the wedding video in the living room to Yousen bringing the album to them, Astarion couldn’t get images of that momentous day out of his mind. All the while the two other agents poured over the pages and pulled photos they deemed worthy of further inspection.

Throughout the house, rustling, crashing and breaking could be heard. It was all being torn apart. The place that was once their home. Leon was busy ripping into the closet, kicking holes in the wall and scanning with his device before slashing another ‘X’ in the fucking drywall.

They were destroying his belongings, his life with Gale.

Yet Astarion couldn’t feel a thing about it. His mind was still stuck on the way Gale looked when saying his vows. The false sincerity in his eyes and the wide smile on his lips after they had kissed, shining like the sun.

“Why do you even have this here?” Leon asked as he stabbed into the plush, ripping down the bat’s face. He plunged his hand inside the little bat, fistfuls of stuffing dropping to the floor. When he found nothing of interest he tossed it aside.

The purple felt carcass landed by Astarion’s feet. He felt himself bend down to pick it up. He watched as his hands held it by the wings, completely ruined. Pointlessly, Astarion considered how he might repair it, crouching down to gather the stuffing and push it back in.

“You’re really good for him, you know,” Morena’s voice echoed in his mind from that day as he picked up more stuffing. She said it right before unknowingly revealing Gale’s previous relationship. It should have been the day Astarion began looking deeper. But he’d been blinded by his own guilt.

“I’ll be more honest with you about these sorts of things if you will. No more secrets like this.” The ghost of Gale’s voice whispered in his ear, words of comfort as they slowly danced in the rain after the ceremony. Promising each other a truth they could never give. The rip was too wide, stuffing was falling out as Astarion pressed more back in.

It was hopeless. There was no fixing it.

“Astarion?” Dal’s voice called out from somewhere far away. He vaguely recognized someone crouching down next to him. His hands shook as he continued pushing the fuzzy material back in.

Astarion could still see Gale’s face the night they both proposed. The way his brown eyes shined with tears. “You’ve been more than I have ever dared to hope for. Astarion Ancunín, will you marry me?”

Words that once made his heart swell.

“He’s fuckin’ losin it, Dal,” Yousen murmured, flipping the mattress over.

“Astarion, look at me,” Dal said in a firmer tone, touching the elf’s arm.

“Amin mela lle,” Gale’s voice sang in his ears, over and over and over—

“Get out,” Astarion whispered hoarsely, salt touching his tongue. He was crying. He was fucking crying in front of the other agents. As they destroyed his home. His life. As they dissected everything and found more and more proof of every lie he’d been told.

“Astar—”

“I said, get out!” Astarion screamed, squeezing the plush to his chest, stuffing falling into his lap.

“Everyone out,” Dal ordered. “We’ve got more than enough right now.”

Astarion stayed perfectly still, save for the tears falling down his cheeks.

Minutes felt like hours.

The house was silent with everyone packing up and heading out, Astarion still sobbing on his knees with a useless plush bat. He needed to get up, grab what he wanted and leave. Never look back.

But all he could think about was how proud Gale had looked presenting him with that stupid bat. He could still see it dropped soaking wet on the floor of the hotel in Gale’s haste to kiss Astarion the moment they were alone. Closing his eyes, Astarion saw the loving gaze of his husband, he could almost feel his arms around him.

It felt so real.

Deception was a canyon between them, but Astarion never thought their love laid within it. He was so sure that he knew Gale, mind, body, and soul. It was supposed to have been Astarion that was weighing them down. But this... Gale wasn’t only hiding a profession, he had been using Astarion as a pawn—a mark.

Decades of perfecting the art of deception and seduction only to find himself here.

“You stupid boy,” Cazador’s voice whispered in his ear. Memories of hours upon hours of ‘re-education’ that was forced on him after he killed Sebastian. Astarion had betrayed the agency for a mark. He’d gone soft, managed to fall in love and actually believe it was enough to risk everything.

Yet here he was again.

There were so many ways that it was different… and yet.

And yet it was letting someone in that became his undoing. Every single time. Cazador was a monster, but he was right. Never let them in. Never let them close. There was safety in loneliness.

Grief gave way to emptiness.

He couldn’t keep making this mistake. Gale Dekarios murdered any hope Astarion held of finding connection with another. All that was left was his career. It was the one thing he was good at. The only use he had.

Emptiness gave way to anger.

Astarion’s hands clenched in the felt fabric and he pulled. The ripping sound of the plush like pulling out the last of any feeling he could allow himself for his mark.

There was no point emptying the place.

Gale could have what was left.

Chapter Text

Dekarios

Gale was grateful for the illusion magic that hid his red, swollen eyes as he left the room. He found Shadowheart at her desk, looking through video footage of what seemed to be a security camera for a place that was vaguely familiar. He didn’t care enough to ask.

“I found some information on their agency. As we suspected, it’s fronted as Szarr Law Firm,” Gale said quietly, voice hoarse. “Operated by a man named Cazador Szarr, the head of the Martinet Corporation. I also found data on their current location and various hideouts. It’s already been sent to you. The most recent one is likely a temporary safehouse until they can extract Petras. We need to be wary of our own systems and make sure they don’t know where we are.”

Shadowheart nodded dutifully, checking her inbox for what Gale sent. “Good work, Gale. We’ll dispatch some agents there to check things out.” She looked up at him, eyes furrowing in concern. “Did you… did you find anything else?”

Gale paused, avoiding the half-elf’s gaze. “Yes.”

“Gale…” Shadowheart sighed.

Godsdamnit, he really didn’t want to get into it. What was he supposed to say? “It’s nothing for the agency to worry about—”

“Hold on,” Shadowheart leaned down to check the messages popping up on her desktop. “It’s about Astarion.”

She paused, glancing at Gale as if she knew he wouldn’t like the news. He knew it couldn’t be good, but honestly, how much worse could it get? He almost wanted to laugh.

“What is it?” Gale asked impatiently.

Shadowheart read her screen without a word, eyes flicking between her monitor and Gale.

“Just tell me. I can handle it,” he insisted, pausing when Shadowheart held up a hand to quiet him.

“They raided your house, Gale.”

“What? Who?” Gale asked despite knowing exactly who, he simply didn’t want to believe it.

“Your hus—Astarion. And some others, likely his associates. We’ve been keeping an eye on your house just in case.”

She corrected herself, but Gale still caught it. That flame of anger and betrayal burned brighter in him at the reminder that everything was fake. “What did they do?”

“We weren’t able to gain access to what happened inside, but they came out carrying quite a few boxes.”

Gale took a deep breath. “I…. I’ll go check it out myself.”

“They’ve all left, and I haven’t sent anyone in yet. I thought you might want to see for yourself first,” Shadowheart said softly. “Be careful, Gale.”

Gale arrived home—well, the place he used to call home—with dread churning in his gut. Everything was in shambles, not unlike his marriage. Forget shambles, it was an absolute wreckage. Furniture was overturned, drawers were pulled out completely, books were strewn across the floor.

His heart sank as he surveyed the damage further, walking through the rooms carefully. It was like walking in on a crime scene. It was walking in on a crime scene. He should have been here earlier. He should have taken his things with him. He should have known they would tear the whole place apart the moment they had a chance to.

Gale continued, the house that brought so much warmth now felt hollow, unfamiliar. The agents were thorough, having found every one of his hidden compartments with his weapons and magic items, even the scrolls hidden between pages of books. There was nothing to salvage here.

His footsteps echoed heavily as he climbed the stairs, trying not to think about what more he would find demolished. Pushing the door open to their shared bedroom, he was greeted by an even more devastating sight than downstairs. The mattress was pulled off of the frame, pillows ripped open. Clothes were strewn across the floor, the drawers emptied and tossed aside.

Astarion was here, Shadowheart had said.

Astarion let this happen. Astarion was part of this. Astarion… didn’t care.

Something purple sat in the center of the room. At first, Gale didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t until he walked further in to inspect the damage that he realized it was the plush bat Astarion cherished so dearly, now torn apart. The purple felt exterior ripped open and the stuffing spilled onto the floor.

Gale crouched down to take it with trembling hands. He remembered the day he’d given it to Astarion, the shy scoff as the elf accepted it. Astarion had kept it close ever since. Gale often found the toy in the elf’s arms when he tranced. His lover had even admitted to sleeping with it when Gale was away on work trips, when he felt lonely.

That loneliness was a lie, just a tactical manipulation to make Gale care for him.

Seeing this now, destroyed and discarded, felt like the sharp twist of a knife in his chest.

The wizard clenched his hands into fists, standing up to examine the room further. A photo of him and Astarion together on their wedding day laid on the ground, the glass shattered all over.

Gale stared down at the photo for a long time, trying to read the joyful expression captured on the elf’s face.

Those crimson eyes stared back at him, the smile mocking him.

It all meant nothing.

Gale covered his face with a hand, trying to control his breathing. He couldn’t break down again. He couldn’t let grief and anger win. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let Astarion continue to manipulate his emotions like this, even after everything was revealed. He couldn’t let that man, that damned bastard, that fucking wh—

Quiet sobs broke out nonetheless, tears streaming down his cheeks and into his beard.

He couldn't. He couldn't still love him.

Gale didn’t know how long he spent in the ruined house, cleaning the mess up. He’d done this before—cleaning up a wreckage in his own home after a particularly rough encounter with some targets who’d followed him. Usually he was better at noticing any tails, but that day he was exhausted, having done back-to-back stakeouts and on-field combat. Regardless, he was able to take them out easily. The aftermath was more stressful, having to hide any signs of the scuffle from Astarion before he came back from an overnight trip.

This time, Gale cleaned up slowly, mindlessly. He put the pulled-out drawers back in their slots. He swept and threw out the shards of glass from the broken dishware. He picked up the scattered items on the floor, organizing them in the drawers neatly. He adjusted the mattress, stuffed the insides of the pillows back and pulled the cases over them.

He made the bed, pulling the edges and making sure there were no creases, trying not to think of how he and Astarion shared this bed together.

He reorganized the books that had been strewn over the floor, trying not to think of the times he and Astarion had read them together, cuddled by the fireplace.

He tried not to think of the memories in the photos he picked up, setting the frames on their nightstand.

He picked up the clothes, folding them neatly before putting them in the closet, trying not to think of how nice Astarion looked in them. How his own clothes fit him slightly too large when the elf took them to wear. How pleased Astarion had looked when he bought Gale a new outfit.

Gale paused as he held Astarion’s clothes in hand, standing in front of the elf’s side of the closet.

He’d need to give these back. No, Astarion wouldn’t be picking them up like an ex who’d forgotten their things. Gale would need to donate these. No, these were the clothes of a murderer, a cheater, a sl—

Maybe he should burn these.

The thought lingered in his mind longer than he liked. He dropped the folded clothes on the floor, turning to check the other rooms and clean whatever mess was present.

He didn’t know why he was bothering. This was most certainly not his house anymore, not their house anymore. There was no staying here for longer than necessary.

Even so, he cleaned up the mess in the guest bedroom, the bathrooms, the closets, everywhere, all in the same state as everywhere else.

Before he headed back downstairs, his phone rang.

“Gale?” Shadowheart’s voice came through. “Gale, are you alright? You’ve been in there for over an hour. Do you need backup?”

“I’m fine,” Gale replied, keeping his words even. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Good, we’ll need you here as soon as possible. We’ve been tailing them since they left your place, and they’re headed into a building. We need you to hack into the cameras and guide us through to intercept them.”

“Is Astarion there?”

“What?”

“Tell me.”

“Yes, he’s there, but—”

“Give me the location.”

“Gale—”

“Rolan can be on cameras.”

Gale heard the cleric sigh on the other end, considering her options. If she wouldn’t tell him where Astarion was, Gale wouldn’t hesitate to hack into his own agency to find out where. It wouldn’t take long.

“Fine. I’ll send you the address.”

“Thank you.”

Gale hung up, and a moment later a message popped up with the target’s location.

Ancunín

Astarion was halfway to the portal station for Baldur’s Gate when Yousen called him.

“What,” Astarion stated, more command than question.

“Did you remember to bring the case files?” Yousen asked, voice shaky and robotic as he read his script. Astarion hated when they trained Yousen on his calls.

Astarion was being followed. He let out a heavy sigh, eyes flitting to his review mirror to see ordinary traffic behind him. “Yes. I did. Do you need them in three days or four?”

“I’m thinking just one day, but you may have more time.” Just one car, but they could be wrong.

“It sounds more urgent than I realized. Would you like me to bring them to you directly or to a different department?” Astarion asked smoothly, taking a wrong turn.

“Wendy wants you to bring it to her office.” Waterdeep safehouse. “She sent you an email about it, did you not see it?” They were sending an encrypted text.

Astarion’s phone buzzed and he glanced down to see a message directing him to use the hidden entrance in the storefront next door. More instructions would follow upon arrival.

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten about it,” Astarion answered back, impatiently adding, “Was there anything else?”

“That’s it—”

He cut the call without another word.

It didn’t take long to figure out which car was following him. A silver sedan with tinted windows.

Was it Gale?

No, there was no use thinking about that. Astarion needed to keep his head down and follow orders. It didn’t matter if it was Gale. None of that mattered anymore. He needed to complete the mission and recover the artifact. It might be enough to lower the severity of whatever punishment Cazador would have in store.

Astarion followed directions. He made it to the abandoned storefront, making sure the sedan was within view as he stepped inside. He used the hidden entrance to gain access to the safehouse next door. His phone buzzed with the next instructions.

Without thought, Astarion did as he was told.

He quietly geared up with the supplies kept in the safe house. His ears twitched with every sound, the agents following him could attempt to break in next door at any moment. They wouldn't know he was on the other side, preparing to take them out the moment they made themselves known.

What if it was Ga—

It didn't matter.

Twenty minutes later and it was still quiet, Cazador would want them dead by now. Astarion could risk being the one to come out first, but that was likely what they were counting on. He had no choice but to wait and be vigilant.

It left far too much time for thinking. Like who might be outside, silently prowling around. Or what Cazador would have planned when this was over. Or if Gale ever meant it when he sa—

It didn't matter.

Astarion massaged his temples, fingers chilled to the bone from the lack of heat in the building. This safe house wasn’t meant for long term stays, just a quick stop for gear or a shower before getting on the plane.

His thoughts began drifting again, to brown eyes and tousled waves pulled into a half bun. Astarion pushed it back, trying to hide behind a thick layer of ice, but it was as if Gale’s memory were an inferno, a fiery sun that refused to let the chill set in. It was exhausting. The elf reminded himself of every betrayal. How every line of romance had been a lie. It was impossible not to remember that he deserved it, he’d run similar missions for decades—a professional beaten at their own game.

Astarion’s phone lit up in a silent ring and he was met with Gale’s face. His fake husband smiled widely for the camera in a still shot that Astarion had taken on one of their recent dates. They had gone to dinner and a movie like a pair of teenagers. Their therapist had suggested it. The therapist that Gale insisted they get because he couldn’t risk losing his mark.

What a fool, Astarion thought of himself as he accepted the call and placed it on speaker in order to message Aurelia at the same time.

[Astarion: I have him on the phone.

Aurelia: Keep him on, we can try to trace it.] “Hello, darling,” Astarion greeted with a honeyed poison.

Ancunín and Dekarios

Gale internally winced at the greeting. Gods, even if Gale couldn’t hear the venom behind it, the elf's words still struck something within him.

"Astarion." Gale took a deep breath. "We have the place surrounded."

Gripping his phone tightly, Gale watched Lae'zel quickly gather the explosives and head out. They were small, but powerful. The Ironhand gnomes had made sure of that—the entire building would go down if they were set off. He had to convince Astarion to turn himself in.

Why did he care so much about the elf's life?

He knew he shouldn't.

"You're going to come out of there, weapons down and arms up, now. Or the place will go up in flames."

On the other line, Astarion rolled his eyes. It was Gale's voice, but it wasn't Gale. That wasn't the man he fell in love with. It was a professional attempting to manipulate him. Astarion wasn't going to fall for it. Not anymore.

"Oh, so this is a trap?" Astarion asked with a humorless laugh. "It's never going to work, darling." The elf sighed as he stood up and moved to the furthest side of the building. "It's never going to work because you constantly underestimate me."

It was likely a ploy to get him to come out easily. He'd been tortured by other agencies. He had the scars to prove it. Astarion would rather die than live through that again.

Gale was desperate to get Astarion out of there. But showing how much he cared was a weakness that Astarion could exploit.

Once the others placed the bombs and came back, there was no use in waiting around. They'd set it off if Astarion didn't come out soon.

"It will work," he said, keeping his voice firm, steady. He glanced out, watching the store's doors anxiously. "You don't know what we're capable of. Turn yourself in, Astarion, and you won't be hurt."

[Aurelia: Almost there.]

"You have no idea who I am or what I'm capable of," Astarion sneered, finally letting some of the anger that had been boiling within him bubble over.

The elf's ears twitched at the sound of something happening outside, too far to be his building. The team clearly thought he was still at the location they saw him enter. A cold smile graced his lips and he hoped Gale could feel it on the other side of the line.

"Let me guess, your little friends are planning to charge in here should I refuse? You think that scares me? I've murdered mages like you without a second thought. I've taken out dozens of targets without breaking a sweat. You'll have to try harder than that, my dear."

Hearing Astarion admit who he was—or more accurately, who he wasn't—was salt in the wound.

Gale was running out of time. He knew how fast Lae'zel worked. And with her in command, the rest of their allies would be just as quick.

"My friends aren't the only things you should be worrying about," he replied. "It's the runepowder." Through the back window, Gale could see the githyanki appear nearby through a Dimension Door with another agent. His pulse quickened as he watched her wait for the others to teleport in before following them back to the van.

"Last chance, Astarion," Gale warned. "Come out, now." Please.

As much as he kept telling himself that their love wasn't real, he couldn't lose Astarion… not again.

Astarion paused, swallowing heavily. Sweet fucking hells, Runepowder? That would flatten the entire godsdamned building, likely causing the one he was in to collapse as well at the very least. It was insanity.

"Alright. I give up…" Astarion said softly, pausing to take a breath before shifting into a venomous command. "Blow it."

"What?"

Astarion looked into the contact photo as if Gale might be able to see him on the other side. "Go on, Gale. Blow it up. Or is it all just for show? Because I don't think you have the guts, little mage."

Gale could hear the lack of fear in Astarion's voice. Was the elf that confident that he manipulated Gale enough that he wouldn't do it?

Astarion wasn't wrong.

Gale didn't want to do it.

He couldn't. But it wasn't up to him.

"You think we won't?" he hissed back. "You have a minute, Astarion." Please, more time.

Astarion laughed with a twist in his gut as he did so, treacherous tears sprung up in his eyes. Gale didn't matter. He didn't mean anything. He was a mark, a target. He was the enemy.

Yet he swore there was a desperate tone in Gale's voice as he gave him a minute's warning. Astarion's mind was either playing tricks on him or Gale didn’t want to look like a fool in front of his colleagues.

Gale muted himself as the others came back, the speaker still held to his ear with a trembling hand.

"Everyone's out," Lae'zel reported. She looked at Gale sternly. "Is he coming out or not?"

She clearly knew the answer before asking.

"We can still send people in," Gale tried. "He's alone, it will be easy, like you said."

"We already have the bombs in there. There will be no risk to our own allies this way."

"Just... just a few more minutes. I swear, I'll—"

"It's pointless, Gale." For once, there was a touch of sympathy in the githyanki's voice. Her sharp eyes softened the slightest bit as she looked away, gesturing for one of the others. "At least you can say goodbye."

"I…" I can't.

Lae'zel considered Gale for a moment, watching him frozen with indecision, fear. She gave the command.

"Blow it."

[Aurelia: Just a bit longer.]

Right as Astarion read the text, the building shook as the runepowder was set off. The ceiling partially collapsed and time slowed down.

Gale froze in place as he watched the building collapse. It was horrifying. Even with the large distance they had from the explosion, Gale could still feel the tremors. He watched it happen from the back of the van.

Glass shattering. Bricks crumbling. Smoke emerging from the wreckage. The neighboring buildings weren't in the damage zone, but there was no doubt anyone in there would survive.

"Astarion," Gale breathed. He ran out of the van, Misty Stepping to get closer as fast as possible, not caring if the other agents were watching. "Astarion!"

Only the sound of bricks and rocks falling apart and the crackling of burning refuse could be heard. The rubble was too thick. It would take hours to search through. And even if they did… There was no denying it.

Astarion was gone.

Chapter Text

Astarion needed to run. They would come looking. He needed to run.

The elf downed the invisibility potion in his pocket and made his escape out the back, glass everywhere from windows shattering. His phone buzzed with a message from Aurelia.

[Aurelia: What happened? We nearly had it.]

There was no time to answer. Astarion slipped through the city until he found a bar nearby and took camp in its bathroom, waiting for the potion to wear off and using a Disguise Self scroll in his inner pocket to hide his identity. The entire time all he could think about was the fact that Gale really did it. He tried to murder Astarion.

It shouldn't be a surprise. It shouldn't matter.

Yet somehow under all the anger and emptiness, there had been a flickering candle of hope that some of it had been real. Astarion hadn't even realized it existed until the flame was snuffed out.

Astarion hid in the shadows as he searched the city for his mark, hotwiring a car the moment the opportunity arose for it. He couldn’t go back to the office—actually, he could but he would rather not face Cazador after another failure. If he could somehow fix this debacle, perhaps his punishment would be less intense.

Rather than face his boss’s rage, Astarion tried to look for places he thought Gale might be. It was a long shot, but he could be at a safe house or back home looking for evidence. Either way, if there was a chance he could look into that man’s eyes as he sought his revenge, then Astarion was going to take it.

The list of places Gale typically frequented was short. Astarion checked the library before it closed, he went by the coffee shop Gale loved to brood in after a long day at work. He even risked having a cab drive him by the house. But that was it. He couldn’t think of any other place the spy might be. Astarion realized just how little he knew about Gale. The city was massive and he had no idea where to find him. If he was even still there at all.

Then he passed The Asp’s Strike. It was ridiculous to think that Gale might be there. It wasn’t a usual haunt; it was the restaurant they went to the night they both proposed. They’d gone a few times after on anniversary dates, but it wouldn’t be anything special for his mark. Not when he knew that Gale felt nothing for him all along.

Still, Astarion felt pulled to the place. Like a masochistic chain around his throat, Astarion had no choice but to pull over and walk inside.

The place was fairly active, most tables filled and a quiet murmuring in the air along with the overhead jazz music. So familiar was the dark ambiance, the smell of fine wine and overly priced roast chicken.

Astarion tried not to think about the last time they were there. How the date had felt more tense than the ones before, both of them looking at their phones more than each other. Perhaps that distance was the realist it had ever been.

“Can I help you, sir?” asked the host. Astarion opened his mouth to answer when he saw a devastatingly familiar face sitting at a table in the corner.

Dressed in black with his head down, Gale was a stark contrast of moroseness in the restaurant. Perhaps his perceived kill hadn’t been as satisfying as he thought it would be. Serves him right.

Astarion turned around and left without a word to the host. He stood outside the building, chest pounding and unable to breathe. Astarion rubbed his face with his hands before looking down at his open palms to see the dark tones of his drow disguise.

He could walk in now, take the gun he had tucked in his waistband and end it by blowing his husband’s brains out right now. Drench the place in blood to more clearly mark this building for the lies it held. Astarion’s eyes watered, feet carrying him over to the alley where he ripped off the disguise self ring and wiped his face. After a few deep breaths he walked into the restaurant, ignoring the host again in favor of going straight to his target’s table.

As he walked up behind Gale, he saw the other agent looking at something in his own hand. A silver ring. Astarion's wedding ring. Keeping it like a trophy for his kill, it was disgusting. The fact that he still wore his own was even more deplorable. Fuck him. Fuck him.

He was gone.

Astarion.

Astarion was gone.

Was that all this was? A mission completed, a target eliminated?

Astarion had been so much more than that.

Gale swirled the wine glass in his hand, unaware of the soft chatter surrounding him, the shuffling of waiters and patrons, the warmth of the restaurant.

All he could feel was cold, bitter, emptiness. He barely felt the slide of a tear rolling down his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

He’d shed enough tears for the man. In joy, in sadness, in pain, in love.

It didn’t matter if Astarion deserved any of it. Right now, the grief for the death of a fake relationship was real. Even if it had all been a lie, even if every touch, every whisper, every promise had been just another deception—he had been real. Gale’s love had been real. And now, there was nothing left.

Nothing left but the remains of their home and the ring in his hand. It caught the low light of the restaurant, a soft glint against the dim candlelight. Gale turned it between his fingers, feeling the smooth band with his name engraved on the inside, the subtle weight of it, the way it still held warmth despite how cold he felt inside. It should mean nothing to him now. Just another remnant of a past that had never been real. A memento of a life built on lies.

And yet, he couldn’t let it go.

He wasn’t sure why he had come here. Maybe he had wanted to punish himself, to sit in the very same place where they had spent countless hours in, reliving the moments of joy before their proposal. He could still hear Astarion’s laugh, that light, teasing lilt, full of something that had felt like love.

He inhaled deeply, letting out a shaky breath. There was no point in grieving someone who hadn’t existed.

He shouldn’t be here. He should be back at headquarters, finishing the report, erase the last traces of Astarion from his life like he was just another mission file.

He should take his own ring off.

Throw them both out, melt them down, burn them, pawn them off—anything but sit here, still wearing his and clutching Astarion’s like some heartbroken fool.

A familiar voice from behind nearly startled him out of his chair.

“Is this seat taken?”

Gale forced himself to remain motionless, his grip tightening on his glass, but he couldn’t help the catch in his breath, the quickening of his heart.

He should have stayed for the search before authorities arrived to investigate the explosion, yet he couldn’t bring himself to face the possibility of seeing Astarion’s lifeless body—if it was even still in one piece. But there wouldn’t have been a body there.

That was Astarion’s voice.

Gale was sure of it. He could almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation. The man he wished wasn’t dead, now here, mocking him, raising the stakes again and bringing the mission back to life.

And now he had to finish the job with his own hands, didn’t he?

He forced out a low chuckle, not looking back at the elf. “You survived,” he commented smoothly. His entire body was immediately on guard, tense. He couldn’t raise any attention in here, not with so many civilians around. “You’re right, you know. I underestimated you.”

He paused, staring at the ring on his hand for a moment before tugging it off. The ring that held Astarion’s name. He couldn’t let his emotions show, not now, not when Astarion was here, clearly able to take advantage of any weakness he showed. He had to let anger win out over grief.

Astarion was still a target, a danger.

Gale held the ring up to the man behind him. “Tell me, lawyer,” he hissed, finally meeting the crimson eyes of a man who should be dead, in more ways than one, “are divorce papers easier to sign than a death certificate?”

Astarion plucked the ring offered to him and sat down across from Gale. So much venom in those brown eyes, confirming everything he already knew.

Slipping the ring across his knuckles like a coin, Astarion laughed quietly to himself as he watched the way the silver shined in the light. He looked back up at Gale with a goading smile.

“Oh darling, I’m hurt,” Astarion cooed sarcastically, “and here I was thinking you enjoyed our time together.”

Gale did enjoy their time together.

Even with the distance, at least they were together, real or not.

The stereo system faded to silence as a musician sat down at the piano, beginning a romantic tune. Other guests stood to dance out on the floor in the center of the restaurant and gods, Astarion remembered the way they used to dance on their dates here.

During the last one they both agreed they were too tired, that they would dance next time instead.

“Well look at that, isn’t it just romantic. I seem to remember you promising me a dance, professor. Will you make good on it, or should we add it to our list of white lies? Hmm?” Astarion asked with a hateful grin, enjoying the flex in Gale’s jaw.

Astarion offered a hand out for the dance, the hand as bare and naked as Gale’s own now. The wizard’s eyes flickered toward the ring still twirling between Astarion’s fingers. The way the elf played with it so carelessly, like it was nothing but a trinket, something to be pocketed and forgotten.

The wizard exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing himself to stay composed, to not react. Astarion was baiting him, of course he was. That was what he did best—find the wound and press, just to see how deep the knife could go.

Fine.

Gale took Astarion’s hand, standing up to tug him harshly to his chest before leading them both back towards the dancefloor. If it was a dance Astarion wanted, a dance he would get.

His hands found their way to Astarion’s hips, to Astarion’s back. He felt the bump of a hidden dagger, and quickly pulled it out of the hilt, dropping it on the ground and kicking it underneath the table.

There were definitely more weapons on him, Gale had no doubts about it.

“Did you know? ” Gale murmured while swaying into the dance. “When you proposed, when you kissed me, when you held me that night—did you already know how this would end?”

Astarion leaned in, Gale’s beard barely ghosting against his cheek as he tutted back. “Happy endings are for fairytales.”

With one arm extended up to wrap around Gale’s neck, Astarion dug his nails into the exposed skin as they turned. Satisfaction was minimal but still there when seeing Gale’s eye twitch from the pain.

Pulling back, Astarion looked Gale over as he ran his other hand between them. Fingers slid down Gale’s chest and further still to see if he’d tucked any weapons into the front of his pants. However the sizable bulge there appeared to be all man. Astarion looked back up at Gale and arched a brow.

Gale swallowed back the bile rising in his throat as Astarion’s hands moved over him now, mimicking his own actions. Astarion had touched him like this before. He’d mapped out every inch of Gale’s body under the guise of intimacy, but now Gale knew the truth—he had been searching, memorizing, manipulating.

It felt good before. Gods, it felt so good. The warmth of his hands, the teasing drag of his fingers, the heat in his breath against his skin.

Now it felt invasive. Wrong.

Gale stared at the man in front of him, feeling something crawl under his skin, something worse than anger.

Revulsion.

Not at Astarion. No.

At himself.

For being touched by Astarion, for touching him at all. For ever thinking those touches had meant anything. For being so godsdamned blind.

“It’s all Dekarios, love,” Gale murmured, a sick sort of sweetness in his voice, gripping Astarion’s arms tighter. Their movements were harsh and quick, barely concealed as a dance. He barely heard the music over the rush of blood in his ears. His fingers ghosted over Astarion’s body, familiar but not familiar. How many times had he touched him just like this? How many nights had he run his hands along the same curves, thinking they were his to hold, to cherish? He had memorized the way Astarion felt beneath him, how his breath hitched when Gale pressed his lips to his throat, how he moaned when his fingers brushed against his ear—

He remembered that single earring. It had been a camera the whole time. Gale swallowed hard, forcing the memories away. Flashes of Astarion’s work—the recordings, the proof of his betrayal, his infidelity, his murders of people who loved him—ran through his mind.

None of it had been real. He had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

His hand trailed further down Astarion’s back, groping him, searching him. Astarion had always been so careful. Careful in how he let Gale touch him, careful in the way his body melted just enough to feel natural, but never too much. Careful, because none of it was real.

Astarion took in a sharp breath through his nose at the pet name. It shouldn’t bother him. He knew this was just a mission. It had always been just a mission. Yet somehow it stung sharply to hear the ire in his husband’s voice.

This was a side of Gale he’d never seen. This was who he really was—a powerful, spiteful mage.

Gale dropped to a knee, feeling down Astarion’s legs. A small gun at the ankle, which Gale removed. He looked up at the elf, meeting his eyes before muttering a spell to teleport it away.

The moment Gale kneeled, Astarion had to push back thoughts of their proposal. Lies, it was all lies. None of it was real.

Astarion pushed it all down, meeting Gale’s stare with a cheeky smile, determined to appear unbothered. He looked up to see an older couple dancing, looking at them in shock at the perceived display of overt physical affection. Astarion gave them a soft nod with a wink to play into it before pulling Gale roughly back up.

“You can’t fool me, little mage. I know you’ve got little tricks up those sleeves.” Astarion growled under his breath as he found a satchel, likely with spell components in his jacket’s inner pocket. He chucked it over his shoulder to land on their table with perfect precision.

“Such a shame, two perfect covers. I can’t help but wonder where we went wrong?” Astarion asked as he checked their surroundings while in the dance, ensuring Gale didn’t have back up waiting to pounce.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Gale muttered. He pulled Astarion close, hand caressing the elf’s face in faux tenderness, and instead discreetly attaching a tracker beneath the fold of his collar.

He dipped Astarion back, a hand running down the other side to check for more weapons.

Why did touching Astarion like this feel so wrong?

It shouldn’t. He shouldn’t feel bad about this—all the discomfort Astarion felt about it didn’t stem from a traumatic past experience like he’d claimed at the therapist. It was from the risk of being caught.

Gale shouldn’t feel bad about this. Was that a poison vial in the back pocket? He removed it and threw it behind the elf, away from the other patrons. He watched as the glass shattered, the liquid inside bubbling and popping. Acid.

The elf was prepared to kill him in a variety of ways, it seemed.

Astarion briefly closed his eyes when Gale’s hand ran down his body. It was nothing like before, Gale was no different than any other mark that had their hands on him. Foolish to think it could ever be anything else. When Gale reached his back pocket Astarion had to resist the urge to flinch.

“Satisfied?” Astarion asked with a roll of his eyes, secretly lamenting losing that acid. It was a rather rare formula that had been difficult to obtain.

“Not in a long time,” Gale replied back tersely, “though I doubt I’d be the first.”

A lead weight lodged itself in Astarion's chest at Gale's words.

It shouldn't hurt. He shouldn't be bothered by it. Yet it stings like a sharpened blade down his spine, slow and deep with malice. Astarion looked into Gale's eyes, unable to hide the hurt and anger in them. Fuck him. He was like everyone else.

He turns Gale sharply, bumping them into a nearby column to distract him as he plants a timed explosive inside his jacket pocket. He had three minutes to get away from him. Either Gale would be dead or they would die together, it was ending no matter what.

"What does it even matter? If I was just a cover?" Astarion hissed under his breath as he pulled Gale back out onto the dancefloor.

Gale scowled at him, continuing to search him, feeling the edges of his sleeves as the elf pulled him forward.

"Who said you were just a cover?" he scoffed.

Astarion yanked Gale's hand into his to keep him from touching him anymore. He held it up for the dance, but squeezed it painfully tight.

Crimson burned into umber.

"Wasn't I?"

A pause between them.

"Wasn't I?" Gale whispered back.

Astarion felt his world tilting on its axis with the genuine hurt in Gale's eyes as he asked it.

This was too much. Gale was playing the game well, too well.

Normally it would be nothing to keep up, but everytime he looked at Gale he saw Amn. He saw the sunset by their wedding arch under a tree lit with lanterns. When Gale looked at him it was like a knife between his ribs, trying to cut through the thin layer of ice he had only just begun rebuilding.

This wasn't going to work. Gale was clearly far more skilled at manipulation than Astarion ever gave him credit for. He needed to end this before made a mistake that he couldn't come back from. He needed to get out before that bomb went off.

"Excuse me," Astarion murmured roughly with his head down to hide the mist in his eyes, pinching at the inner corners as he turned away. He went straight for the restroom.

Gale caught Astarion's hesitation, a dangerous sort of vulnerability, some genuine hurt in those eyes. What the fuck was Astarion talking about?

No, this was clearly him manipulating again.

He watched as the elf fled upstairs, heart hammering in his chest.

"There aren't any exits up there, Astarion," Gale called after him. He cursed under his breath, watching the elf disappear around the corner. He turned to retrieve the items Astarion had thrown haphazardly away, maneuvering through the other guests and keeping his eyes on the doorway all the while. What was that murderer planning?

His question was answered as a few people started rushing out from where Astarion had gone in a hurry. What—?

Boom.

Alarms.

Smoke.

A fucking bomb. People were panicking, all heading for the exits and pushing each other. Gale went the opposite way of the crowd, raising his head high to look for any signs of Astarion. Unless he was in a disguise—

No, there he was. A flash of white hair and crimson eyes, glaring back at Gale near the exit. Fuck, he was going to lose the target.

By the time Gale had made his way out onto the streets, the elf was gone. He'd need to make a call to the agency, ask for them to locate Astarion through the tracker he'd placed.

As he reached into his pocket, though, he stopped. Through the loud shuffling of people and alarmed shouts of fear and worry, a distinct beeping was heard.

There was a bomb on him.

It wouldn't be the first time, yet the fact that it was Astarion who planted it on him sent a chill through him. Astarion really was trying to kill him, regardless of whatever he claimed earlier.

He didn't know when this would go off, but judging by how quickly Astarion had left—it was soon. He had mere seconds.

"Get back! Get back!" he shouted, waving his arms out to push the crowd away. He took his suit off, throwing it to the ground. With a wave of his hand and a hurried chant, the suit was teleported into the sky.

Moments later, another loud explosion was heard and a bright light filled the sky.

That would have killed him.

Astarion watched from his car as Gale ripped off his coat and moments later an explosion filled the sky. Fuck.

His target figured it out in time and would be looking for revenge. Astarion hit the gas. He knew Gale would hear it. He knew Gale would try to follow. As long as Astarion had a head start, that was fine.

Gale breathed heavily, the explosion ringing in his ears, adrenaline from the near-death experience pumping through his veins along with white-hot anger.

He’d barely caught sight of Astarion in a car as it peeled away from the curb, tires screeching against the pavement. That fucking bastard.

No, he couldn’t let him escape this time. Gale shoved through the crowd, making a break for his own car parked down the street. He slammed his door shut, fingers tight around the steering wheel. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Gale took out his phone in one hand, keeping his eyes on the road. Only a glance at the contact he hadn’t bothered to change, with a heart and star next to the pet name. Love.

He called the target.

Gale's face came across Astarion's dash and that damned smile in the contact photo sent rage rippling through his system. The elf accepted the call—no harm in taunting the mark to ensure he was followed.

"Miss me already, sweet thing?" Astarion taunted, rolling his eyes.

“You tried to kill me,” Gale hissed, still in disbelief. It shouldn’t be a surprise, with everything he learned about the assassin. But knowing that he had betrayed their marriage and actually trying to murder him was entirely different.

"I know. Wasn't it fun?" Astarion asked with a giggle as he changed lanes.

He wasn't going to give Gale the satisfaction of knowing how difficult it had been to place that bomb. How part of him wanted to stay there in that dance and let the both of them go together. How even now he wished he could just run from it all and never look back.

But he had a mission to finish, there was no other way. He had nothing left.

"You know," Astarion added as if sharing a tawdry secret. "I think I'm going to stop by the house and burn everything I ever got for you."

Gale gritted his teeth, going past the speed limit as he drove. "I'll race you there," he muttered just as Astarion hung up.

He cursed under his breath. As if his ex-spouse hadn't already destroyed everything they had.

The silence for the rest of the ride left him thinking. Of everything they had. Not possessions. But the memories. They had so much together.

A few minutes on the highway, and Gale looked down at Astarion's contact on his phone. He needed to know. Even if the answer would hurt him, he wanted to hear it from Astarion's lips.

He called him again. When Astarion picked up, he spoke before the elf could say anything.

"When we first met, what was your first thought?" he asked quietly.

It was a trap. It had to be. Astarion wasn’t going to fall for it.

“You tell me.”

"I thought...." Gale took a deep breath, considering his words. "You looked like the full moon, shining bright in the night sky. Distant, unreachable, yet drawing me in like ocean tides."

Please, tell me you felt similarly, at least once.

Even a white lie would stop Gale from doing what he knew he would regret for the rest of his life.

Astarion’s breath caught in his throat as Gale’s voice reverberated through the car speakers. Ice cracking when he needed it to be impenetrable.

“And why are you telling me this now?” the elf asked, cursing the roughness in his voice as Gale’s manipulation so clearly threatened to break him.

"In the end you start thinking about the beginning," Gale replied softly. He paused, the silence over the line tense and cold. "So there it is. I thought you should know. So how about it, Astarion?"

It was difficult to stay focused on the road with his vision blurring from the tears in his eyes. Astarion gripped the steering wheel tight, taking in a shaky breath.

I thought you looked like the morning sun. I thought you shined brighter than anyone in the room and left a warmth in my heart that I hadn’t thought possible anymore. I thought—

“I thought you were the most gorgeous mark I’d ever seen.” Astarion heard himself reply, hand shaking as he wiped the tears off his face with the back of one hand.

Another crack formed in Gale's already broken heart. Shattered glass ground to dust and blown away. So that was it. The truth from Astarion's own lips.

"So all business, then."

Nothing at all since the beginning.

“All business,” the elf falsely confirmed. The liar, the thief, the whore. Forever the monster, there was never any other choice.

Gale swallowed back the knot in his throat. "Thank you. That's all I wanted to know."

He stayed on the line for a moment longer before hanging up, a small part of himself hoping that Astarion would take it back. But the silence only confirmed it. Banging his head back against the seat, Gale willed the tears away. He just needed to get back to the house and finish the job. To end this once and for all.

This was it. The end of Ancunín-Dekarios.