kareluna8 - Tumblr blog

kareluna8 · 8 months ago

Text

A perfect story. The icing on the cake 😁

A Perfect Storm

Summary: You and Gale give in to your passions, but there are some obstacles along the way.

Sequel to 'A Tight Fit' and 'A Generous Portion'. A reimagining of the Gale romance in Act 1 and Act 2, featuring nosy menaces Karlach and Astarion.

Word count: 5.6k

Disclaimers: Gale x female Tav/reader. NSFW. 18+. Smut. Oral sex. Vaginal penetration. Heavy petting. Light angst.

AO3 link

Beta: @dekariosclan, thank you so much, you are amazing and wonderful.

****

Peach juice gleams on Gale's beard, trickling down the thrust of his chin. He makes a slow sucking sound as it spills down the folds of your fingers. He pauses, his tongue darting over the bulge of his bottom lip, thick and wet.

His eyes are full and black, sparking purple from the throbbing of his orb. You were not certain what that meant before. You have no doubts now.

He lets out a low moan as he bites down again.

The peach falls from your hand. He does not move. Neither do you. There is a moment when you simply stare at him, alight with the pulse of his desire, rippling with the slick fire spreading from your core. Entranced by the unmistakable swelling between his thighs.

And then, you feast.

You fall on each other. A gush of peaches cascades across the ground. He laps and sucks at your fingers in a tumult of groans, as your tongue draws frenzied arcs over his soaked stubble, the honey of his skin. His hands are everywhere at once, weaving through your hair, grasping at your breasts, pressing your hips against his. You cannot get enough of him, pawing at his shoulders and his chest and his tousled waves, the bristled heat of his neck, the broad grooves of his back. When your mouths meet, you devour each other, ravenous for touch, scent, taste, anything, everything, more.

You are no longer aware of the open vista around you, the impending return of your companions. Nothing exists but Gale’s panting breaths, the velvet swirls of his tongue. His smouldering flesh against yours, crushing out all space between you, as it had been the first time, when there was no room for pretences and nowhere to hide. All that exists now is your desire, revealed and returned, at long last.

When your hand dips beneath his robe, his hips cant up to meet you. And when your fingers find what they seek, he shudders into the nook of your neck. It is no longer a memory, an ache that beset so many listless nights in your bedroll. You take hold of his hardness, hot and familiar. Searching fingers trail down the inside of your thigh, and you whimper as he rasps your name like a plea.

In the trance of your lust and longing, you do not notice the deepening flare of Gale’s chest. Blinding blades of indigo cut through Gale’s skin. As you move your hand along his length, he buckles into you. He lurches back with a cry.

You freeze as Gale doubles over, clasping at his chest. Ebony-purple tendrils writhe on his neck like poisoned veins, his chest a searing brightness that hurts your eyes.

“Gale, what's wrong? What's happening?”

He clenches his jaw, folding into himself. Choking breaths sputter out of him as he balls and unballs his fists. To see Gale deprived of speech is a unique brand of horror. You have no idea what to do.

“Do you need a magical artefact? A potion? Should I get–”

He jerks his head. You watch, terrified and helpless, as he extends a shaking palm. Wait. Please. Wait. His eyes wrench closed, his lips rippling as though in prayer.

Is this what it was like for him, that year in his tower, before your paths had crossed? The thought of him alone and abandoned, trapped in these convulsions of torment, shoots through you like pain.

You are not sure how long you sit there. Gradually, excruciatingly, his breathing slows to a laboured rhythm. The orb dims to a lavender wash. Relief overwhelms you as he lifts his head.

“I'm alright,” he heaves. “I'm fine, Tav.”

“Are you sure you don't need–”

“I'm fine. It’s safe. The orb… it's safe now.”

You suddenly feel so foolish. So blind.

“I'm sorry, Gale. I'm so sorry.”

“Whatever for?” His voice is broken, but still so tender. You could cry.

“All this time…I thought you were avoiding me because…”

You look away. He dips his head to chase your gaze. “Why?”

“Because you felt embarrassed. Because you didn't want me.”

He lets out a huff of disbelief. His gaze is urgent, so urgent, as he looks at you.

“Tav.” He moves closer. “I've wanted you since the day we got locked in that room. You're all I think about. All I dream of. I've never felt…”

He trails off. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, strained and uncertain.

“I've never met anyone like you,” he says finally.

You understand his struggle. You, too, cannot explain what it is between you. What you feel for him.

“Neither have I. I don't usually do this.”

His crow's feet crinkle. “That makes two of us. I don't make a habit of throwing myself at people tongue first.”

For an instant, you are lost in the memory of his tongue. He clears his throat. You tear your eyes away, fixing on the creases of your tunic.

The orb remains, mercifully, faint.

When you look up again, he is studying you. He scratches at his beard, still damp from your earlier exertions. You can still taste him, and you still want more.

“I’ve always considered myself a disciplined man.” He grimaces. “Surprising, I know, because I just can't control myself around you. Even the threat of imminent destruction couldn’t keep me away.”

You swallow. This is new territory for you, too. You have never felt so desired, and you have never desired someone more. You cannot make sense of it.

“You should have told me,” you manage. “If I had known this was hurting you…”

“I think I had more pressing priorities than talking.” He pauses, chuckles. “I never thought I'd say that.”

Despite the circumstances, you laugh. “You do love talking.”

“There are things I love more.”

Your core tingles as you linger over the swell of his lips. The orb flickers as his eyes hover over your parted mouth. You wonder if you should pull away. He does not.

“I wanted to do things properly. Charm you with dazzling displays of wit. Conjure a canvas to rival your beauty. Dance with you beneath the stars.”

Is that sorrow in his voice? Regret? He frowns, and in the shadows of his face, you think you see shame.

“If things were different… if we were home… I would give you everything you deserve.”

It is not quite shock you feel, but you cannot fathom it. When Gale had told you about his past, his greatest mistake and his fall from grace, you had wondered at the fairness of his self-judgment. It did not sit well with you, the crushing burden of the blame he carried, as though the sin was his alone. For you, that guilt had always jarred against the proud veneer Gale projected - the bluster of a wizard of considerable acclaim, a scholar of exceptional accomplishment.

Now, you see him so clearly. The passion that drives him, the gentleness that sets him apart. The conviction that he will always fall short.

You reach forward to cup his cheek. His breath catches, a mirror of your heart. You have touched before, drawn together by the whirlwind of your yearning, a surging, panting need. But this is different.

“You already have.”

His eyes ebb with surprise, doubt, something like fear. There are things you wish to say, but you do not know how. They go beyond the language of your bodies, into the recesses within you that no one else has stirred.

But still, you try.

“Being with you… It’s everything.”

He is speechless for a moment. When he looks at you, you know he sees. He smiles.

And as he kisses you, you realise it is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

****

“So, let me get this straight.” Karlach leans forward. “All those nights in Gale's tent, and you still haven't ridden that wizard’s staff?”

You rub at your temples. You already regret those extra glasses of red. Wine has always made you loose lipped.

Astarion smirks. “Come now, Tav. That tent lights up like a signal flare every time you go in. You must be doing something.”

You glare at them pathetically. You know they will not let this go, no matter how mortified you are. No matter how much you dig your heels in.

“We can't,” you sigh.

Astarion arches an eyebrow. “Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Gale does leave a lot to be desired. Though I’d assumed there'd be spells for that sort of thing. Enlarge, for one–”

“No!” you splutter. “For the love of – No! There's nothing wrong with Gale's–”

You catch the grin Astarion shoots at Karlach. Karlach gapes at you, expectant.

“It's his orb, alright? Not his… anatomy. We can't because of his orb.”

Karlach's eyes widen. “Are you saying that if Gale nuts, his orb will explode?”

You wince. “That's the worry, yes.”

“Gale’s cock could bring about the apocalypse.” Astarion chortles. “Who would have thought.”

You give Astarion a shove. “It's not funny.”

“Of course it isn't!” Karlach looks genuinely distressed. “You poor things. I can hear you two going at it sometimes–”

“Like a pair of clumsy teenagers,” Astarion pushes in. “You’d have to be deaf not to hear everything, by the way.”

Karlach scratches her head. “Seriously though. What are you guys doing in there? If you can't wet that wand–”

“For gods’ sake!”

Astarion snickers. “Are you finding all his special places and kissing them better? Is he putting that mage hand to good use? Whispering sweet nothings into your–”

Your face burns. “Just use your imagination!”

“Poor Gale.” Karlach blows out a breath. “He must have the biggest, bluest balls in all of Faerun.”

“And you must have the most swollen–”

“Right!” You leap to your feet, lunging away from the campfire. “I'm done! I'm not discussing Gale's balls, or my–”

You crash into Gale as you turn. He catches you, alarm and confusion flitting across his face as you squeeze his hand. Sorry, you signal with your eyes as you retreat. I'll make it up to you later.

“What did I miss?” you hear Gale ask behind you. You cringe at the delight in Astarion's voice.

“Oh Gale.” He titters ominously. “I'm so glad you asked.”

****

“Oh, I get it.”

You chuckle as he wraps his arms around you from behind. Everything feels and smells like Gale - every nook and cranny of his study, plush and warm, every chime of the well-worn piano beside you. The teasing dance of hands around your waist, the tickle of his hair against your neck. The familiar scent of sandalwood and scrolls, indistinguishable as fantasy or flesh. Your fingers hover over the bookshelf before you.

“This is some kind of elaborate courting ritual, isn't it? You seduce me with kisses and honeyed words–”

“I seduced you?” Gale barks out a laugh. “I seem to recall that you were the one who touched my–”

“You whisk me away to your wizard’s tower, ply me with mood music, and then–”

“Excuse me, but you willingly accepted my invitation. No whisking was involved–”

“And then–”

“I might also remind you that technically, we haven’t left the boundaries of my tent, given that this is an illusion, though admittedly, a masterful one–”

You jostle him. He nibbles at your earlobe, and you bat him away half-heartedly.

“And then, you show me your personal, and very extensive, collection of porn.”

Gale titters as you gesture towards a cluster of tomes in the upper left corner.

“A gentleman can never be too well-read.”

“Clearly not.” You crane your neck. “‘Beauty and the Beast with Two Backs’. ‘Longsword of Love’. ‘The Wand of Wonder.’”

“Oh, that's a good one. The sequel was a poor imitation, though. ‘The Tiefling's Horn.’ Disappointing.”

“What a shame.” You squint. “‘Two Wenches, One Goblet’. What's that about?”

Gale opens his mouth, then promptly closes it.

“Wait. Maybe don't answer that.”

You laugh as you delve further. You remember that Gale has conjured all of these books from memory. You have no doubt that he recalls their content in exquisite detail.

“I wasn't sure whether you'd misplaced some of these. ‘Exploring the Underdark.’ ‘How to Tend Your Garden.’ ‘Studies of the Kraken.’”

Gale huffs. “I'm offended you'd think my library would be anything but impeccably arranged.”

“Ah.” You turn to face him, nuzzling into his neck. "Shall I beg for your forgiveness?”

His hands wander down your spine, over the small of your back. A violet shimmer fills the space between you. You have learned which shades you should flinch from, and which you should welcome. You cannot help but feel Gale's arousal as your own, after all. To see it displayed so clearly - it drives you wild.

“Tav,” he murmurs into your hair. “You could take a first edition of ‘Etheril’s Enchiridion of Enchanting Easements’ and burn it in a ritualistic bonfire, and I’d forgive you.”

You brush your lips over his jawline, running your thumb over the arc of his collarbone. You feel him tremble against you.

“So you're saying I have you wrapped around my little finger.”

“Wrapped?” He tuts. “Bound and double knotted. Triple knotted, even. If you had an inkling of a desire for me to jump, I'd catapult myself to the other side of the Chionthar.”

“So…” You bite your lip. “You’d do anything I asked?”

His eyes are misted, lips curled in a sideways smile. “Within reason. But yes. There's very little I wouldn't do for you.”

You tilt your mouth to his. He opens to you without hesitation. A soft moan escapes him as he presses you against the bookshelf, enfolding you in his lavender haze.

“I’d do the same,” you whisper, before you melt into each other.

****

You stare up at the peak of your tent, flickering in the candlelight. Your bedroll feels foreign, the ground beneath you impossibly hard. You kick away your blanket with a grunt, abandoning the hope of sleep.

Should you go to him? After Elminister’s departure, you had made your feelings on Mystra's charge - and Mystra herself - abundantly clear. When you had sat with Gale, watching the sun set with his hand in yours, he had been uncharacteristically quiet. You had known, without him asking, that he needed space.

He had not been at dinner - a haphazard assortment of beans and fish heads which you were too preoccupied to taste. When you returned from a wash in the river, you thought you glimpsed the curve of his back sliding into his tent. You have not seen him since.

You imagine Gale, tossing and turning, wondering how long he has left. Sifting through his memories for triumph, and finding only despair. Convinced that his life has no meaning outside of his death. Standing at a precipice, alone.

You lunge up, darting through the slit of your tent.

He stands outside, features shadowed in the empty night. There is a weariness in his stooped frame, an exhaustion that he cannot conceal. But when your eyes meet, his face glows with unmistakable joy. He reaches for your hand.

“Come with me.”

****

“This was going to be a surprise.”

You marvel at the illusion around you. The bed of lush grass beneath your toes, adorned with a

fine spray of daisies. The lilting forest canopy, framed by a boundless azure canvas bejewelled with stars. The sky glimmers with the most vivid shades of turquoise you have ever seen.

In awe, you follow Gale to a clearing, where a velvet rug awaits, soft and welcoming. A billowing bouquet of peonies rests beside a basket of peaches, two glasses and a bottle of Gulthmeran Reserve. All your favourites.

You are at a loss.

“I've been trying to make it perfect, or as close to perfect I can get, in the circumstances. It's not quite finished, but…”

He looks down, grimacing.

“Well, there's no time like the present.”

You step forward, resting your hands on his chest. “This is incredible, Gale. It is perfect. Beyond perfect.”

He shakes his head. “I wish I could give you more. There's so much more I would give you, if only we had time.”

His eyes are shining. You realise that he is holding back tears. You cup his face in your hands.

“You've given me more than I've ever dreamed of. More than I could ever imagine.”

He is silent for a moment. Through the storm of your emotions, you watch the quiver of his lip, the spasm of his brow. He gestures towards the rug, arrayed with all the gifts he has prepared for you. You sit beside him, caressing the petals of a scarlet peony, rolling a honey-ripe peach around in your palm. He smiles as he watches you, a smile that puts the stars to shame.

“All of this,” you breathe. “How did you know–”

“Tav.” He chuckles, mock-chiding. “You should know by now that I'm a keen observer and a meticulous scholar, especially when you're the subject matter.”

You are not sure why you suddenly feel shy. You fiddle with his collar, the chestnut curls around his neck. He draws you closer, his legs bracketing you, the tip of his nose tingling over yours.

“No one has ever done anything like this for me.”

It is difficult for you to understand it. The things Gale has done, the feelings he has professed. You struggle to explain the magnitude of them all. The miracle of him.

“Then I'll do everything in my power to make up for their shortcomings.”

You stare at him for a long time. Without warning, a tear slides down your cheek. He catches it with his thumb, stilled by the admission, the implication. Your hands find his as he plants a slow, searing kiss on your forehead. In his touch, there is the warmth of home.

“Do you remember when you said you'd do anything I asked you?”

“Of course.” He nods. “I said what I meant.”

You know it is a risk. You know the consequences of what you are about to say. But you cannot stay silent, not after all you have been through together. Not after all you have discovered about the man he is, everything he has become to you. You cannot abide it.

“What if I asked you to trust me? To trust that we can find another way?”

He hesitates. The lines on his face deepen, his eyes darkening.

“You don't have to die, Gale. We can fight the Absolute together.”

He jerks his head. “Tav…”

You clasp his hands against your heart. “I'm asking you to trust me. Someone who knows you. Someone who… cares deeply for you. You don't deserve this. You don't need her forgiveness. You don't have to die.”

“Tav.” His chest heaves. “What you're asking…”

“I'm asking you to live.”

It comes out as a plea, though you had not meant it as such. It is your beating heart, held out before him - the truth laid bare, without reservation or fear. You cannot run from it any longer.

“I love you, Gale.”

The words are everything, yet not enough. Perhaps love cannot capture the hunger you feel for him, frantic and insatiable, the desperate ache that possesses you whenever he is near. The candle he has lit inside you, illuminating the world with a wonder you have never known. A steady tide, washing over everything within and around you, making all things new.

A thousand feelings stream across his features as a comet soars through the sky. And as he surges forward, clutching you against him like a lifeline, you recognise the promise that is sealed between your skin.

“I love you too.”

His tongue is tender at first, almost reverent as it slides against yours. Your mouths move slowly, savouring each other like the richest banquet, the finest wine. But when his hands roam under your robe to palm your breasts, when your fingers weave under his waistband to grasp his need, all is lost.

You had imagined this, the minute Elminster calmed the orb. The implications had been immediately clear to you. But all that had fallen to the wayside in the face of Gale's suffering and grief. Now, as Gale’s chest flares to the rhythm of his juddering breaths, you are unleashed.

Suddenly, all you want is his skin on yours. He tears your robe off with a ferocity that makes you whimper. You wrench his tunic off, shoving his breeches and briefs down in a frenzy. He rolls his tongue around your nipple, sucking it roughly into his mouth. As you arch into him, you tighten your grip around his shaft. He gasps, digging into your ass as you begin to pump.

“Wait,” you think you hear. But he is lapping wet whirls on your areola, parting your soaked panties to find your fire. You can feel the veins twitching on his girth as his fingers flutter into your cleft. You grind into his hand with a whine.

When he draws back abruptly, your first instinct is to check the orb. Before, that indigo blaze would have been a warning. But Gale's eyes are wide with desire, not clenched with pain.

With a low murmur, he flicks his wrist. A crackle of blue thread bends in the air. He rises, lifting you up into his arms.

“A gesture towards your comfort.”

You gape at the four poster bed that has appeared behind you, its violet canopy and silk sheets. You look back at Gale, incredulous.

“Are you telling me that all this time, you've had this in your back pocket, and we've been messing around in your bedroll?”

Gale dips his head, half amused, half sheepish. His hands meander down your curves, distracted, insistent. You lean into his touch.

“Maintaining an illusion like this requires concentration. Concentration I was devoting to making sure the orb didn't take out a small city every time you and I were having a…particularly heated interchange.”

“I see.”

You run your fingers over the scar of the orb, sunken into Gale's skin. It pulses, cold as metal in winter. Tentatively, you bend down to dart your tongue over its edges, lingering over the bruise in its centre. You can taste the static as Gale sucks in a breath.

“And you won't have a problem maintaining concentration now?”

His voice is strained, but his eyes glint. “I won't now.”

You gasp as he pulls you onto the bed, his cock stiff against your belly as you straddle him. You wet your lips as you skim his beaded head with your thumb. His head falls between your breasts as he shivers violently against you.

“That remains to be seen.”

When you slide off his lap, he makes a muffled sound, reaching for you. You hold his gaze as you roll his briefs and breeches down and off, caressing the exquisite muscles of his thighs, the arcs of his strong calves. As you settle between his legs, the smell of his sweat and arousal fills your senses, heady as a drug. Gale tenses in anticipation as you look up, his length twitching against your cheek.

He swallows.

You plunge his cock into your mouth. His back bows as he bites back a whine, the bed quaking beneath you. He is hard, so hard, and the warm silk of his shaft glides against your tongue like butter. You ache with a throbbing, swelling fire at the slick sounds of him sliding in and out of you, stretching you wide as you take him deeper and deeper. You want nothing more than to gorge yourself on him.

“Gods above…Tav… Gods…”

You are wild with the sounds of Gale's pleasure as he writhes to the rhythm of your mouth. You move faster, firmer, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on his girth. Spit spills down your chin and neck, and you keen as his cock thrusts against the back of your throat. You can feel the bud of your desire thrumming against your folds, bursting for release.

“Gods, you're incredible…that feels incredible…Tav…. ”

Arousal trickles down your thigh as you hum in approval. He is surging, impossibly stiff against your flurrying tongue. Tears prickle at your eyes as you continue to pump, losing yourself to his pleasure.

“Tav.” He clutches for you, frantic.

The tightness of his grip stills you. You slow for an instant to look at him. His brow is twisted, his hair mussed and cheeks flushed. The orb pulses like a heartbeat. A sheen of sweat ripples on his abdomen, glittering on the damp down of his skin. His beauty is maddening. Dizzying.

He springs up, pinning you beneath him. Your eyes roll back at the force of his weight grinding down into you, the stark demand of him. His hair is a tousled curtain around your faces, his chest rubbing against your nipples as you pant.

“Did you not like it?” Your hips cant up, desperate for more of him.

“I loved it. Too much, in fact,” he rasps. “I didn't want this evening to come to a premature end.”

You can feel his cock, steely and determined as it nestles into you. Your flesh burns in every place he touches. His musk is a haze, blurring every boundary, making you one. You are struggling to think, to speak.

“How considerate,” you manage.

“I'm nothing if not thoughtful.”

He begins at your neck – that secret nook just below your ear. A discovery he had made on one of the first nights, when you had come undone beneath his hungry mouth, a mewling mass of nerves. He has remembered ever since.

He rolls his tongue across your skin, teasing it between his plush lips. You shiver as he licks a tantalising trail of kisses down your collarbone, between your breasts, around your navel. He hums as he peels off your panties, drenched with your arousal. Your legs quiver as he spreads you wide, firm fingers edging into the sensitive flesh of your thighs. You whine at the wet sound of your folds opening to him, the hot puffs of his words over your bulging clit.

“You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this.” His voice is low and hoarse. Ravenous.

“I have some idea.”

You can barely breathe. The smirk on his lips sends a shudder through you.

“You have no idea.”

You let out a needy cry as he drags his tongue through your folds. He tastes you slowly, painstakingly, savouring every inch and corner of you. With every messy swipe, every moan that spurts from him, your back arches, your thighs lifting higher as Gale pushes into you, devouring you like a man starved.

“Gods,” he murmurs, and you think you might explode at the flick of his tongue on your clit. “You taste like heaven.”

You have no words, only a whimper. You will not last. Every fibre of your being condenses into the throbbing ache under his tongue. As he begins to draw small, swift circles around your fire, sparks spasm up your spine, spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes. His groans vibrate against your swollen centre, his nails digging into your thighs. His beard chafes against your flesh with a friction that gathers like a flaming coil inside you. You clench at the sheets, your toes curling with mounting ecstasy.

“Gale…Gods… Gale, I’m going to–”

He hums again. Even in the midst of your unravelling, you can hear his appreciation, his pride at having uncovered another mystery, another key to your undoing. His eager, plump lips close around your desire, his tongue flat and snug against you. He sucks at your clit with a loud, slapping sound, and you throw your head back as your last nerve snaps.

Blinding pleasure jolts through you in waves, shattering your every sense and thought. Incoherent sounds tumble out of you, your hips jerking frenetically as Gale continues to feast. He does not stop, even as you keen and bend beneath him, even as your climax erupts from you in bursts of sweet release. You have never come so quickly or so hard.

Overwhelmed by sensation, frenzied from it, you twitch and flinch, thighs clamping around his head as he holds you down. You cannot take any more. As you lurch up onto your elbows, his eyes meet yours, fully dilated, drunk with bliss. You reach for him helplessly.

“Gale,” you plead. “Come here. Please.”

He lingers, lapping up your delight in long, sloppy stripes, greedy for every last drop of you. When he rises, you can see streaks of your slickness glistening on his beard and chin. You tremble as he licks his lips.

You lunge for him, wild with want. Your mouths meet again in their furious dance, your taste thick on his tongue. You are closer than you have ever been, your bodies flush against each other, the sweat on his skin mingling with your own. He presses your arms down above your head, his fingers entwining with yours as you groan into each other.

“I need you.” Your hips roll against his, his cock jostling against your folds. It is anguish, your yearning to be filled by him, to be eaten whole. “I need you inside me. Please.”

You do not need to ask twice. You can feel the pounding of Gale’s heart, the billow of lust in his dark eyes. There is no more reserve, no trace of deliberation. When your legs part to welcome him, he makes a sound you have never heard before, all gentleness lost in the urge to consume you. He notches himself at your entrance, coating himself with your slick. With one rough thrust, he sheathes himself inside you, and you almost scream from the delicious drag of his cock against your aching walls.

“Gods,” he pants. “Tav…Gods… you feel…Tav….”

Your calves clench around his waist as he plunges into you, an erratic, gasping rhythm of wet, slapping skin. You flutter around his girth as he drives into you again and again, splitting you open then filling you to bursting. He releases your hands to cup your cheek, crushing his forehead against yours, and you cannot catch the words that stream from his lips, only his raw and wanton need. Your fingers fist into his tangled waves as you pull him closer.

“Gale.” Your entire being quakes beneath him, for him. “I love you.”

His brow steeples as he clasps your face, eyes shimmering with awe and exertion. He kisses you like it is his last night alive, taking what is left of your breath away. The world around you swirls into a purple storm as he pumps faster and faster, hips snapping with dizzying force. Your head rolls back, your eyes shuttering in rapture as he thrusts into the deepest parts of you over and over again.

“Tav.” His thumb pushes into your moaning mouth. “Look at me.”

You obey. As your tongue twists around his questing finger, you look at him with all the love and longing within you, every inch of you that cannot get enough of him. His eyes are bright as summer earth, his lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. You can feel the tremors through his muscles, the convulsions of his gut, as he nears the peak of his climax.

“I love you,” he whispers.

The orb flashes like an eruption of stars, the bed flickering in a chaos of colours. For an instant, you are floating in a lavender sea, drifting in the abyss of the night. With a final, keening stroke, he spills himself inside you. You whimper against each other, writhing through the aftershocks, a convulsion of shared breath and flesh. And as you lie on the bed he has made for you, with his arms around you and his warmth inside you, you wonder how you will ever part from him again.

****

You are curled on his chest, tracing the peaks and valleys of his body, studying the fine dust of hair over his flushed skin. His touch roams, tender and earnest, mapping the topography of your being, every dip and dune of your drowsy, sated flesh. Cocooned in him, cloaked in a passion that goes far beyond need, you feel a peace you have never felt before. You know, in an inexplicable way, that he feels it too.

He huffs, that quiet laugh you have come to love so much. You draw back to look at him.

“What?”

He smiles, rubbing his nose against yours. “Nothing. Just thinking. Marvelling, really.”

His lips graze your forehead as he pulls you close again. You nestle into him with a contented hum.

“At what?”

He chuckles, drawing languid circles over your hip bone, the curves of your thigh, the dimples on your back.

“The miracle of serendipity that brought you into my life. What fortune, what divine calculus, what wondrous confluence of circumstances…”

You pause, drinking in the joy that radiates in every lilt of his speech, every dance of his features. The love that burns in every part of him, pure as sunlight, fierce as life.

“A perfect storm.”

Gale stares at you. The grin that bursts on his face thrums with pride, a glee that would be ridiculous were it not so endearing. You laugh through the sprinkling of kisses that he peppers all over your face, a whirlwind of affection that floods your heart.

“My love,” he sighs, as his lips find yours. “I couldn't have said it better.”

********

A/N: Not wanting to blue-ball everyone after 'A Generous Portion', I decided to write a conclusion to this saga - but what I didn't realise was that I was going to end up rewriting the whole of Gale's romance in Act 1 and Act 2...

This is what I imagine happened if instead of the Weave scene, Gale and Tav were locked in a room together.

I tried to stay true to the canon as much as I could, with the orb, call backs, Elminster's visit and such. Most of all I wanted to capture a romance with Gale that begins with an explosion of passion / physical attraction, and then deepens into love.

I hope you enjoyed it! I am forever grateful for your support, and as always, would love to hear your thoughts and comments <3

Liked this fic? Check out my other work

#gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale fic #bg3 gale fic #gale fanfiction #bg3 gale fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #gale x reader

995 notes · View notes

kareluna8 · 10 months ago

Note

Funny and brilliant!

Hello my friend!! Regarding your amazing “Tight Fit” fic from @daisyofwaterdeep’s 10/10 scenario, I’m obsessed with how Gale would act around Tav after the whole debacle:

Just adorably a mess. Shy, flustered. Stumbling over words.

Trying not to mention it in conversation. Trying to act normal. Occasionally failing on both counts with verbal flubs: “I wholeheartedly support whatever Tav decides. Our leader knows breast—BEST! I mean best!” etc. etc.

Praying Tav doesn’t hate him. Trying not to get aroused every time Tav smiles at him.

Going out of his way to be extra kind to Tav while simultaneously trying to avoid her.

Forcing himself not to daydream about it during the day, thinking about it literally every night. Reimagining every detail while in his bedroll. Instantly so hard he has to finish himself off or he won’t be able to sleep.

Climaxing so hard he’s legitimately concerned about his orb.

Berating himself internally, reminding himself he needs to learn some damned self-control…but then recalling Tav’s breath on his neck, the feeling of her fingers eagerly stroking him, and any hope of self-control is instantly lost

Would love to hear your and/or @daisyofwaterdeep’s thoughts 💖

Hello my dear friend! I 1000% agree with your thoughts on this and I have written something to describe how I think it might go. Hopefully this is enjoyable!

A Generous Portion

Summary: Gale is a flustered mess after you are locked in a room together. Sequel to A Tight Fit.

Set in early Act 1. Featuring matchmakers Karlach and Astarion, gentleman hero Wyll, I've-had-it-up-to-here Shadowheart, and oblivious Lae'zel.

Word count: 1.7k

AO3 link

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Blushy, flustered, awkward Gale. Sexual tension.

****

“Gale.” Wyll's voice is warm with delight. “You've outdone yourself.”

Gale beams as he passes a steaming plate to Wyll. The stew Gale ladles out is thick and rich, and your stomach rumbles at its buttery fragrance. He grins as he hands out generous portions to a nodding Shadowheart, a grunting Lae'zel.

“It’s not every day that we cross paths with a butcher.” He bobs his head. “A good cook makes the most of every opportunity.”

You see none of the uneasy stiffness of the past few days, none of the squirming mania that has possessed Gale whenever your eyes have met. Karlach claps before she takes her plate from him, and he gives a playful half bow that makes you smile.

“Besides, a hearty meal is the best cure for a weary body and mind. And as far as hearty meals go–”

Since the last time you were alone, Gale has been avoiding you. He has fled from every look and conversation, as though it were a matter of survival. And yet, you have often felt his attention on you, stripping you bare. You feel it now, as his focus flits over your outstretched hand, as he serves you.

“–There’s nothing like some good Waterdhavian sausage.”

His eyes meet yours. Panic flares in his face. He jerks his head, a grimace clenching his features as he flinches away. You settle back in your seat next to Astarion, feeling strangely guilty. Astarion's smirk does not escape you. Nor does the bright flash of Karlach's eyes.

For an eternity, there is only the scraping of plates, the soft stirring of bodies. The sizzle and hiss of the campfire, punctuated by little hums of satisfied chewing. The stew is exquisite, and you almost forget the crackling tension around you as you devour it. It spills from your lips, trickling down your chin in your haste. You wipe it away with your fingers, sucking them clean, wasting nothing.

When you look up, Gale is staring at you. He spins away, clearing his throat as he examines his stew with obsessive intensity. The flush of his cheeks makes your core swell with memory. The ghost of his hardness twitches against your fingers. You shift awkwardly.

When Wyll breaks the silence, you look at him with a newfound appreciation.

“This is delicious, Gale,” Wyll says politely. “Truly delicious.”

Relief surges in Gale’s frame. “It's my pleasure.”

“We're spoiled to have you cooking for us.”

You have never been so grateful for Wyll's courtly upbringing, his natural tact. You send out a missive of frantic admiration with your eyes. Wyll’s gaze flickers to yours for the briefest instant before returning to Gale.

Gale is chewing his lip, composing himself. His furrowed brow eases. He waves his hand in an approximation of dismissal.

“I try my breast.”

You drop your spoon. Astarion bursts into laughter. Shadowheart buries her face in her hands.

“Best!” Gale is fully crimson now, his pitch higher than you have ever heard it. “I try my best!”

“I can't watch anymore,” Shadowheart murmurs under her breath. Karlach jostles her quiet. There is an excruciating pause. You glance at Wyll, pleading.

Wyll's jaw feathers as he leans forward, his smile tight and wide.

“And tell us, Gale, where did you learn to cook?”

Gale combs frenzied fingers through his hair. His gaze darts around like a fish evading a net.

“I learned from the best.” His words are slow and strained at first, snowballing as he recovers. “My formidable mother. A master cook, who could work miracles with modest and extravagant ingredients alike. She taught me everything I know.”

Wyll hums approvingly, patiently. You are beyond thankful to see Gale’s breaths levelling, his voice lowering to its usual timbre.

“In fact,” he draws himself up, “the last time I made her a meal, she said my food might even match hers.”

Wyll lets out a courteous titter. “Well-deserved praise.”

“Your food is pleasant even to a Githyanki palate,” Lae’zel remarks matter of factly. She seems oblivious to tonight’s disasters - or perhaps indifferent to them.

“Awesome grub, mate.” Karlach gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Can't get enough.”

With each affirmation, Gale’s body uncoils a little. The alarming scarlet of his skin is fading to its usual golden bronze. You are desperate to give him relief. You nod furiously.

“I love your food. I’d eat anything of yours.”

All heads turn to you – vistas of disbelief, delight, despair. Karlach lets out a guffaw as Astarion snickers. Shadowheart and Wyll press their hands to their temples. Lae'zel stares at Gale with disdain as he begins to cough, clutching his chest. He hacks and heaves, until you are genuinely concerned that he is choking.

“Are you alright, Gale?”

“Fine!” he gasps, his hands whipping around him in frenetic arcs. “Absolutely fine!”

Anxiety seizes you as a flash of lavender peeks through the opening above his chest. Hurriedly, you pour him a glass of wine, moving forward to kneel beside him.

“Well.” Astarion springs up, gesturing to Karlach pointedly. “This is as good a time as any for that thing you mentioned, Karlach.”

For a second, Karlach looks just as confused as you feel, her brow scrunched as she considers. The recognition that blooms on her face is like victory. She leaps up to join him.

“Right! That thing! That I wanted to show you. And Shadowheart. And Wyll. And Lae'zel. Right now! Somewhere else!”

She pulls them up in turn. You stare at each of them, bewildered, imploring. Gale wheezes beside you.

“What are you–”

“Must dash!” Astarion calls out, grabbing and jostling at arms and elbows. “Places to go, people to be!”

You glare at your companions’ retreating backs. When Gale takes the glass from your hand, his fingers brush against yours. He looks away as he throws the wine down with a groan.

*****

“Are you sure you don't need anything?”

“Yes, I'm fine, thank you.”

“Because if you need anything, I can–”

“No, I'm quite alright, Tav. Thank you very much for your kindness.”

The politeness between you is painful. Gale’s hands jolt from his lap to his sides, his fingers rippling and fisting. You suddenly realise how close you are, your face an arm’s length from his knee, your eye line parallel to the crook of his…

You lurch back, perching on the log opposite him. Gale’s features writhe as he fumbles at his robe. He looks absolutely miserable. You cannot help but feel stung. Your friendship and affection for him had come so easily. You cannot say you do not miss it, and the promise of what it might become.

“Would you rather I left?” you ask finally. “If I'm bothering you, I can go.”

Is it shock in his widened eyes? Disbelief? You cannot tell. He shakes his head with surprising force.

“No, Tav. You never bother me. You could never...”

He trails off, gaze fixed on the campfire with a fervour like fear. You sigh. You cannot skirt around the edges of it any longer.

“Gale, have I done something wrong?”

He looks up then. His eyes quiver, sunlight on a brown sea.

“Have I upset you in some way? Because if I have, I apologise. I never meant to cause you any distress, or any kind of offence–”

He winces, as though you have struck him.

“Of course not,” he exclaims, a little too loudly. He bites his lip. A stray strand of silver falls over his eye. You ignore your urge to brush it away.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You could never do anything to upset me. You're...”

Something in his tone simmers beneath your skin. It is breathy and hoarse, and you are reminded of the way he had moaned over your parted mouth as you grasped the bulge rising between you. Your skin throbs as your gaze drifts over the fullness of his cupid’s bow, the hard curves of his chest, the shadowed dip between his legs. You swallow.

He whirls away from you, as if he can read your thoughts. It is your turn to clear your throat now, to stare into the campfire as your face burns and you battle against the images that flood you. When, without warning, he jumps up and bounds away, you do not have words. Rudeness is a trait you did not think Gale possessed. You sit, stunned, wondering what to do with yourself.

You are taken aback when he returns from his tent. He stoops and stumbles slightly as he takes a seat beside you, close enough that his scent of sandalwood and sweat sends your head spinning. With gentle deliberation, he places a basket in your lap. You marvel at the peaches that fill it, sunset-blushed and plump, ripe to bursting.

“Gale,” you breathe. “What is this?”

He rubs at the back of his neck. “Forgive me… but I couldn’t help but overhear you and Lae'zel the other day.” His throat bobs, his crow’s feet crinkling. “You were telling her about the food you love most, so when I saw these peaches at the market, I couldn’t help but…”

It takes all of your self control not to throw your arms around him. You press a peach to your nose and close your eyes, breathing deeply, savouring its fragrance, sweeter than the sweetest wine. The tickle of its down, the feel of its flesh, firm and soft at the same time. A little gasp of joy escapes you.

When you open your eyes, he is smiling - beaming - at you. He looks away quickly.

“Thank you, Gale,” you manage. “This is incredibly generous. How can I ever repay you?”

He dips his head. There is the hint of an arched eyebrow, a sideways curl of his lips, as his dark eyes flicker back to yours.

“Your pleasure… is all I desire.”

For a while, you simply look at him, speechless from relief, beauty, gratitude, yearning. The air around you is taut to snapping, the space between your bodies at once too much and too little. You open your mouth and sink your teeth into the peach in your hand. It bursts into a spurt of nectar, coating your lips and chin and fingers, sticky and smooth on your skin. You let out a small moan.

He trembles. A purple haze flares as your tongue follows the trail of juice winding down your fingers, catching the drips on your wrist. You lick your lips as he watches, still and rapt. Laid bare.

You hold the bitten peach out to him, an unspoken offering. He hesitates for an eternal moment before he leans forward, bathing you in his indigo glow.

He holds your gaze as he bites down.

*****

Liked this fic? Check out my other work

866 notes · View notes