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Astarion wishes he was chill. He wishes he could just be normal and chill and whatever the opposite might be to what he feels right now. He wishes he wasn’t constantly looking for a problem to throw everything off. Sometimes, he thinks, it’s as if he craves isolation, or perhaps he’s become so accustomed to it that anything else feels like an immediate threat.
A therapist could make some serious money by taking him on.
He knows he’s not chill, or normal. And he has spent a significant portion of the last near-fortnight sitting on his sofa in a deep pit of Google searches looking for any tiny, miniscule reason to cancel his overnight session with Gale. Any small drop of evidence that his instinct to flee is correct. That against all gathered evidence to the contrary; sweet, gorgeous Gale perhaps is, in fact, someone to run and hide from.
All it took was a simple glance over the top of Gale’s wallet when they settled up at the end of their last session to see the logo of the University he works at printed on an ID card. Once he had the basic shape and colours of that in his memories he was sure it couldn’t be that difficult to find. Unfortunately, an awful lot of universities have some derivative of a coat of arms as their logo, and it took more time than he would like to admit.
But all of that hard work led him to where he is now. His eyes rake over the exact right page of the exact right website. It feels like victory. Gale Dekarios, senior lecturer of Anthropology. Astarion barely even knows what that subject is. It certainly hadn’t been an option when he’d stumbled through his last bout of formal education before being chewed up and spat out for poor attendance– the result of his growing nighttime business.
He scrolls down and sees a list of what appears to be book titles. Astarion realises that perhaps Gale’s an author too. He reads one of the titles on the list of books penned by the man: ‘The Ever Shining Sea: Sacred Rituals and Symbolism in the Traditional Practices of The Tashalar’
Sounds… a little boring. He won't be adding that to his reading list any time soon.
He clicks instead to an images page and is met with a very sweet, formal headshot of Gale likely from around ten years ago. His hair is shorter, his cheekbones sharper, his beard nonexistent with just a shade of stubble along his jaw, the wrinkles around his eyes less defined.
The next photo seems more recent, taken mid-lecture. He’s stood at the front of a class gesturing to something on the screen behind him, the hang of his belly peeking out of the bottom of his shirt. He looks confident and capable and delicious.
Astarion feels a stirring between his legs as he unintentionally compares the strength and composure of the man in the photo to the whining submissive he gets to stand on top of and tease every two weeks.
“Fuck,” he whispers to himself and shifts slightly in his seat in the hopes that the feeling will subside, but the brush of fabric over his cock only makes his arousal more apparent.
How humiliating. If the obsessive searching hadn’t been enough, here he is half-mast over a simple, innocent photo. How repressed he must be, to be so easily affected. This silly little crush needs to be flattened once and for all, if not for the sake of his sanity then for the sake of his wallet. He can’t let this get in the way of the job he’s paid very well to do.
He cringes thinking about the moment in their last session where he had felt an undeniable urge to kiss the man. And for one perfect moment, it seemed like Gale wanted the same thing, a delusion most likely. Brunette curls against the velvet, his lips plump and pink and so, so… fuck . No. This line of thought is certainly not helping his little situation.
His trousers are beginning to strain against his erection painfully. He looks back at the page and reads a few more of Gale’s book titles in an attempt to wane his arousal. Aren’t titles supposed to be eye-catching? These are convoluted and ever so dull sounding.
Really, is Astarion sitting here fighting his own body over a dreary, drab professor? He berates himself. Unfortunately, this thought makes him think of Gale in his awful rimless glasses, flustered and stumbling over his words ever so cutely. So ready and eager to submit with just the quirk of an eyebrow.
Perhaps this attraction is only natural, a chemical result of countless ego boosts and shared fetishistic desires. Of course Gale doesn’t feel the same way, but there’s nothing to feel guilty about. Perhaps… touching himself to the thoughts could ease the desires? Just once, and then he can stop this torture and move on with his life.
He unzips his trousers and reaches into his underwear, finding his cock hard and leaking. Pathetic, but he doesn’t wish to ponder further and waste any more of his precious day. It’s time to clear his head. He starts to stroke himself firmly, clicking back to the photos with his spare hand and staring at the more recent one again.
That soft belly feels ever so good under his boots. All of him does. He could happily trample the man for as long as he was permitted until he was begged to stop. Although part of Astarion thinks Gale would never beg for such a thing. He loves it, he’s made that abundantly clear.
Gale’s grunts and groans and moans are permanently etched into his aural memory, it’s a curse, normally, but right now it’s a blessing. He closes his eyes and thinks of those noises of satisfaction, his own prized mixtape collated over months and months of sessions. And those pleasure-drunk blushy faces Gale makes as he gets closer and closer and-
He imagines kissing Gale as he comes and feeling those desperate moans vibrate into his mouth. His cock throbs in his hand at the thought.
Astarion pictures the many ways he could make Gale come all over himself, always with such a huge load after two weeks caged and denied. How pretty he looks twitching and glistening with his own spend. Perhaps in their upcoming overnight session, he could bring two orgasms from the man. If he earns it, of course.
All the ways he could make Gale earn it with so many hours together. He doesn’t think he’s looked forward to anything as much as this in decades. He imagines Gale right now, caged, his tiny cock completely owned. He wonders how many times a day Gale thinks of him. How often he idly touches his cage and counts down the days to their sessions.
Astarion feels himself sweating, his heart racing as he gets closer to his orgasm.
How perfect Gale would look painted with Astarion’s load on his face, how eagerly he’d lick it all up before cleaning off Astarion’s cock. Those delightful lips wrapped around Astarion’s glans. Perhaps he’d look up at Astarion while he did it with reverent awe at being allowed such an elite privilege.
Astarion feels himself fall over the edge at the thought, spilling into his underwear with a breathless moan. How undignified. He sighs and wipes his hand on the fabric. When he opens his eyes he’s greeted with that image once again. He huffs and absentmindedly shakes his head, but favourites the webpage nonetheless. For no reason, of course— he won’t be returning. He quickly closes the browser and slams his laptop shut. That’s enough of that .
Surely it’s all out of his system now.
The overnight session will be in two days and it will be a strictly business transaction. He will be the professional that he knows he is, pretty professors be damned.
*
The awaited evening finally comes around and Astarion has to vehemently ignore the squirming of nerves in the pit of his stomach. It’s almost a tradition at this point before a session with Gale, but what’s normally a gentle flutter has mutated into something bordering on painful as he sits on the soft carpeted seat of the tube carriage.
Gale had insisted on booking a hotel for the night instead of the dungeon. Astarion is glad, as spending all night underground in its windowless concrete depths wouldn’t have been his idea of comfort.
The hotel is opposite the park in the west end of the city centre, an area well known to be expensive. When Astarion approaches from the tube station his assumptions are correct, the Georgian architecture is luxurious, painted white with tall windows and signs boasting a five-star certification. When he looks through the windows he sees an upscale restaurant with a grand, marble-floored atrium.
Astarion is more used to budget business hotels and the back seats of cars from his earlier days in the business, so it’ll make a pleasant change, at least. As he steps inside he feels terribly out of place. He’s wearing a simple outfit that shouldn’t draw much attention, with some more of his typical session clothes and boots packed into a leather overnight bag, but he can't help but feel eyes on him as he enters the lobby.
He can imagine some of his rich, older clients enjoying a stay or an overpriced tasting menu at the restaurant here, but it doesn’t seem like somewhere Gale would frequent. Perhaps he chose it to impress him? Or perhaps Astarion is making assumptions based on a few months of sessions and a few evenings of obsessive research .
Thinking of Gale, he pulls out his phone to see a couple of texts from the man that must have arrived while he was travelling.
18:03
Good evening Sir, I’m in the room already as I came
18:04
Apologies, I appear to have sent that previous text before it was ready. I meant to say: I came straight here after finishing work. Room 608. I’ve left a keycard for you at the front desk, surname is Dekarios.
Astarion has to resist the urge to sigh at how easily Gale gives up his real surname. Those hours of internet sleuthing feel slightly ridiculous now. Ridiculous, and then humiliating as the memory of a guilt-laden wank starts to surface.
He types a quick response to signal his arrival and sends it before heading over to the front desk. He ignores how the receptionist looks him up and down and retrieves the keycard quickly, holding his head high as he stalks to the lift and heads up to the sixth floor.
The corridor is quiet, with paintings framed on the walls, muted patterned carpets and dimmed wall sconces between each door lighting the way. The decor detracts from the uncomfortable liminal atmosphere, or perhaps that’s just the anxiety.
Astarion takes a deep breath as he walks down, but he can’t help the feeling that he’s breaking every one of his carefully set rules. This was a mistake, surely. The thoughts tumble around in his mind until he sets eyes on room 608.
He clears his throat before knocking lightly on the door. Although he has the key he doesn’t want to just burst in. He can hear the bumbling cadence and canned laughter of one of those many near-identical comedy quiz shows playing on the TV inside the room, but it’s abruptly silenced before heavy footsteps approach the door.
The door cracks open slightly and he sees Gale in a fluffy dressing gown, his hair a little wet and cheeks flushed like he’s just showered. There are droplets of water on his rimless glasses.
He smiles widely and pushes the door open, “You’re here!” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “Come in, come in, please.”
Astarion mutters some kind of greeting as he enters and toes off his shoes and drops his bag before looking around the room. It’s spacious and plush with natural beiges and browns and warm golden lighting, the deeply set windows face out towards the park, the first orange hues of sunset appearing above the treeline.
Gale is rambling on about something entirely boring about the hotel, seeming embarrassed by its grandness and trying to justify his choice. Astarion hums, barely listening, and when he finishes looking around the space he turns to face the man, and takes a moment to appreciate how he looks. Damp curls framing his face, and the way the dressing gown belt cuts into his waist, the sliver of his thigh is visible where the gown is a little too snug around his hips to overlap itself.
Gale trails off, his face flushing a little as he notices Astarion staring.
Astarion chuckles and steps closer, “You’re looking quite ravishing in that robe, pet.”
Gale gulps, “C-can I make you some tea? There’s a kettle and-”
Astarion steps closer again, reaching out to take Gale’s soft chin between his finger and thumb and cutting off his sentence. “Tea?” He asks, “You want to spend our evening together drinking tea ? Should I have brought my knitting with me, dear?”
“Well-” Gale looks down, his eyelashes brushing against his plump red cheeks. “I can think of some other, more favourable activities, of course.”
“As can I,” Astarion pauses, brushing his thumb over Gale’s cheek. “Do you need some help getting into the right headspace in this new setting?”
“Yes, I guess I might be feeling a little tense.” Gale sighs, “I might need some assistance.”
Astarion nods, “Follow me.” He walks to the huge bed and grabs one of the cushions before placing it nearby on the carpeted floor. “I want you to remove your robe and kneel here for me, Gale.”
Gale nods and follows his instructions and removes the robe, his olive-toned skin looks particularly tanned and golden under the warm lights. He braces himself with one hand against the bed frame as he kneels down with a grunt.
“Much better,” Astarion strokes a hand through Gale’s hair. “How does that feel? Comfy?”
“It feels good Sir, thank you.” Gale shifts slightly, sinking into a steady position.
Astarion takes in the sight for a moment longer, wishing he could have a photograph of Gale in this position. But there was no need, of course, he had surely scratched the itch two nights previously, to do so again would only debase himself further. God, if Gale knew what a creep he had been… not anymore. Never again.
He stands back slightly and extends his sock-covered foot to Gale’s cage-encased cock. “And who does this belong to?” He asks.
“My cock belongs to you, Sir,” Gale exhales, his voice already sounding more relaxed.
“Good boy.” He steps away and gathers his bag from where he’d left it near the door before walking over to the bathroom and flicking on the light. “Compose yourself for me while I get ready. Don't use that pretty head of yours too much, just unwind and consider what you’re looking forward to doing tonight. You can stretch your legs if you need to but I want you in this position when I come back. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Gale meets his eyes and nods before looking back down at his lap.
Astarion takes in the sight for another moment before he goes into the bathroom and locks the door behind him. The bathroom is large, with shiny, white marble tiles on the walls and floor and golden fixtures. It’s just bordering on gaudy, but the wide jacuzzi tub in the corner of the room is a sight to behold.
It’s been so long since he’s had a proper bath, with just a low-pressure shower in the tiny bathroom of his studio flat, the luxury of this place is undeniable. He doesn’t want to keep Gale waiting for too long, but the cool porcelain and gleaming gilded taps beg for his attention, and he can’t possibly resist their call.
As the tub fills he strips off his clothes and lays out his outfit for the evening on the wide surface next to the basin. He soon sinks down into the water, it’s far too hot to be comfortable, but it feels like a much-needed tonic. A sensory reset for his simmering nerves and conflicting thoughts.
Some time later he comes to his senses and begrudgingly pushes himself from the cooling water and empties the tub. He watches the water vortex down the drain, hoping that his silly, pathetic feelings are draining along with it. He’s a professional , goddamn it.
He wraps himself in a fluffy white towel and starts getting ready. It’s a comfortable routine that he does some variation of before every client. Today he wears his leather trousers with a long-sleeved mesh shirt and some new leather gloves. He pulls on the boots Gale bought for him, the ones he doesn’t wear with any other client. Only out of respect, of course, not because Gale is special in any way whatsoever.
He sighs and looks at himself in the mirror with a frown, fixing his chain with Gale’s key so it lays on top of his shirt. “Get it together,” he whispers under his breath. “Idiot.”
When he reenters the main room he saunters in with purpose, not looking at Gale to give the man a moment to get back into position. He drops his bag onto the built-in dressing table, taking another look at himself in the mirror before finding Gale in the reflection. He’s surprised to see the man looking back at him. Checking him out, perhaps?
He smirks and Gale blushes, head dropping down to his lap.
He turns and moves to the armchair near the foot of the bed, sitting down and spreading his legs wide. “Are you feeling better now, Gale?” He asks.
“Yes Sir, much better now, thank you.” Gale glances up when he speaks, his eyes widening as they land on Astarion’s leather thighs before dropping back to his lap.
“Good. Come closer. Bring the cushion with you but stand in front of me.”
Gale grunts as he pushes himself up slowly. He takes a moment to stretch his legs before he walks closer. The jiggle of his belly against his lap as he walks is a sight Astarion thinks he could never tire of.
“Like this, Sir?” Gale asks quietly, holding the cushion against his side. Astarion can see little red imprints of the cushion fabric on Gale’s chubby knees. He must have stayed kneeling for most of the time Astarion was bathing. He’s always so obedient.
“Yes, good boy,” Astarion’s praise coaxes a smile from Gale. He gestures to Gale’s crotch, where Gale’s cock is barely visible, mostly hidden by the cage and the hang of his belly. “May I see your cage?”
“Oh! Yes, of course. Uh, let me just…” Gale stammers and goes to lift his belly but Astarion bats his hands away.
“No touching, Gale. Hold the cushion if you can’t possibly restrain yourself.”
“Yes, right, my apologies,” Gale nods. “Please go ahead.”
Astarion places one gloved hand under the soft belly in front of his face and reaches for Gale’s balls, brushing his fingers over them soft and featherlike before he pushes Gale’s fatpad back slightly to grab hold of the cage. Gale gasps as Astarion inspects his belongings.
“How’s my favourite little cock been since I last saw it?” Astarion asks, immediately cringing at himself for letting such a term of endearment slip through. He looks up to Gale’s face to gauge his reaction.
He’s horrified to see Gale looking down with a confused quirk of his eyebrow, the wrinkles between them deepening into a pronounced frown. It’s clear that Gale picked up on what he said. But, after a moment Gale glances away, his throat bobbing under his double chin as he gulps.
Astarion continues, looking back at Gale’s cage and trying to pretend nothing happened. “It looks good as ever. Any progress with the inverted cage, Gale?”
“I haven’t had a lot of free time to visit any shops, but I’m still interested in experimenting.”
“You do know the internet exists, right? There are thousands of magical fetish sites ready and willing to send a tiny little cage right to your doorstep,” Astarion explains mockingly. “The package might even fit through your letterbox.”
“Of course, of course, I know,” Gale splutters. “I’m a little old-fashioned I suppose. A photo is poor substitute for touching it with your own hands.”
Astarion can’t help but feel the weight of Gale’s belly on his palm and agree, it is certainly a million times better than in the photo he’d found and thoroughly enjoyed. The guilty memory stirs something he doesn’t wish to dwell on.
He clears his throat, “Well, no rush darling. I’m more than happy to put your little todger through that extra torture whenever you’re ready. Speaking of, should we get you uncaged? Are you ready?”
Gale nods, “Yes, quite ready Sir. Give me a pen and I could write a thousand words about how utterly ready I am.”
Astarion sighs and removes his hands from Gale’s crotch, “This isn’t a writing circle, Gale, and I’m not convinced.” He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest, one finger idly playing with the chain and key around his neck, “Beg me properly, or you’ll stay caged until you’ve earned it.”
There’s a beat of silence before Gale drops the cushion and kneels at Astarion’s feet, pressing his lips to the toes of each boot before looking up. “Please Astarion, I would worship at your feet for hours to prove how devoted I am. Even if you wished to keep me caged for a year I would comply, no matter how much it pained me.”
Astarion chuckles, “A year? That does sound awfully fun. Aren’t you supposed to be persuading me, dear?”
“Yes, because the only reason I would ever want to be uncaged is to feel the blessing of your boots trampling me and torturing me further. Please, Sir. It’s all I can think about, week on week.” His wide eyes glisten in the warm light, and Astarion wonders whether Gale knows how easily he bends to that pleading gaze.
Gale opens his mouth to continue but Astarion cuts him off before he can speak, “Okay, okay shush. I’m convinced. Now, get up and I’ll let you out.”
Gale braces himself on the arms of the chair as he stands. Astarion lifts the chain from around his neck and goes to unlock the cage moments later, a tad fiddly with the gloves hindering his dexterity a little, but it clicks open after just a little pressure. He holds the cage closed and grips it tightly, causing Gale to gasp at the increased pressure. He scrapes the tip of his gloved fingernails over Gale’s hairy balls, enjoying the way the tacky skin sticks to the leather.
“Have you considered what you want from this overnight session?” Astarion asks, releasing his grasp while he waits for Gale to respond.
“I pondered it all week. But like I said when we planned this, I love our usual sessions. I want nothing out of the ordinary.” He continues, quieter, “I just don’t want to have to rush off afterwards.”
The thought of Gale spending thousands on this session and hotel room just for some more hours of aftercare is a little inconceivable, nevertheless, Astarion nods. “That sounds acceptable.” He pulls the cage away and places it down gently on the side table next to the armchair, when he looks back at Gale’s cock he can tell the man is starting to get hard already. “I did rather like seeing you kneel at my feet, though. Would you be comfortable in that position again?”
“Oh, absolutely Sir. This cushion is wonderfully soft,” Gale chortles and kneels once more, looking up at Astarion from between his knees.
Astarion reaches out with one of his boots and presses it firmly between Gale’s legs, rubbing his forefoot against Gale’s newly freed cock and balls before drawing back and kicking him firmly in his most sensitive area.
Gale chokes, seemingly caught off guard. He groans and grabs hold of Astarion’s knee.
“How’s that?” Astarion asks.
It takes a while for Gale to respond as he works through the pain, but once he’s caught his breath again he looks up. “Harder, please.”
Astarion taps his foot against Gale’s balls, hoping that the quick strike of leather will sting. Before Gale even has a moment to recover from it he brings his leg back and kicks him again, so hard he thinks a slighter man would have been easily knocked off his knees at the impact.
Gale’s head drops as he grunts, breathing heavily for a moment. When he looks up his face is flushed deep red and his glasses are beginning to steam up. His mouth is open, tongue visible inside, pink and moist. An Astarion with less restraint would be thinking about how kissable he looks, luckily Astarion isn’t that person today and the thought doesn’t cross his mind in the slightest.
He laughs, “Was that good?”
Gale’s breath shakes for a moment before he smiles back. “So good Sir, thank you.”
Astarion goes to draw his leg away and find a new position to torture Gale in but he realises that his foot is clamped between Gale’s upper thighs, his hips rolling very slightly to get some contact on his desperate little cock.
“Did I offer my foot for you to pleasure yourself on?”
Gale looks up at him embarrassed, his hips stopping. “God, I'm so sorry, Sir. I didn’t even notice. I’m so… I’m so hard it hurts.”
“Hmm… You know, I rather like watching you mindlessly rut against my leg like a pathetic, horny mutt.”
Gale’s hips twitch at the teasing, like he wants to keep going but knows he doesn’t have permission.
“You can continue degrading yourself if you wish, but don’t come, or you’ll be sleeping at the foot of the bed like a dog. Understand?”
“Y-yes Sir, thank you,” Gale stammers like he can’t quite believe what he’s being allowed to do. His gentle hands slide around the back of Astarion’s calf and he gasps as he resumes thrusting against the boot between his legs.
It’s a beautiful sight, sweat plastering strands of Gale’s hair to his wrinkled forehead. Sweet little huffs and moans escape from his mouth with each unabashed movement. Astarion can’t help but feel privileged to witness such a thing.
He reaches out and brushes his thumb over one of Gale’s cheeks. “How lucky,” he muses, absentmindedly.
Gale leans into the touch and his eyes flick up. “Yes, I’m so lucky, Sir,” he groans. “Thank you.”
He was talking about himself, of course, but Gale needn’t know that. “Yes, how often have I allowed you to pleasure yourself like this? You should savour it while you have the chance before I have you back under my heel like the caged little hamster you are.”
Gale shudders, his hips stilling as he looks away and breathes deeply for a moment. “F-fuck. “I’m so close. I almost-” he inhales, “I almost came without permission.”
“Naughty naughty.” Astarion sits back and allows Gale a moment to compose himself, patiently waiting for his attention again. Soon the heaving of his chest slows and he meets Astarion’s eye again. “Ready?” Astarion asks.
“Yes, Sir.”
He gestures to a nearby spot near the window ledge, “Lie on the floor and wait for me there.”
He watches Gale stand, from the angle he can see Gale’s hard little cock bobbing and glistening with precome. When Gale turns he’s treated to the sight of his arse jiggling with each step. He has to look away to stop himself from getting hard, instead standing and following Gale over to the window.
The city lights twinkle past the darker areas of the park opposite. If they weren’t so many floors high it would feel exposed to stand so close to the pane, but so far above the street and facing out to the trees, the room feels secluded and private. Part of him enjoys the feeling, and part of him fantasises about pressing Gale against the glass of a room on a lower floor. He would take his time to work him up before whispering in his ear about what an unsuspecting viewer would think about his tiny little cock. Dirty talk to him until he’s painting the window with his come…
Maybe another time, with some pre-negotiation.
Instead, he ought to focus on something they both have a little more experience with. “I’m going to stand on you Gale, are you ready?”
“Yes, more than ready, Sir.” Gale’s voice has a hint of desperation that stirs something within Astarion.
He leans over Gale to brace his hands on the window ledge before stepping onto his upper thighs with one boot, leveraging his weight before lifting the other to Gale’s hips. The man groans beneath him pleasurably as Astarion shifts more and more weight onto him.
After a minute, Astarion turns so he’s almost sitting on the ledge. He places one foot gently against Gale’s throat and the other against his cock and balls. It’s been a while since they did any asphyxiation, so he starts gently and allows Gale a minute to register any complaints before pushing further.
Gale gasps before Astarion’s boot pushes firmly onto his throat, not hard enough to cut off his breath entirely but enough so that Gale’s breath is shallow. At the same time he starts to press against Gale’s cock, rolling it under his heel and watching how it twitches from the pressure.
Gale squirms under his feet, his eyes glazing over from pleasure before fluttering shut. When Gale’s his starts to get increasingly red Astarion releases his neck and puts both feet onto his cock, hitting him with the sole of his shoe hard so his gasps for breath turn into grunts of pain and pleasure.
“Fuck!” Gale cries out at the impact, his eyebrows knitting together. “I-I’m close again Sir.”
Astarion chuckles, squeezing Gale’s cock between the inside edges of his shoes. “And we were just getting started, do you really want to ruin my fun?”
“N-no Sir but I just- I can’t…” Gale’s voice trails off to a pathetic moan.
Astarion gazes down at where Gale’s glans are beginning to turn near purple from the tight squeeze and twists his foot down onto Gale’s balls where they’re starting to draw up as Gale approaches his climax.
He uses one foot to push Gale’s cock up and against his fatpad and the other one to compress the shaft, squishing it so there’s no way Gale’s could come without being released.
“Tell me who owns your orgasms and maybe I’ll let you have one,” Astarion instructs.
Without hesitation Gale groans and rambles, “You do, Sir. You own every orgasm I’ll ever have. I promise, I’ll never come without your permission. Please, though, please-” he’s cut off by his own cry as Astarion stomps down on him once more.
Astarion stands, putting his entire weight onto Gale for a moment before turning around to lean his hands against the ledge. For one horrifying moment, he catches sight of himself in the reflection of the window, a goofy smile across his face that he hadn’t even realised was there.
It’s so terribly embarrassing that it nearly brings him out of the zone but he looks away and focuses on the task at hand, he’ll have time to berate himself for it later.
Instead, he knows he can take it out on Gale right now. Stupid, sexy Gale. He kicks him so hard in the balls that he almost thinks he’s overdone it as Gale howls louder than Astarion thinks he’s ever heard him. He’s moments from checking in to ensure Gale is okay before the man speaks up.
“Urgh, if you’re planning to do that again, Sir, I’ll surely need permission. I can’t hold on much longer.”
“Is that so, hm?” Astarion teases, brushing his sole over Gale’s cock as light as a feather. He draws his foot back once more, ready to stomp Gale again. “Come for me,” he says as the boot connects.
There’s a moment where the breath catches in Gale’s throat, and when Astarion stands back on the ground with both feet he can tell that Gale is teetering right at the edge. He crouches down and presses one leather-covered finger against Gale’s frenulum, draws it slowly down towards his balls, and it’s finally enough to send Gale over the edge.
Gale moans with each twitch of his cock as he shoots all over himself, covering the underside of his belly with thick, white, pearly ropes of come. Gale always comes so hard and so much, it feels like a testament to how much he restricts himself between their sessions. Being so close to it, Astarion wants to lean down and taste. The thought makes his erection close to unbearable inside his leather trousers, and undeniably visible. He can only hope it’ll subside before Gale is fully cognisant again.
Instead of giving in to his desires, he brings his index finger up and through the thick come on Gale’s underbelly and gathers it on the leather digit of his glove. The translucent white against black leather looks celestial.
He leans over and brings it to Gale’s slightly parted lips, the man's eyes open in shock before he accepts the finger into his mouth and sucks eagerly.
“What a mess you’ve made. That little cock never fails to impress,” Astarion pauses. “In production, at least.”
“Y-you’re proud of your belongings?” Gale asks, his voice croaking.
Astarion gathers another finger of seed and brings it to Gale’s lips. “Certainly, it can take quite the beating, too,” he huffs a small laugh and waits for Gale to release his finger before continuing. “How are you feeling?”
Gale smiles up at him, “I feel amazing, thank you Sir.”
Astarion offers him a hand, “Shall we retire to the bed for a moment before cleaning up?”
Gale nods and pushes himself up from the floor with Astarion’s assistance, his legs unsteady. Astarion braces him for the few steps over to the giant bed, sitting Gale down on the side. When Gale looks up at him, Astarion realises that his eyes are wide and trained on Astarions still-straining erection. Fuck.
He moves away and walks over to the opposite side of the bed, hoping Gale will simply ignore the uninvited intrusion. But of course he doesn’t.
“S-sir, you’re hard?” Gale asks, shock evident in his voice. He turns to watch Astarion crawl into the bed and his face flushes as he begins to ramble, “Please, is there any way you’d permit me to help? If you’re comfortable, of course. Apologies for mentioning it mid-session, I know we haven’t discussed-”
“Gale, please, there’s no need to pay any attention. This session is for you,” Astarion says dismissively as he settles back onto the pillows. The silence that follows fills him with hope that the topic has been dropped, and the heat radiating from his cheeks hopefully unnoticed, until he looks over and sees Gale is still staring.
He moves a little closer, but doesn’t relax, instead kneeling on the mattress suspiciously close to Astarion’s lower half. He gulps before speaking, “To have my throat blessed by your cock, Sir… I can’t think of any better use for it. I’ve fantasised about such a thing but haven’t dared to imagine it could be a reality. I never thought for a second that you might be aroused by a session of ours.” He’s so handsome, with sincere words gushing from his mouth like he’s unable to stop them, “I don’t wish to pressure you, and should you reject me once more, I won’t mention it again. But if my cock is yours then so is my throat, my lips, my tongue— anything you’d like from me-”
Astarion interrupts, “Shush, Gale.” He watches the man’s face fall for a moment, and it’s just so hard to resist. Impossible, even, he’s not strong enough. His rules feel useless if they exist to restrict him from such desires. He continues, “Shush, or I’ll just have to occupy that eager mouth of yours with something, won’t I?”
Gale makes a choking sound. “Really?” He asks, his voice high with disbelief and excitement.
Against all his resistance, Astarion finds himself saying “Yes.”
*
Part of him can’t believe it’s happening, but the image of Gale looking up at him from between his legs is one that Astarion doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to wipe from his memory. And why would he even wish to?
He watches with bated breath as Gale unbuttons his leather trousers and pulls his hard cock out of its confines. Gale’s warm, wet tongue against his glans tasting his precome before those lips wrap and stretch around his cock. The feeling of that slick tongue dancing along the underside of his shaft. He watches Gale’s drool spilling from the corners of his mouth as he gags, trying to take Astarion deeper into his mouth. Gorgeous teardrops forming at the corners of his eyes as Astarion thrusts into his welcoming throat.
The way his moans vibrate through Astarion’s cock and his hand reaches out to cup Astarion’s balls when he grunts some jumbled praise and warning about how close he was getting.
It feels like a dream.
The satisfied smile on his face after Astarion paints his come across his cheeks and glasses and lips and beard. The way he sloppily gathers Astarion’s spend and licks it from his fingers like it’s the most delicious nectar.
The way he looks up at Astarion and asks, “Was I good, Sir?” So innocently, despite giving the most mind-blowing head Astarion has ever experienced just moments before. And he is so good. Far too good for Astarion.
Now they lie, freshly showered, back where it had all occurred. Gale is locked back in his cage and tucked into Astarion’s arms, not asleep but not fully alert. All residue of their messy exploits washed away, but those permanently etched memories worry at Astarion’s thoughts like an incessant claw into fabric.
Astarion wishes he was chill, but he’s allowed his desires to get in the way of his work.
That’s not the way a good or successful dom operates. Of course, Gale offered it, but he was also deep in a submissive mindset. Perhaps he would have done anything to please Astarion? Was it an abuse of his power to have given in so easily? He should have been focussed on Gale’s wellbeing, not his own arousal. Stupid, stupid, so stupid . He should apologise, he should offer to help find Gale a replacement dom. One that won’t get obsessed with him and take advantage of him at the first opportunity. One that-
Gale shifts in his arms and turns over, a happy, relaxed smile on his face that drops when he sees Astarion’s demeanour.
He sits up slightly, looking concerned. “Are you okay, Astarion? You’re awfully tense and, well, even paler than usual.”
And when all the rules are broken, why not a little honesty? If this might be the last time they see each other… “I think I made a mistake, allowing this.” Astarion sits up too and wraps his arms around himself. Gale opens his mouth to respond but Astarion continues, “I’ve been allowing too much special treatment. Breaking my own rules too many times.”
Gale’s eyebrows draw together sadly and he sits up, “I see. I’m so sorry for pushing those boundaries, if you’re regretting it…” he trails off and gulps. “We can go back to our usual arrangement, surely.”
Astarion runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t think we can, dear.”
He watches as Gale’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open, “Please, it’s my fault. I’ll take this as a warning and it won't happen again. You don’t need to stay tonight if you don’t-”
“No, listen.” Astarion interrupts before he continues, quieter, almost at a whisper. “We can’t go back to our usual arrangement because, well, I think about you… all the time.”
There’s a beat of silence before Gale replies, “Sorry?” His mouth curves into something that Astarion can’t determine whether it’s a smile or a grimace. Likely the latter, Astarion decides.
“Every day, Gale. I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s all getting to be an awfully significant obstruction to my professionalism.” He pauses, letting his eyes wander over Gale one last time before looking away towards the window as the guilt becomes unbearable. “My mistake tonight was unforgivable, so I will do whatever is needed to make it right. I’ll find you a new dom, refund your last few sessions, anything you need before we part ways. I took advantage of you, I never thought I would do that to anyone and-” he stops and flinches as Gale touches his knee.
Gale removes his hand swiftly and Astarion inches back, speaking again before Gale gets the chance. “Please don’t, Gale. I crossed a line tonight.” He thinks of the shameful, obsessive Googling over the last couple of weeks and cringes. “I’ve crossed more than a few lines recently, and I am the only fool to blame for that.”
Gale holds his hands up, “Wait, please! You didn’t take advantage of me, Astarion. Not in the slightest. I was telling the truth when I said I’d fantasised about pleasuring you-”
Astarion interrupts, “No. It was all in the heat of the moment Gale, we are both far too experienced to not know that new things need to be discussed prior to the scene, not during it.” Astarion grits his teeth.
Gale sighs, “I feel awful that you are berating yourself about this so much, two of us made that decision and if it was the wrong one then two of us are at fault.”
Astarion rubs at the crease between his eyebrows, feeling his head start to ache with tension. “I was in the position of power, you have to understand that I feel responsible!” He raises his voice slightly and is met with ringing silence in the room. He continues, quieter, “Gosh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’m just so…”
Gale takes a deep breath, “Please let’s slow down for a moment. Listen to me.” He waits until Astarion meets his eye before he continues. “I said I’d fantasised about pleasuring you. That isn’t all I’ve fantasised about. I think about you all the time as well. A little too much, to be honest,” Gale splutters. “Constantly. I find myself gazing into the middle of nowhere and thinking about you mid-lecture while I’m trying to work, even. Picturing your face, hearing your voice, daydreaming about being next to you like we are now.” He pauses, “Well, not exactly like we are now. Normally a little closer, more relaxed,” he laughs sadly.
Astarion gulps, the ringing panic in his ears mellowing to a softer breeze, although his mind sits firmly in disbelief of what Gale is saying.
Gale continues, “It sounds like, however you’ve been feeling, perhaps I have been feeling a similar attraction. Would you agree?”
“I-I’m not…”
Gale crawls closer, “I know you play a character for our sessions, and so do I, in a way. But I’d like a chance to get to know you . The real you.”
“You would?” Astarion asks, his throat feeling dry but the first rushing drops of relief starting to bloom in his core.
“I would. And I completely understand your concerns about what happened tonight. I think we both got a little ahead of ourselves and we should talk more about it later, of course. For now, please know that I don’t feel remotely taken advantage of,” Gale reassures him calmly and smiles at Astarion. His demeanour feels like it settles something inside of Astarion.
He nods and reaches for the hand he’d flinched away from minutes ago, stroking Gale’s palm with his thumb. Gale moves closer again, so their thighs are pressed together. They sit in the affectionate near-embrace for a few comfortable moments.
“I’ve messed this up royally, haven’t I, darling?” Astarion speaks quietly.
Gale brushes the fingers of his free hand across Astarion’s cheek. “You haven’t messed up anything. If it’s not too bold or too soon to ask, I’d quite like to kiss you, if you’d allow me?” He asks, sitting so close. “I’ve wanted to for an awfully long time and I don’t know if I can restrain myself much longer.”
Astarion huffs a weak laugh, still high with the alleviation of Gale’s matching confession to his own. He leans forward so his lips are brushing against Gale’s. “Yes. Finally,” he sighs happily before closing the distance.
Somehow Gale’s lips are even softer than he imagined. He runs his hand along Gale’s soft jaw and into the curls of his hair, fingers brushing against his scalp. Gale shuffles closer, almost onto Astarion’s lap and deepens their kiss as his lips widen and their tongues brush together. So warm and wet against Astarion’s that had dried from panic minutes ago.
When they pull apart Gale is smiling, and Astarion feels himself start to smile in return. Their arrangement is certainly ruined, but the opportunity to explore something more makes his chest flutter with excitement.
“Perhaps you’d allow me to take you out for dinner sometime?” Gale asks.
“Yes, I think I’d rather like that,” Astarion smiles and leans forward to press his lips to Gale’s once more.