[For a moment, Gale thinks his interest might be ill-received, even as Godfrey sets his glass aside and spills its contents— prestidigitation will manage that easily enough later on— and he prepares to steel himself for rejection, to apologize for assuming too much, for misreading.
To anyone who wasn't well-acquainted with either of them, Gale's remark might have been innocuous enough, but the wizard knows better. Neither he nor Godfrey are the sort to do anything by halves, nor are they the sort to engage in such things without considering the long-term implications. They had both loved and lost, in their own ways. Godfrey was a widower with a young child, Gale was a man who knew what he wanted from his future, should he live long enough to have one.
It isn't until Godfrey closes both hands around his own that he feels himself let out a breath of relief, the thundering of his heartbeat in his own ears receding as he gives a more earnest smile.]
If I'm to forgive you for any lack of grace, then I should hope you could forgive me for the same. I'm— a touch out of practice, as it turns out.
[He hasn't expressed his feelings to another mortal in more years than he can remember. For so long, it was only Mystra. The charming, mischievous scholar he'd been in his youth was a distant memory, at times.]
Truth be told, I thought the same. That— there was not enough left of me to offer, in fact.
[They could still die before they reach the end, and he remains on borrowed time, but he has all sorts of reasons to fight for a future now. Godfrey, he's come to realize in recent weeks, is one of them.]
[ Typically, the second standard he sets for himself, and the irony which comes with it, occur to him casually. Some idle thought, a passing realization. Some notion folded into another's words, hidden until he unwraps and thinks on it. Very rarely has the sight of his own standards against his standards for another confronted him so.
He can see the sentiment Gale expresses so clearly; the sense of diminishment. That a person leaves slivers of themselves in others as their lives touch against the lives of others, pieces which could not be restored or retrieved. It's a feeling Godfrey has often existed alongside; it often felt as though he could feel the broken edges of the pieces he'd lost of himself. The pieces he'd entrusted to his husband. They'd been buried with him.
Godfrey had just been running his fingers along those edges, as it turns out, as Gale expresses the very same sensation. His thoughts immediately recoil against the idea he had just spent so many years fostering, disbelieving the very ragged seams he had just been contemplating. It all suddenly seemed ludicrous; that the man before him, storied and intelligent and kind and careful, could have been diminished by anything.
But this was not a train of thought Godfrey would follow; not now, blighting into a world after that breathless admission. And nor was it a point he would argue with words - Godfrey knew that debate would not be what disproves this thinking to him. Godfrey brings his hand to his lips and presses into it a kiss, exhaling slow and warm across the back of his hand.
Willing that uncomfortable pressure, still building steadily, to settle one last time before he slips his hand from Gale's and relaxes his posture to offer to him his strong, broad chest, his smile touching his eyes in the soft light. ]
[Gale is by no means a small man, but he still remains absolutely dwarfed by Godfrey as he pushes himself to his knees and moves forward, eagerly leaning in to take advantage of the shift in position. It doesn't take much, given that they're already in close quarters, and he invites himself to reach out and thread dexterous fingers through the paladin's soft, champagne-pale hair, letting out a shuddering breath as he does so, having gone far, far too long without the touch of another, even in friendship.
He tips his head for a kiss, lips soft and parted as he seeks out Godfrey's own. His curiosity peeks through even in this; it is an opportunity to learn him, taste him, and he pulls himself flush against the offered chest as his free hand comes to rest against the larger man's upper arm, kneeling between his thighs. Only when he leans into Godfrey himself does he feel the press of his arousal against his own thigh, and he stills for only a moment before he lets out a laugh, warm and bright and enough for him to break that searching kiss as he drops his head.]
Oh, thank the gods, I hardly wanted to be the only one.
[They were far enough now from any somber conversation that it no longer felt inappropriate, and even less so with another glass of wine in him and the warm plane of Godfrey's broad chest beneath his own.]
[ It isn't what he intended to invite, but it's hardly unwelcome.
Godfrey sighs hard against his lips, as though setting down some great weight, and now lets himself fall back into the pillows. Both of his hands occupy themselves immediately as Gale's lips part against his, running down the gentle slope of his back, fingers wringing the embroidered waist of his bedclothes until the bottom seam slips high enough to expose his back.
It isn't a conscious effort to undress him - were Godfrey made aware of it, a temporary embarrassment might break through the moment, pull him to something more proper and principled than the man currently relishing in the warmth of his skin, mapping the muscle of his lower back with his palm. It is raw need coursing him; his body reaching out for the thing his rational mind would deny him, instinct driving his hand to run his fingertips just beneath the band of his waist to claim the warmth there, pulling him to wind his calf gently against the inside of Gale's -- and to pull his voice from him, surprised and hitching against Gale's parted lips as he presses against him.
Hot pressure pulls his cock tight for a moment, a strong throb he is only half-aware that Gale can certainly feel, and the fever breaks. Gale's breath is not on his tongue, and the soft press of his lips is gone. Godfrey's eyes flutter, and that respectable part of him regains control again as he sees his hand down the length of Gale's back - his fingers having wandered just a little too far below the waist. His hand recoils.
His next breath might have been an apology, but for Gale's own breathless, laughing confession. Flushed and panting, a rough hah pulled from him in response. Disbelieving. He hardly even needs to see it. Knowing that he had not been the only one concealing himself is enough to send a hot thrill through his body, and he brings his fingers to his hair, gently combing long strands from his ear to sigh hotly against it, to kiss its tender edge before whispering to him; ]
I had feared that it would drive me to cut the evening short.
[ Instead, he begins to think, it's only made it longer. ]
[The moment he begins to feel Godfrey's hand retreat from below his waist, he moves his hand downwards to catch the paladin's wrist and guide his touch back to where it had been, encouraging those curious fingertips to explore beneath the band at his waist if they see fit, his own breathless laughter subsiding.
The press of lips and heated breath against his air send a shudder running through him, and he catches his lower lip against his teeth to just barely stifle what would have most certainly been an embarrassingly wanton groan. It was almost ludicrous, how quickly he found himself aroused in this man's presence— more than once now, by his own admission— and the throb of Godfrey's own arousal against his leg only fuels his own, that familiar pressure building as he ceases his efforts in trying to will it away.
Godfrey's fingers in his hair and his voice against the shell of his ear only serve to stoke the embers, and his own fingers curl as they remain woven through the paladin's hair, turning his head to steal a kiss from the corner of his mouth, making a very slight but deliberate shift so that his thigh pulls against the larger man's clothed cock, the press of it enough to have Gale already straining against his trousers.]
That would have been a terrible, terrible shame. I would hate to think of you taking yet another burden upon yourself to bear.
[ Poor Godfrey does not have the same luxury of choice that Gale has; his entire body seems to pull tense as Gale pulls his leg against his stiff cock, hands pulling tight into fists, his legs squeezing inward.
He releases the handful he's grabbed of Gale's hair and waits for the waves of throbbing heat to subside. It has been some years since his husband died, this is true; what Gale may be starting to put together is that sex with others is not the only thing Godfrey has sacrificed. Though he's not completely abstained, his restraint extends to matters of self-pleasure as well, besides in cases where it would be impossible for Iltha to apparate at his door in need of something. That needed only happen once for him to take extra precaution.
If Iltha appears here, there's far bigger problems to worry about, but that hadn't made him much more forgiving; he had simply traded Iltha for any of the strangers he'd taken up travel with, for their strange schedules that never seemed to allow for sleep at a regular hour. This was amenable until recently. They certainly had those bigger problems and more to concern themselves with. He'd not felt the need to hide in his tent, holding his breath and watching the entry as he ran his oiled hand up and down the length of his hard dick until just recently; he could normally think himself out of such predicaments. This evening - well.
Outrunning the heat in his belly had been uncertain already. It was certainly impossible now. And his restraint has been diminished such that he's not sure it would actually satisfy.
Godfrey's nose scrubs into his stubbled jaw, hips flexing again against his firm thigh with a hitching sigh. Gale's words come to him on a delay, and the mention of that other burden goes straight to his dick again, the notion that this had been something hiding behind the evening - that this was just the sort of thing Gale would have imagined in secret, had he left.
His eyes roll and slip shut as he feels, in a burst of warmth, his hips relax, the subtle rub against his leg. His other hand gingerly tugs the waistband of his trousers around the curve of his ass. ]
Please-- [ Please what, Godfrey? He can't answer that, because to answer would be to think on it, and he's trying to make himself last. ]
[That single word on his lips is beyond sweet, and Gale turns his head to chase them for another kiss, eager to taste him after so many nights of wondering what it might be like— far more than he felt it was gentlemanly to admit to, even if manners be damned at the moment. They have no place here, not when Godfrey's calloused touch is on his ass and he's already achingly hard, not when he can feel the larger man struggling not to rut against him before they've even undressed themselves.]
Don't stop touching me.
[It's a request bordering on breathless already. Gale seals his lips over Godfrey's own and drinks deep, slipping his searching tongue past parted lips while his heart races, thundering in his ears, and he uses both hands to start tugging at the lacings of the other man's shirt, no longer having to guide his touch. When there's no immediate give, he starts impatiently tugging Godfrey's shirt free from his waist, pulling it up with one hand as the other glides over his abdomen, eager fingers passing over the scar he had been shown and feeling out the sculpt of his muscles.
He feels his own cock twitch as the heated touch of skin against skin sparks something in him, something that he'd worried was long dead, and he lets out a needful moan against Godfrey's mouth as he tugs the paladin's shirt upwards, intent on getting it off and away, to keep it from barring them from one another any longer.]
There is no thought in Godfrey greater than the warmth of his skin, the curve of his hip as he feels his trousers pull taut and then slacken as they shift down the back of his thighs, the slip of his hair between his fingers. The way the curve of his ass feels beneath his thick and calloused hand. He would live in the way his tongue slides against his if he could, in that glassy thrill contained in the very moment before Godfrey gives himself to the sensation, in the ambitious handful he grasps of his exposed rear.
Godfrey, naturally, takes longer to become aware of his own hunger. Gale's weight against him, hot and eager, seems nearly too much as it is; he's content to run his hand across him for the moment, up the curve of his backbone, running beneath his clothing. Urgency tenses in his other hand now; strands of dark hair wound in his fingers as he groans against his lips, takes a harsh breath through his nose to taste his tongue. Desperate to feed the moment all that he has.
Until it is that Gale's mouth is no longer against his, he has been content to fit his body to Gale's and feel his warmth through the rough homespun of his shirt. Godfrey's stomach flutters to feel Gale's hand against it, muscle tensing below his fingers. This is when he realizes his impatience - and also, as his lashes flutter, that he's right.
A slow, dozy smile comes to his lips, breathless with gentle laughter. He sighs his name to break his impatience, and kisses him - slow, deliberate - to suffocate the impatience.
Then, he leans back against the cushions, and lifts the bottom hem of his shirt over his head. Beneath it is hard muscle twitching below his skin with the small effort of pulling his wrists from his sleeves. A handful of thin and superficial training scars mar his flushing chest like pale thread.
Godfrey leaves the empty shirt in a wrinkled heap above his head, lips parted, staring up at Gale as he rests on his elbows.
[There is no elegance in the way Gale hurriedly kicks his way out of his trousers and briefs, helped along by Godfrey's previous efforts— he already longs for the other man to grab hold of him again, for the heated press of lips and tongues. He kneels between Godfrey's legs and crosses his arms to take hold of the front of his tunic, pulling it up and over his head as his beloved does the same with his own, tossing it aside to land unceremoniously among the books and cushions within his tent, revealing a smattering of dark hair over his surprisingly toned chest. The mark left behind by the netherese orb has begun to glow with as that eager anticipation grows, soft rather than blinding as his heart races beneath it.
Just as Godfrey emerges from his own shirt and looks down to find Gale already hard and wanting, the wizard feels his breath knocked out of him all at once as he looks upon him in turn. It's hardly the first time he's seen Godfrey without his shirt; considering their circumstances, it was impossible not to catch the occasional glimpse when it came to tending to wounds or bathing in the river, but it had never been like this.
He exhales steadily, a smile pulling at his lips as he rakes his gaze over that expanse of well-defined muscle, the evidence of years upon years of training and dedication, enhanced rather than marred by the littering of scars.]
Aren't you a sight.
[He leans forward to cup Godfrey's face in his hand before drawing his touch down along the curve of his neck, over the broad plane of his pectoral, letting out a soft groan of approval as he pulls close again and leans in for a slow and deliberate kiss of his own, seeking out the slide of Godfrey's tongue against his own.]
[ Godfrey had indeed seen Gale unclothed before. He has seen his limbs and chest bare. He has felt his skin warm below his hands.
But these moments had always come with other things. The heavy scent of blood in his nose, for instance. The knowledge of pain. The screaming clamour of a battle. The remaining sizzle of magic electrifying the air. Dryness in his mouth and desperation in his heart as he tries to ignore the pain and death all around him.
He hadn't had the luxury of admiring how the thin light of nighttime catches in the musculature of his firm chest. Godfrey hadn't been able to see that pale violet glow flashing in his hungry eyes. He'd not been able to think on running his fingers through that downy brown chest hair - not while he could see it, and not while entertaining the thought while knowing that he could.
And there was certainly one thing in this situation he had not seen.
Godfrey exhales softly as his eyes rest on his manhood, hot-blooded and just as turgid as his own. He wonders how long it's been so and feels a small, disbelieving thrill down his spine, his trousers pulling tight around his pelvis.
Gale's palm against his face - hardly warm anymore, for the flush in his cheek. Godfrey glances up to him, lips gently parted, and feels his touch brush against his strong neck, his fingers following his gaze along his strong chest. Godfrey's lashes flutter, and awestruck, he moves his own hangs up Gale's hard chest, running fingers through that smattering of dark hair. Feeling it between his fingers.
He loses track of where his hands are once Gale leans down fully for a kiss, pressing his body against his. Godfrey knows all he needs to; Gale is in his arms, and he feels warmth beneath his hands, and he tastes his tongue. He sighs harshly against his lips and feels his fingers dig firm into his skin. ]
[He had long lost count of how many months he had spent alone, without the touch of another, and for so much of that time, it had been the furthest thing from his mind— when merely getting out of bed felt like a day's crowning achievement, it changed one's perspective, but he is well past that now, and in this moment, he feels exactly how starved he's been for touch, for affection.
Godfrey's arms are warm and inviting, his hold easy to melt into as Gale pulls against him, his touch sending electricity racing along the surface of Gale's own skin as he explores, and it is perfect. It is something he only now realizes just how badly he had longed for it, and he fully intends to relish the opportunity.
His breath comes a bit shorter between kisses, his hands gliding down the length of Godfrey's well-muscled arms, feeling his breath catch in his throat as they taste one another and the other man's fingers dig into him, a firm reminder of how very real this is. They become further entwined as they kiss, and Gale slides a hand between the pair of them to skate downwards along the surface of Godfrey's abdomen, his deft fingers catching against the waist of his trousers.
He tips his head to press their foreheads together, his voice just barely above a whisper as he refuses to pull back, lips still hovering close, kiss-swollen.]
[ A guilty, ecstatic little ripple follows Gale's hands as they run down the seam between them, gasping against his lips as he feels that fleeting and desperate touch.
Godfrey hardly has time to dwell on the little guilt, the thin undertow trying to pull him to something dark and deep. A lucky thing - there is nothing he wants less than to be pulled away from the man sinking into his arms, breathing heavy against his lips, hot against his bare chest. And something in him knows where all of those riptide currents lie, where he may not dwell if he wishes to avoid them.
The skin of his chest has gone untouched, his lips unkissed, his body unbeheld, for - it feels - more years than he can count on both of his hands. Long enough for each and every touch to feel sensitive and new, for greedy hands and hungry eyes to feel like an exhilarating novelty. These avenues are safe.
It's when he begins to wander further, toward the thing that had blocked all of these things, that things turn treacherous.
He would live here forever, and that is a dangerous thing, for it would only beckon him down these internal causeways. Gale does not give him the chance, and just as he begins to process the absence of his lips, he speaks to him in a hissing torrent. His hands pull at his trousers. No other thought could hope to stand a chance.
Gently, Godfrey steals one more kiss, parts with the taste of his lips on his tongue, his fingers luxuriating in his dark hair. Then, he slips his hand free and props himself up, raising his hips. Tugging his hips first around the firm swell of his backside before working the one at his front free.
He glances down at his work just in time for his waistband to make its way far enough down his strong thighs to free his cock, pinned and aching against the inner leg. It springs forth, standing firm against his stomach, close to--
Godfrey sighs harshly as it's freed, feels himself flood with heat as he tries to shift his pants further down, pinning the ankles to pillows with his heel to pull each leg free. ]
[Gale feels his heart leap into his very throat as Godfrey works his way out of his trousers; he grabs hold of them just long enough to help him free and at last they are both free and unhindered. His appreciation for Godfrey's form is plain on his face, in his shuddering exhale, in the hunger of his gaze.
The moment in itself is surreal, but the heat between them is proof enough of how very real this is, keeps him present, and he cards fingers through Godfrey's champagne-colored hair as he leans in for another kiss, a low sound of approval hinting towards a growl at the back of his throat.]
You put the very stars to shame, dear heart.
[He eagerly claims Godfrey's lips once more as he blindly takes hold of him, fingers curling around his cock, firm enough not to tease when he knows just how badly they have both been deprived, and he lets out a soft moan that is swallowed up in the kiss between them as his fingertips become acquainted with the heated silk of Godfrey's skin, the weight of his eagerness hard and heavy against his palm.]
[ Godfrey supposes he should have expected nothing less; he looks at him, need in his eyes, whispers poetry warm across his lips, and then reclaims them before he has a chance at rebuttal.
Godfrey can only hope, while he has the presence of mind, that he can provide an equivalent response in the endless hunger of his hands across his warm skin, in the way his arms so eagerly settle him back in against his broad chest. His fingers winding anew in his hair, fingertips rubbing against the back of his neck. The drop as Godfrey settles them both back against the pillows, to free up the arm propping him up, that it may grab an immediate and hungry handful of his ass as he holds him close.
The brief break between their kiss as his voice escapes him, beneath a hard sigh, as Gale wraps his hand around his stiff cock and floods him.
It takes all that Godfrey has in him to keep himself from rutting against his hand. He stiffens against the impossible drive toward the pleasure welling in him, drowning his every thought. The hard pang that pushes through him as his dick throbs gratefully against Gale's fingers.
The world had been falling away in shreds from the moment their lips first touched. Gale had easily turned falling into peeling; every susurrous breath blushing against Godfrey's skin only served to strip the world beyond this tent down further, to make all but this pile of fine pillows and the man in his arms seem the only consequential parts of it. Godfrey's dark lashes flutter, and he finds Gale through them, his rosy lips parted before thin, quick breath.
He doesn't know that he'll ever get used to it; to a man like this, looking on him like that. To knowing that he can let his eyes roam, and his hands follow. Godfrey finds himself demurring even now, averting his eyes whenever they travel too low, feeling warm shame flower in him as he sinks his hands hungrily into his flesh. Godfrey draws his eyes along the line of him, up the firm seam where their skin meets and back to his face, takes in with soft helplessness the hunger and need in Gale's face.
Feels his coarse jaw against the palm of his hand as his eyes slip shut, and the pressure begins to mount, and soft as the breeze he tries to warn him; ]
[Gale had already been sure of it from the heat of Godfrey's own skin, the shallow nature of his breath, and truth be told, he knows himself to be almost embarrassingly close, the thrill of the moment paired with going so long without the touch of another making the press of Godfrey's lips and the hunger of his touch urge him onward. His own breath hitches as Godfrey's fingers sink eagerly into the soft curve of his ass, and he lets out noise of distinct appreciation as their brows remain pressed together, Godfrey's palm dragging along the line of his jaw and sending a pleasant jolt through them.]
Then don't.
[He all but exhales the words, granting the larger man permission to let himself go— Gale has barely touched him and yet he can feel just how tightly Godfrey is wound beneath them. He loosens his hold, but just long enough to alter the slant of his own hips so that he can take them both in hand, fingers curling around both shafts as he presses the heat of them together.
Even without friction, a shudder rolls through him, down the length of his spine and to its very base, and he swipes a thumb across the head of Godfrey's cock before he finally proceeds to stroke in earnest, encouraging him towards that quick release, his own breath starting to come short as he begins a calculated roll of his hips that rubs them against one another in a way that makes desire coil hotly in his belly.
Afterwards, they could take their time. Barring any unfortunate interruptions, they had all night.]
Edited (i left out like half a sentence) 2024-07-29 22:05 (UTC)
Ahh-- [ A twitching, tight moment, his voice pushed from him as his dick throbs desperately against Gale's fingers. That swipe of his thumb against that most sensitive part of him combusts against every nerve ending in his body - and still, Godfrey's instinct is to school it into submission. To contain it.
He exhales, slow and deep, tremulous as each relentless stroke erodes that instinct, the proof of his arousal flush against his own, rolling against it, making catching his breath an impossibility. His hand feels alive with the scrub of Gale's stubble as his hand moves, relishes in being able to hold his face against his own, his other hand stroking along the length of his thigh.
They are too close for Godfrey to look down and see, but he feels it. He feels Gale's hand around them, and he feels the stiff heat of his cock rubbing against him, and he feels the motion of his hips. There's a suffusion of places to put his hands and lips as his composure begins to unravel, the pressure becoming impossible, Godfrey's cerulean eyes fluttering open to try and glimpse how Gale's face had softened, his own flushed, pleading, entranced by the closeness he's been allowed. He is angling his jaw for a kiss when the moment overwhelms him.
His world bursts in that moment, every single touch magnified, groaning as his every muscle pulls tight. White-hot release floods him. Godfrey's eyes shut, and his hips twitch, pushing powerfully against Gale to shove it out in hot, pearlescent ropes over his own bare body.
His touch moves quick and insistent, skating from his thigh to his waist. As are his lips as they close around Gale's, flushed and hot and only made more eager by the moment's impossible relief. ]
[The vigor with which Godfrey bucks against him and into his hand is promising, to say the least, something Gale would likely be more cognizant of if he weren't so close to nearing his own end, spurred by flushed skin and desperate touch and even more desperate kisses. His grip remains firm as he feels Godfrey pulse against him, spilling hotly over his hand and onto his own stomach, and the wizard feels breathless even as he turns his head to meet him in a hungry, impossibly eager kiss, turning his jaw further into Godfrey's touch.
He strokes Godfrey through his climax, sparing only the barest glance downward; they're too close for him to see anything, but he can hardly tear his gaze from Godfrey's face to begin with. He can feel the heated mess between them as they continue to make themselves a needful, desperate tangle, and it only takes a few more strokes before he is following suit.]
I'm—
[Whatever warning he might have given is cut off as he feels himself quickly overcome; Godfrey's own release and the press of flush, kiss-swollen lips have made it all too easy to tip over that edge. To find that relief in the arms of another is worlds beyond whatever small, private moments he might have allowed himself tucked away in his tent here and there; he lets out a sharp, wordless cry against the crush of Godfrey's lips, his fingers curling tightly into pale hair as he turns his face against the paladin's temple as that first twitch is immediately followed by a sharper, more insistent thrust into his own hand, against Godfrey's newly-spent cock and abdomen.
He spends himself over his own fingers and both their stomachs; that sharp cry gives way to a low, wanton groan of relief as he, too, angles for another kiss, his fingers slipping from Godfrey's hair so that he can lay his hand against the side of his neck. He exhales even as he finds his lips once more and kisses him deeply while he slowly ruts against him, grateful for the relief that will surely allow them to take the time to become properly acquainted with one another.]
[ What questions Godfrey might have had, if the Morninglord had revealed this particular embarking to him during his sunrise prayers.
How might he have felt? What might he have thought, to know that his hands would be allowed to roam so over his bare skin? How would knowing the warm outcome of their evening, spilled upon his fluttering abdomen, changed its course?
He can't say. He can't even think about it. Not after hearing the sound of his desperation, tasting its heat against his tongue. Godfrey has no thought for anything but the warmth of him in his arms, the flutter of firm musculature beneath his gentle touch, the flash of his own tongue beneath his lips. He seizes a handful of dark hair as Gale surges against him. Hardly anything else matters; he's warm and insistent in his arms. The very earth could crack below the tent and swallow him whole, and he'd hardly know any better.
Impatience rises in him, and he breaks the kiss with a hard sigh. Godfrey presses against the side of his warm throat, smearing kisses against his sensitive neck before nosing against his ear, smiling. ]
[Gale lets out a breathless laugh, the press of Godfrey's lips burning pleasantly against his throat, the nuzzling against his ear sending another sudden thrill through him. He had thought about what it might be like to be entangled with Godfrey like this on more than one occasion; even when it was the sight of their leader covered in blood on the battlefield that made Gale yearn for him, he was always certain that the other man's touch would be gentle, warm, all-encompassing. How good it was to find out firsthand just how right he had been.]
I would do about anything you asked, in this moment.
[There's a playful, affectionate note in his voice as he turns nose against Godfrey's jawline in turn, pressing a warm and lingering kiss against it as he blindly raises a hand to, with a flick of his wrist, do away with their shared mess by way of a simple cantrip. They'll only make more, he's certain.
Though his tent is only barely big enough for two, there's room enough for them to do as Godfrey suggests; Gale reaches past him just long enough to tug a pillow into place before they recline together, and he inhales the scent of Godfrey's skin and sweat as he buries his face in the man's pale hair for several moments, resting his weight against his chest as he feels his own heartbeat begin to slow, steadily moving towards normal.]
I hope you don't think that was all there is to it.
[His smile tugs to one side, mischievous.]
have a fat titty godfrey to celebrate, on the house
[ Godfrey settles in, and in turn, feels Gale settle into him.
He has missed passing nights like this. He had not been one whom Vladimir could rest his weight against, but often had he held Iltha through her growing years against himself. He had passed afternoons with her swaddled against his chest as he cleaned, comforted her through restless nights, read stories to her snuggled against his shoulder. To have her physical weight against his, comfortable and at ease, was one of his utmost comforts.
He'd not been of a stature to do the same for Vladimir. Indeed, it would have been Godfrey weighing on Vladimir's chest, in these moments of quiet intimacy. Settling a lover against him is a new experience - warm skin and sweat, which he's free to indulge himself in after that delicate flash of his wrist, palm broad and hot against his firm stomach. The heat of his body radiates as he presses himself into it, feels softness beneath them and hot breath carding through his hair. Godfrey sighs into his chest and closes his eyes.
Fatigue tugs at him like a child at his mother's skirts as his eyes slip shut, as he soaks in that glowing warmth. His routines are predictable; he has been early to bed and early to rise for the entirety of his 35 years. Not once has Sir Godfrey missed a sunrise, a treasured chance to greet the new day and commune with his Lord.
Never has it been easier to jeopardize a sunrise.
He doesn't answer Gale with words. He noses against the very center of his chest, his hand runs up his side to hold his chest as he presses a kiss into his skin, heavy with promise. ]
[Gale's eyelids slide closed as he lets out a soft hum of approval, that kiss burning pleasantly against his skin. He had not dared to imagine he might be able to enjoy moments like these once more; indeed, until very recently, the act itself would have been reckless and potentially deadly, a very real fear that had no doubt played a part in his hesitance to show his hand earlier. These quiet moments as they regain themselves are as precious as they are comforting, and he smiles to himself as he shifts to entangle his fingers in Godfrey's hair once more, carding through it and stroking it back from his brow where the sheen of sweat remains.
He rather likes Godfrey's wordless answer.]
Does that mean you'll be making an exception to your usual routine?
[Don't think he hasn't noticed. With as much a creature of habit as Godfrey has shown himself to be, Gale knows full well he's tempting him into an unusually late night— but it would seem his companion is quite amenable to the idea.
He shifts so that they are nearly a tangle of limbs, each point of contact distinct, the warm press of flushed skin something he has not felt in an age. He'd nearly forgotten how pleasant it was to simply be mortal— for all that the Weave had offered him, for as many ways as he had found to express love and as many more he intended to seek, it was good to be reminded that some earthly matters were still well-worth his attention.]
[ It isn't as though his routine has been a secret; Godfrey has never minced words where his devotion is concerned, nor has he concealed his worship of every sunrise he is privileged enough to attend.
Godfrey's never felt the encroaching daylight to be an intrusion. The promise of a sunrise has always been something to be treasured; a beginning, rather than an inevitable end. The distant sunrise Gale conjures now is an end, something which threatens to pull his nose from his warm chest.
He fights it for a moment, as though it put a hand on his shoulder; his strong arms pull just a little tighter around him, a hot sigh blushes against his chest. Godfrey's tongue tracks the length of his sternum from the center of his chest to his collarbone, lying more warm kisses against his skin, relishing in warmth below his hands, the flutter of his chest beneath him.
He breathes against Gale's neck as he urges him to his back, his arms sinking into the piled pillows below the two of them. The barest movement, and his lips are against his. Closeness Godfrey would never have imagined for himself again. He exhales, tremblingly, against his lips, and he feels the softness of his hair between his fingers, and he sighs out; ]
[Every press of Godfrey's lips against his skin is searing hot; a soft groan lodges itself at the back of Gale's throat as his fingers slip through the paladin's fair hair and curl against the nape of his neck. There is so much of him to touch, to explore; they've hardly even begun, fumbling their way ahead as they have been, but the warm press of flesh against flesh and the pleasant scent of sweat and lust that now clings to them is enough to make his heart race all its own.
He offers no resistance when Godfrey seeks to guide him, instead tipping his head to one side to offer up his neck as his companion exhales against it; the soft nest of pillows he's made of his tent envelops them and he makes a soft noise of satisfaction against his lips once they meet again. Gale's hand traces the curve of the larger man's spine and comes to grab hold of his ass as he parts his lips once more to taste him, the gentle tug of his hair and Godfrey's soft touch and warm breath stirring something in him all over again.
He smiles, radiating his own warmth as their lips remain but a breath apart, cupping the side of Godfrey's face and tracing the lines of his cheek, his jaw with his thumb.]
I have wanted this for longer than I dare to say. Please— stay with me tonight.
[ It's a strange hunger - the sort he couldn't feel until it was sated.
Sir Godfrey had felt those warm and lonely pangs, certainly, in the solitary nights since his widowing. Something hollow at the pit of his chest which ached for companionship. Nights passed in lonely silence, when the cool of his sheets was felt just a little harder.
Of course he'd felt a certain longing in that dark quiet. He was only a man - only if he were any less would he feel nothing at all. He has remembered this as he allows it to pass through him, as he prays to the sunrise for His guidance. And pass it did - the fires would die if he only waited, perhaps with sparse help from his hand. That he struggles is human. That he feels the cold and empty space beside him is proof against that very loneliness - proof of his beating heart. It is a pain to be treasured.
But it is not one that follows him to the streets. This loneliness has always been a passing and brittle thing, one that dies before it wounds too deeply. So long as there's something else to be thought about, Sir Godfrey can stave it off a little while longer. He's tricked himself into believing that this is the same thing as resilience.
Now that he feels bare skin against his, needful hands and hot whispering words urging him forward, he knows what a lie he had fed himself. The hunger for this skinship had always been there. Godfrey had just kept it out of sight.
Now, gloriously satiated, Godfrey can look back and see only how starved he had been. He exhales as though he's been holding his breath for a year, a great and warm heaving of his broad chest. Godfrey's hand finds Gale's, and he pushes against his palm, soaking desperately in the contact as he shifts his body against his. Godfrey presses his lips into the heel of his palm, the inside of his wrist. Then, his lips, soft and warm, his tongue darting between them as he lets his hand wander down his chest. Down his stomach.
Thrills for the way he flutters beneath his hand. ]
[He had gone so long without mortal touch that Gale had almost convinced himself that it was something not to be missed, that he had somehow transcended such things because of his own worldly experience, but he cannot remember ever being so glad to be proven wrong, and a shuddering exhale passes his lips Godfrey's touch glides down his chest and over his abdomen, his pulse quickening once more, muscles just beneath the skin reacting and pulling pleasantly tight as his hand continues to wander downwards.
With urgency having been sated, there is nothing to do but to take their time and enjoy one another— and Gale has always prided himself on being thorough in all things, as dedicated a lover as he was a scholar.
He passes his thumb lightly over Godfrey's lips, his gaze dark and heated as he nods to encourage him further. Even so soon after release, he can feel himself beginning to stir again, a slower rouse now that the frantic edge has been blunted. The soft glow of the orb lights what little space remains between them as he lets his own fingers trace their way up the length of Godfrey's arm, the curves of muscle and flushed skin, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth as he guides his touch over the other man's chest and abdomen.]
Where shall we begin, hm? The possibilities are so many, I hardly know.
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To anyone who wasn't well-acquainted with either of them, Gale's remark might have been innocuous enough, but the wizard knows better. Neither he nor Godfrey are the sort to do anything by halves, nor are they the sort to engage in such things without considering the long-term implications. They had both loved and lost, in their own ways. Godfrey was a widower with a young child, Gale was a man who knew what he wanted from his future, should he live long enough to have one.
It isn't until Godfrey closes both hands around his own that he feels himself let out a breath of relief, the thundering of his heartbeat in his own ears receding as he gives a more earnest smile.]
If I'm to forgive you for any lack of grace, then I should hope you could forgive me for the same. I'm— a touch out of practice, as it turns out.
[He hasn't expressed his feelings to another mortal in more years than he can remember. For so long, it was only Mystra. The charming, mischievous scholar he'd been in his youth was a distant memory, at times.]
Truth be told, I thought the same. That— there was not enough left of me to offer, in fact.
[They could still die before they reach the end, and he remains on borrowed time, but he has all sorts of reasons to fight for a future now. Godfrey, he's come to realize in recent weeks, is one of them.]
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He can see the sentiment Gale expresses so clearly; the sense of diminishment. That a person leaves slivers of themselves in others as their lives touch against the lives of others, pieces which could not be restored or retrieved. It's a feeling Godfrey has often existed alongside; it often felt as though he could feel the broken edges of the pieces he'd lost of himself. The pieces he'd entrusted to his husband. They'd been buried with him.
Godfrey had just been running his fingers along those edges, as it turns out, as Gale expresses the very same sensation. His thoughts immediately recoil against the idea he had just spent so many years fostering, disbelieving the very ragged seams he had just been contemplating. It all suddenly seemed ludicrous; that the man before him, storied and intelligent and kind and careful, could have been diminished by anything.
But this was not a train of thought Godfrey would follow; not now, blighting into a world after that breathless admission. And nor was it a point he would argue with words - Godfrey knew that debate would not be what disproves this thinking to him. Godfrey brings his hand to his lips and presses into it a kiss, exhaling slow and warm across the back of his hand.
Willing that uncomfortable pressure, still building steadily, to settle one last time before he slips his hand from Gale's and relaxes his posture to offer to him his strong, broad chest, his smile touching his eyes in the soft light. ]
Come.
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He tips his head for a kiss, lips soft and parted as he seeks out Godfrey's own. His curiosity peeks through even in this; it is an opportunity to learn him, taste him, and he pulls himself flush against the offered chest as his free hand comes to rest against the larger man's upper arm, kneeling between his thighs. Only when he leans into Godfrey himself does he feel the press of his arousal against his own thigh, and he stills for only a moment before he lets out a laugh, warm and bright and enough for him to break that searching kiss as he drops his head.]
Oh, thank the gods, I hardly wanted to be the only one.
[They were far enough now from any somber conversation that it no longer felt inappropriate, and even less so with another glass of wine in him and the warm plane of Godfrey's broad chest beneath his own.]
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Godfrey sighs hard against his lips, as though setting down some great weight, and now lets himself fall back into the pillows. Both of his hands occupy themselves immediately as Gale's lips part against his, running down the gentle slope of his back, fingers wringing the embroidered waist of his bedclothes until the bottom seam slips high enough to expose his back.
It isn't a conscious effort to undress him - were Godfrey made aware of it, a temporary embarrassment might break through the moment, pull him to something more proper and principled than the man currently relishing in the warmth of his skin, mapping the muscle of his lower back with his palm. It is raw need coursing him; his body reaching out for the thing his rational mind would deny him, instinct driving his hand to run his fingertips just beneath the band of his waist to claim the warmth there, pulling him to wind his calf gently against the inside of Gale's -- and to pull his voice from him, surprised and hitching against Gale's parted lips as he presses against him.
Hot pressure pulls his cock tight for a moment, a strong throb he is only half-aware that Gale can certainly feel, and the fever breaks. Gale's breath is not on his tongue, and the soft press of his lips is gone. Godfrey's eyes flutter, and that respectable part of him regains control again as he sees his hand down the length of Gale's back - his fingers having wandered just a little too far below the waist. His hand recoils.
His next breath might have been an apology, but for Gale's own breathless, laughing confession. Flushed and panting, a rough hah pulled from him in response. Disbelieving. He hardly even needs to see it. Knowing that he had not been the only one concealing himself is enough to send a hot thrill through his body, and he brings his fingers to his hair, gently combing long strands from his ear to sigh hotly against it, to kiss its tender edge before whispering to him; ]
I had feared that it would drive me to cut the evening short.
[ Instead, he begins to think, it's only made it longer. ]
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The press of lips and heated breath against his air send a shudder running through him, and he catches his lower lip against his teeth to just barely stifle what would have most certainly been an embarrassingly wanton groan. It was almost ludicrous, how quickly he found himself aroused in this man's presence— more than once now, by his own admission— and the throb of Godfrey's own arousal against his leg only fuels his own, that familiar pressure building as he ceases his efforts in trying to will it away.
Godfrey's fingers in his hair and his voice against the shell of his ear only serve to stoke the embers, and his own fingers curl as they remain woven through the paladin's hair, turning his head to steal a kiss from the corner of his mouth, making a very slight but deliberate shift so that his thigh pulls against the larger man's clothed cock, the press of it enough to have Gale already straining against his trousers.]
That would have been a terrible, terrible shame. I would hate to think of you taking yet another burden upon yourself to bear.
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[ Poor Godfrey does not have the same luxury of choice that Gale has; his entire body seems to pull tense as Gale pulls his leg against his stiff cock, hands pulling tight into fists, his legs squeezing inward.
He releases the handful he's grabbed of Gale's hair and waits for the waves of throbbing heat to subside. It has been some years since his husband died, this is true; what Gale may be starting to put together is that sex with others is not the only thing Godfrey has sacrificed. Though he's not completely abstained, his restraint extends to matters of self-pleasure as well, besides in cases where it would be impossible for Iltha to apparate at his door in need of something. That needed only happen once for him to take extra precaution.
If Iltha appears here, there's far bigger problems to worry about, but that hadn't made him much more forgiving; he had simply traded Iltha for any of the strangers he'd taken up travel with, for their strange schedules that never seemed to allow for sleep at a regular hour. This was amenable until recently. They certainly had those bigger problems and more to concern themselves with. He'd not felt the need to hide in his tent, holding his breath and watching the entry as he ran his oiled hand up and down the length of his hard dick until just recently; he could normally think himself out of such predicaments. This evening - well.
Outrunning the heat in his belly had been uncertain already. It was certainly impossible now. And his restraint has been diminished such that he's not sure it would actually satisfy.
Godfrey's nose scrubs into his stubbled jaw, hips flexing again against his firm thigh with a hitching sigh. Gale's words come to him on a delay, and the mention of that other burden goes straight to his dick again, the notion that this had been something hiding behind the evening - that this was just the sort of thing Gale would have imagined in secret, had he left.
His eyes roll and slip shut as he feels, in a burst of warmth, his hips relax, the subtle rub against his leg. His other hand gingerly tugs the waistband of his trousers around the curve of his ass. ]
Please-- [ Please what, Godfrey? He can't answer that, because to answer would be to think on it, and he's trying to make himself last. ]
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Don't stop touching me.
[It's a request bordering on breathless already. Gale seals his lips over Godfrey's own and drinks deep, slipping his searching tongue past parted lips while his heart races, thundering in his ears, and he uses both hands to start tugging at the lacings of the other man's shirt, no longer having to guide his touch. When there's no immediate give, he starts impatiently tugging Godfrey's shirt free from his waist, pulling it up with one hand as the other glides over his abdomen, eager fingers passing over the scar he had been shown and feeling out the sculpt of his muscles.
He feels his own cock twitch as the heated touch of skin against skin sparks something in him, something that he'd worried was long dead, and he lets out a needful moan against Godfrey's mouth as he tugs the paladin's shirt upwards, intent on getting it off and away, to keep it from barring them from one another any longer.]
This needs to go.
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There is no thought in Godfrey greater than the warmth of his skin, the curve of his hip as he feels his trousers pull taut and then slacken as they shift down the back of his thighs, the slip of his hair between his fingers. The way the curve of his ass feels beneath his thick and calloused hand. He would live in the way his tongue slides against his if he could, in that glassy thrill contained in the very moment before Godfrey gives himself to the sensation, in the ambitious handful he grasps of his exposed rear.
Godfrey, naturally, takes longer to become aware of his own hunger. Gale's weight against him, hot and eager, seems nearly too much as it is; he's content to run his hand across him for the moment, up the curve of his backbone, running beneath his clothing. Urgency tenses in his other hand now; strands of dark hair wound in his fingers as he groans against his lips, takes a harsh breath through his nose to taste his tongue. Desperate to feed the moment all that he has.
Until it is that Gale's mouth is no longer against his, he has been content to fit his body to Gale's and feel his warmth through the rough homespun of his shirt. Godfrey's stomach flutters to feel Gale's hand against it, muscle tensing below his fingers. This is when he realizes his impatience - and also, as his lashes flutter, that he's right.
A slow, dozy smile comes to his lips, breathless with gentle laughter. He sighs his name to break his impatience, and kisses him - slow, deliberate - to suffocate the impatience.
Then, he leans back against the cushions, and lifts the bottom hem of his shirt over his head. Beneath it is hard muscle twitching below his skin with the small effort of pulling his wrists from his sleeves. A handful of thin and superficial training scars mar his flushing chest like pale thread.
Godfrey leaves the empty shirt in a wrinkled heap above his head, lips parted, staring up at Gale as he rests on his elbows.
Then, his eyes drift downward. ]
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Just as Godfrey emerges from his own shirt and looks down to find Gale already hard and wanting, the wizard feels his breath knocked out of him all at once as he looks upon him in turn. It's hardly the first time he's seen Godfrey without his shirt; considering their circumstances, it was impossible not to catch the occasional glimpse when it came to tending to wounds or bathing in the river, but it had never been like this.
He exhales steadily, a smile pulling at his lips as he rakes his gaze over that expanse of well-defined muscle, the evidence of years upon years of training and dedication, enhanced rather than marred by the littering of scars.]
Aren't you a sight.
[He leans forward to cup Godfrey's face in his hand before drawing his touch down along the curve of his neck, over the broad plane of his pectoral, letting out a soft groan of approval as he pulls close again and leans in for a slow and deliberate kiss of his own, seeking out the slide of Godfrey's tongue against his own.]
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But these moments had always come with other things. The heavy scent of blood in his nose, for instance. The knowledge of pain. The screaming clamour of a battle. The remaining sizzle of magic electrifying the air. Dryness in his mouth and desperation in his heart as he tries to ignore the pain and death all around him.
He hadn't had the luxury of admiring how the thin light of nighttime catches in the musculature of his firm chest. Godfrey hadn't been able to see that pale violet glow flashing in his hungry eyes. He'd not been able to think on running his fingers through that downy brown chest hair - not while he could see it, and not while entertaining the thought while knowing that he could.
And there was certainly one thing in this situation he had not seen.
Godfrey exhales softly as his eyes rest on his manhood, hot-blooded and just as turgid as his own. He wonders how long it's been so and feels a small, disbelieving thrill down his spine, his trousers pulling tight around his pelvis.
Gale's palm against his face - hardly warm anymore, for the flush in his cheek. Godfrey glances up to him, lips gently parted, and feels his touch brush against his strong neck, his fingers following his gaze along his strong chest. Godfrey's lashes flutter, and awestruck, he moves his own hangs up Gale's hard chest, running fingers through that smattering of dark hair. Feeling it between his fingers.
He loses track of where his hands are once Gale leans down fully for a kiss, pressing his body against his. Godfrey knows all he needs to; Gale is in his arms, and he feels warmth beneath his hands, and he tastes his tongue. He sighs harshly against his lips and feels his fingers dig firm into his skin. ]
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Godfrey's arms are warm and inviting, his hold easy to melt into as Gale pulls against him, his touch sending electricity racing along the surface of Gale's own skin as he explores, and it is perfect. It is something he only now realizes just how badly he had longed for it, and he fully intends to relish the opportunity.
His breath comes a bit shorter between kisses, his hands gliding down the length of Godfrey's well-muscled arms, feeling his breath catch in his throat as they taste one another and the other man's fingers dig into him, a firm reminder of how very real this is. They become further entwined as they kiss, and Gale slides a hand between the pair of them to skate downwards along the surface of Godfrey's abdomen, his deft fingers catching against the waist of his trousers.
He tips his head to press their foreheads together, his voice just barely above a whisper as he refuses to pull back, lips still hovering close, kiss-swollen.]
Please— I want to see all of you.
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Godfrey hardly has time to dwell on the little guilt, the thin undertow trying to pull him to something dark and deep. A lucky thing - there is nothing he wants less than to be pulled away from the man sinking into his arms, breathing heavy against his lips, hot against his bare chest. And something in him knows where all of those riptide currents lie, where he may not dwell if he wishes to avoid them.
The skin of his chest has gone untouched, his lips unkissed, his body unbeheld, for - it feels - more years than he can count on both of his hands. Long enough for each and every touch to feel sensitive and new, for greedy hands and hungry eyes to feel like an exhilarating novelty. These avenues are safe.
It's when he begins to wander further, toward the thing that had blocked all of these things, that things turn treacherous.
He would live here forever, and that is a dangerous thing, for it would only beckon him down these internal causeways. Gale does not give him the chance, and just as he begins to process the absence of his lips, he speaks to him in a hissing torrent. His hands pull at his trousers. No other thought could hope to stand a chance.
Gently, Godfrey steals one more kiss, parts with the taste of his lips on his tongue, his fingers luxuriating in his dark hair. Then, he slips his hand free and props himself up, raising his hips. Tugging his hips first around the firm swell of his backside before working the one at his front free.
He glances down at his work just in time for his waistband to make its way far enough down his strong thighs to free his cock, pinned and aching against the inner leg. It springs forth, standing firm against his stomach, close to--
Godfrey sighs harshly as it's freed, feels himself flood with heat as he tries to shift his pants further down, pinning the ankles to pillows with his heel to pull each leg free. ]
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The moment in itself is surreal, but the heat between them is proof enough of how very real this is, keeps him present, and he cards fingers through Godfrey's champagne-colored hair as he leans in for another kiss, a low sound of approval hinting towards a growl at the back of his throat.]
You put the very stars to shame, dear heart.
[He eagerly claims Godfrey's lips once more as he blindly takes hold of him, fingers curling around his cock, firm enough not to tease when he knows just how badly they have both been deprived, and he lets out a soft moan that is swallowed up in the kiss between them as his fingertips become acquainted with the heated silk of Godfrey's skin, the weight of his eagerness hard and heavy against his palm.]
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Godfrey can only hope, while he has the presence of mind, that he can provide an equivalent response in the endless hunger of his hands across his warm skin, in the way his arms so eagerly settle him back in against his broad chest. His fingers winding anew in his hair, fingertips rubbing against the back of his neck. The drop as Godfrey settles them both back against the pillows, to free up the arm propping him up, that it may grab an immediate and hungry handful of his ass as he holds him close.
The brief break between their kiss as his voice escapes him, beneath a hard sigh, as Gale wraps his hand around his stiff cock and floods him.
It takes all that Godfrey has in him to keep himself from rutting against his hand. He stiffens against the impossible drive toward the pleasure welling in him, drowning his every thought. The hard pang that pushes through him as his dick throbs gratefully against Gale's fingers.
The world had been falling away in shreds from the moment their lips first touched. Gale had easily turned falling into peeling; every susurrous breath blushing against Godfrey's skin only served to strip the world beyond this tent down further, to make all but this pile of fine pillows and the man in his arms seem the only consequential parts of it. Godfrey's dark lashes flutter, and he finds Gale through them, his rosy lips parted before thin, quick breath.
He doesn't know that he'll ever get used to it; to a man like this, looking on him like that. To knowing that he can let his eyes roam, and his hands follow. Godfrey finds himself demurring even now, averting his eyes whenever they travel too low, feeling warm shame flower in him as he sinks his hands hungrily into his flesh. Godfrey draws his eyes along the line of him, up the firm seam where their skin meets and back to his face, takes in with soft helplessness the hunger and need in Gale's face.
Feels his coarse jaw against the palm of his hand as his eyes slip shut, and the pressure begins to mount, and soft as the breeze he tries to warn him; ]
I can't--
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Then don't.
[He all but exhales the words, granting the larger man permission to let himself go— Gale has barely touched him and yet he can feel just how tightly Godfrey is wound beneath them. He loosens his hold, but just long enough to alter the slant of his own hips so that he can take them both in hand, fingers curling around both shafts as he presses the heat of them together.
Even without friction, a shudder rolls through him, down the length of his spine and to its very base, and he swipes a thumb across the head of Godfrey's cock before he finally proceeds to stroke in earnest, encouraging him towards that quick release, his own breath starting to come short as he begins a calculated roll of his hips that rubs them against one another in a way that makes desire coil hotly in his belly.
Afterwards, they could take their time. Barring any unfortunate interruptions, they had all night.]
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He exhales, slow and deep, tremulous as each relentless stroke erodes that instinct, the proof of his arousal flush against his own, rolling against it, making catching his breath an impossibility. His hand feels alive with the scrub of Gale's stubble as his hand moves, relishes in being able to hold his face against his own, his other hand stroking along the length of his thigh.
They are too close for Godfrey to look down and see, but he feels it. He feels Gale's hand around them, and he feels the stiff heat of his cock rubbing against him, and he feels the motion of his hips. There's a suffusion of places to put his hands and lips as his composure begins to unravel, the pressure becoming impossible, Godfrey's cerulean eyes fluttering open to try and glimpse how Gale's face had softened, his own flushed, pleading, entranced by the closeness he's been allowed. He is angling his jaw for a kiss when the moment overwhelms him.
His world bursts in that moment, every single touch magnified, groaning as his every muscle pulls tight. White-hot release floods him. Godfrey's eyes shut, and his hips twitch, pushing powerfully against Gale to shove it out in hot, pearlescent ropes over his own bare body.
His touch moves quick and insistent, skating from his thigh to his waist. As are his lips as they close around Gale's, flushed and hot and only made more eager by the moment's impossible relief. ]
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He strokes Godfrey through his climax, sparing only the barest glance downward; they're too close for him to see anything, but he can hardly tear his gaze from Godfrey's face to begin with. He can feel the heated mess between them as they continue to make themselves a needful, desperate tangle, and it only takes a few more strokes before he is following suit.]
I'm—
[Whatever warning he might have given is cut off as he feels himself quickly overcome; Godfrey's own release and the press of flush, kiss-swollen lips have made it all too easy to tip over that edge. To find that relief in the arms of another is worlds beyond whatever small, private moments he might have allowed himself tucked away in his tent here and there; he lets out a sharp, wordless cry against the crush of Godfrey's lips, his fingers curling tightly into pale hair as he turns his face against the paladin's temple as that first twitch is immediately followed by a sharper, more insistent thrust into his own hand, against Godfrey's newly-spent cock and abdomen.
He spends himself over his own fingers and both their stomachs; that sharp cry gives way to a low, wanton groan of relief as he, too, angles for another kiss, his fingers slipping from Godfrey's hair so that he can lay his hand against the side of his neck. He exhales even as he finds his lips once more and kisses him deeply while he slowly ruts against him, grateful for the relief that will surely allow them to take the time to become properly acquainted with one another.]
will i win and finally get a tag out
How might he have felt? What might he have thought, to know that his hands would be allowed to roam so over his bare skin? How would knowing the warm outcome of their evening, spilled upon his fluttering abdomen, changed its course?
He can't say. He can't even think about it. Not after hearing the sound of his desperation, tasting its heat against his tongue. Godfrey has no thought for anything but the warmth of him in his arms, the flutter of firm musculature beneath his gentle touch, the flash of his own tongue beneath his lips. He seizes a handful of dark hair as Gale surges against him. Hardly anything else matters; he's warm and insistent in his arms. The very earth could crack below the tent and swallow him whole, and he'd hardly know any better.
Impatience rises in him, and he breaks the kiss with a hard sigh. Godfrey presses against the side of his warm throat, smearing kisses against his sensitive neck before nosing against his ear, smiling. ]
Lie back with me.
you did it!
I would do about anything you asked, in this moment.
[There's a playful, affectionate note in his voice as he turns nose against Godfrey's jawline in turn, pressing a warm and lingering kiss against it as he blindly raises a hand to, with a flick of his wrist, do away with their shared mess by way of a simple cantrip. They'll only make more, he's certain.
Though his tent is only barely big enough for two, there's room enough for them to do as Godfrey suggests; Gale reaches past him just long enough to tug a pillow into place before they recline together, and he inhales the scent of Godfrey's skin and sweat as he buries his face in the man's pale hair for several moments, resting his weight against his chest as he feels his own heartbeat begin to slow, steadily moving towards normal.]
I hope you don't think that was all there is to it.
[His smile tugs to one side, mischievous.]
have a fat titty godfrey to celebrate, on the house
He has missed passing nights like this. He had not been one whom Vladimir could rest his weight against, but often had he held Iltha through her growing years against himself. He had passed afternoons with her swaddled against his chest as he cleaned, comforted her through restless nights, read stories to her snuggled against his shoulder. To have her physical weight against his, comfortable and at ease, was one of his utmost comforts.
He'd not been of a stature to do the same for Vladimir. Indeed, it would have been Godfrey weighing on Vladimir's chest, in these moments of quiet intimacy. Settling a lover against him is a new experience - warm skin and sweat, which he's free to indulge himself in after that delicate flash of his wrist, palm broad and hot against his firm stomach. The heat of his body radiates as he presses himself into it, feels softness beneath them and hot breath carding through his hair. Godfrey sighs into his chest and closes his eyes.
Fatigue tugs at him like a child at his mother's skirts as his eyes slip shut, as he soaks in that glowing warmth. His routines are predictable; he has been early to bed and early to rise for the entirety of his 35 years. Not once has Sir Godfrey missed a sunrise, a treasured chance to greet the new day and commune with his Lord.
Never has it been easier to jeopardize a sunrise.
He doesn't answer Gale with words. He noses against the very center of his chest, his hand runs up his side to hold his chest as he presses a kiss into his skin, heavy with promise. ]
thank you I love him
He rather likes Godfrey's wordless answer.]
Does that mean you'll be making an exception to your usual routine?
[Don't think he hasn't noticed. With as much a creature of habit as Godfrey has shown himself to be, Gale knows full well he's tempting him into an unusually late night— but it would seem his companion is quite amenable to the idea.
He shifts so that they are nearly a tangle of limbs, each point of contact distinct, the warm press of flushed skin something he has not felt in an age. He'd nearly forgotten how pleasant it was to simply be mortal— for all that the Weave had offered him, for as many ways as he had found to express love and as many more he intended to seek, it was good to be reminded that some earthly matters were still well-worth his attention.]
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Godfrey's never felt the encroaching daylight to be an intrusion. The promise of a sunrise has always been something to be treasured; a beginning, rather than an inevitable end. The distant sunrise Gale conjures now is an end, something which threatens to pull his nose from his warm chest.
He fights it for a moment, as though it put a hand on his shoulder; his strong arms pull just a little tighter around him, a hot sigh blushes against his chest. Godfrey's tongue tracks the length of his sternum from the center of his chest to his collarbone, lying more warm kisses against his skin, relishing in warmth below his hands, the flutter of his chest beneath him.
He breathes against Gale's neck as he urges him to his back, his arms sinking into the piled pillows below the two of them. The barest movement, and his lips are against his. Closeness Godfrey would never have imagined for himself again. He exhales, tremblingly, against his lips, and he feels the softness of his hair between his fingers, and he sighs out; ]
If you'll have me.
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He offers no resistance when Godfrey seeks to guide him, instead tipping his head to one side to offer up his neck as his companion exhales against it; the soft nest of pillows he's made of his tent envelops them and he makes a soft noise of satisfaction against his lips once they meet again. Gale's hand traces the curve of the larger man's spine and comes to grab hold of his ass as he parts his lips once more to taste him, the gentle tug of his hair and Godfrey's soft touch and warm breath stirring something in him all over again.
He smiles, radiating his own warmth as their lips remain but a breath apart, cupping the side of Godfrey's face and tracing the lines of his cheek, his jaw with his thumb.]
I have wanted this for longer than I dare to say. Please— stay with me tonight.
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Sir Godfrey had felt those warm and lonely pangs, certainly, in the solitary nights since his widowing. Something hollow at the pit of his chest which ached for companionship. Nights passed in lonely silence, when the cool of his sheets was felt just a little harder.
Of course he'd felt a certain longing in that dark quiet. He was only a man - only if he were any less would he feel nothing at all. He has remembered this as he allows it to pass through him, as he prays to the sunrise for His guidance. And pass it did - the fires would die if he only waited, perhaps with sparse help from his hand. That he struggles is human. That he feels the cold and empty space beside him is proof against that very loneliness - proof of his beating heart. It is a pain to be treasured.
But it is not one that follows him to the streets. This loneliness has always been a passing and brittle thing, one that dies before it wounds too deeply. So long as there's something else to be thought about, Sir Godfrey can stave it off a little while longer. He's tricked himself into believing that this is the same thing as resilience.
Now that he feels bare skin against his, needful hands and hot whispering words urging him forward, he knows what a lie he had fed himself. The hunger for this skinship had always been there. Godfrey had just kept it out of sight.
Now, gloriously satiated, Godfrey can look back and see only how starved he had been. He exhales as though he's been holding his breath for a year, a great and warm heaving of his broad chest. Godfrey's hand finds Gale's, and he pushes against his palm, soaking desperately in the contact as he shifts his body against his. Godfrey presses his lips into the heel of his palm, the inside of his wrist. Then, his lips, soft and warm, his tongue darting between them as he lets his hand wander down his chest. Down his stomach.
Thrills for the way he flutters beneath his hand. ]
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With urgency having been sated, there is nothing to do but to take their time and enjoy one another— and Gale has always prided himself on being thorough in all things, as dedicated a lover as he was a scholar.
He passes his thumb lightly over Godfrey's lips, his gaze dark and heated as he nods to encourage him further. Even so soon after release, he can feel himself beginning to stir again, a slower rouse now that the frantic edge has been blunted. The soft glow of the orb lights what little space remains between them as he lets his own fingers trace their way up the length of Godfrey's arm, the curves of muscle and flushed skin, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth as he guides his touch over the other man's chest and abdomen.]
Where shall we begin, hm? The possibilities are so many, I hardly know.
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