Work Text:
Sweat beads along the back of his neck, summer heat prickling at his pores despite the breathable cotton of his shirt. Gale browses casually along the nearby market stall for anything of particular interest, but he knows better. Any vendor worth their salt only places mundane and minorly magical wares on display; anything truly worth investment is hidden behind a few locks and coded pleasantries. But it matters not; they aren’t here for him today.
Tav peruses the nearest stall of aromatics, her dextrous fingers carefully examining each ingredient. He watches her expression as she lifts each to her nose, testing for potency, aroma, any other sensations. Most offer no reaction: sandalwood oil, citrus peelings, cloves, bark chippings. Her brows raise slightly at the scents of cardamom and sage, and her nose scrunches with distaste over vanilla. All go on the counter for purchase regardless.
“Any particular reason you have not selected any of the florals?” Curiosity guides his inquiry, noting that Jasmine is a favorite of hers, and yet she has chosen nothing similar.
“I can grow flowers at home,” she replies, holding a bottle of rosemary oil to the light. “The petals here are already old. By the time I get to them, they’ll be useless.” Her deadpan focus is solely on her mission, utterly ignoring the stalltender’s visible offense.
Gale offers a half smile and subtle nod to the merchant, but makes no comment. After all, she is not wrong. “You do realize it can take months to years before they bloom reliably,” he teases, easy-going smile smooth as his voice. “And that you will have to water them.”
She pauses, setting the vial down with the rest of her impending procurements. Her gaze turns to Gale, brows knit ever so slightly. “Mushrooms grow overnight, and no one waters the forest…That is what weather is for.”
He chuckles, unable to help himself. Intelligent as she is, there is something endearing about how she navigates the gaps in what she knows. Despite all her years on the surface, it seems there are still some differences from the Underdark she has yet to adjust to. “Well, mushrooms are not flowers. And not all weather is rain.”
One brow quirks up slightly, the rest of her expression unmoved. “And you, the archmage, have no means of removing these obstacles for me?” The corner of her lip flits upward, framing her blase tone in a teasing lilt.
Gale’s smile widens to a grin. Not at the stroke to his ego alone, but the notion that she would request his assistance. Many of her projects were hers alone; new passions she was determined to excel at on her own. Perfumery was only the most recent. “I’ll make whatever arrangements you require.” And gladly so.
Her subtle smirk persists as she lifts an unlabeled bottle, removing the cork despite the stalltender’s pursed lips and tired eyes. She sniffs the contents, head reeling back ever so slightly. It must be the profile rather than potency, as Gale can smell nothing from just a foot away. She puts the cork back on, eyeing the shopkeep with skeptic curiosity. “That’s obscenely cloying. What is it?”
The merchant’s jaw clenches for a fraction of a moment, then he quickly dons his charismatic smile. The value of her potential purchases is not one he’s willing to sacrifice over a bit of brusque criticism. “You have a keen attention to detail, my lady. My wife is a most talented apothecary, and I sell her concoctions on the side.” He presses his hands together, fingers splayed. “What you have there is called Foetidal, a very powerful aphrodisiac.” His gaze shifts from her to Gale, his salesman’s grin ringing a bit too eager. “Results guaranteed.”
Tav’s eyes lift, stonefaced in the wake of his pitch. She examines his face, the stock of bottles and reagents behind him, the gold band on his ring finger. He sweats under her scrutiny, but does not falter. Without a word, Tav sets the vial on the counter amidst her collection of perfumery components. “What do I owe?”
Gale doesn’t hear the total amount. Does not particularly care. The only thing he’s thinking about is the heat coalescing in his stomach and the bounds of his imagination. They certainly had no need for such a stimulant…But color him deeply intrigued.
Unfortunately, Gale has no idea how long he’ll have to endure tight britches before she reveals what she’s planning.
He’s patient, she’ll give him that. Patience was not always one of his many virtues, but Tav knows that he’s been waiting. Following her to her laboratory floor as she put away her purchases—including the one he couldn’t tear his attention from.
She’d opened the cork and sniffed it once but denied him the opportunity to do so, had teased him with a comment about how the scent would pair with her more bitter procurements. Then she sealed it and put it back on the shelf. The ghost of disappointment tugged at his lips, a subtle pout he did not voice. Not out of propriety, no. He is watching her, waiting, evaluating for any hint as to what she has in store. Lingering behind her with his lips at her ear, as he lays the spoken groundwork for her greenhouse. Exploiting mage hand to help him cook dinner so his fingers could dance along her hips instead.
The pleasures of sex were one thing, the thrill of anticipation another, even more enticing. The allure of figuring out what she’s up to before she acts? The exhilaration of tempting her enough that she abandons her plans and steals him away in a haze of greedy lust? That was Gale’s true desire. One he has mastered, Tav admits.
Fortunately, she is a master at keeping him guessing.
After dinner, they find themselves on the rooftop terrace. Though spelled to appear as a townhouse to anyone on the street and hide its upper floors, the tower’s true form climbs six stories into the Waterdeep skyline. Down below, the streets still bustle with the usual nightlife. Above, the darkening sky oozes pink and violet around the alleged constellations Tav can never quite make out on her own. A half-empty bottle of wine rests in her loose grip. The two lay tangled in the pile of plush, jewel-toned pillows. The summer air still clings warm to her skin even as the sun sets over the oceanic horizon, tones of gold rippling across the waves. There is no sound save for the gentle breeze, the cries of the gulls, the crash of the waves against the quay.
The steady beat of his heart against her ear.
The rhythm is steady, but there’s a notable vigor beneath the pattern. Yet he bides his time, one arm wrapped tight around her shoulders, fingertips brushing firmly against the silk of her robe. The other waves through the air, fingers twisting in fluid motion as he draws delicate glowing lines along the sky, tracing an outline among the stars. Despite the complexity of the constellation, muscle memory guides his hand with expert proficiency. The Weave-blue image of a centaur and a woman clashing swords illuminates above them, superimposed over a sea of stars.
“How the hells was I supposed to find that?” She snorts, taking another swig from the wine bottle.
Gale’s chest shudders as he laughs softly, hand lowering to rest behind his head. “I will admit, this one in particular is a bit more complicated. Without an artist’s eye, it can be difficult to make out on a clear night.”
“Because it’s a giant cluster of dots. Follow any of them, and you can make a picture out of it.” Tav haphazardly brandishes her index finger across the sky with only vague, round suggestion. “I can look in the same place and make a flumph out of them.”
Rather than brushing off her claim as the joke it clearly is, he squints. With a wave of his hand, he dismisses the prior image and examines the space with fresh eyes. After a moment, his lip quirks up. The twinkle in his eye glints somewhere between mischief and awe. “You know, I do believe I see it.”
A huff rushes from her nose, lips twisted in both annoyance and amusement. “You know I’m just making a point.”
“Perhaps,” he nods with that confident grin. “However~” Again, he draws lines in the sky. Muted cerulean light forms a rounded creature, tendrils for eye stalks sprouting in all directions. And each line follows perfectly along the stars. “As it turns out, you can.”
Tav purses her lips, tongue pressed to her teeth. As she lifts her face from his chest to stare down at him, she tries to hold back a smile that will only sate his ego further. “You think you’re quite clever.”
The tone of his smile shifts on a dime with the barest movement. The edge of taunting softens to something more profound, but no less potent. “To be told what to see, and instead search for something else?” Gale lifts a hand to her chin, thumb brushing across the plump flesh of her bottom lip. A familiar shiver runs down her spine, recognizing the intimate praise before he even speaks it. “It is you I find quite clever.”
Her smile begins to break past restraint, prideful and preening. “Even if I haven’t figured out what that is yet?” She leans in closer, maybe because of his guiding hand…maybe of her own accord.
Gale rises to meet her, fingers slipping along her jaw and into her hair. “Especially for that reason,” he whispers.
By the time his lips reach hers, Tav’s are already parted to receive him. Sharp inhales through the nose compensate for stolen breath that still tastes of bitter cherry. Another night, it may have remained a passionate kiss, but there is no mistaking the eagerness in his affections: the slow tangle of his fingers in her hair, the swipe of his tongue along her lips, the way he pulls her closer. The discipline of a man who has waited patiently for any signal and knows she holds the cards tonight. Tav smiles wicked against his lips, hands cupping his jaw in possession as she deepens the kiss to devour.
He’s not the only one who’s been waiting patiently, even if the delay was her own.
How quickly affections devolve from languid romance to fervent lust. Hurried fingers soar through the fastenings of his shirt as nimbly as his tongue dances against her own. His hands leave her for only as long as it takes to slip the sleeves off his arms. Once freed, Tav is back in his grasp—somehow both iron and gentle. Spine arched under his touch, she gasps for air when his mouth blazes a new path down her jawline. With each languish of his lips along her skin, her breath rushes out, and her thighs clench in anticipation. Mouth and nose buried in the crook of her throat, he breathes deep like a man starved for air…Then he pauses. Slowly, firmly, his tongue drags up the line of her jugular. She shakes with building desire.
A devious grin spreads across his face; she can't see it, but she can feel it on her neck. Gale’s lips trail up further still, tickling at the sensitive flesh of her ear as he whispers in that sultry register he reserves for her alone.
“You’re wearing it, aren’t you~?”
Three throaty chuckles click at the back of her throat, low and lascivious. He could smell it on her, taste it on her—the cloying scent a foreign anomaly in the familiar territory of her usual Jasmine and musk. Fingers splayed, she strokes them along the line of his beard with tantalizing fluidity. “Those five minutes I could slip away after dinner were put to good use~”
“Ever the strategist~” he teases, words disappearing into her heated skin. His hand slips beneath her robe and around her waist, tugging her close. Tav’s breath runs heavy and slow as his lips caress her neck with wanton hunger, devouring the aphrodisiac as much as her natural fragrance. Tav can still taste it on her own tongue from the sip she’d taken minutes before their rooftop excursion—painfully sweet with a bite of spice, like alkaline and sugar fighting for dominance. However, it was hard to gauge the potency when she’s been suppressing her lust for the last few hours in order to exacerbate his own.
Tonight, she intends to tip it over the edge. So far, he’s well on his way if his labored breaths and greedy hands are any indication. Tav leans back into the velveteen pillows, eyes fluttering shut as she grins up towards the stars in victory.
The midnight silk of her robe falls away, the hair of his chest tickling her breasts as she’s pressed against him. His mouth trails along the other side of her neck, and Tav digs her nails into his shoulder blades as her steady breaths pick up speed. She runs a hand up his back, tangling her fingers in the silver-streaked hair. Her thighs open and he settles between, her legs wrapping around his hips like a vice. By the time his mouth makes it back to hers, the embrace is messy and impatient. Tongues clash and teeth knock with more passion than skill. Tav’s hips buck upward against the pressure of his arousal, the cotton of his pants a brutal barrier between pleasure and deprivation. She bites at his lip, tugging roughly as he pulls away for air before she lets him go.
Gale smirks down at her, index finger brushing slow along the tender skin of his bruised bottom lip. Reverent, savoring. “You realize there is no substance in Faerun that could make me desire you more than I already do.”
With hazy eyes, she returns a lazy, seductive smile. “You’re the scholar. You realize nothing should be assumed without thoroughly testing it first.”
There’s a flash in his eyes, warm brown shifting amber in the sunset’s glow. “Of course. Most thoroughly~”
He dives forward, kisses trailing down the hollow of her throat, along the line of her sternum where a clean scar marks a memory of another life—the past self she left behind. Gale veers left, lips melding around the peak of her breast as his hand takes hold of the other. Tav’s head lolls back as his tongue swipes over the sensitive flesh, expert motions taunting every nerve in firelight waves. He moans against her skin, tasting the concoction there where she’d doused it even stronger. The heat in her core pulses, throbbing with impatient wanting as her breath devolves into panting. Tav reaches for his trousers, somehow finding the drawstring past the plethora of distractions to her focus. The moment she tugs the knot undone, his free hand grabs her wrist. He pulls it away, denying her. His lips withdraw only briefly, the absence of his heat leaving her pert nipple chilled despite the warm summer air. She shudders in his arms.
“Patience, love~” The timbre of his voice runs low, edging on taunting. Enough to make her shudder again.
His palm presses down against her stomach, dragging firmly down the muscle towards the apex of her legs. Two long fingers slip through the building slick, then bury deep with little resistance. Her body is more than accustomed to his size, yet it will never acclimate to his skill. Submerged to the base knuckles, he curls and twists his fingers inside her and draws her subdued sighs into a heady moan. Countless intimate rendezvous have rendered him an expert in the anatomy of her pleasure—and yet he still studies her for any advancement in the field. Watching, calculating, planning.
Gale returns his lips to her breast, tongue ringing maddening circles in time with his thumb that does the same against her clit. She writhes against the pillows, bare legs sliding down his hips and begging for more. Every moment that passes is escalation. Every breath she rakes in is hungry. Yet he bides his time; slowly, passionately building her desire and dismantling her resilience. By the time he revokes his fingers from her cunt, she’s soaked them.
It’s a flurry of greedy impatience that follows. Her teeth in his neck, her hands at his waistband. Tav’s grip is already wrapped around his length before he can finish slipping out of his pants. Gale moans against her neck, cock pulsing in her grasp as she coaxes him to full arousal. Thighs part wider, beckoning…and he heeds. The head presses at her entry for only a moment’s warning before he plunges deep. Tav’s breath rushes out in a graveled moan, back arching, lashes fluttering. The pressure is blissful as Gale slides in with ease, Tav wet enough to take him easily in one go. Almost too easily. She’s been so pent up, her traitorous body has overcompensated, denying her the usual friction she craves.
With every thrust into her, Tav returns his enthusiasm. She rolls her hips into him, gasping as he hits deep. Her legs grip tight around his waist, reveling in every inch he gives and craving more still. Gale knows her reactions well—her body a map he’s drawn countless times, cataloging every signal and curve. He feels her avarice and seeks to sate, hooking his fingers around her opening. Tav’s breath hitches, the tempo of each increasing as he slowly slides two in alongside his girth. The moan he elicits from her is bawdy, loud, approving. Though his pace slows, his intensity does not. The stretch is intoxicating; Tav does not realize her eyes are closed until she feels his thumb against her lips.
Tav’s lids lift, focus still in a lustful haze as she gazes up at him. His lips are parted; small, shaking breaths easing out, his pupils blown wide. The vivid ardor in his face manifests in the smallest smile that quirks at the corner of his mouth, halfway between arrogance and adoration. “You’re taking me so well, love, I cannot help but wonder—”
Gale’s movements pause, fingers curled and cock sheathed in her heat. He leans in close, lips brushing against her ear and beard combing through the loose tendrils of her hair. The sensation tickles her skin, tingles her sensitive nerves. But it is his next words that make her tremble.
“—if you could take two of me~”
Her pulse quickens, eyes widen, breath catches. The thought alone sends her hips grinding down on him of their own will. She grabs at his jaw, framing it between her palms as she locks her gaze in his—bordering on feral and desperate. She tries to sound sultry, confident, alluring…but her voice comes out a breathless whisper. “Yes~”
Gale’s restraint snaps, pulling out of her quick enough that she cries out from the emptiness. She squirms beneath him, hips lifting to follow. When her eyes flutter open, she watches the somatic flourish of his hands—violet Weave dances around his fingers, trailing translucent up his forearms as he channels the summoning.
The very air beside her wavers, shifting and coalescing into another form. Gale’s simulacrum materializes at her left, smiling and silent as it settles into the pillows. A perfect manifestation, save for the iridescent blue glow on its skin. Tav’s heartbeat quickens, and her Gale lies along the plush cushions at her right. Hands guide her onto her side to face him—rousingly firm, impossibly gentle. His fingers tangle in her hair as he captures her mouth in his. A mage hand slips between her thighs, the subtle magical chill of its fingers drags down her skin towards her knee, then lifts her leg. From behind, a firm grasp encloses her breasts, then a firm length slips between her folds. Tav moans against Gale’s lips, his mirrored self massaging her curves, yet it remains still while fully sheathed in her depths.
Because Gale is the one who will control the pace, the pleasure—his Weave-born twin is merely the anchor.
Tav wraps her arms around him; bracing, waiting, wanting. His fingers grip tight into the flesh around her hip, where she’s bound in his embrace. The head of him presses at the entry, diligent and careful. Painstakingly slow, he starts to ease in. Sharp breath hisses past her teeth as the stretch builds to an ache. She holds steady, clinging to him impossibly tight.
“Breathe for me~” he coaxes, brushing a tendril of loose hair from her eyes. The timber of his voice is soothing, rhythmic like steady rain.
She exhales, releasing whatever tension she can. Gale’s fingertips stroke down the side of her face, tracing her jaw. “Good girl~”
Tav’s eyes snap open, and she grabs his chin in the claw of her hand with abrasive speed. “Careful with your words~” She warns, more playful than poison.
Yet his smile does not waver under threat; it only turns smug. “Are you not?” he teases, and he pushes in deeper. Just a fraction. Tav gasps, her grip on his face faltering.
“Should I not praise your adventurous nature?” He threads in another modicum. Tav’s head tilts back, her jaw drops open. The octave of her moan rings higher.
“Should I not appreciate every sound you make in your pleasure?” Farther he pushes, the slickened length sliding in despite the tight opening. Her voice cracks as she whimpers, hands grasping at him desperately to try and hold steady. Not once does she consider telling him to stop as her nails dig shallow graves in his back.
More.
He bottoms out and draws a cry from her that is unlike any she’s made before. He presses a languid kiss to her jawline in adoration. His husky voice—rough with want—whispers in her ear. “Should I not marvel at the ecstasy of being buried in your cunt, wondering how I ever once believed gods were worth pursuing…when I could have you~?”
The sound she makes is unholy, a savage growl in the back of her throat as her body rolls against him. Never has she heard him so vulgar before, even in the throes of their most passionate, licentious moments.
She loves it when he talks like that.
He lifts his hips, then lowers. Slowly, he repeats, gently fucking her through the overwhelming fulfillment that quickly sends her hurtling towards blissful overstimulation. His mirror’s fingers close around the peaks of her breasts, drawing out a desperate whine past her labored moans. Tav’s eyes refuse to focus, fluttering as they roll back with each thrust of his cock. The ache, the ecstasy, the anticipation—it all builds higher far more quickly than expected. She can barely think past the parade of sensations, as if the metronome rhythm has thrown her into a hypnosis of euphoria.
“Gale~” she moans, breathless and pleading. The closest she ever gets to begging.
He wraps her leg around his hip, but does not stop. In the haze of her pleasure, she cannot gauge what he’s doing.
Then gravity falters. The warm, sweat-soaked pillows are no longer pressed against her skin, her body no longer pressed atop her arm. Tav's eyes flutter open, catching sight of the midnight sea just past his shoulder. They lift off—weightless—and levitate above the rooftop terrace, two sets of arms holding her up as Gale continues to make love to her. She feels his fingers slip between her legs, drawing circles at her apex to drive her further into bliss. The slow, calculated rhythm is one he favors for her first climax—the sort that draws her orgasm long and low and lingering—
—So that he could shake her very foundations with another later.
How quickly she crumbles, falling over the edge and descending into rapture. She sings her undoing, face to the sky, with his lips buried in her neck.
The stars had once been their bed; tonight, they are an audience.
Gale wakes to the gentle rays of morning filtering through the sheer curtains of the bay window. Eyes squeeze tight before he opens them, blinking rapidly to wake. A contented groan rumbles in his throat, the heel of his palm rubbing sand from the corner of his eye. There’s a dull soreness in his muscles—thighs and abs in particular—from last night’s enthusiastic exertion.
He smiles at the memory, unable to recall even when they moved their affections to the bedroom—let alone when they were claimed by sleep.
With a slow swing of his legs, he stands on aching thighs. Her side of their bed is empty, as Tav is always up well before him. And he has a good idea of where to find her.
She is not there, however. There’s a pot of coffee on the stove: hot, half full, and waiting. He pours a mug, tugging the waistband of his robe back into place as he ascends the tower stairs once more. He tries her personal floor this time, where her armory and alchemy lab reside. Three steps away, he can already hear the clink of glass as she works. He crests the floor landing, spotting her at the other side of her table. Flasks and decorative bottles litter one side in semi-organized chaos, awaiting whatever colognes she brews. The other side is jars and vials of aromatic reagents, ready for experimentation. Yet at the center, she is working with something else.
The unlabeled bottle rests on the table, half empty by now. Its contents are spread out in approximately three shallow dishes. Tav stands hunched over them, attention focused on the task at hand (though he is sure she’s heard him approach). Gale’s smile returns as he crosses the room. “Ah, it seems curiosity could not be held at bay for long,” he teases. “Have you deduced the contents of our catalyst?”
Her eyes flicker upward, peering at him over the rim of a glass container. The smirk on her lips is mischievous in nature, perhaps a little dangerous. Or perhaps that's simply an unavoidable side effect when it's warped behind curved glass. “Yes,” she announces as she straightens her posture, smile somehow still dangerous in its natural curve. “But you tasted it last night. Maybe you’d like to take a guess first?”
A flicker of excitement rushes through his mind at her proposal; she knows him well. Eager, he rubs his hands together and stands at the table’s edge opposite her. He recalls the scents, the taste—separating the new from what he recognizes as irrevocably her—and cross-references them against known ingredients with stimulating qualities. Considering how…fervent they’d been last night, it stood to reason there were at least two. “Surely asafetida,” he begins. “The name he’d given the concoction was undoubtedly a derivative of said ingredient. It would also account for the notes of spice behind the sweetness.” He lifts a hand to his beard, rubbing his fingers along the scruff as he calculates. “The sweetness itself could easily be juniper berries, likely extracted into some variety of nectar. Though there is a chance some of it is accounted for in a filler agent.” Hands behind his back, he lifts his chin with a cocksure smile. “And the hint of floral? More than likely a result of Euphorbia powder—very popular choice in most substances of such nature.”
Tav blinks slow. If only that were any measure of tell for her, but it isn’t. Her poker face would be world-renowned if she cared to be known by the world. Her expression does not waver, smile unmoved. “You’re sure?”
“I am one thousand percent certain.” Well, perhaps not quite that certain, but he’s banking on his confidence to carry him through. If only to see her face when she confirms he’s right.
The slightest upward twitch of her lips is the first sign that his confidence is unfounded. She sets down her implements, amusement flashing in her eyes. “You’re one thousand percent wrong~”
His face drops, confusion furrowing his brow. Finger lifted in protest, there’s a pout in his tone that he tries to hide (and ultimately fails). “Now, perhaps my certainty was hyperbolic, but I doubt I was incorrect in every aspect of my assessment.”
Tav laughs, low and lavish. The sound alone is enough to tempt him to cross the table, as if the bottle’s contents never truly wore off. She lifts the bottle in her fingers by the rim, the same way she lifts a glass of wine. As she rounds the table, she concedes part of her claim. “Well, the sweetness is from a filler ingredient, I’ll give you that.” Now at his side, she sits up on the edge of the desk and holds the vial up to him. “Smell it again.”
Gale lifts it to his nose, taking a heavy whiff. His nose scrunches: overtly sweet and brutally floral in a way that hadn’t manifested on her skin. “Aghairon’s lost nose, perhaps there was a substantial amount of said additive.”
“Orange blossom water and cider, mostly,” she points out, as mundane as one reads a grocery list. “After testing a little further, there is also a hint of turmeric.”
Gale’s jaw snaps shut, teeth clicking in disapproval. “None of those components has stimulating qualities.”
Tav’s smile sharpens as if to say 'exactly'.
Gale runs his hand up through his hair, briefly annoyed that they’d been duped so easily. “Which means this alleged ‘powerful aphrodisiac’ has no merit whatsoever.”
Gale’s annoyance is instantly curbed as she traces a finger up his arm, stealing his attention back from a random spot on the floor. The look in her eyes is utterly salacious, lacking any emergence of irritation. “What it means,” she hums, “is that last night was all you~”
A breathless laugh huffs from his lungs, giddy smile wavering at the unexpected turn of praise. He settles into the space between her knees, hands resting on her thighs. Her own slide on top, fingertips pressing firm over the tendons beneath his skin. This close to her, when she looks up at him like this…it’s impossible to cling to any agitation. Placebo or not, so long as she is happy, satiated…then so is he.
Gale squeezes her thighs, and she hums in approval. Though she appears thoroughly contented, he knows she is not one to let a slight go unpunished. “And you are not at all concerned that this man deceived you to secure a purchase?”
This time, her laugh rings sinister, descending to a deeper register that sends heat pooling in his core all over again—regardless of her intentions. “I’ll deal with him later, of course. But there’s no hurry on that front. After all~” She drags her index finger up his throat, along the bottom of his jaw, and lets it settle under his chin as she holds him captive.
“In a way, I still got what I bargained for~”