Shades of Green
Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav
Summary: Tav finds herself in possession of a most revealing letter. Tempted and confused, she retreats with her thoughts to the silent sanctuary of a library. One-shot.
Warnings: vagin*l Sex, Jealousy, f*cking Against a Bookcase...
Word Count: 3.6k
A/N: This is inspired by Atonement, and contains elements of the book/film but with a different plot and in a different universe.
Shout out to @heyitsjaki for the inspiration - this one's for you, babe!
The blanket of dusk had begun its descent, with the lingering warmth of the sun settling in for another stifling night. The open windows of the Elfsong tavern did nothing to cool the skin of the adventurers preparing themselves for the evening ahead; they just welcomed the sounds of a city slipping into a night’s reverie, as market stalls were swept away and parents chased giggling children off to bed.
Tav had changed her outfit three times. Figaro had sent her out of his shop with a bundle of dresses, but she had struggled to pick the one most appropriate. The long-sleeved black ensemble, with its intricate lace, felt stifling against her sun-kissed skin, while the pale blue option left her feeling too juvenile for the occasion. Eventually, she settled on a backless silk number which echoed the emerald of her eyes. It skimmed and spilled over her body as though it were made of liquid.
She was trying lipstick and appraising herself in the mirror when she heard footsteps behind her; footsteps with no reflection.
“You look divine, darling.” Astation’s voice was as silken as her dress but with none of the comfort. She ignored him, knowing where this was leading.
“I assume there will be nothing to my… taste… being served at this dinner party?” He drawled.
"If you're wondering whether Rolan will be serving goblets of blood at his inaugural hosting as master, I'd venture to say it's highly unlikely." It had been a mere couple of days since they had efficiently removed the former master of Ramazith's tower. Grateful for their assistance, Rolan had extended a formal dinner invitation to all involved—a chance, perhaps, to both express his gratitude and showcase his newfound position. Though the timing might not have been perfect, the prospect of an evening away from the Elfsong, wearing clothing absent of bloodstains, held collective appeal.
“Well, then we find ourselves in a bit of a tricky situation, my sweet.”
Tav turned round to face him, and caught his eyes roaming her body. “There’s no need for predatory looks, Astarion.” She kept her voice clipped, businesslike. Theirs was an arrangement which she had always kept uncomplicated, despite his occasional attempt at complication. “You may take what you need, as long as you promise to be on your best behaviour this evening.”
“Aren’t I always?” He flashed his roguish smile and approached her with barely concealed hunger. She sighed and tilted her head back to allow him what he needed.
“You smell like warm vanilla” Her murmured as he inhaled against her skin, before pressing his lips against the thrumming pulse of her throat and sinking his teeth into her. The second her taste kissed his tongue, he moaned instinctively. She was the first bite of an apple after a day of starvation. The feeling of it was always over-personal, and despite Tav having no romantic attachment or desire towards him, there was a soft flush of intimacy which came from the feeling of him gripping her and basking in her taste. It almost felt like worship. Tav let out a gentle gasp as he gave one final, meaningful swallow and then stepped back, panting. She knew it took restraint to stop, and she appreciated the effort and, well, manners, of him prising himself away before he was asked. They were both breathless, her a little dizzy, and he handed her a handkerchief from his top pocket to press against the bleeding puncture wounds on her neck.
“Thank you darling” He bowed his head “That will make the evening much more bearable.”
Upon leaving Tav’s room, he bumped into Gale standing outside the door holding a letter. From his tense posture and grim expression, Astarion guessed he had been there long enough to catch wind of the vampire’s early evening snack.
“Hear anything interesting?” Astarion lilted, relishing the hardness in Gale’s usually soft eyes. “You know, she certainly is delicious.” His voice was a silken purr which Gale wished to choke from his throat. The scarlet of Tav’s blood had left a smear at the corner of his mouth, sin-red and mocking.
Their relationship had always been tense, and that tension had only tightened when Gale became aware of his and Tav’s bloody arrangement. He did not know the details of it, or how much of herself she gave to him during these trysts, but he knew that she deserved better than to be the bloodbag of a leech, or the plaything of a roguish manipulator. His fierce feelings on the matter occasionally spilled into his interactions with Tav, a fault he felt much guilt over. He hated feeling like this, possessive over something he did not even own. He loved her, and sometimes love felt like fury. He was determined to make things right.
Astarion’s cheeks were slightly flushed from the blood which now bloomed through him. Her blood. Gale had heard his moan, her gasp, their shared breathlessness; and had wanted to burst the door open and stake the vampire where he stood. He gripped tight to what little composure he had, and focused on not crumpling the letter in his grip. The veins in his forearms were raised in tension, and resembled cracked bolts of blue lightning against his tanned skin, shooting out from where his sleeves had been pushed up. His breathing was slow, considered; but flared.
“I heard enough.” Gale stowed the letter away in his back pocket, but not before Astarion’s eyes glimpsed it. Gale was not a man who dealt out threats like trump cards, he had always preferred a battle of wits over blades, or the cut of a sharp word over a knife, but he was not above displaying violence if necessary. He felt like it may become necessary.
“If I ever hear that you’ve taken a drop more than she is willing to give, there will be no shadow dark enough to hide you from me.” Gale asserted, his tone measured. “Besides, our little journey will be over soon, and I’m sure you’ll be back to your previous self in no time.” He took a step closer, and wiped away Tav’s blood with his thumb. “What a shame it would be to make an enemy of one who can conjure up sunlight.” With that, Gale walked away, unaware that Astarion's swift fingers had liberated the letter from his pocket.
It lay temptingly in Astarion’s hands, and without a moment's hesitation, he indulged his curiosity, devouring its contents with the same gluttonous reverie as he had Tav’s blood. There was a beat as he re-read it twice, shocked at what the restrained Wizard had written. "How delicious," he mused, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. With a calculated nonchalance, he slipped the letter under Tav's door, and slinked away with a co*cky grin.
Tav had forgotten how to breathe properly. The handwriting was unmistakable. The ink was his deep purple. It even smelled of him.
Dear Tav,
In my dreams I kiss your c*nt, your sweet wet c*nt.
In my thoughts I make love to you all day long.
Gale.
She felt she had missed something, somewhere, in their short time together. A code she had not cracked, a riddle she had failed to solve. He was affectionate, flirtatious occasionally, charming always, but after spending so much time touch-starved and lacking company Tav had assumed his feelings were akin to those of a drowning man who had been thrown a rope from a passing ship. She had longed for him many times, she had even pushed the thought of a fierce kiss into his mind one magic-filled evening, and he had pulled away…
She had hoped that after Elminster eased the urgency of his condition, that maybe something would come of it. That he would find his way into her tent one night and let himself come undone after a year of being bound so tightly. But he had not. She had not pushed it, he was a man burdened and she did not want to add to it.
She could not think of this now. Not here. Not when they were about to spend an evening in the company of their friends. She re-read the note again and felt herself flush, if only he was aware of her own dreams, of the temptations that whispered and caressed whenever he tensed his muscles in arcane focus, when the sweat borne from summoned fire beaded his brow, or when his voice sank low to pull measured incantations from the depths of his muscled, hair-smattered chest. She shuddered, and fanned herself with no relief. She could not think of this now.
The hours at dinner ached onwards, with Gale sat just out of Tav’s direct eyeline. He was on the opposite side of the food-laden table, a few places along - and he was so aware of her that she may as well have been the only other person in the room. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, lips painted with a colour that made them look bitten. He wanted to deepen the colour with his teeth. He thought her dress made it look like art, she looked like poetry, like no artist would ever be tongue-tied or word-blocked again with her for a muse. Ironic, really, with how thick his tongue felt in his mouth just from looking at her. He thought her dress was the most silken, tempting, beautiful thing he had seen someone wear.
It was perfect, and he wanted to ruin it.
Tav had been avoiding his gaze all evening, afraid for him to look at her and see the truth. She was convinced it was waiting there, unabashed and obvious, and with one glance would be pulled from its poorly concealed hiding place. To look at him now would be stupid, reckless, dangerous. Her eyes flicked up, and he caught her.
He was dark fire, He was looking at her the way a caged man would look at freedom, like she was the bright crack of light through prison walls or the sound of the ocean to a land-locked seafarer. She thought he may drag his searing eyes away, as he had done so many times before, but he did not. He did not even attempt to simmer his gaze. He stared at her with an intent that kissed fire down her spine, she needed relief from it before she smouldered into ash.
“Excuse me.” She breathed out an apology to guests who were paying her no attention, and with as much silence and grace as she could conjure she swept from the room, feeling the silk of her dress dance along the floor behind her.
She poured herself through the first door she found. A library. Dimly lit and, thankfully, empty. What a relief, here there were only book bound spells and dusty stories to witness her unravelling. There must have been thousands of books here, and hers was the weakest spine in the room.
The truth of it was, she was afraid. Something had now changed, and could not be changed back. The group of them still had challenges, battles and decisions ahead. Overdue justice would be delivered and fresh blood spilled, with a high chance that blood would be their own. Losing herself to her feelings for Gale, acting upon her fantasies, spiralling further into loving him would potentially be an act of selfishness and hard-headedness she couldn’t justify. She wasn’t sure if by keeping herself distanced, she had been protecting others or herself. If she let it, that distance would force itself closed, and she did not know what the outcome would be.
But.. his note… The weight of his lettered words were notched in the fragile space behind her eyes, like the forceful pressing of a typewriter on delicate paper. Even if the ink of the confession could somehow be washed away, the shape of it was indented into her.
She would allow herself a few moments of stillness, in the silence of the library. How odd, she thought as she gazed around. She was in a room with vast, precious knowledge - and none of it really mattered. No piece of paper would ever matter as much as the one which had slipped like a secret under her door.
A soft creak announced Gale's presence in the doorway. His posture was formal, his expression obscured by the dim, flickering candlelight. All evening he had been unfairly distracting in fitted suit trousers and a crisp white shirt. A smart black bow-tie had once adorned his collar, but the stifling heat of the lingering party had caused it to come undone, and it now hung loose and forgotten. Several buttons on his shirt had been unfastened, offering a glimpse of his chest hair and the bruise-coloured orb beneath. Against his olive skin, the white fabric seemed to deepen his complexion, accentuating his rugged features, and his sleeves were pushed up to reveal the firm muscles of his forearms. So much for her moment of stillness.
“Are you alright?” He moved towards her and she could not retreat from him even if she wanted to. She was against the bookcase at the far end of the room, there was no stepping back from him now. “You seemed… flushed at dinner.”
“Quite alright.” Her tone was more brusk than she intended it to be, more formal than she wanted.
“I thought maybe Astarion took more from you than was necessary earlier.” His tone suddenly had a sharp bite to it. “My mistake, it appears you are both perfectly satisfied.”
She did not like his implication. “Did you have a thorough listen? Before you delivered your sordid little letter?”
There was a beat of silence, and the air shifted, the hard aura of him became soft and panicked. He didn’t say anything, though Tav had the feeling he was reaching for something to clutch at. She didn’t let him get to it.
“Does it taint your dreams, knowing that he feeds from me? The dreams where you kiss my sweet, wet c*nt?” The words were fired with archer's accuracy. She regretted it the moment it was said. “I’m sorry” She was flustered in her apology, “I shouldn’t have..”
“You should never have seen that letter”
“You slipped it under my door?”
“No. I did not.”
Their breaths were heavy. Anger and tension and built-up frustration crackled through air made of gunpowder.
“So…You did not mean what you wrote?”Gale thought she almost sounded disappointed, and he clutched onto that thought with desperation and fanned it till it burned.
“That’s not what I said.”
Out of self-consciousness, or awkwardness, or just to find something for her hands to do, Tav fiddled with her hair and moved it back off her shoulders. The innocuous motion allowed Gale full view of those two, small puncture marks. They were still slightly pink, the area around them bruised. He moved forwards, and her breath caught in expectation of being kissed. Instead he stood, jaw tight, brows stern and brushed the bite marks with his thumb, barely touching her.
“It does not taint my dreams, but it does haunt my days.” His voice was a slip of envy. His thumb stayed at her throat, but his fingers moved to caress her jaw, tilting her head upwards so they were locked in another heated stare. Tav finally understood.
“I am not his. I never have been” she pushed herself up lightly on her toes, until her nose brushed against his and their breaths became each other’s. “I am yours.”
The match was lit. He pressed himself fully against her and she bumped back against the books with a gasp caught in a blistering kiss. His hands ran along the cool silk and grasped at it in swathes, as all his pent-up need for her came crashing down in the silence of the library. It took all his resolve not to rip it to silken tatters. She gave one sweet, quiet moan against him and he lifted her up, pinning her against the bookcase before slipping a hand between them, to discover she was not wearing underwear.
“Too hot” She breathed, her words dancing with laughter.
“I’ll say.” Gale growls, and with a swift, single-handed undoing of his trousers he pushes his hard co*ck inside her. There is no time for grace, or teasing, or even manners. She is wet enough, and he needs to f*ck her.
They were not silent, their breaths were heavy and Gale swallowed Tav’s soft moans against his tongue, but there were no more words. There would be other times - Gale would make certain of it - where he would pour obscenities into her ear, where he would brand into her every sordid thought he had ever had, and relish teasing primal, guttural sounds from her sweet, parted lips.
He had fantasised about her in worship and in sin. In silent libraries, in cold cramped tents, or in back rooms of rowdy taverns. He envisioned teasing her relentlessly until she succumbed to shuddering release with just a few deft strokes of his tongue, or seizing her from behind in the secluded alcove of a crowded bar, losing himself in the depths of her until he surrendered to blissful oblivion without even making eye contact. He wanted the burning, consuming intimacy of knowing her in every way a person can be known. In the softness of her body and the sharpness of her mind. In his thoughts he made love to her all day long, and in his reality he was determined to do the same.
But for now, he could only growl as he f*cked her hard against the bookcase of the library, with the muffled sound of chatter and laughter audible from the party next door.
“Gale..” Her voice was staccato and lust-soaked and as loud as a gunshot amongst the dusty shelves. He put his hand over her mouth to keep her ecstasy contained, and struggled himself not to cry out in pained pleasure when she bit him. The way she was splayed like an open book before him, his hand pressed against her, controlling the flutter of pages, her spine flattening against the bookcase was maddening. In this position, with her pinned by the desperate, aching weight of him and using a foot perched on a rolling ladder and a hand gripped in his hair to anchor herself, he can feel each quiver and shake of lithe muscle. A bowstring pulled tight for too long, threatening to buckle and release.
This was it, he thought, his reason for living. Not her exactly, not just her, but touch, hope, sweet torture, and succulent moments that would satisfy both the hungry and the starved. Gods, was he starved. Starved and craving to spend the rest of his life full of her. He couldn't thrust himself into her as hard and recklessly as he would have liked, not like this. Her position against the wall relied too much on the press of his hips and chest against her. Instead, he ground and rutted into her, ensuring his pressure hit her in every place she needed it. The silk of her dress caressed her skin, some of it draping between her legs and over where the two of them were connected. It was becoming soaked. Ruined. Just the way he wanted.
She began to ripple, still waters turning to coursing tides. The grip on his hair became tighter, and when she came the fluttering of her tight c*nt was enough to force him over the edge with her.
In the hazy, burnt-out aftermath of passion, hope glowed. Gale never relented in his affection; he wrapped an arm around her waist to gently guide her feet back to the floor. Cupping her flushed cheeks, he bestowed worshipping kisses upon the freckles of her face, trailing down her neck and shoulders with a soft, peaceful touch. The air between them was delicate, mingled with breathy satisfaction. He pressed kisses to her lips, another and another, as she giggled quietly, gently—a sound just as precious and intimate as the ones she had offered when she came against him.
“I love you.” He whispered, and she thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard. She said it back, and suddenly the thing that could not be changed was spoken. Bound. Sealed.
“I was going to give you a letter this evening.” Gale continued with his forehead resting against hers “A different letter. There were two in my pocket, the one you received was just.. erm…”
“Catharsis?” She offered with a smirk.
“Something like that, yes.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a letter. A twin to the one from earlier in all except content.
Dear Tav,
Please forgive me for my jealous behaviour. The truth is, I feel rather foolish and light-headed in your presence. Tav, I don’t think I can blame the heat! Will you forgive me?
Gale
She laughed loudly at the ridiculousness of it, of how polite and genteel his carefully crafted words were. At how he must have scrawled the other letter in pent-up desperation, only to put it aside and instead craft this… feathered, dainty thing. She wasn’t sure which letter she preferred, but she knew they were two sides of a precious coin. The two sides of him.
“I think we can assume you are forgiven.” For a few more intimate moments, they make the most of the library’s silence.
“Do they think they’re being subtle?” Karlach’s brash voice is suddenly heard from the other room. Despite their illusion being shattered, the sound of her laughter mixed with Gale’s drowned out Tav’s fear. She would embrace change, and him along with it.
