Work Text:
You sit, legs crossed over one another, in the plush loveseat in the north corner of your library, bathing in the warmth cast upon you by the hearth. You flip mindlessly through the pages of the book in your hands, your mind occupied elsewhere; Gale, sitting at his desk across the room, engrossed in some coursework he’s planning for his students. His brow is furrowed as he fingers through an assortment of scrolls, a loose strand escaping the knot he tied half of his hair into. He looks so in his element sitting there, reading glasses perched on his nose and humming absentmindedly. Professor Dekarios. You almost envy his students, who get the great privilege of learning from someone so passionate about his field. Though, of course, they don’t have the privilege of having him at their beck and call. He loves nothing more than to fulfill your every whim. Yet all you desire of him is his deepest and truest love.
You stand, setting your book down on the end table next to you, slowly making your way to Gale, hoping your soft steps won’t pull his focus away from his work. You only wish to observe; to take in every angle of him, lit softly by flickering candlelight. The way his eyes glance upon different books lying open and parchment strewn out on his bureau captivates you. You study the contours of his face; the angle of his jaw beneath his cropped beard, the bump at the top of his nose bridge, his strong brow bone. You think to yourself that he must have been carved by a skilled artisan, leaving no detail imperfect, no stone unturned. Much to your delight, he’s gained a small layer of softness since the end of your adventuring days, having finally been able to share with you his talent for crafting fine meals, and no longer being compelled to trek through various terrains day after day. You, too, have softened, nourished by his desire to guide you on a journey through his favourite cuisines.
Gale takes off his glasses, setting them down atop a stack of books, and turns to see you standing next to him, clearly closer than he anticipated, jumping in surprise before saying, “Ah, darling, you ought to stop sneaking up on me like that. One of these days I’m going to cast a spell out of panic before I realize it’s you approaching.”
You chuckle softly. “Sorry, love. I just like watching you work.”
He smiles, standing to meet your eyes and taking your hand in his. “I can’t say I don’t think the same thing when I see you, well, doing anything.” He plants a kiss on your cheek and caresses your face in his palm before putting his fingers under your chin to tip your head up for a kiss on your lips. You smile into his kiss, closing your eyes and pressing your fingertips on his abdomen. He stares into your eyes as he pulls away from the kiss, and you feel as if he’s seeing your soul in its entirety, loving you for every part of you, from your shared love of the pursuit of knowledge to the idiosyncrasies that set you apart from everyone he’s known before. You can only hope that your gaze conveys the same. “I love watching you read,” he says, kissing you again on your cheek, “I love watching you sleep,” a kiss on the tip of your nose, “I love watching you dance,” a kiss on your forehead, “I love watching you simply exist.”
You can’t refrain yourself from pulling him into a deep kiss, your fingers grasping his shoulders as you feel his hands trace your waist. You press into him, a desire from the deepest parts of your body and mind urging you to be as close to him as you physically can. You come away from the kiss just long enough to breathe and say, “I would love to watch you come undone.”
Gale makes a sound of assent combined with yearning, replying, “The feeling is entirely mutual, my love.” He presses his lips to your neck, reaching to run his fingers through your hair.
“To the bedroom, then?”
“There is nothing that could keep me.”
You take Gale’s hand in yours, guiding him to your bedroom, where you have spent a hundred nights together. The room smells of balsam and book pages, lit by moonlight pouring in through an unshuttered window, the sky streaked with grey clouds that mirror the strands that interrupt brown locks on Gale’s head. He reflects the heavens in every facet of his being.
You sit at the foot of the bed, sinking into the mattress, facing Gale. He approaches you, beginning to unbutton his shirt. When he gets close enough you take over, stretching out the time, tracing your fingers down his chest as you work your way down. He pulls his now-unbuttoned shirt from its tucked position, slouching it off his shoulders. You hook a finger teasingly in the waistband of his trousers, Gale making you wait impatiently as he folds his shirt neatly and sets it next to you.
You graze a hand over his belly, soft to the touch but firm just underneath the surface. Though you’ve seen it all before, you never fail to feel a girlish giddiness when you watch him undress, revealing all the parts of him that are reserved for only your eyes. Gale leans down to kiss you hungrily, as if starved for your touch, but when you reach to try to speed up the process of his disrobement he pulls away, a hand raised to tell you to stop. You look up at him, pouting as he says, “No need to rush. While I’ll be happy to allow you to watch me come undone, I, perhaps selfishly, insist that we begin with you.”
“If you say so, Professor,” you tease, prompting red to rise in his cheeks.
“You know for a fact I could never focus on teaching if you were under my tutelage,” he defends. You giggle at his response; only he would use the word tutelage in the midst of dirty talk. “Now, off with your dress, my dear. I must get to work here, as you did say that that’s something you rather enjoy watching.”
You oblige with no objection, rising to pull the skirt of your dress up, Gale wordlessly assisting in coaxing it over your head. You proceed to take your dress and fold it as he did his shirt, setting the dress down atop it.
“Now, if you might lie in a supine position I can proceed as intended.” He gestures for you to move backwards, and you obey, moving back to the head of the bed and resting your head on your pillow. He crawls onto the bed and above you, the heat of his bare chest radiating against you. He holds himself there for a moment, eyes flicking across you like he’s deciding what to do next. You reach a hand to his hip, prompting him to lean into your neck, kissing it ravenously, gently nibbling and grazing his tongue over your heartbeat. His finger traces the hem of your brassiere, tugging gently at its fabric, kneeling between your thighs and pulling you up into a seated position. He continues to kiss your neck, then your jaw, your cheek, your lips, as he unclasps it from behind, exposing your breasts to the air and tossing it aside. He pulls back from your kiss for a moment, your lips following his until they’re out of reach, to look at your revealed chest.
You lean back into the mattress, knowing he likes to take his time studying you, appreciating your curvature, before rushing into things. You smirk up at him lustfully, saying breathily with heavy eyelids, “Like what you see?”
Gale’s eyes track from the hem of your last remaining undergarments, up to your navel, your breasts, your collarbones, your lips, then your eyes, locking his gaze with yours and replying with a deepened tone you seem only to hear in the bedroom, “I’d like it better if we rid ourselves of that pesky little layer that remains on your lower half.”
“This old thing?” You fiddle with the waistband of your undergarments, looking up at Gale with a smirk.
“That old thing. May I?”
You nod, biting your lower lip as Gale hooks a finger in the fabric that rests on your lower abdomen, beginning to pull it down at an agonizingly slow pace. He exposes your skin one millimeter at a time, his eyes laser-focused on every new piece as it becomes visible. You think at this point he would probably be able to paint you in perfect realism, having memorized your likeness with such precision. He leans to place soft kisses on your hip as he moves to finish disrobing you, you lifting your hips to draw your underclothes down your legs and, finally, off of your body.
Gale caresses your torso, kissing your neck and running a hand along your cheek. His hands move down to your breasts, kneading them gently, before his lips follow, kissing the tender skin of your nipple. You close your eyes and bask in his touch as he takes his time, leaving no part of your chest unmet by the light pressure of his lips and hands. He strokes your midriff, hand tracing down to your vulva, fingers parting its lips as if delicately opening the pages of a first edition book so as not to risk damage. You open your eyes to see him looking intently up at them, and as soon as you acknowledge his stare he dives in, his tongue tracing from your entrance to your clit. You shudder at the sensation, your body acclimatizing to the stimulation, which only encourages Gale to lean in for more, his tongue folding, and flattening, and pressing, and moving against your most sensitive places, and you can no longer suppress a moan that his touch has forced from your lips. This seems to please Gale, as he hungrily licks and sucks you, his right arm reaching to pull your pelvis closer to him, and the two middle fingers on his left hand curling inside you. He makes a hum of satisfaction against you, the vibration of his vocal cords sending another wave of pleasure over you, whimpering quietly as you look down at him, so pretty with his hair falling into his eyes. You push a strand from his forehead before gripping his hair at the scalp, pulling him closer to you, and he makes no protest, adjusting the speed of his tongue and his fingers fucking you accordingly. It isn’t long before you come undone, Gale’s eyes locked on you as promised. You fear your thighs might crush him as you can’t refrain from squeezing them around his head in your orgasm, but he shows no need for mercy, maintaining his pace as you ride it out.
“Gods, Gale,” you say, as he pulls away, evidently pleased with his work, failing to suppress a smile as he licks what’s left of your taste from his own fingers. You sit up and pull him into a forceful kiss, lips crushed together and tongues meeting in a dance. You stay that way for a long moment, lingering in the closeness, absorbing each other’s energy. You can’t help but be acutely aware of the unfair advantage he has over you, a layer of fabric covering him while you lie exposed.
“Off,” you say, gesturing at the trousers that now barely conceal an erection that clearly longs to be freed, fabric nearly bursting at the seams.
“Anything for you, my dear.” Gale stands next to the bed, pulling off his trousers and briefs in one fell swoop, hard cock bouncing as it gains freedom. He kicks his pant legs off before crawling onto the bed above you, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of your shoulders.
You take a hand and wrap your fingers around his shaft. His breath hitches at your touch as if it’s a new sensation, and you begin to move your hand back and forth, up and down his length, while he leans his head down to kiss your neck once more. You take advantage of your mouth’s proximity to his ear, whispering, “Are you going to fuck me now?”
“If that’s what you want,” he replies, and you let go of his cock as he adjusts himself to align with you. You feel the head of his dick move against your cunt, gathering the wetness that has accumulated, and you hear him grunt as he pushes inside you. You feel your walls push aside as he moves to fill you, your mouth involuntarily opening for a moan to escape.
Gale slowly begins to thrust in and out of you, low sounds leaving his throat. You wrap your hands around his back, grazing your fingertips on his shoulder blades. Your lips meet and you breathe moans into each other's mouths. Gale’s thumb moves to trace circles on your clit as he continues to pump, sending shockwaves through your system. He fucks you gently at first, but builds to something more rapid, more desperate, pressure building from within the both of you. “I’m gonna come,” you moan out, between hurried breaths. “I want you to come with me. Come inside me.”
“Of-,” he pants, “course.”
Gale picks up his pace, rubbing your clit vigorously, pounding into you, yet maintaining his watch on you. You feel the orgasm begin to flow through you, shuddering and moaning Gale’s name, pulsing from the inside, and your body seems to pull the orgasm from him too. With a deep moan you feel his semen flow out of him, filling you up as his hips buck against yours. You wrap your legs around his hips, trapping him inside you as your body twitches in pleasure, your fingernails scratching down his back. You feel him breathe against you, his body becoming heavy on top of you. He kisses you deeply as you both come down from your shared high, Gale finally pulling out of you and rolling to lie by your side to face you.
Gale looks at you through sleepy eyes, his hand caressing your waist as you turn to lie on your side. “Thank you,” he says with a kiss on your nose, “for letting me watch. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” You’ll never get tired of hearing it, of saying it.
“I can’t wait to be married to you.” And you know he means it, because he tells you every day.