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The embers burned low in the fire, the trees casting long, imposing shadows over the campsite. Somewhere nearby, an owl heralded the advent of midnight — a signal that any reasonable person would take as an indication that it was time to retire for the night.
But Calliope was not reasonable. And luckily for her, neither was Gale.
While their companions had withdrawn to their respective tents hours earlier to rest up before commencing the next leg of their journey, Gale and Calliope had stayed awake. This was a common enough occurrence. After supper, they often got caught up in conversations about magic or poetry or music that neither of them were keen to conclude, no matter how late it became.
The two of them were by far the most talkative out of their group, and often to their own detriment. Calliope knew she would be cranky and exhausted the next day if she didn’t go to bed as soon as possible, but she somehow found that sleep was the last thing on her mind.
Touching her fingers to the duvet, she pushed down against it as if to test the bed’s solidity. “Are you certain this will hold? You won’t…lose concentration?”
The bed Gale had summoned with an artful snap of his fingers looked strangely immaterial. The canopy draped across it was light, as though spun from air, and shot through with threads of pure starlight. Magic gleamed in every stitch of the thick, feather duvet. It looked like a mirage, the sort of place a god would lie down to sleep.
Gale smiled, a bit smug. “I’m positive. It’s a simple enough spell. I could maintain it fast asleep, if I so wished.”
Calliope rolled her eyes. “Okay, show-off.” But, nevertheless, she trusted his word enough to fall back against the sheets. In the moment before she landed, her belly gave a swoop, certain that she’d phase straight through the mattress and meet the cold, hard earth.
But then a softness enveloped her, and there was a faint whine of springs as the mattress dipped beneath her weight. Calliope couldn’t help but laugh. It felt as solid as any non-magical surface she’d ever slept on.
She turned her face into the silken sheets, inhaling their fresh cotton scent, delighting in the smooth feel of them against her cheek. She’d had bedding like this, once upon a time. Before the fire that had laid waste to her home and her parents and any semblance of normalcy she would ever have. Calliope had almost forgotten what it felt like, this simple pleasure she hadn’t known to love until it was gone. It was nice to be reminded of such happy times.
“Sufficiently solid for you?” Gale asked. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching her with a keen sort of look on his face. It was a bit like when he came across a particularly titillating bit of research, like he wanted nothing more than to understand her in her entirety.
“I can’t believe you can do this.” Calliope couldn’t keep the wonder from her voice. The soft fabric brushed over her skin like the tender hands of a lover. The more incandescent her joy, the softer the bed seemed to grow until it felt like she was resting on a cloud. “Gods, I– I spent so many years sleeping on the street, and you can conjure a whole bed from nothing. This is…This is absurd, Gale.”
The satisfaction slid from his face, replaced by a worry that deepened the soft furrow permanently etched between his brows.
Calliope sat, afraid that she’d offended him somehow. She hastened to add, “In a good way, of course. I simply mean that I wish I could do it, too. That I was skillful enough.”
“You are plenty skillful,” Gale said, tone sombre and thoughtful.
Calliope ducked her head, cheeks heating somewhat pathetically. She had a weak heart that gave easily into desire, and compliments seemed only to speed up the process. As much as she wanted to play the role of coy seductress, any amount of praise rendered her acting skills null. And beneath her carefully maintained veneer, steeped in bardic grandeur, it turned out she was terribly timid.
“I don’t deny it,” Calliope said, voice wavering only a little. Although she usually found Gale’s brown-eyed gaze delightful, she was finding it suddenly difficult to meet it. “My skillset is simply different from yours.”
Different was the understatement of the century. She’d seen Gale summon flashes of lightning or bursts of flame without so much as breaking a sweat. Hells, they were in the clutches of the Shadow Curse, yet Gale had somehow managed to set the sky above them alight with conjured stars! Although Calliope was by no means a poor caster, she had never achieved such control of the Weave without her trusty flute to guide the current of her power, allowing her to physically breathe her intent into the reeds.
“Though no less valuable,” Gale concluded.
A laugh tripped and fell from her lips, completely by accident. Calliope couldn’t believe she was acting like this, preening like a fool all because a man told her she was competent. Had she still been living, Calliope’s mother would have been ashamed.
“Again,” she said, “I do not deny it. There’s no need to extol my virtues. I already know what they are.”
“Splendid.” Gale’s smile turned playful once more, and warmth seemed to emanate from him. Calliope could feel it all the way in her heart. “Though I find I rather enjoy extolling your virtues. If it’s all the same to you, I should like to continue.”
“Oh.” Calliope was suddenly glad of her complexion, pink like a peony blossom. It hid her blush remarkably well, or so she hoped. “Well. If you absolutely must…”
Gale took one step closer, then another, stopping just short of where she perched on the edge of the bed. She had to tip her head back to meet his eyes, which she immediately regretted. Under his attentive gaze, Calliope found it suddenly difficult to breathe.
He took her chin between thumb and index finger — a distinctly possessive gesture, though it lacked any real force. She gulped. Calliope could feel the pounding of her heart in her whole body, and she wondered, somewhat anxiously, if it was as obvious to Gale as it was to her that this whole affair was wreaking unspeakable havoc on her nervous system.
“I could gaze upon you forever,” Gale said, his tone reverent. “I’d be hard pressed to find anything even remotely as lovely as you.”
Calliope huffed an incredulous laugh. “You’ve made love to a goddess, and I am the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”
Although she hated to spoil the moment by bringing up Mystra, it had to be asked. Although she was pretty, Calliope had been homeless for the better part of a decade and it showed. She was gangly, the growth of her horns long stunted by malnutrition. Her skin bore freckles from years of uninterrupted exposure to sunlight. It was hard to believe she came even remotely close to matching the star-touched perfection of the divine.
But Gale only said “Yes” without a hint of uncertainty. “You, my love, are beyond compare.”
Desire sliced through her like a knife, sharp and unyielding, and suddenly she couldn’t bear it anymore. The compliments, the attention. The way he looked at her like she was the centre of his universe.
She surged up, catching Gale’s lips with her own and pulling him down with her as she fell back against the mattress. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat, not unlike a groan or a gasp. It made the blood run hot beneath Calliope’s skin, her thoughts growing deliciously, drunkenly fuzzy.
She palmed at his stomach, trying and failing to push his tunic up. Gale pulled away with a laugh, taking her hands in his to still them. “Patience, my love. We’re only getting started….”
“Trust me,” Calliope panted. Desperation burned in her like an acid, her composure swiftly fraying. She’d been patient long enough. “I intend to keep you busy until morning. Let’s not draw it out unnecessarily.”
Gale’s cheeks turned a shade of pink so bright, it rivalled Calliope’s own complexion. “R—right,” he stuttered. “You’re absolutely right. Let’s not dally.”
Swallowing thickly, Gale drew back to pull his tunic over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. Calliope couldn’t help but laugh a little as she reached out to touch his chest, running her fingers over the thick, coarse hair there.
“Is something amusing you, my love?” Gale’s smile was fond, a bit shy.
Calliope schooled her expression as much as she could, but a grin still tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Sorry. It’s just— I’m so happy right now. And you’re so…” She paused to search for a word that properly encapsulated it, the awe she felt when she gazed upon him, but came up empty. “So beautiful. Handsome. All of it.”
“Oh, Calliope,” Gale sighed, her name soft and melodious on his tongue. “You have no idea how voraciously I’ve craved you, ever since that night I taught you to summon the Weave. I’ve scarcely thought of anything else.”
Neither had Calliope, though she was ill-disposed to admit it. The way he’d talked her through the spell, patient and commanding, had become a permanent fixture of her more illicit dreams. Although she had not seen the inside of a classroom in almost a decade, Gale’s voice had somehow brought every memory of her limited schooling to the fore, every bit of murmured praise she’d ever received. She wasn’t sure what it said about her character, that the mere idea of being instructed by him got her off, but she chose to not overthink it.
“I have an idea,” Gale said, moved to lie back against the plush cushions. “Climb on top of me.”
Calliope thought she’d misheard. “Excuse me?”
“It will be worth your while, I assure you.”
Only a little apprehensive, Calliope pushed to a seat and clumsily draped one leg over his hips so that she was straddling him. His clothed length pressed urgently against her, warm and solid even through several layers of fabric. Gods, her heart felt set to beat out of her chest.
Gale made a beckoning gesture, and it took her a moment to understand that he was asking her to move up along his body. She’d only just begun to shift upward when she realised, with sudden, salacious clarity, just what he intended to do.
She stopped short, her pulse downright apocalyptic. “Oh. Oh. Are you— are you sure you wouldn’t rather do something more… mutually enjoyable?”
“Believe me,” Gale said, his voice warm in the back of his throat, laden with promise. “I would enjoy it very, very much.”
Her stomach tightened, tendrils of warmth unfurling inside her. She’d never done this before, and although the idea very much appealed to her, she would’ve been lying if she said it wasn’t also nerve-wracking. The thought of him seeing her this way instead of, say, on her back, knees hiked around his shoulders, was making her feel strangely unsteady, her palms clammy with nerves.
Gale took her hand to help draw her up, her skirt awkwardly bunched around her hips. Maybe she should’ve thought to take it off beforehand, but it was too late now. And besides, Calliope had always enjoyed being fucked with clothes on. It felt especially vulgar somehow. Primal, even.
He dropped her hand once her knees were on either side of Gale’s neck. He tugged her underwear to the side, his hot breath wafting over her like a promise. A current of excitement thrummed beneath her skin. She hadn’t realised how eager she was to be touched, but now that she had Gale beneath her, she felt almost lightheaded.
Then he licked into her, parting her on his tongue, and Calliope’s light-headedness passed straight into a drunken stupor. Gale was good at this. Not just deftly skilled, but entirely consumed by the act. It had her falling forward, catching herself on the headboard as a broken moan spilled past her lips. She clapped a hand over her mouth, an embarrassed flush rising to the tips of her pointed ears.
Gale pulled back just enough to murmur against her skin. “Is this alright?”
“Yes,” Calliope breathed, then laughed, a little delirious. “Gods, sorry. I just– Fuck. I feel like I’m about to burst.”
“In a good way, I hope.”
“In the best way.”
“Excellent.” Then his tongue swept across her core again, one arm caging her hips to keep her still as she writhed against him, keening pathetically.
He tipped his head back, neck arching, so her pelvis pressed against his mouth. The sounds he was making — soft and guttural, like he was the one being touched instead of her — were only adding fuel to the fire rapidly building inside her.
So this, Calliope thought, heart so full it felt close to bursting, is what it’s like to be truly, genuinely wanted.
It had never felt like this with her previous partners, not even those she’d thought she loved. Although she usually prided herself on her sizable vocabulary, she couldn’t think of a word that sufficiently summed up all she was feeling. It was beyond transcendent, leagues above euphoric.
“Oh my Gods, Gale,” she whispered into her palm, then bit down on it. A scream was forcing its way up her throat, and it was all Calliope could do to remain upright, eyes trained on him.
“So perfect,” he said against her core, the vibration sending a trail of lightning up her spine. “You feel so good, my love. Exactly like I knew you would.”
“Y—you can’t— Shit.” He sucked her clit into his mouth, the sound wet and filthy and positively intoxicating. “You can’t just s—say things like that.”
“Keep talking,” Gale practically groaned. “Please.”
“W—why?”
“The way you sound when your voice breaks—“ He paused to lick into her again, like he couldn’t help himself. “You are exquisite, Calliope. I would have you like this anywhere. Here, against a tree, beneath the stars. Wherever you wanted. Anytime.”
“Oh.” Calliope fluttered around nothing, her pulse pounding out a furious rhythm in her sternum. Her thighs had begun to tremble, but it was the last thing on her mind as Gale pushed her hips down, urging her to grind against his mouth. She was going insane. Her head lolled back fully as a desperate, shattered cry spilled from her, so loud she heard the skitter of startled birds taking off from the tree above them.
She was going to come, imminently.
“Gale,” Calliope warned. She tried to shift away from his lips but he held firm, tongue still moving over her. “Please, I’m going to—“
“Let go. Please.” His tone was hoarse, imploring. “I want to taste you.”
And that was all it took.
Calliope came against his mouth with a punched-out gasp, hips grinding down against him as she rode out every last wave of pleasure.
For a moment, she swore she saw double, her vision swimming and darkening. Then she was on her back, although she’d barely noticed Gale moving her, and all she could see was him, hovering above her. His kind eyes, a little wrinkled at the corners, searching her face.
“Was that satisfactory?” Gale asked, breathless, his tone so serious Calliope couldn’t help but giggle.
She kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue and finding that it didn’t disgust her. Quite the opposite, actually. It was perfectly lewd, making liquid heat pool in her belly all over again.
“Seriously?” Calliope said when she pulled back, still in disbelief. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else, Gale. Satisfactory doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
He returned her laugh, and all she could think was, If I could bottle this sound, I would get drunk on it every night. She didn’t know what she’d done for the divines or the universe or whoever was in charge of these matters to deem her worthy of someone like him, when she’d gone so long without anything at all. It was a large enough miracle that she struggled to wrap her mind around it.
Her laugh petered out, pulse thrumming like an errant drum behind her ribs. Tentatively, almost timidly, she shifted her hips, eliciting wanton sighs from both of them when Gale’s growing hardness pressed against her still-slick core.
“More?” Gale murmured against her lips, forsaking his usual eloquence.
Calliope nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. “Please. If you can manage it.”
There was that smug smile again, making Calliope’s pulse trip over itself. She could always count on him to rise to a challenge. It was one of her favourite things about him. “Oh, I can manage plenty.”
He sat back on his heels to tug her undergarments down her legs, though he left the skirt on. Then he was back on her, hands running over every part of her he could reach, grasping like he wanted to memorise the shape of her against him.
“You are…exquisite.” His eyes dipped to her chest, the buttons that held the high collar of her shirt blouse together, and something like annoyance flickered across his face. Calliope reached up to make clumsy work of the buttons, giggling at Gale’s wide-eyed stare.
Then he was kissing her again, pushing the fabric back to grip her waist so hard, the flesh dimpled beneath his fingers.
He kissed down her neck, pausing only to suck the sensitive skin between his teeth. He was panting, every muscle in his body strung taut with anticipation, and Calliope was drunk and desperate and high on him. If she were to become trapped in this moment forever, she knew she’d be perfectly content.
“Gale,” she breathed, goosebumps erupting across her newly bared skin at the peculiar combination of Gale’s attentions and the brush of cool, evening air. “Need you. Please.”
But Gale didn’t hear, or perhaps he wanted to torture her just a little longer, because he only nosed down her sternum, inhaling the scent of her skin like he wanted to make a mental record of it. Then he took her nipple into his mouth and bit down gently, drawing a sound from her that bordered on animalistic.
“Oh my gods—“
“Responsive,” Gale muttered under his breath. The way he said it, with an almost scholarly air of fascination, made Calliope’s toes curl. She felt like a specimen, pinned in place. If only she could give him all her hours, so he could learn her in her entirety. Every little thing that made her tick. “How delightful.”
Calliope reached out blindly, finding the waistband of his trousers. She tugged at them insistently, making beseeching noises in the back of her throat, until Gale got the idea and finally, finally, sat back to slide the offending garment off.
Then he was back on her, the breath rushing out of his lungs in a sharp exhale when his length notched at her core. One hand found her lower back, angling her hips slightly, and— Oh, good gods.
Gale groaned raggedly against her mouth. He was wedged so deep inside her, his hips were flush against the backs of her thighs. All of Calliope’s thoughts seemed to vacate her skull at the same exact time. All but one: Gale, Gale, Gale.
The first few thrusts were sloppy, experimental. Gale slipped out at one point and had to nudge himself back in. But even then, the slide of flesh, the delicious friction — it was too much. It was everything Calliope wanted, the culmination of several tendays of hopeless, agonising pining.
So overwhelming was it, in fact, that she didn’t notice until Gale startled, his movements coming to a screeching halt, that her tail had twined itself around his calf without her asking it to.
“Sorry!” Calliope laughed, breathless and dizzy, as she extricated her tail. “Gods, sorry. It…it does that on its own. I didn’t mean to—“
Then Gale was laughing too, the sound like soft music to Calliope’s ears. His cheeks were glowing, dark hair falling into his eyes. He was warm, bright like the sun, and all hers. “Don’t apologise. Don’t you dare.”
She waited for him to move again, then let out a plaintive noise when he remained still.
“Why’d you stop?” Calliope asked, almost in a whine. She canted her hips upward, forcing a brittle exhale from Gale that perfectly mirrored the way she felt.
“Because,” he panted, “I’m determined to not let this end so quickly.”
“This doesn’t have to be the only time.”
For a second, Gale looked a bit taken aback, though Calliope had no idea why. It should hardly have been a surprise that she would want more of him, after the utter fool she’d made of herself tonight. And every other night (and day) since they’d first met. Not for the first time, she despaired at the damage Mystra had dealt to his self-esteem. Surely, the depth of Calliope's attraction to him was evident to everyone but him.
At last, Gale nodded, expression clearing as though settling a complex academic matter in his head.
“No,” he agreed. “I suppose it doesn’t.”
The sob Calliope let out when he once more began to move was pure, lurid need. Her spine curled off the mattress, and Gale seized the opportunity to grasp her waist and fuck into her like his life depended on it.
Invisible sparks danced along every nerve in her body. Calliope could feel that delicious heat inside her, swiftly building, yet she knew it wouldn’t reach its peak without an extra push.
Reaching down between them, she rubbed two fingers over her swollen clit, letting out an honest-to-gods sob at the relief. Calliope’s vision started to cloud over, warmth enveloping every inch of her from within.
“Calliope,” Gale groaned, sounding positively tortured. His lips were parted, his brown-eyed gaze unwavering as he watched her touch herself, completely captivated.
She tried to reply, she really did, but every thought splintered and broke apart as soon as it formed. Calliope could no sooner speak than she could keep herself from crying out, the sounds far, far too loud for the lateness of the hour. She was only passingly aware that they were outside, in a bed that wasn’t even really a bed. The rest of the world melted away, leaving only Gale and the solidity of his length inside her.
Then, before she knew it, she was coming again, hard. Calliope told herself she could be quiet, if she wanted to. Should be quiet. But Gale’s name felt too good on her tongue, and the way he looked at her with his eyes half-lidded, muttering praises under his breath as he brought her to the edge, like she was more precious than the Weave to him… It was no longer feasible to keep her voice to a whisper.
Her eyes nearly lolled back into her skull as her whole body flushed hot. She found the back of his head, taloned fingers sinking into his hair and pulling, seeking purchase as the pleasure swept her under.
Gale made a plaintive sound, caught somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and then he was coming too. He scrambled back, somewhat undignified, to pull out before he spilled inside her, gasping all the while like the air had been punched out of him.
Sweat beaded his upper lip, his mouth raw and red-bitten, as he fought to catch his breath. Beautiful. Mine. Calliope took his hand from where it rested against her waist and brought it to her mouth. Gale tracked the movement with rapt attention, breath stuttering as she pressed her lips to his knuckles.
“That was—“ she started
“Indeed,” Gale finished for her, voice airy as though in disbelief.
With a chuckle, Calliope flicked her tail against the mattress, which remained solid. “Colour me impressed, Gale of Waterdeep. You really didn’t lose concentration.”
“Like I said, it’s the easiest spell in the world.”
“Perhaps you’ll have to teach me, then.”
He hummed thoughtfully, his smile lopsided and ebullient. Calliope’s heart squeezed.
I love you.
The thought came to her unprompted. Stumbled in, like she was merely recalling something she’d known all along. Perhaps she had.
“Maybe,” Gale said at last. “I’ve been told I’d make an excellent teacher.”
“And I a most obliging pupil.”
Something dangerous gleamed behind Gale’s eyes – a promise of what was to come that had Calliope shivering. “It’s settled, then. With your talents, I’m sure you’ll be a master of conjuration in no time.”
“Wonderful.” Finding his nape, Calliope pulled him back down to kiss her, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. “And in the meantime,” she said against his lips, “I have a variety of other skills I’d like to introduce you to.”
Gale’s smile was wicked. “By all means, let the demonstration commence.”