Finished typing this up
May. 29th, 2026 06:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
missizzyI did want to get this finished now, since it's for the Merry Month of Masturbation, so obviously explicit content. Though it's not really so merry: it's another fic that takes place during my first BG3 playthrough, and it does so right after Elminster's visit.
Gale supposed he should have talked to Sara again, when she followed Karlach back to camp. But there didn't seem to be anything to say. Much as he hated causing her pain, he couldn't say the one thing she was clearly so desperate to hear, that he wouldn't do it. Not when it seemed so unlikely there was any other way out of any of this.
The others seemed a little reluctant to talk to him much that evening, either. The most he got was a couple of angry looks from Karlach, presumably for upsetting Sara so much. He could hardly blame any of them. How did one talk to a probably dead man walking? And those of them lucky enough not to develop any attachment to him obviously now shouldn't want to. He maybe shouldn't expect too many people talking to him much from here on in.
He feared Sara would, though. And he feared it would hurt for them both, every time.
Which did nothing to how badly he wanted her company, now. Just being near her made him glad, even when it hurt. Especially now, when he might have only days left to live. Her presence in his life, her clearly caring for him so deeply, might be his one remaining consolation, however selfish a one it was.
He retreated to his tent early. He didn't even try to conjure anything inside it; that felt like too much work at the moment. It was just him, and what books they had on hand, a box with a bowl of water, a towel, and a pair of candles, and the bedroll that was doing his bones no favors. He thought he might already have the skeleton of someone in his fifties, with the orb having taken such a toll on his body.
Although said body in general was now feeling a little better, with the orb no longer constantly straining its resources. It was the first evening in a very long time he wasn't even a little headachey. He was still deeply fatigued, but that wasn't quite the same.
As he took his shirt and boots off, and crawled into the bedroll, he also wished Tara was there. She had let him cuddle her more nights than not, this past year, allowing it as if he'd been a little boy again. He'd like to think she'd let him do it that night. Although in reality, he supposed, she'd probably get angry at his refusing to say he wouldn't do it, and flounce off in a manner not entirely unlike the way Sara had.
She, too, had become a comfort to him on more evenings than not, when she'd come to visit him for an hour or so, and he could do a little reading to her and let her talk if she needed to. Though if she were only there now, he could hold her close and at least tell her that she would be all right. He could remind her of how strong she was, that she had endured heartbreak multiple times already; he now knew enough about her past to know that. And maybe, more selfishly, he could tell her a little about what was in his heart, if only to say how grateful he was to have known her, and that thinking of her face would no doubt bring him comfort in his final moments.
And, of course, that was far from the only thing he now desperately wanted to do with her.
Gale had learned, over the past year, that when one refrained from masturbation, the subconscious mind would make up for it by conjuring the most vivid of erotic dreams, thinking up everything he might want to do in real life as well as more than a few things he probably wouldn't, and obviously he was very fortunate the orb had not reacted too badly to his body having nocturnal emissions. But in recent days it had gotten much worse. Almost every morning had been one where he woke with his head full of having done the dirtiest things to Sara in his dreams, fists clenched as he struggled like never before not to touch his straining, begging erection.
For the first time since that ill-fated day, he was laying himself down to sleep, and was not being plagued by that gnawing, cavernous hunger that had never been completely gone from his chest, and had only been getting stronger, until perhaps the only reason he hadn't giving up, taken his farewell of the group, and hastened back to the Underdark was that he couldn't bear the thought of seeing Sara's face if he tried. Instead, as he lay there, and thought of Sara's pressed up against him, how she would smell, how warm she would be, he found his body flooded by a very different kind of hunger, one that spread through chest and loins and limbs. One he'd certainly known plenty of in his life, but this was the strongest it had been in perhaps a decade.
Well, he supposed, if the orb truly was stabilized for the moment, he could at least permit himself to have one indulgence again.
It would likely not be a long one, however, once he got his hand the entire way down. And if this was all he could have that night, he would like for it to last longer than a mere couple of minutes.
So he started higher up, letting his hands stroke his chest, tease at his nipples. The orb was still a weight in his chest, and he found himself not wanting to bring them too near it, so he didn't. But those parts of it he did touch almost felt like territory reclaimed, found and examined and learned anew.
The slightest touches to his nipples caused sensations to flare up from them, and down his back. He couldn't remember if they had reacted that strongly before. It had been so long since anyone had shown interest in them. Mystra had mostly just passed over them.
He focused in on them, first flicking at them with his fingers, then pressing down a little more. His spine arched; he had to hold back a groan. He should've put some sort of sound protection on the tent, perhaps, but he didn't have the patience for that now.
When he moved down further, he found his stomach felt sensitive, too. It was flatter, obviously, than it had been, living off pack rations and scrounged food that he did his best with at the cookpot, but one could only do so much. He thought longingly of the stores in his tower. Even to have just the right kind of wine to cook their produce in would improve that situation so much.
Though that wasn't the taste currently most on his mind. Another thing Mystra had never had much use for was oral sex, either giving or receiving, and now Gale felt finally able to admit to himself just how badly he'd missed it. If he could only know just what Sara would taste like. The only full elf he'd ever gone down on had been male, though he'd eaten out a couple of female half-elves. But he could think her flesh would be hot, pressing against his face, his tongue, and if she lost control those powerful muscles of hers would ride him hard, overwhelm him in the best way.
And then, he knew, she'd want to return the favor, because she was very much that kind of person. She'd probably be enthusiastic about it, too. Hungry, like him. And Gale couldn't say the thought of her eagerly swallowing down his cock didn't make him squirm in his bedroll.
It was more than he could take at that moment. His hands fumbled with the buttons of his breeches in his haste. And when then finally closed around hard, aching flesh for the first time in over a year, there was no way he could make it last. He didn't even try. It was mere seconds of frantic movement, relief flooding him, followed quickly by bliss. He felt power in it, surging through his body like the weave, except this was his and his alone, and at that moment, he was glad for that.
Then he was over, and he was left laying there alone, a mess of his own semen all over his chest. His body was relaxed in a way it hadn't been able to be the entire time with the orb. But Gale did not find himself feeling at all satisfied.
More than ever he longed for Sara to be there. Now he just wanted to kiss her. She'd kiss so warm, he thought, and so deep, wrap him in her big embrace and let the world and all their troubles fall away just from a kiss.
Not that they needed to stop there. He thought about kissing her cheeks, lingering over every freckle on her face, then her neck, then down towards her breasts. About her chest rising and falling as her breathing quickened, and his own heaved with a new wave of desire.
And what, he wondered, would it feel like to be inside her, to bury himself in her slender elven cunt? Would she want from him the same sort of vigor she would no doubt have? He wanted to match her desires, provide her with that delight. If he could only know what she sounded like.
It was mildly surprising, when Gale felt himself start to stir again. He couldn't have expected it, not at his current age and in his current condition, but, well, he still had all that time to make up for.
And he could go slower, this second time around. Gale started with slow strokes, thinking about touching Sara, finding all the spots she was sensitive, her own hands eager on him. He wrapped his full hand around his cock and imagined pushing into something much softer and wetter.
He thought about her underneath him, limbs locked around him and hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. He thought about her on top of him, grinding down, working to give them both all the pleasure she could. He moved his hips, and imagined he was working with her. He stretched his body out, as if he was laying it all bare for her. He wanted to give her everything, give himself wholly and utterly by his own choice, to someone completely of his own choosing.
Even with his having taken the edge off, the thought of giving someone pleasure like that, of giving her pleasure, was too much for him to last very long. Gale came the second time to the thought of her tightening around him, tried to imagine her body shuddering against his.
Two orgasms, especially in his state, was enough to truly drain him. He could barely muster the power to clean himself off. Even the presence of the orb felt muffled to almost nothing. And physically, he certainly felt utterly sated. And yet something in him still tugged with longing, still gasping out for something he could never get from only himself.
And so, even in his exhaustion, a new resolve came over him. He would have Sara, at least once. If she remained willing, anyway, but he thought it likely she would. Certainly she'd made no secret of her interest before all this, and while he wouldn't have blamed her for changing her mind now, he had the feeling she wouldn't, that she would take having him once over not at all.
But then again, he thought, this physical act might not be the way to do it. It was all very well to fantasize about being the perfect lover to her, fulfilling all her desires, but the reality would surely be far more pitiful then. He could likely only give her what she deserved in the Astral Plane, where there would be pleasures beyond what she could even know, a night she would never, ever forget in all the centuries that hopefully still awaited her. He could go to his death satisfied with that.
And Sara would also be there, he knew, on all the other nights before then. He hoped she would still visit him during some of them, let them still have that for as long as they could. And on the others, well, even if he didn't have long to live, he was very sure he had not masturbated for the last time, and wouldn't for some time yet.
Gale supposed he should have talked to Sara again, when she followed Karlach back to camp. But there didn't seem to be anything to say. Much as he hated causing her pain, he couldn't say the one thing she was clearly so desperate to hear, that he wouldn't do it. Not when it seemed so unlikely there was any other way out of any of this.
The others seemed a little reluctant to talk to him much that evening, either. The most he got was a couple of angry looks from Karlach, presumably for upsetting Sara so much. He could hardly blame any of them. How did one talk to a probably dead man walking? And those of them lucky enough not to develop any attachment to him obviously now shouldn't want to. He maybe shouldn't expect too many people talking to him much from here on in.
He feared Sara would, though. And he feared it would hurt for them both, every time.
Which did nothing to how badly he wanted her company, now. Just being near her made him glad, even when it hurt. Especially now, when he might have only days left to live. Her presence in his life, her clearly caring for him so deeply, might be his one remaining consolation, however selfish a one it was.
He retreated to his tent early. He didn't even try to conjure anything inside it; that felt like too much work at the moment. It was just him, and what books they had on hand, a box with a bowl of water, a towel, and a pair of candles, and the bedroll that was doing his bones no favors. He thought he might already have the skeleton of someone in his fifties, with the orb having taken such a toll on his body.
Although said body in general was now feeling a little better, with the orb no longer constantly straining its resources. It was the first evening in a very long time he wasn't even a little headachey. He was still deeply fatigued, but that wasn't quite the same.
As he took his shirt and boots off, and crawled into the bedroll, he also wished Tara was there. She had let him cuddle her more nights than not, this past year, allowing it as if he'd been a little boy again. He'd like to think she'd let him do it that night. Although in reality, he supposed, she'd probably get angry at his refusing to say he wouldn't do it, and flounce off in a manner not entirely unlike the way Sara had.
She, too, had become a comfort to him on more evenings than not, when she'd come to visit him for an hour or so, and he could do a little reading to her and let her talk if she needed to. Though if she were only there now, he could hold her close and at least tell her that she would be all right. He could remind her of how strong she was, that she had endured heartbreak multiple times already; he now knew enough about her past to know that. And maybe, more selfishly, he could tell her a little about what was in his heart, if only to say how grateful he was to have known her, and that thinking of her face would no doubt bring him comfort in his final moments.
And, of course, that was far from the only thing he now desperately wanted to do with her.
Gale had learned, over the past year, that when one refrained from masturbation, the subconscious mind would make up for it by conjuring the most vivid of erotic dreams, thinking up everything he might want to do in real life as well as more than a few things he probably wouldn't, and obviously he was very fortunate the orb had not reacted too badly to his body having nocturnal emissions. But in recent days it had gotten much worse. Almost every morning had been one where he woke with his head full of having done the dirtiest things to Sara in his dreams, fists clenched as he struggled like never before not to touch his straining, begging erection.
For the first time since that ill-fated day, he was laying himself down to sleep, and was not being plagued by that gnawing, cavernous hunger that had never been completely gone from his chest, and had only been getting stronger, until perhaps the only reason he hadn't giving up, taken his farewell of the group, and hastened back to the Underdark was that he couldn't bear the thought of seeing Sara's face if he tried. Instead, as he lay there, and thought of Sara's pressed up against him, how she would smell, how warm she would be, he found his body flooded by a very different kind of hunger, one that spread through chest and loins and limbs. One he'd certainly known plenty of in his life, but this was the strongest it had been in perhaps a decade.
Well, he supposed, if the orb truly was stabilized for the moment, he could at least permit himself to have one indulgence again.
It would likely not be a long one, however, once he got his hand the entire way down. And if this was all he could have that night, he would like for it to last longer than a mere couple of minutes.
So he started higher up, letting his hands stroke his chest, tease at his nipples. The orb was still a weight in his chest, and he found himself not wanting to bring them too near it, so he didn't. But those parts of it he did touch almost felt like territory reclaimed, found and examined and learned anew.
The slightest touches to his nipples caused sensations to flare up from them, and down his back. He couldn't remember if they had reacted that strongly before. It had been so long since anyone had shown interest in them. Mystra had mostly just passed over them.
He focused in on them, first flicking at them with his fingers, then pressing down a little more. His spine arched; he had to hold back a groan. He should've put some sort of sound protection on the tent, perhaps, but he didn't have the patience for that now.
When he moved down further, he found his stomach felt sensitive, too. It was flatter, obviously, than it had been, living off pack rations and scrounged food that he did his best with at the cookpot, but one could only do so much. He thought longingly of the stores in his tower. Even to have just the right kind of wine to cook their produce in would improve that situation so much.
Though that wasn't the taste currently most on his mind. Another thing Mystra had never had much use for was oral sex, either giving or receiving, and now Gale felt finally able to admit to himself just how badly he'd missed it. If he could only know just what Sara would taste like. The only full elf he'd ever gone down on had been male, though he'd eaten out a couple of female half-elves. But he could think her flesh would be hot, pressing against his face, his tongue, and if she lost control those powerful muscles of hers would ride him hard, overwhelm him in the best way.
And then, he knew, she'd want to return the favor, because she was very much that kind of person. She'd probably be enthusiastic about it, too. Hungry, like him. And Gale couldn't say the thought of her eagerly swallowing down his cock didn't make him squirm in his bedroll.
It was more than he could take at that moment. His hands fumbled with the buttons of his breeches in his haste. And when then finally closed around hard, aching flesh for the first time in over a year, there was no way he could make it last. He didn't even try. It was mere seconds of frantic movement, relief flooding him, followed quickly by bliss. He felt power in it, surging through his body like the weave, except this was his and his alone, and at that moment, he was glad for that.
Then he was over, and he was left laying there alone, a mess of his own semen all over his chest. His body was relaxed in a way it hadn't been able to be the entire time with the orb. But Gale did not find himself feeling at all satisfied.
More than ever he longed for Sara to be there. Now he just wanted to kiss her. She'd kiss so warm, he thought, and so deep, wrap him in her big embrace and let the world and all their troubles fall away just from a kiss.
Not that they needed to stop there. He thought about kissing her cheeks, lingering over every freckle on her face, then her neck, then down towards her breasts. About her chest rising and falling as her breathing quickened, and his own heaved with a new wave of desire.
And what, he wondered, would it feel like to be inside her, to bury himself in her slender elven cunt? Would she want from him the same sort of vigor she would no doubt have? He wanted to match her desires, provide her with that delight. If he could only know what she sounded like.
It was mildly surprising, when Gale felt himself start to stir again. He couldn't have expected it, not at his current age and in his current condition, but, well, he still had all that time to make up for.
And he could go slower, this second time around. Gale started with slow strokes, thinking about touching Sara, finding all the spots she was sensitive, her own hands eager on him. He wrapped his full hand around his cock and imagined pushing into something much softer and wetter.
He thought about her underneath him, limbs locked around him and hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. He thought about her on top of him, grinding down, working to give them both all the pleasure she could. He moved his hips, and imagined he was working with her. He stretched his body out, as if he was laying it all bare for her. He wanted to give her everything, give himself wholly and utterly by his own choice, to someone completely of his own choosing.
Even with his having taken the edge off, the thought of giving someone pleasure like that, of giving her pleasure, was too much for him to last very long. Gale came the second time to the thought of her tightening around him, tried to imagine her body shuddering against his.
Two orgasms, especially in his state, was enough to truly drain him. He could barely muster the power to clean himself off. Even the presence of the orb felt muffled to almost nothing. And physically, he certainly felt utterly sated. And yet something in him still tugged with longing, still gasping out for something he could never get from only himself.
And so, even in his exhaustion, a new resolve came over him. He would have Sara, at least once. If she remained willing, anyway, but he thought it likely she would. Certainly she'd made no secret of her interest before all this, and while he wouldn't have blamed her for changing her mind now, he had the feeling she wouldn't, that she would take having him once over not at all.
But then again, he thought, this physical act might not be the way to do it. It was all very well to fantasize about being the perfect lover to her, fulfilling all her desires, but the reality would surely be far more pitiful then. He could likely only give her what she deserved in the Astral Plane, where there would be pleasures beyond what she could even know, a night she would never, ever forget in all the centuries that hopefully still awaited her. He could go to his death satisfied with that.
And Sara would also be there, he knew, on all the other nights before then. He hoped she would still visit him during some of them, let them still have that for as long as they could. And on the others, well, even if he didn't have long to live, he was very sure he had not masturbated for the last time, and wouldn't for some time yet.
