lich gale is sososo sexy, i think more people should talk about him

skeletal hand tracing your back and shoulder blades, whispy hair floating around his face like smoke. voice rougher than usual, and markings from the netherese orb have clawed deeper into his skin. instead of a warm olive undertone gracing his skin, a bruising blue purple sits under it. one eye turned indigo as a proud achievement of lichdom, both eyes lidded and trained only on you. a small smirk, revealing sharper canines, beard and mustache curling around his cheeks and upper lip like a cage, keeping those canines in line.

his shuddering breathing as he smells the weave on you, almost getting drunk on the electric hot smell alone. gripping your hips, bone on skin, as he stuffs his face into your collar bone, finding the source of the weave - a necklace, enchanted by a small town sorcerer (something he could do in his sleep, he notes, ever cataloguing). catching the pendant in his teeth, and pulling, chain klinking against the movement. he inhales, and the magic arcs, wafting and snapping into his mouth and nose. he moans, eyes rolling, magic coursing though his system as he feels it empower him.

the lich kneeling between your legs, pillow under his own. your foot is in his lap, as his hands rub your calf muscles and dip lower to your ankles - all covered by smooth leather, enchanted and thick. he lifts and bends your leg to meet his mouth, unhinging his jaw. he lolls out his tongue and licks, long fat stripes along the toe of the boot. his skeletal digits skirt along the dark leather heel, and he places the toe of the boot into his mouth. tongue flat against the sole of the new boot, he closes his jaw. he sucks the magic from the shoe lewdly, and if you weren't watching him, you wouldve thought he was sucking a cock as quietly as he could.

he leans back, magic in his blood, pulsing through the orb, and sighs oh so happily. he levels you with a stare and runs his tongue along the top row of his teeth. "i wonder if there is any other magic you have parading in front of me." he leans into you, and you smell ozone, a sea breeze, the smell of a storm coming - his faint breath from his un-death skirts along your neck and ear, cold. "shall i check, my love?"