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squealing-santa · 4 months

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i'm dangerous cause i'm a fool for love

authors note: at last, at last, wrestling-anon is here with my gift for @august-anon -- and great minds think alike, because i was DELIGHTED to discover that we had submitted remarkably similar prompts in the best possible way. I'm Bloodweave trash, so I just had to go with the Astarion/Gale pairing you requested, but I hope I've worked in a couple of your other ideas too. title from Lord Huron, music absolutely made for BG3 at all times. also yes--that's obviously your Tav at camp with Wyll at the start <3

word count: 2739

fandom: Baldur's Gate 3, BG3

pairings: Wyll/Tav, Astarion/Gale, Bloodweave

content warning: discussion of past trauma

summary: Astarion knows he doesn't know half of what he's missed out on. Gale knows all too well.

* * * *

“Stop–STOP!”

Wyll’s voice rang loud and frantic through the camp, a tone they all recognized by now.

Gale glances up from the book he was poring over, Astarion sprawled over the seat behind him with his own book in hand. Gale calls out, a fond grin on his face,

“Oh dear. And whatever has our Blade of Frontiers done this time to deserve such torture?”

Wyll shrieks again, desperately grabbing for Tav’s hands as they snaked up his shirt again, tweaking the base of his ribs.

“Tav, PLEASE! I d-didn’t mean it!” he insists, his cheeks aching from the huge smile they’re forcing onto his face with each delicate touch.

“Oh you didn’t? Then why did you say, and I quote, that you could take anything any of us dished out?” Tav asked, their own face bright with laughter at the sight of Wyll thrashing and pleading, nearly going to his knees.

“N-no more, no more!” Wyll gasps, the loudest noise still flying unbidden from his lips when Tav’s fingers find the weak spots near his navel.

Astarion moves closer to Gale, remarkably quiet for once as he watches the two lovers playfully tussling, a look of…longing? Confusion? on his pale face, fingers twitching at his sides as they do when he’s deep in thought.

The playful torture ends with Wyll finally capturing Tav’s wrists and planting kisses on their palms, and Tav fondly kissing the tears off his cheeks with a smile.. “There we are, a happy ending indeed,” Gale says, closing his book and placing it carefully back into his pack, glancing back at Astarion. “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

Astarion starts slightly, letting out an airy chuckle. “Hardly, my darling. Why, our lovely Wyll is loud enough to drown out anyone, there was no point in me trying to talk.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Gale teases, leaning in to plant a kiss on Astarion’s curls. Astarion rolls his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not speaking of yourself, hmm? I’ve never known you to be quiet in any setting. And I do mean any setting,” he adds with a leer.

Gale recognizes that shift in tone, the way Astarion deflects off to flirting more outrageously when he’s feeling something he’s not yet prepared to delve into, something Gale has had to come to terms with over their slow, strange courtship. He knows the best way forward is to leave it, knowing Astarion will come to him when he’s ready to unravel another layer, heal another wound.

“I have been known to be rather verbose, yes, but last I checked you didn’t exactly object to the long odes of praise,” Gale retorts, and Astarion grins. “That’s my Gale.”

Astarion wanders off to his own bedroll, that look still in his eyes, as Wyll scoops Tav up and over his shoulder with a cry of “revenge!”, carrying them off to his tent as Tav playfully swats at his back.

* * * *

Astarion comes to him rather sooner than expected, in the end.

The moment dark falls over the camp, Gale casts the usual soundproofing spell lest any of their companions–noises in the night draw anyone or anything closer than they’d like, retiring to his tent with a bottle of wine, a second glass already poured in case Astarion decides it’s one of the nights he’d like to spend tangled in Gale’s sheets rather than simply trancing on his own.

Gale hears the rustle of the tent flap pulling back as Astarion enters, giving him a fond smile and gesturing to the wine.

Astarion grins back, immediately seizing the glass and taking a sip, Gale’s eyes following the movement of his throat and the pleasured sigh he lets out as he swallows.

“My my, it’s like you knew I was coming.”

“I rather hoped you would. The bedroll feels rather empty when you don’t, hard though that may be to believe.”

Astarion preens, but his eyes are soft. “You flirt. You know you don’t have to work to get me in bed any more, hmm?”

“Nevertheless,” Gale says, “I never tire of complimenting you. And you never seem to tire of the compliments. We are…complementary, that way.” He looks especially proud of his little joke, Astarion groaning in reply even as he covers his mouth to hide a laugh.

“You are impossible. Absolutely impossible.” Astarion takes another drink, then quiets, staring into the liquid as though he’s trying to conjure something there.

Gale hesitates a moment before he moves closer, stroking a hand through Astarion’s hair, still not pushing him to respond, though every bit of Gale is sending out all of the “you can talk to me, I love you, you’re safe” signals he possibly can without words.

Astarion leans into the touch, his eyes drifting closed, a soft, pleased noise in his throat as Gale’s fingers lightly scratch at his scalp. Without looking up, he says, almost to the glass, “I… it’s hard, still. Even after…even after killing him. To feel as though I learn every day some new thing that he took from me without me even knowing I missed it.”

Gale feels the same dull ache in his heart–and his scar–that he does every time Astarion talks of his life before, of not just the obvious cruelties inflicted upon his scarred back, but the small, insignificant ones.

“I…all of us, but especially I…we’re here to help you find those things again, my love. If you want to find them. To learn together. I…hardly know sometimes who I might be without what my goddess made me…”

Astarion looks up at him, eyes slightly shiny with unshed tears. “Oh, my love. What a pair we two make,” he says, running his fingers along Gale’s jaw, toward his neck, Gale snorting out a small laugh involuntarily. “You know I’m ticklish…”

“That…reminds me,” Astarion says, looking back into the glass again as though it might perhaps be encouraging him. “I…look, I don’t even know how to…well, what I mean is…”

“Shall I tickle you, then?” Gale asks, and Astarion nearly chokes on the sip he’s about to take. “I…noticed how you were gazing at Wyll and Tav earlier. It was rather hard to miss, I’m afraid, though I suspect those two were rather preoccupied.”

“I don’t…I can’t remember. If I was ever ticklish, if anyone ever tried. Before. Certainly not since. I rather doubt that I am, honestly. But…”

“We can start quite gently,” Gale promises, “I can tell you what I’m going to do, how I plan to touch. So I don’t startle you.”

Astarion sets the glass down with a nod, still not quite able to look up. “Yes. That…I think that might help.” He laughs again, a bit embarrassed. “All of the debauchery I’ve explored with so many and here I am blanching at the idea of asking for something so silly.”

Gale tilts his chin up, pressing a soft, warm kiss to his mouth, feeling Astarion not simply yield to it but answer it back hungrily, his fingers wrapping around the back of Gale’s neck as he sighs into his mouth, the kiss not something to be endured but something Astarion wants, and Gale can’t help but smile against his lips.

“Something funny, wizard?” Astarion breathes, his fingers shifting from a wrap to a tickle, making Gale scrunch up with a rather sweet giggle.

“N-no! Nothing funNY, I swear!” Gale insists, unable to still the giggles as Astarion’s fingers caress the sides of his neck, moving to tease under his chin.

“Perhaps I should simply tickle you instead, hmm?” Astarion purrs, but the purr turns to a yelp when Gale slips his fingers under the loose hem of Astarion’s shirt, just barely grazing his waistline.

Gale smiles in earnest now. “Sorry. Didn’t warn you properly. But…I’m already getting the sense that you might have been wrong about that whole not-being-ticklish bit.”

Astarion smirks back at him. “What was it Wyll apparently said earlier? I can take anything you dish out? I’m quite certain I can, you just caught me off guard.”

Gale taps the tip of his nose with a grin. “Lie down, hmmm? On your back to start, if it’s comfortable. And simply say…hmm…light, I suppose? If it’s too much to bear, I don’t actually want to torment you.”

Astarion obeys, biting back the temptation to make a lewd comment about Gale wanting him on his back, and raises his arms up, crossing them behind his head to pillow it in his hands.

“I think I’ll start with your stomach, then…” Gale muses, and Astarion feels a rather pleasant stirring in his chest at the idea of Gale narrating such a thing, the intention of comfort and warning nonetheless reminding him that when Gale puts his mind to it, he can tease Astarion to new heights of frenzy. Before he can remark on it, however, Gale’s soft fingers draw circles along his waistline and up toward his navel, and Astarion’s whole body jolts.

“What the HELL–?”

Gale can’t hide the look of glee on his face. “Oh, dear, dear me. I’ve only just started and you’re about to squirm out of your skin?”

“F-far from it, I just…didn’t expect…oh, GODS!”

Gale draws light, relentless paths, every touch shooting straight through Astarion’s nerves, like so much sparkling light, Astarion would swear Gale was casting some sort of spell as he laughs harder than any of the times he’s teased the others with Tasha’s Hideous Laughter.

And Gale simply will not.

Stop.

Talking.

“My, my, such a sensitive stomach, hmm? I suppose it makes sense to try your ribs next…lucky for you they’re not as exposed as they were when we first found you, eh?”

Gale strokes along the bones of his ribs, wiggling nails into the grooves between them, and Astarion’s laughter softens slightly but doesn’t fade completely.

“Ah, I see, not quite so ticklish there, are you? I’m a bit deadly around the ribs myself, if you haven’t noticed, quite a liability if someone thought they might want to sneak up and put a knife into them, eh? It’d catch them quite off guard for me to laugh, I expect–keep those arms up, would you, love?”

Gale’s fingers find their way to the soft tufts of hair in his armpits and Astarion practically howls, though he manages–barely–to keep his arms behind his head, tears springing to his eyes, but nothing resembling “light” rising from his mouth.

“Oh, this might be the best spot yet, hmm? You’re not simply ticklish, you’re terribly so, you may even rival me…or Wyll, for that matter!” Gale beams, and the fact that he isn’t intending to tease only makes the effect worse–well, or better, but Astarion thinks it might take more than a little tickle to get that confession from him.

“Hold on. Bit of an unusual spot, but…” Gale slides his fingers up Astarion’s sleeves to flutter softly over his biceps, and Astarion’s laughter goes from howls to the sweetest, most bubbly giggles Gale has ever heard, his eyes squeezing shut as he says “Y-you are vicious at this, Gale Dekarios!”

“Vicious? Me? I’m wounded, you know! After all, you were the one who asked for this…though I suppose you couldn’t have known you’d be quite this dreadfully ticklish…I may take a bit of convincing to stop, hearing you laugh like this!”

Gale immediately contradicts himself by pausing the attack, watching Astarion closely. “Still with me, love? I’d like to try your legs a bit, though I’m not sure if I dare to try your feet…”

Astarion clears his throat, adjusting his shirt as Gale withdraws his hands. “Do your worst, darling. Though don’t think I won’t enjoy every moment of my revenge…I don’t think I’ve explored your particular weakness to this nearly enough, now that I think on it.”

“Then I suppose I may as well earn it,” Gale teases back, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his forehead before sliding down to perch between Astarion’s thighs. “I normally might do this facing away from you, but I don’t…well. I want you to be able to see what I’m about to do, at least this first time.”

“You…you sweetheart,” Astarion says, voice fond but slightly shaky, a part of him still never sure that he deserves to have what he wants, what will bring him comfort, and Gale leans up to kiss him again, fingers cupping his chin as he murmurs, “I love you…”

“I love you too, even though you’re about to try tormenting me again…perhaps you’ve already found everywhere, however,” Astarion says, his eyes rather suggesting he hopes that isn’t the case. Gale grins as he rearranges himself between Astarion’s bent thighs, resting his fingers on his hips, making him twitch.

“Let us see,” Gale muses, returning to his narration as he lightly tickles, then squeezes at Astarion’s hips. Astarion jolts again, a few short laughs slipping out, but he shakes his head, looking almost disappointed. “Not much, I’m afraid.”

“Next time I have you undressed I may have to try one of my quills,” Gale says, half to himself, and Astarion’s eyes widen at the image before he lets out a loud, shrill squeal of laughter when Gale’s fingers start scribbling over the backs of his thighs, his back arching off the bedroll.

“GODS, that, that–” Astarion half-yelps, half squeals, barely managing not to slam his thighs down to protect the spot, and Gale all but lights up.

“Ohh, ticklish thighs, is that it? That’s a rather dangerous secret, you know…your thighs are so tempting to me already, but knowing I can hear your lovely laugh if I simply tickle you? You may have unleashed a monster,” Gale teases, fingers flying up and down, darting occasionally to his inner thighs which only makes him laugh louder.

“I’ll! I’ll get yours twice as MUCH–” Astarion tries to sound threatening, but the way his voice trembles with laughter slightly undoes the effect, the laughter spiking to a shriek when Gale teases behind his knees. “NOT that!”

“Not that? Not what, your knees? But that doesn’t sound like light, not at all! In fact, I’m starting to suspect you’re enjoying this a bit more than you’re letting on, love–you’re not fighting me a bit, are you? Haven’t tried once to put your legs down, or even grab my hands…”

Astarion only shriek-laughs in response, his head falling back, his hands slipping from behind his head to cover his face.

“Oh, no. That won’t do at all–”

Before Astarion can react, Gale wriggles his fingers into an exposed armpit again, and this time Astarion does snap his arms down, the howling from earlier repeated louder somehow as he writhes.

“You, you ass, you brat!” Astarion yelps, the insults lacking a certain sting, laced with giggles as they are.

“So which is worse, would you say? Hmm? After all, as your partner, I should know these sorts of things…under your arms, or your knees? It’s certainly hard to tell!”

Gale punctuates the question by wriggling the fingers of his trapped hand in Astarion’s armpit, his other hand slipping behind his knee again, and Astarion cries out “Light, damn you!” before dissolving into hysterics.

Gale stops immediately, the tickles turning to firm rubs, though even those draw small hiccups of laughter as Astarion starts to relax, his eyes bright as he opens them to look at Gale.

“That…well. You are truly a vicious thing when you want to be, aren’t you, treasure?” Astarion says, wiping the tears off his cheeks, giving Gale a little wink.

“And you’re far more ticklish than I ever expected. It’s absolutely delightful, you know. You sound…it’s lovely, when you laugh like that. When you just let go. Just…just lovely.”

Astarion pulls him down on top of him for a long, slightly giggly kiss, his hands skimming along Gale’s back as they stroke up and down, murmuring a soft “...thank you” against his lips before letting his eyes close, enjoying the warm weight of Gale on top of him.

“I plan to have my revenge, you know,” Astarion mumbles, yawning hugely.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. I’ll be ready. Besides, I’ve already got a few more spots on you I’ll be itching to try next time.”

Gale hides a smile when Astarion doesn’t retort anything about there not being a next time, only holds him tighter, face burrowing into Gale’s sensitive neck.

“That’s what I thought.”

#squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #submission #tickle fic #author: wrestling-anon #baldurs gate 3 tickling #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tickling #bg3 #Wyll/Tav #Astarion/Gale #Bloodweave

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