Chapter Text
Astarion is amused to see Church’s alarmed expression immediately melt into one of utter delight.
“Hello, you!” Church leaps up, hastily retying his belt as he stumbles towards the newcomer. “‘Late?’ I thought you wouldn’t be back until next week!”
“Those ships move faster than I thought,” Gale grunts with a chuckle as he catches the tiefling in a hug. “And I — oof — may have helped… speed things along.”
He flicks his eyes over Church’s attire, and as Astarion follows soundlessly behind him, he notices how the tiefling flushes self-consciously beneath their friend’s scrutiny.
“…laundry day?” Gale asks wryly.
“Laundry day,” Church affirms sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Erm. Were you just stopping by, or…?”
Gale huffs a laugh, and Church startles as he feels Astarion crowd up behind him, his arms snaking around the tiefling’s waist as he nestles his chin upon his shoulder.
“Welcome back, dear Gale,” Astarion purrs, and the wizard flushes beneath his gaze. “What auspicious timing.”
Church shoots the elf a bemused look before beckoning the man towards their table set. “I imagine you’re exhausted, but come on! Tell us all about it!”
“Oh, it was dreadfully dull,” Gale waves him away. “Up until one of the professors revealed herself to be a fey in glamor…”
Church gawks at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding me? Come on — sit. Is this an Arabellan Dry?”
Astarion watches on in amusem*nt as the two friends catch up from the wizard’s week of absence. It was sorely felt by the couple, having only just arrived at the wizard’s guesthouse before Gale departed in a hurry to make a conference in Candlekeep. He’s sure Church is aching to tell the wizard all about their time in Silverymoon with his village friends on their long-belated honeymoon, but of course the tiefling seems genuinely eager to absorb secondhand everything that Gale learned during his time away.
…and then they discuss the book series Church has been imbibing throughout this week like an aged wine.
…and then they discuss a surprisingly lively debate with Withers that Church had the other day.
On and on they go, and Astarion again finds himself the doting manservant refilling their wine —
— that is, until he gets perhaps a bit too impatient.
“Well, it’s getting late. Perhaps Gale might want to stay for dinner?” Astarion suggests idly, pressing a kiss against Church’s neck as the tiefling lets out a little flustered laugh. “Perhaps we might all share in something a little sweet. A little spicy. And all…” he snakes a hand lower down Church’s front. “…ours.”
Church lets out a mortified little squeak of protest, but Gale simply looks amused.
“Oh,” the tiefling realizes, looking between the two others and flushing deeper. “Wait. Is this something…? Are…?”
He huffs a laugh. “Are we doing this… now?”
Gale hums thoughtfully, placing the wine aside and instead approaching the tiefling, brushing a lock of Church’s hair back over his horns.
“If… that’s still alright with you?” Gale says gently. “I just got back, after all. We could always just continue to sit and enjoy the wine. I could pick us up some local food — sorry, Astarion,” he adds sheepishly. “But at the very least I could continue to regale you both with tales of my exploits, and…”
“That all sounds nice,” Church interrupts breathlessly as Astarion chuckles against his skin. “But sure, I wouldn’t be opposed to something a little… different?” he admits shyly, and his breath catches as Gale casually reaches over, beginning to fidget slightly with his robe’s embroidered collar with a playful smile tugging upon his lips.
“‘Different,’ he says,” Gale remarks dryly to Astarion.
“He means you could use that mouth for something a little more fun than your usual lectures,” Astarion says flatly.
Gale chuckles. “Well, given how much I talk…” he flicks his gaze archly at Church. “…it shouldn’t surprise you that I have a practiced tongue.”
“You’re both terrible,” Church grumbles, but his breath catches as Gale hooks a finger in to tug upon his belt, undoing it once more.
And just as a gust of cool evening air meets his bare skin, Astarion’s hand slips hungrily in to stroke the warmth beneath the silk. Gods, how he loves to trace his fingers over the ridges of cartilage that radiate down his torso, guiding him all the way down to…
“O-oh, oh alright,” Church utters, letting Astarion tip his chin back to guide him into another kiss. The elf’s hands slowly pull down the shoulders of his robe as the two of them drift backwards towards the window seat, collapsing upon it. Gale hums as he hastily tidies up their goblets, before following them forward.
“I’ve seen that look on the faces of a thousand students,” Gale observes wryly. “You have questions? Concerns?”
“Well, I damn well hope you haven’t seen this look on your students’ faces!” Church teases him as the wizard backpedals, blushing and stammering.
“Oh come now, do you truly think no pupils at the academy ever lusted after their professor?” Astarion snorts, batting his eyelashes at their friend. “Especially the rugged Chosen type?”
Church huffs a laugh. “Alright, fine. Maybe let’s just… talk about this for a moment?” He sits up and Astarion’s hand absently pulls the robe back over Church’s exposed lap.
“So I take it this was all planned?” Church asks amusedly. “I thought you both were both being unusually friendly, going off and talking on your own…”
“What, I can’t steal the wizard for myself every so often?” Astarion asks with mock indignance, shooting Gale a wink.
“Before I left, Astarion here reminded me of the most intriguing proposal,” Gale explains.
“One that he mentioned to us during one of these evenings, a couple bottles in,” Astarion shrugs as Church flushes. “And something we have since spoken to each other about as well.”
“I believe you’re the one who suggested it, actually,” Gale corrects him pointedly.
Fine, that's true, Astarion supposes. It was a lighthearted conversation where the two of them mercilessly interrogated the wizard on why every time they visited him, he was still alone.
“One day I want to actually be intruding upon something through that sending stone of yours!” Astarion had scolded him. “Someone, rather — seminars and experiments don’t count. You should get out more!”
“I get out!” Gale said defensively, grinning and flushed over his wine.
Astarion groaned audibly at that. “I meant get out of your clothes. What about that baker? Back in Rivington?”
“She wasn’t a baker,” Church mumbled in correction, holding his goblet out for a refill. Astarion and Gale exchanged a brief look and the wizard smiled, shaking his head. He did a sleight of hand of his own to pour water into the tiefling’s goblet instead. “She was a shword… a swordswoman.”
“Oh, Miss Lamalet?” Gale recalled evasively. “We… we actually do write each other. On occasion. But we’ve only met once since… well, since the investigation.”
Church stared at him. “You mean the one time we went back to see her a week later?” he asked incredulously. “Gale!”
“Well, no, one more time after that. But she’s a friend!” Gale protested. “A pen pal. I hardly have time or opportunity to visit Baldur’s Gate.”
“Surely there are plenty of eligible folks in the realms of academia?” Church was already sitting haphazardly in Astarion’s lap, his cheeks flushed and voice slurred as he badgered their friend. “You don’t have an orb in your chest anymore. You haven’t in years. Go get your other orbs in…”
“Church!” Gale interjected, scandalized as Astarion laughed loudly over the tiefling’s lewd gesture.
“I mean it!” Church protested. “Don’t you…?” He seemed to catch himself, sobering slightly as he looked earnestly at Gale. “Haven’t you been lonely?”
Gale glanced down at his goblet and hid his grimace behind a deep drink.
“How could I be lonely?” he shrugged to himself. “I have the both of you, after all. And stimulation of the brain is stimulation enough for…” he blushed, taking another drink.
Astarion exchanged an exasperated look with Church.
“I admire what you have,” Gale said, his voice fond rather than bitter. “Truly. I always have, but having seen it through all these years, through hardship, and seeing how it remained strong despite it… I aspire to have that one day,” he sighed.
Church took that moment to slip off of Astarion’s lap, falling instead towards Gale and wrapping his arms clumsily around the startled wizard and pressing his face into his neck.
“We wouldn’t have it without you,” he reminded him thickly. “You know that at the very least I wouldn’t be here without you. We owe you for the future we get to live thanks to you.”
Astarion and Gale were really looking at each other worriedly now. They tried not to bring up the events from two years ago at all, and Church rarely did on his own. But this was the closest he had come in quite some time.
“He’s right,” Astarion nodded, shooting the wizard a smile as the tiefling continued with his unrelenting embrace. “We owe a large part of our happiness to you. So can you blame us for wanting to see you happily f*cked?”
Gale chuckled, mortified. “The challenge is that as much as the pleasures of the flesh would undoubtedly delight me, I much prefer the pleasures of the good book — or at the very least someone I actually know and trust, as opposed to a beautiful stranger,” he muttered into his goblet.
After a sound peck upon the wizard's cheek, Church pulled away not long after those words. But it was as the tiefling drifted back to fall into Astarion’s lap that the elf began to feel a plan fall into place.
He was, after all, the most sober of the three of them. Beyond the fondness he could see the envy in Gale’s eyes as Church’s lips danced briefly upon Astarion’s. It wasn’t the same as the outright jealousy he had seen during their first adventures together, but it was envy nonetheless.
“Would you join the warmth of a friend’s bed?” Astarion found himself asking.
Gale sputtered and choked on his water, but Astarion felt Church’s hazy eyes on him, surprised — even alarmed — by his ask.
“Oh — I mean, how could I…?” Gale sputtered. “Er, hypothetically, I suppose one could…”
“Are you talking about us?” Church asked Astarion a bit too loudly. But when the elf answered with a shrug, the tipsy tiefling turned to their friend with a curious tilt to his head. “Alright, well… hypoth—hypothetic’lly, would you join us?”
Gale groaned, kneading his brow and blushing furiously as he poured himself more water. “...perhaps I have drank too much.”
“Come on, Professor Dekarios,” Astarion cooed, leaning across the table towards him. “Answer the question.”
Gale’s eyes flicked warily up at him as he scoffed to himself. “Academically speaking?”
“Yes,” both Astarion and Church replied at once.
Gale huffed a laugh, raising his goblet to them both. “Almost definitely.”
It didn’t occur to Astarion that Church might not be able to recall this memory as distinctly. The tiefling stares at the elf with concern, and Astarion knows all too well that Church must instead be recalling how jealous he was years earlier when a despondent Gale had first kissed the tiefling in the Shadowlands in the face of imminent doom.
But it was a very different time, after all. They were all strangers, compared to now. Since then, the three of them have gone through so much together. These days, it’s not unusual to see Astarion casually leaning back against Gale as he reads, or Gale allowing Astarion to play with his hair and combing it into an updo while he grades papers. After Church, Gale has perhaps become one of Astarion’s first true friends during his undead life.
During this tense silence, Gale takes the cue to excuse himself.
“Perhaps I should leave you two to discuss further?” he shoots them both a smile. “I need to clean up a bit anyway, sea-worn and all. May I use your washroom?”
When Gale has left, Church turns to Astarion carefully, taking his hand.
“Are you sure, love?” Church asks his partner. “Is this something you actually want to do?”
“Of course it is,” Astarion scoffs. “I think climbing all those stairs at the academy has made Gale’s backside quite shapely, don’t you…?”
“Be serious for a second,” Church fights back a laugh. “You said this was a ‘gift’ to me, and sure I’m more than amenable to the idea of it, but I only want to do this if you — and Gale — want to as well.”
Gods, Astarion rolls his eyes past the pang of fondness in his chest. This dolt really loves him, doesn’t he?
With a long sigh, Astarion nods, pressing a kiss to Church’s hand. “I’ve meditated on it more than I care to admit,” he shrugs, before adding lasciviously. “The idea of you trapped between the two of us—”
He feels Church’s heart race at the thought.
“—moaning. Whimpering. Writhing as we attend every bit of you…”
“Evocative,” Church clears his throat.
“This all to say,” Astarion continues softly, pulling the tiefling’s chin gently forward as he blinks slowly back at him. “I want to share this with you. And, yes, with dear Gale.”
Church raises an eyebrow. “And by ‘share this,’ you mean…”
Astarion’s hand slips down to squeeze his partner’s ass, gathering a handful of his robe in the process.
“…you. I want to see you absolutely filled, darling,” he purrs. “Taken and indulged just the way you’ve always dreamed.”
His other hand strokes briefly upon the line of Church’s co*ck stiffening beneath the silk, and Astarion feels a shared jolt of pleasure at his partner’s sharp, startled gasp.
“And I won’t lie, it would give me some satisfaction to see our wizard utterly undone,” Astarion adds breathily. “Think he’ll beg?”
Another stroke, and Church shudders and grins, turning fully towards his partner.
“Gods, how long is he going to take in there?” he grumbles, eagerly straddling the elf’s lap. “Do we have to wait?”
“He might pout a little,” Astarion shrugs, lifting away the hem of the robe as his hands cup and squeeze the curve of Church’s ass. He can’t help but indulge himself by thrusting up slowly into him, drawing out a lovely little gasp. “I’m sure he won’t mind if I get you a little riled up for us.”
Church whimpers as he rolls his hips forward, his co*ck thrusting and already leaking against Astarion’s shirt. Pleased, the elf strokes his partner’s tail with a soft moan at the tantalizing pressure beginning to rock upon him.
“Sure you won’t be begging?” Church whispers huskily to him, nuzzling down to kiss Astarion’s neck.
“Bold words from the man about to be f*cked out of his mind,” Astarion remarks archly. “But you sure can try.”
Smiling mischievously, Church helps the elf slip off his shirt before undoing his trousers and pulling them down over the curve of his seat.
In no time at all, the tiefling is kneeling between Astarion’s legs, caressing his thighs atop his shoulders as he nuzzles forth. Church presses a tingling, tantalizing kiss to the soft swell of his partner’s balls before laving his hot tongue slowly — indulgently — up his length in a searing stripe.
“Gods,” Astarion sighs, slumping back in his seat as he tangles his hands in Church’s hair. For f*ck’s sake, he’s already melting at the tiefling’s dizzying touch… “To think I’ve been allowed to keep you all to myself…”
Church lets out a longing moan — just before he dives down to envelope the entirety of his co*ck with the heat of his mouth. Astarion gasps and murmurs needily, encouragingly as the tiefling tastes him, his hand adjusting to grip his horns instead. Church slips off and back onto his length with fervor, his tongue eagerly swirling against him and drawing out wave after wave of warm, buzzing pleasure. His eyes flick up ever so often, shining as Astarion arches into him. The elf feels his breath going ragged as Church takes him faster… deeper… gods…!
“I see you grew impatient,” Gale observes in amusem*nt as he returns. “I hope it’s not too late to join in?”
Astarion opens his eyes to gaze back at him, dazed in his delight. He watches hungrily as their friend approaches them — a towel held loosely around his hips. Astarion won’t lie to himself — his mouth waters to take in the soft curve of their scholarly friend’s belly, as well as the other, intriguing soft curve of the stiffening bulge beneath that towel. He watches as Gale bends down to kiss Church soundly upon the lips, the tiefling moaning softly as the wizard’s tongue flicks and tangles briefly against his.
“I apologize for the distraction,” Gale murmurs to Astarion, turning towards him with heavy eyes.
“Not at all,” Astarion replies easily, and he reaches forth to yank Gale into a languid, teasing kiss of his own. “You’re just in time.”
—
Church ogles probably for a little too long as the two other men kiss, and perhaps a little too closely. But who can blame him? He has a front row seat, after all.
“...I must be dreaming,” he says meekly, in awe as Gale moans softly against Astarion’s generous mouth and whatever the hells his partner is doing with his tongue…
“Are you, now?” Gale chuckles once he surfaces, leaning down towards him. “Well, I envy your sleep indeed.”
Gale presses back in to kiss him fully, his stubble grinding against Church’s skin as he tastes him. Church again hums against his tongue that slips fleetingly past his lips before politely retreating.
It’s certainly not the first time Church has shared a kiss with Gale. It’s also not the second or the third — both of which involved far less tears, embarrassment, and clumsiness. But this time, Church shrinks under the wizard’s heavy look as he guides the tiefling back in for deeper sampling.
Something’s… different about him. There’s a confidence and intensity Church would consider unusual for their wizard. Church really wants to ask what happened. But he also really doesn’t want to kill this mood, as delightfully bizarre as it is. With amusem*nt, he wonders if Astarion must have given him some kind of pep talk. He can only imagine how that must have gone…
“Well, someone’s head is in the clouds,” Gale murmurs, pulling away to regard his friend carefully. But despite his flippant tone, Church sees an all too familiar flash of genuine concern as his friend’s hand cradles his cheek.
“Shall we slow down, love?” Astarion murmurs, stroking his hand up Church’s leg to rest against his hip. The tiefling shudders at his touch, letting out a small sound of protest as Astarion begins to pull away.
“No, no, this is good,” Church assures them both, pulling Gale — and then Astarion — back in for another kiss. “Are you good?”
“Oh, I’m enjoying myself quite well, thank you,” Gale says breathlessly. “But as much as I’m enjoying this lovely robe of yours, I can’t help but ponder what’s hidden within…”
Gale slips his hand slowly down beneath the silk, tracing down Church’s chest, his tensed abdomen, and lower still. At his touch, the robe parts and slips off to finally expose his skin completely to all of them. Church shivers as his body meets the chill of the evening air, his arousal evident upon his cheeks and everywhere else as he squirms in Astarion’s arms beneath Gale’s gaze.
Touch me, gods please just touch me I need you to…!
They may not all have tadpoles to link their minds anymore, but Gale obeys whatever begging he must be seeing in Church’s eyes or hearing in his desperate breaths.
Church arches with a lilting moan as his friend’s warm hand encloses firmly around him, slipping his foreskin around his girth, up his shaft, and fleetingly over his tip. He whimpers desperately as Astarion holds his arms back, the elf continuing to nuzzle kiss after kiss to his neck.
“Mm, no, eyes open, my love,” Astarion urges him with a nibble. Church’s eyes flicker open again — just in time to see Gale descend to kneel before him, eyes shining as he smiles up at him briefly.
“Were those your knees cracking?” Church teases him breathlessly.
A flicker of fond annoyance dances across his friend’s face, but Gale then chooses that next moment to exact his revenge. He wets his lips before swallowing up Church’s co*ck with his warm, eager mouth, groaning as he slides down to Church’s base. The tiefling lets out a desperate, pleasured whimper, his hips thrusting up needily as Gale draws away, only to come crashing back down around him like an unrelenting tide of tongue and lips.
Church feels the pressure release slightly around his wrists as Astarion instead guides his hands to tangle into Gale’s hair, urging the wizard on. Gale groans into the sensation, his own hands pawing hungrily along Church’s body before curling around the tiefling’s thighs and pulling his hips upwards as he continues to taste him with fervor.
“Ahh—gods!” Church moans, arched and tense between the two men as Astarion begins to trace his tongue along the shell of his ear. “G-gods, please, mmhhh!”
“Careful, Gale,” Astarion warns their friend coyly. “You don’t want to break him.”
Church whimpers as the wizard pulls off of him, running his fingers back through the hair fallen over his face. He looks reverently up at the tiefling, still stroking him with an unhurried hand.
“No, that wouldn’t be very much fun, would it?” Gale muses, wiping at his mouth. “Perhaps we should let him squirm a little longer.”
Church is torn — part of him wants to let the rolling, searing waves of pleasure continue forever. The other part is already absolutely agonized, seeking the release roiling inside of him. “Mhh, no, don’t let me keep you…”
“I don’t know,” Astarion murmurs into his ear, brushing his lips along the shell of it. “You do like to be kept, don’t you?”
Church yelps as Astarion hauls him fully onto the window seat. He kneels upon it face to face with Gale, his hands still restrained by the elf behind him. Church finds himself breathless and wide-eyed as Gale tilts his chin up. Gods, he wears a hungry look that the tiefling has only ever seen his friend reserve for ancient tomes during their adventures…
But Church finds himself hesitating, flicking his eyes pointedly to the side.
“We are… very much in the window,” he utters, mortified at the wizard. “Um. Your neighbors probably wouldn’t…”
In an instant the wizard’s thumb is pressing upon his lip, and Church shuts up at once. Oh. Oh dear — this is very different.
It doesn’t help as well that he can feel Astarion’s velvet skin and presence crowding up behind him, a long-fingered hand stroking unhurriedly along his ridged spine and all the way down his anxious tail…
“Did it ever occur to you that a solitary wizard might spruce up his place with precautions when it comes to privacy?” Gale asks — almost indignantly.
Church blinks up at him, his mouth twitching up into a smirk. “…no.”
“Well!” Gale plucks at the Weave near the window’s glass, and the magical matrix ripples at his touch. “That certainly raises some questions for me,” he breaks character reproachfully, gesturing helplessly at Astarion. “…such as despite the fact you’re concerned now, your partner here has been quite colorful about how you two exhibitionists like to spend your evenings on this very window seat…!”
“Astarion?” Church lets out a mortified laugh, but he suddenly shudders and gasps as he feels the elf’s hips press flush against him, his hard length resting in an imposing line against the tiefling’s cleft.
“Mm, yes love?” Astarion chuckles, pressing a lingering, teasing kiss to his back before pulling away. “Something the matter?”
Church’s eyes blink up into Gale’s steady gaze, his easy smile, and just as the last of his robe slips off fully to expose his tensed and hungry body…
“I guess that explains why no one ever complained—unghh!” Church lets out a startled, broken gasp as he falls forward, caught in Gale’s arms. He feels Astarion’s tongue — hot from prestidigitation — swipe against his hole again and, gods, again…! Church cries out helplessly as it laves across him, drawing out an electrical jolt of pleasure each time.
“Oh—oh—gods!” he whimpers — babbling, begging wordlessly as Astarion continues to slick him with his tongue, moaning against him.
“Now, now,” Gale murmurs, pressing two of his fingers against Church’s lips. “We’ve barely begun.”
Sparks dance across his fingertips, casting the wizard’s smirking face with an alluring light. Church feels the crackle of magic across his lips and down his throat, and he lets them slip inside with a soft, needy sound. As he laves his tongue and sucks blissfully upon them, Gale moans sympathetically along with him, his other hand tugging at the towel hanging around his hips.
“He’s a vocal one, isn’t he?” Astarion surfaces to chuckle, squeezing handfuls of his partner’s flesh as he spreads him.
“I’m afraid I already knew that,” Gale drawls dryly. “Believe me, I got plenty of practice casting the Silence spell during our camping days.”
It’s hard for Church to keep his eyes open and focused at all. He feels Astarion’s tongue resume its swirling dance around his entrance, as well as the length of Gale’s fingers stroking in and out of his hungry mouth.
And so he whimpers in disappointment as Gale retrieves his fingers, just as Astarion’s prestidigitation-warmed mouth pulls away. Church vaguely wonders if the two are somehow communicating over Message or something to be in sync like this, but all his thoughts evaporate as he feels Astarion’s tongue replaced with the familiar weight of his partner’s hardened, thickened co*ck, gliding and nudging upon his entrance.
“There we go,” Gale murmurs, and as he subtly spreads his knees his towel falls at last. In a heartbeat the upward curve of his co*ck taps upon Church’s panting, swollen lips while the wizard tangles his hand in the tiefling’s hair — grippingagainst his scalp.
“Good boy,” Astarion praises from behind him, the blunt head of his co*ck catching upon Church’s hole and easing in ever so slightly. The tiefling lets out a strained squeak at the stretch, but he’s relieved to hear the telltale sound of their oil vial being unstopped. He feels the warm sensation upon his skin as his partner spreads it around himself. He smells its subtle, spiced fragrance along with the familiar, comforting scent of the two men on either side of him.
And, not too long after, Church moans in utter bliss as Gale tugs at him, guiding his hungry mouth over and along the curve of his co*ck. He feels himself filled, gods, so, so filled, and as far as he’s concerned…
…he’s theirs, now.
