#primalweave

They’d barely made it out of that nightmarish creche in one piece. And then just before they could lose themselves in the ominous mire of the Shadowcurse ahead - Elminster of all people (or at least, his simulacrum) came calling.

On Her behalf. With possibly the most ludicrous request of all time.

But Gale does his best not to dwell too hard on the impending doom of it all. At least, for this quiet moment, he can exhale. For the first time in over a year, the crushing anxiety that he might accidentally erupt and destroy everything precious to him in a rather ungodly radius is abated.

The orb is quiet. He is, blissfully, free of the gnawing hunger in his chest. It still aches- no doubt the lingering pain of damage done to his body.

But tonight he can sleep. Peacefully.

And late that evening, when Gale is retiring to his tent for the night after a long evening of discussion on the matter with his companions, he finds a curious package placed carefully on top of his bedroll.

A rectangular, ornately carved wooden box about a foot long and half as much wide. There's no indication on the box as to what it could be. Only a paper note on top with his name on it. Curiosity thoroughly piqued, he sits on his bedroll and takes the box and the note into his hands.

He opens the note to find an almost familiar scrawl.

A meager gift to sate a long lingering hunger. May it lighten the days to come.

Gale's eyebrows raise as he turns the note over, checking for any other clues- but finds none. It’s not signed. And the message itself is rather cryptic.

Inspection of the box itself is similarly unremarkable. Polished wood, carved with a curving nonsensical but aesthetically pleasing design. His fingertips tingle faintly - whether from curious anticipation or some latent magical signature clinging to the package, it's hard to tell.

Because, to his chagrin, no amount of catastrophic consequences has yet been able to reign in his endless curiosity.

"This is either an exceedingly thoughtful gift... or a trap laid by someone with far too much time on their hands," he murmurs to himself, balancing the box in one hand before carefully lifting its lid with the other.

Inside the box is a carefully crafted fit to form, silk lined packaging. And nestled in the groove in the center of the package is a silver, cylindrical tube. The exterior is faintly inscribed with a myriad of inscrutable runes. Old and unfamiliar.

He reaches down, gently lifting the silver tube out of its silken resting place for closer inspection, studying it with a scholar’s fascination. The cylinder itself is solid in his grip - about 8 inches long, the circumference the width of his palm.

Reminiscent of a nice scroll case, though there’s no obvious pull. Gale runs his fingers lightly over the surface - it hums with arcane energy and feels warm to the touch.

"Well, this just gets more intriguing by the second..."

The warm, steady hum that emanates from it reminds him, oddly, of a cat's purr. He can't help the slight quirk of his lips as the sensation thrills through his fingertips. It feels warmer than skin - and the purring almost feels familiar.

"What are you?" Gale mutters to himself as he turns the cylinder over in his hands a few times, trying to find a seam or button by which to open it.

One end of the cylinder is plain and flat - unadorned. The other end has more runes and a shape almost like a heart embossed in the center. There's a subtle notched groove around the cylinder about an inch beneath - suggesting this is perhaps a lid?

He runs a thumb over the runes and the heart-shape, committing them to memory, and notices there’s another groove around the heart. With an inquisitive hum, Gale pushes against the heart shape with his thumb.

To his satisfaction, the heart depresses with a click, and the lid separates from the body of the tube with a faint hiss of air. The sound gives Gale pause and he holds the tube at arm’s length for a breath, just in case.

The faint hum of magic crescendos slightly as whatever's within is exposed to the air.

When nothing happens, he tilts the tube towards him once more and gingerly takes the lid off before peering cautiously inside. Another piece of paper flutters out of the lid - this one purple with deep scarlet lettering.

"Well, that was certainly dramatic," he muses, shaking his head with amusement before finally letting himself look properly into the opened end. "Now then... let’s see what secrets you're hiding."

The interior of the tube is a nondescript, glassy surface. The way it shines is like a looking glass, reflecting colors and images with some distortion. But the way it shifts and ripples when moved looks liquid. Though it doesn't move or pour when the cylinder is tipped.

"Hm." He lets out an inquisitive little hum. He plucks the note from the open lid with one hand, and gently turns the cylinder back and forth, studying the strange, rippling surface.

"Curiouser and curiouser..."

He turns his attention to the little piece of paper, unfolding it to read the gaudy scarlet lettering. The script on this one is different from the note. Looped and romantic cursive with instructions like a spell scroll.

Truest Heart's Desire:

For the wizard with an unquenchable appetite.

A wizard in need should thrice recite the name of his heart's truest love. Then, inserting a ruby into the liquid mirror, perform four clockwise somatics as shown. If the love is returned, the glass shall reflect the truth of desire.

Below the instructions are a diagram of the somatic spell component.

An amused snort escapes him as he reads the instructions. He's about to roll his eyes at the rather dramatic tone of it all - and then the last part grabs his attention.

“If the love is returned...”

His heart stutters in his chest, but he quickly tries to quell the brief flutter of excitement that rises within him. No, no - this is obviously some kind of prank from one of the others in camp.

...Still, there's no harm in trying it, is there?

Just to see what happens.

Outside his tent he hears the heavy plodding footfalls of Miri's lupine form pass by as she heads to her own tent for the evening.

They often set up close to one another - frequent late night conversations and like-minded attitudes had formed a fast bond between them.

A characteristic whoosh of primal weave and a glow of gold he can see through the tent wall is followed by the swish of her own tent door.

Gale hesitates, his fingers tracing the edge of the note as he listens to Miri's now familiar transformation. He exhales through his nose - half exasperation at himself, half nervous anticipation - before shaking his head.

No, he thinks firmly. Don't be ridiculous.

Still, as he lowers the note and stares into that rippling surface again, curiosity gets the better of him.

Perhaps this intriguing little artifact could clarify a thing or two for him. If he could know how She really felt about things… Clearing his throat, he readies himself and straightens his back.

"...Mystra." A pause - then again for good measure: "Mystra." And then once again, feeling almost foolish now- "...Mystra."

His fingers fumble slightly as they search for a ruby (thankfully, always within reach in a wizard’s belongings) before dropping it into the liquid glass with a quiet plink. Then comes the somatic gestures: precise paths drawn clockwise in midair four times over it like some arcane ritual from old romance tales written by lovesick bards…

The moment he finishes, the surface of the glassy liquid turns an angry red and it bubbles.

Before promptly spitting the ruby back out and returning to its inert silvery mirror.

The spell failed.

Gale stares at the ruby now lying innocently in his lap, and the tube in his hand that has- rather rudely- rejected it. His expression flickers between bafflement, irritation, and... something else entirely.

"...Oh."

He blinks once, twice. Perhaps that should have been more obvious. There was no love left between them, after all. She’d made that rather clear earlier today if it hadn’t been already.

Gale sets the cylinder down carefully beside him with a sigh, before picking up the ruby and rolling it between his fingers absently.

"Well," he mutters to himself after a long moment of silence, "I probably should have expected that. How unnecessary as well as deeply unhelpful."

He sighs sharply through his nose before glancing towards Miri’s tent again with an odd tightness in his chest. But he quickly shakes himself out of it and busies himself with gathering up both notes for further study later instead.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. It would bother him for days if he didn’t sort it out, he just knew it. Gale's not the kind of wizard who would miscast a spell...

About to set the items among his possessions, the purple instructions catch his eye once more. The gaudy red script glitters in the candlelight like a ruby all its own.

...heart's truest love...if love is returned...

His grip tightens slightly on the notes, his thumb brushing over that phrase again - truest love, returned.

Gale chews idly at his lip as he thinks, his gaze drifting almost inadvertently toward Miri’s tent once more- listening to the faint rustle of movement inside-before shaking his head sharply and stuffing both notes haphazardly into one of his many pockets. He picks up the cylinder and shoves it back into it’s box with a bit more force than necessary before snapping its lid shut with a decisive click.

"...Best not dwell on nonsense," he mutters to himself before setting it aside rather pointedly and reaching instead for a well-worn book from his pack.

He settles on his bedroll and begins to read - though tonight it does very little to hold his focus.

From next door he can hear the characteristic shuffling and sighs of Miri arranging her furs and bedding before lying down.

Try as he might to read, his restless mind keeps fixating on that vexing tube. The words on the page keep melting away to thoughts of those instructions and the curiosity that tugs at him.

Gale of Waterdeep does not fail to cast a spell.

He simply doesn't.

The ruby is good, his somatics always flawless. Which means there was a mistake somewhere else in his interpretation of the instructions.

Gale sets the book down with a quiet thump and scrubs his face with both hands.

"Fine."

He grabs the box and retrieves the cylinder again, this time defiantly, as if it’s personally offended him (which it has).

His fingers move swiftly. Heart-shaped latch clicked open, runes inspected one more time just to be sure he hadn't missed anything... then a deep breath.

With an almost uncharacteristic uncertainty, he pauses, listening for signs that anyone else might overhear. But the quiet still of the night suggests everyone else in camp, his neighbor included, are asleep. Good.

Three times. A name that isn't Mystra's.

This time, he barely hesitates before murmuring, soft but sure: "Miri. Miri. Miri."

The ruby drops in without protest; his somatics are slow and deliberate, even more perfect than before. And then he waits, breath caught somewhere between anticipation and dread, for the liquid glass to answer back.

The liquid shimmers, dancing and rippling in increasingly larger movements before it starts to shift and change colors. Rapidly flitting through a kaleidoscope of hues before settling on a bright green. The shade reminds him of Miri's own magics. Or perhaps of her eyes.

Then, before his eyes, the glassy surface starts to form some kind of shape, puffing up from inside the cylinder.

Gale nearly drops the damn thing in his shock - but catches himself just in time to clutch it tighter instead. Does it feel suddenly warmer? Fingers pressing into the metal he stares at the shifting, rising shape within.

His pulse is loud in his ears with a curious excitement. He should probably feel some sort of trepidation - unfamiliar magics can be volatile. But curiosity has always been his fatal flaw and he can’t help but watch with rapt fascination.

The shape rounds, elevating from the end of the cylinder first in a dome, and then dipping and molding into something more...complex.

Familiar somehow.

The green color slowly shifts to a golden tan, then in the dipping center of two larger, smooth ridges on the exterior of the shape it becomes a soft pink.

And it's when the color settles that Gale swiftly realizes exactly what this familiar shape is.

For a single, glorious moment, Gale Dekarios - prodigy wizard of Waterdeep, once Chosen of Mystra, and general knower-of-all-things arcane - is struck utterly dumb.

His grip on the cylinder slackens slightly as he stares down at the very distinct shape now protruding from it. Smooth, perfect, and unmistakably -

His ears burn and his face feels like it might combust.

He opens his mouth - closes it again.

Then finally chokes out, "I beg your finest pardon?!"

The tube is promptly set down with more force than strictly necessary as he leans back on his heels, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers in a vain attempt to regain some semblance of composure with little success.

"Someone’s idea of a joke," he mutters fiercely under his breath before daring to glance back at that…thing again.

The unmistakable shape fills the circular opening of the cylinder. Where once was that liquid glass, is now... that.

It's... incredibly life-like. Not that he's seen the real thing, mind you. Not hers, at least.

But it's the right skin tone - just a shade lighter than the places he's seen more regularly exposed to the sun. And it's such a pretty shade of pink inside...

Gale knows he should look away.

He's thrice damned for not doing so immediately.

Because instead, his traitorous eyes linger - because of course they do - on the frankly ridiculous spectacle before him. His throat bobs as his mind unhelpfully supplies just how... accurate it all is (not that he’s been vividly imagining such things since that vision they shared in the Weave, absolutely not).

A strangled noise escapes him before he finally wrenches his gaze upwards and focuses pointedly on the ceiling of his tent instead - clearing his throat with far more aggression than necessary while scrambling to blindly shove the lid back on the cylinder and cram it into a random pocket of his robe where it can no longer taunt him so openly.

Hiding the thing does little to mitigate the torrent of lurid mental imagery his mind supplies.

The image of that thing is practically seared into the backs of his eyelids. Gale has to grip his bedroll to keep from scrubbing at his face like a madman just to try and make it go away.

Gods, even thinking about it is a dangerous game.

A stubborn heat pools in his stomach, quickly growing nearly unbearable. He desperately tries to ignore the persistent, traitorous stirring in his trousers.

"Bloody hells," he mutters through clenched teeth, "Get ahold of yourself, Gale."

Was that…accurate? Is that what she looks like? Had he seen a tiny freckle on the left-

Stop.

Gods he really should not be imagining how it would look between her thighs. How it might look if she were as excited as he is now-

Stop.

Miri parting her legs and welcoming him with open arms-

With a sharp inhale, Gale abruptly stands - pacing the length of his small tent like a caged beast - before stopping dead in his tracks and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes hard enough to see stars.

How might she sound if he were to seal his mouth over her and-

Enough!

This is absurd. He's far too old to be acting like some randy apprentice who's never seen anything beyond an anatomy textbook before.

Yet here he is, half-hard and thoroughly mortified over... that. Over the thought of her.

And isn’t that just the worst part? That it’s her specifically? Or even that it could be?

"Right," he declares aloud with sudden resolve - as if speaking firmly will somehow banish this nonsense from existence (it won't). "That’s quite enough thinking for tonight."

He snatches up the first book within reach - some dry treatise on planar theory that even he finds tedious - and flips it open at random before practically shoving his nose into its pages as though sheer force of will might make him focus on anything else besides Miri spread out beneath him-

"...Bloody hells."

For the wizard with an unquenchable appetite.

Despite the dry text on transplanar anomalies in front of him, he can't help but remember what that damnable purple paper had said.

A wizard in need... of his heart's truest love. ... If the love is returned... reflect the truth of desire.

His thoughts drift - against his will, as they are wont to do - to Miri. Her easy laugh. That sharp intelligence beneath that calm exterior. Her lean, strong form and those damn silver scars like little mysteries he would like to trace with his fingers...

The image only manages to fuel that persistent heat in his belly.

Surely another look would be harmless? It already exists... and if you've seen it once is it wrong to check again? For research purposes, obviously. To see if it changed at all.

An artifact like this probably deserves closer scrutiny from someone who appreciates fine magical craftsmanship when they see it-

It's a flimsy excuse, at best, and the rational part of his brain is quick to point that out. But that reasonable part is rapidly being drowned out. The rational giving way to the curious. The curious to the needy.

His fingers twitch toward the pocket where he’d hastily stuffed the cylinder, then still - waging war against himself in silence.

On one hand: No. Absolutely not. He has standards, dignity, some semblance of self-control -

On the other: It’s already been seen once. It's hardly going to be worse a second time, is it? And really, this is an arcane artifact of unknown origin - wouldn't it be irresponsible not to investigate further?

His fingers find the thick cylinder before he can stop himself. It's warm to the touch despite not being on his person.

He hesitates with an inaudible swear, fingers clutching the metal with a white-knuckled grip. Gods, he should put it away right now. Go to bed, sleep this off, deal with it in the morning like a rational adult -

He's already opening the damned thing, cursing himself the entire time as he does so.

A long, sleepy sigh drifts over from next door and his hands pause. He almost forgets what he was doing - the soft endearing sound of Miri finally settled fully for the night making his chest warm.

Gale's lips twitch involuntarily into an exasperated smile - fond and frustrated in equal measure. He knows her routine by now. The sounds of rustling cloth, the shifting of the furs, the final deep inhale that always precedes those sleepy little sighs... The usual prelude to her soft snoring.

It's intimate knowledge that he would have never thought to commit to memory. And yet here he is, cataloging small details ad nauseum.

Heart's truest love.

...Bloody hells.

And the heat in his chest goes plummeting south when he looks down at the cylinder in his hand.

And there she is.

Just as realistic and life-like as it had been before. Gods, the level of detail would be impressive... were he in any state to appreciate such a thing objectively.

And the thought that it's- could be- hers-

His fingers wrap around the cylinder, his grip tight enough to turn his knuckles white. His throat bobs in a hard gulp as he drags his gaze down what feels like an endless expanse of soft tan skin, then back up again - tracing every dip and curve - memorizing it all.

Gods, it's so convincing... the size, the shape, the color...

He feels like a man possessed, unable to tear his gaze away.

Gale Dekarios, Chosen of Mystra once upon a time, scholar and wizard of renowned self-control - is utterly undone by a goddamn cylinder.

His breath comes unevenly now - short and sharp through his nose as his fingers tighten around the object like it’s some lifeline keeping him from drowning in this frankly ridiculous predicament he’s found himself in.

And yet...

One hand reaches out almost involuntarily - fingers trembling slightly before they dare to brush against impossibly soft skin, just barely skimming along the side like he can't decide if he wants to pull away or sink further in.

His pulse roars loud enough that he's certain Miri must be able to hear it.

It's soft - plush in a way that only flesh and blood can be. Even the best mirror images or illusory magic don't fool every sense of an arch mage. Especially not one so deeply versed in the school of illusion.

Yet this feels unbearably real.

And - gods help him- it- she is-

His fingers twitch against the velvety warmth - and before he can think better of it, his thumb swipes lightly over that pretty pink seam at its center.

A sharp inhale escapes him when the surface gives ever so slightly beneath his touch, as if responding to him.

"Hells." The word slips out in a whisper - rough and unbidden - before he can stop it.

His entire body burns with mortification and something far more primal as his thumb drags lazily downward again, just to see what happens-

It moves with his touch, parting, squishing. And the second swipe his thumb comes back slightly - but quite distinctly- wet.

A low moan shudders from Gale’s throat before he can stop it.

His thoughts narrow down to the slick shine clinging to his thumb - staring at the glistening evidence of his touch with something close to reverence. Gale’s mouth goes dry, and his stomach tightens as arousal coils low and unrelenting in his stomach.

His mind is reeling - surely that can't be anything more than his overactive imagination. A trick of the light and the shadows.

He touches his fingers together just to confirm it's not.

Gale’s breath stills - his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might leap from his chest - as he slowly lifts his thumb to his mouth.

That is real. There is no other explanation.

No other way to explain the feel of it on his fingers. The taste of sweetness and salt and her when he presses his thumb against his tongue.

The taste lingers - a secret, stolen thing. His eyelids flutter shut for a brief, traitorous second as he savors it - as if that alone could tell him everything about the woman sleeping just feet away from him right now.

Gale’s breath stutters when he opens his eyes again - gaze locked on that impossible thing still in his other hand.

He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't. But the temptation is unbearable now that he knows how soft she is, how sweet she tastes-

Gale's free hand drifts down to palm at himself through the fabric of his trousers before he can think better of it with a bitten-off groan.

Gale raises the device, bringing it closer to his face. And he can smell her with every breath - the unmistakable scent of her skin. Pine, honey, and florals - mixed in with that unmistakable musk that is Miri.

And with a new scent that will most surely drive him mad for the rest of his days. Arousal.

Gods, it's intoxicating. His body feels like it's on fire - a heady heat coiling down his spine like a serpent intent on striking something. His breathing is ragged as he draws in another unsteady breath - inhaling that sweet, musky scent like a man starved.

His hand tightens around the cylinder as his other works the laces of his trousers with an embarrassing urgency. How quickly he went from shock to need like a man possessed is almost terrifying.

Gale had been alone too long. Without a comforting touch or warm body to share his bed. Barely even his own touch, for fear of the orb's volatility.

That's what he would chalk this up to.

He'll blame this insanity on loneliness and lust-crazed madness when he looks back on this tomorrow. Blame it on the long-stifled desire of a man half-starved for a warm touch. On how badly he needed a kind word and a kinder touch after being cast off so carelessly.

A weak justification - yet one he clings to with what little shreds of dignity he has left.

It was the only explanation that made any sense.

The only rational explanation that doesn't force him to acknowledge just how deep his feelings for Miri must have plumbed without him realizing. That doesn't make him admit that he wants this - wants her - not just in this desperate, pent-up way but in a hundred others too.

And not that it has become specifically about her and not just any body that could relieve this aching tension.

And he can tell himself that all he wants - but there's a certain kind of honesty that comes from the kind of desperation that has his fingers finally pushing past the fabric of his trousers and wrapping around himself with a groan so quiet it barely escapes through gritted teeth.

If the love is returned... reflect the truth of desire.

His head falls back against his bedroll and he can't muffle the moan that escapes him when he touches himself for the first time in what feels like far too long now.

In the silence that follows, he can hear the faint sound of Miri shifting again in her tent - and he freezes. But it’s followed by a light, snuffling snore and the sound of her steady, even breathing again.

Safe, for now. He lets his eyes fall shut again, trying to focus on this. The heat. The want. The desperate need to come undone like he wants-

...But it's still Miri's face in his mind. It's still her eyes and her lips. It's still that captivating, infuriatingly tempting woman that he can't seem to get out of his head.

Miri's voice in his dreams, whispering "please" and whimpering in his ear.

And gods help him he's bringing that cursed replica up to his lips.

He tells himself it's a means to an end. A way to get release and satisfy that long dormant, primal, desperate need within.

That there's no deeper meaning to the way he kisses these lips gently, just feeling the way his breath ghosts over the soft skin - to how it’s warmth makes him shiver.

Nor to the way his tongue darts out to lick, ever so gently, into the soft pink seam like he's trying to find a flavor he might never actually taste.

Because a man marching to his doom hardly deserves the delight of a true love.

The taste floods his senses immediately - so much stronger directly on his tongue.

It feels real. Tastes real.

His mind supplies him with vivid images of what-ifs - how she might respond to this touch, how she'd feel on his tongue, if she’d press her thighs against his ears, how she'd sound...

Oh, how Gale wants to hear his name cried softly from her lips.

His grip tightens around himself and his hips jerk forward without permission as another quiet groan escapes.

“Miri…”

What would she say if she ever found out what he’s doing right now? If she knew what his desire for her drove him to do with some ridiculous magical replica of her cunt while she slept mere feet away-

The thought of Miri waking up to find him like this is mortifying.

Yet the thought of Miri walking in on purpose, seeing exactly what he's doing with her likeness, watching his mouth move so eagerly over it - with no hesitation, no shame - is enough to send a fresh wave of heat pooling low in his belly.

It's hard not to lose himself in it. Not when it smells so good. Feels so good on his tongue. The way it grows wetter under his worship.

He needs more. Wants more than just this little taste.

Gale lets his tongue press in deeper - just testing the limits of this facsimile, just enough to get more of that taste and feel the way it tightens around his tongue.

His fingers tighten around his cock as he gives another slow stroke - matching the roll of his hips into his fist with each drag of his tongue. His hand twists lazily up his own cock with just enough pressure to tease but not nearly enough to push himself over the edge.

It’s so gods damned real - so close to her that if he lets himself forget for a moment… he can almost imagine she's right here with him.

Gale allows himself to imagine what Miri would look like spread out before him, her legs thrown over his shoulders while she watched him with half-lidded eyes and parted lips. Legs spread open for him like an offering while her hands card through this hair to keep him in place-

"By the Weave-" His moan is muffled against slick skin, too loud for how thin these tents are. But he can’t bring himself to care.

Not when her phantom hands grip harder at his curls. Gods. Does she like to pull? Would she tug sharply or simply guide him exactly where she wanted?

The sound that rips from his throat is muffled by the cylinder - almost feral - as he drags his tongue over it again with no pretense of shame. He laps at it like a man starved, shameless in how he savors the taste, how eagerly he presses into it.

His cock throbs under those thoughts- barely touched but already desperate for release after being denied for so long.

He needs her closer than this.

Needs something.

It's so real - so unbearably good. Some ungodly mix of saliva and slick drips from those lips down over his chin.

And when he seals his lips around the bundle of nerves at her apex - licking and sucking greedily - a sound that isn't his imagination reaches his addled mind.

Miri's not snoring any more.

And that whining moan wasn't a figment of his imagination.

That was genuine.

Gods. Did he hear that right? Did she-

His mind is suddenly reeling - going into full self-preservation mode as the situation sinks in. He's frozen with his tongue pressed to the damn thing, mind racing.

Is she awake? Did she hear all this? Gods, of course she heard it. He's been practically growling while he's doing this, how could she not have heard him with those keen ears?

A fresh wave of mortification floods over him.

But it's not enough to overpower that desperate need that makes him slowly swipe his tongue over that soft pink heat, flicking over the firm bud at the top.

And Miri reacts in tandem. A sharp gasp - something like surprise, followed by a shuddering exhale.

Gale's pulse roars in his ears - half-terrified, half-elated - as that sound ripples through the quiet between their tents.

And he can’t not try it again. Needs to do the experiment to know.

Gods above, what has this damned artifact reduced him to?

Another slow lick, dragging deliberately from bottom to top before circling lazily around her apex like a question: Like that? Do you like that? Will you make another sound for me if I do it again?

He needs to hear more. Needs to know if she'll whimper or sigh or gasp if he sucks just right-

"Ah! Fenedhis-"

There's a rustling in the tent beyond before things go quiet again. The timing of that breathless moan of a curse is entirely too perfect to be a coincidence.

But experiments should be repeated.

Three times - that's the golden number, isn’t it? Two for testing, thrice for certainty. Three to know.

Listening so intently his own breath sounds loud to his ears, Gale’s lips close around that swollen peak again - *slow* this time - sucking lightly before pulling off with a sinful pop.

Waiting. Wanting. If she doesn't make another sound like that again-

The strangled cry she lets out is almost confused - somewhere beneath the thickness of arousal and pleasure.

Gale looks down at the device in his hand. And it looks different than before - puffy, flushed, open like the most beautiful bloom he's ever seen.

And sinfully, soaking wet. Arousal, clear as day.

He swallows thickly - staring down at the proof of her involvement in this. His thoughts scatter like a deck of tarot cards tossed into the wind when he realizes that she’s not just hearing him…

She's feeling him too.

And the realization crashes over his lust-addled mind with a sudden bolt of clarity.

"...the glass shall reflect the truth of desire."

Truth.

This cylinder didn't create an object. This isn't an illusion. Isn't a replica.

It's a portal.

His hips buck up into his fist as his cock throbs with renewed desperation - eyes locked on that impossible, dripping reality before him.

And that’s when he hears it. The sharp intake of breath from her tent - a low, muffled whimper like she's biting her own hand to stay quiet.

She's touching herself too.

The realization hits him like a lightning bolt and sends an entirely new kind of heat spiraling through him - one mixed with possessive pride and a desperate need to see if he can make her do it again.

With shaking hands, he brings the cylinder back to his lips. His tongue swipes hungrily over that swollen peak one last time before sliding lower- finally letting himself sink properly into that plush heat until his nose brushes against her clit.

All while listening so closely to the sounds beyond his tent for any noise from Miri. Anything beyond the roaring static in his head telling him to go harder- faster- yes, please more- right there-

Miri can't seem to bite back the ragged, growling moan of pleasure she lets loose. He can hear the sound of her moving amongst her bedding. Restless, rhythmic. Chasing the sensations he is giving her.

"Nnhh-" More rustling. And Gale pictures her arching her back for him. "Please-"

Gods, he's not even sure if she's conscious of what she's saying.

But he wants to know. He wants confirmation.

And he can’t stop himself. He pulls back with another wet, obscene noise to ask: "Please what?"

And waits with an intensity that has his blood roaring through his veins like molten fire. Waits with his heart in his throat-

"Gale-" Miri breathes his name like a pleading whine. So soft it's for his ears only. Breathless, ragged, panting. "More, please-"

His breath hitches - caught somewhere between stunned silence and something dangerously close to worship as he finally processes what that soft plea means.

Oh.

She knows.

She knows. She knows it’s him doing this to her - to her, not some faceless fantasy in the dark but Gale Dekarios himself licking into her like a man starved, and she still said more-

His head spins with the thought that he's the cause. That she's just as desperate and hungry for him, just as helplessly lost to his touch as he is in her. He shudders with a ragged breath and swallows thickly before bringing that perfect pink seam back to his mouth with renewed fervor.

“Gale…”

His name falling from her lips like a prayer is all the permission he needed - all the encouragement required for him to fully abandon restraint.

And now? Now he wants her screaming it.

Gale abandons the tight vice he held on himself - and instead sinks one of his fingers into that tight, hot heat with a groan into the softness between her thighs.

"More?" He repeats back to her softly, like an intimate promise. "You want more, Miri?"

The sound she makes is desperate and ragged. And her cunt squeezes around his finger almost greedily.

"Yes, Gale, please-" Her voice is rough like sin - more growl than word.

"As my lady commands."

He can't resist giving in, not now. Gods, he's wanted her for so long he never thought this could ever happen outside of his dreams. So when she begs him for more, when she says his name like that- he gives it to her.

Another finger joins the first, sinking in deep as his mouth and tongue resume what they were doing, determined to make her come apart like this.

Miri responds with a catch of breath, a fluttering sigh, a soft whimper. He can hear her moving restlessly in time with his fingers.

His heart thunders in his chest as he listens to her - feels her. This is all because of him.

He can’t tell anymore if the blood pounding in his ears is from lust or sheer euphoria - but he doesn’t care.

He keeps his movements steady - a slow, filthy slide of fingers as he fucks her on them with deliberate patience now, letting the drag just stretch enough to make her squirm before retreating.

Gale lets his hungry sounds fall free to make sure she knows just how much he's enjoying this too.

Her ragged cry is barely muffled - likely through teeth biting down onto her own fist.

He crooks his fingers to find that spot inside her that makes her gasp so sweetly and curls them just right with a desperate insistence. He needs to hear her again.

So he leans in, tongue swirling just a little faster, trying to coax those sounds from her lips.

"More?" He breathes, voice hoarse with need. "Tell me you want more, Miri... just say the word-"

He's met with a strangled whining growl.

"Need to feel you."

Gods, yes-!

His heart might just stop at those simple words. He's almost dizzy with it - the sheer thrill of hearing her panting that out to him, needing him as much as he does her, even if it's just like this.

Gods, he's dreaming-

He withdraws those two fingers slowly, almost reluctant to stop, to not keep feeling her around him. Then he brings them to his mouth, licking her slick arousal from them with an all too obvious groan as he savors it like a man who's been starving for years and finally having a taste.

And to his endless delight, she whimpers again.

"You want to feel me, love?" He breathes into her, all heat and hunger, more than eager to oblige.

"Yes- please-" Miri's gasps are pleading - edged with urgency. "Inside, Gale, please-"

He can't help the way his hips jerk forward at that - her desperate plea making him ache for her all over again. His cock throbs between his legs - hot and neglected and so close to spilling just from the sounds of her alone.

But by all the gods- if she wants him inside, he'll give it to her.

He pulls the device away from his mouth, staring down at it in awe for several breaths as he tries to steady himself.

At her impatient whine, he groans out, "I've got you, love."

And for a moment he almost grateful he can't see her now - the look on her face is potent enough in his imagination. In front of him he probably would have spilled well before now.

Slowly, he lays down on his back and positions her waiting heat above his straining length. And then agonizingly slow - so she feels every single inch and he doesn't lose his mind immediately - he guides her down. And he sinks in, inch by inch, into where she's already soaked and ready for him, until there's nothing but heat surrounding him on all sides.

A breath catches in his throat before it escapes as a low groan at just how tight- how perfect-

"Fuck." The curse is punched out of him when he bottoms out inside her with a sharp exhale - not letting himself move yet until they've both adjusted to this new sensation. "Gods above- you feel incredible-"

Miri's answering moan from the other tent is hoarse and cracked - edged with a feral sort of rumbling that gods help him he can feel where they're joined.

"Fenedhis- ohhh-"

And as soon as he thinks he can handle it - Gale starts dragging that silver tube- and her perfect, perfect core inside- up and down his length. He can feel the primal, desperate need in the way she moves with him.

That ragged cry of his name when he finally pulls her back down onto him again, filling her in one slow, deliberate stroke.

"Again," he rasps out, fucking up into that slick heat with a desperate urgency that's got him seeing stars behind his eyelids already. "Say it again."

He drags the cylinder up to just barely the tip before sinking back down. Listening to every muffled gasp and whimper from beyond their tents like they're prayers whispered directly into his ear.

"Gale-" Miri gasps sharply. "C-close-"

"Yes," he grits out between clenched teeth as his hips snap up with a sharp thrust - pleasure surging through him like wildfire as he feels that telltale tightening around him. "That's it, love. Come for me."

His grip tightens around that silver tube - deliberate movements growing harder, faster. The whole cylinder feels hot to the touch as he pumps it rapidly. Relentless and eager to feel her come undone for him.

He doesn’t stop even when she gasps sharply at the sudden change of pace. Just drags her back down onto his cock again and again until there’s nothing left but ragged breaths and shattered moans-

"Let go."

Miri makes a strangled sound, muffled like she's biting a pillow.

And then he feels it - Gale feels her squeeze and spasm around his length as she crashes over the precipice.

Because of him.

That thought alone is almost enough to send him spiraling into his own release - holding onto the cylinder so tightly that his fingers ache with it as he drags her up and down his cock through every single pulse of her pleasure.

He wants to draw it out - wants to make sure she feels every last wave of it before he lets himself go too. But she’s just too tight, too perfect, and the sounds coming from her tent are wrecked beyond belief.

“I can’t-” His breath hitches when another vicious clench around him sends sparks shooting up his spine. “Miri, I’m gonna-”

He only just manages to pull the device off and away in time as he spills with a shuddering cry.

Gods…

Gale’s head is thrown back on the blanket, eyes clenched shut while he tries to catch his breath. His heart's beating hard enough he can hear it roaring in his ears-still riding the high as he tries to come back to himself.

When his eyes finally crack open again, he lets his head loll to the side to look at the cylinder still clutched in his hand. The damn thing that started all this to begin with.

It's inert once more. A wobbling, shimmering, glass surface reflecting the colors of the room back at him.

And he'd almost think the whole thing a mad dream if he couldn't hear Miri's ragged panting from the tent next door.

He can't help the way a shiver runs through him at the sound. Even now, after everything, he still feels the low, simmering ache of need and want coursing through him, sharp and potent.

He swallows.

He wants more. But not tonight. Not yet. He needs to at least make an attempt at being a gentleman instead of letting himself get lost in her all over again.

He takes a breath.

"Miri?" He murmurs into the still air between them. "You still with me?"

Miri huffs a soft laugh - a meager thing tinged with amusement and embarrassment.

"Yes," comes her answer, the haze of exhaustion making her accent thick, "Still on this plane. You?"

Gale chuckles softly - half amusement and half relief. She doesn’t sound upset.

Thank the gods.

"Barely," he admits quietly as he drags a hand over his face before letting it drop to his chest. "But I think I'll survive."

There’s a pause where neither of them moves. Just breathing into the quiet between their tents, both waiting for something but unsure what.

He should say more. Gale knows he should say more. But his mind is still spinning with disbelief and lingering heat and gods above- all the ways this could have gone differently if they'd just been honest sooner.

But one thing at a time.

"...That was certainly an experience," he finally murmurs into the dark instead of saying any of those thoughts aloud. "Are you alright?"

"More than," she answers softly, and he can hear the satisfied grin. "You will have to explain that to me in the morning."

Despite still trying not to let his mind get carried away, he can't help the way his heart skips a beat at that. Her soft voice sending a new kind of heat through him and making his head spin.

Gale can tell himself there's no need for the way his mind is suddenly racing - that it's just the lingering lust, just the fatigue and the excitement and the utter shock of everything that just happened. But…

Gods, he was in trouble with her.

He lets out a shaky breath before responding softly.

"First thing. Promise."

"First thing," she agrees. He can hear the rustling of her getting settled in her bedding once more. "Goodnight, vhenan."

The endearment makes his heart twist with a sudden, desperate longing. The casual use of it now in the afterglow - as he lies awake and listens to her settling down in her tent - makes him realize just how badly he wants to walk the few steps between them and crawl into bed with her instead.

He has to resist the urge to ask her to say it again, to whisper it into his ear one more time and burn that word into his skin.

Instead he closes his eyes with a soft sigh.

"Goodnight, Miri," he whispers in return.

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Gale sat at his desk with one hand manipulating pieces of the Weave with nimble fingers, while the other occasionally flipped a page of the book before him or jotted down notes.

The sun had long since disappeared below the horizon, and stars glittered above the bay out their still-open balcony doors. And as fascinating as it was to watch Gale in his element, Miri was pretty sure he hadn’t risen from this spot in hours.

She'd come down to the office to check on him. For the fourth time this evening.

None of the food plated beside him eaten. Barely a fraction of the water glass emptied, tea cup cold and full.

Ignoring his needs and her attentive care. Again.

He didn't do it maliciously. Of course not. But it was getting out of hand.

Miri glares at his back as he continues working without pause, trying to decide what to do with her frustration. She rumbles a low, irritated growl from the doorway before turning on her heel and striding down the hall.

“I do hear that rather impressive growl of yours, my love-" Gale lifts his hand from the Weave braiding between his fingers, though his eyes never leave the arcane equations in front of him. "Just let me finish transcribing this one particular theory on planar convergence and then I shall-”

A spark fizzles from his fingertips as he finally glances up and only just catches sight of her retreating back.

“-oh, blast." His shoulders slump slightly beneath his well-worn robe. Gale’s voice is rueful as he mostly mutters to himself, "...I've done it again, haven't I?"

Tara hums her disapproval from where she’s perched on top of his desk grooming a paw. More often than not, she and Miri were in agreement. But especially when it came to Gale’s self care. Or lack thereof, rather.

"Quite spectacularly so," she huffs , tail lashing against stray stacks of papers.

Gale sighs dramatically and snaps his book shut with more force than necessary - dispersing any lingering filaments of the Weave in a harmless shower of sparks. He rubs at his temple where exhaustion is settling in like an unwelcome houseguest.

A glance to the plate of dinner and neglected drinks and the twinkling of stars beyond his windows is evidence enough of just why his head aches. Dehydrated, undernourished, and overworked. Despite Miri’s obvious interventions.

Gale plucks a roast boar fritter Miri made from the plate and scarfs it quickly before he downs the rest of his glass of water.

He ought to apologize.

Gale pushes up from the chair with a groan that betrays how stiff he's become. A quick flick of the wrist and the mess is cleared from his desk and the balcony doors swing shut.

Tara makes a sound suspiciously like laughter muffled by feathers as Gale stumbles after her down the hall. He heads toward the kitchen, where light still spills out into the hall.

"Terribly sorry, my love," he calls to her with forced lightness, fighting the urge to turn tail, “I let time slip through my fingers tonight.”

He rounds the corner into the doorway, smile contrite, and continues, "If memory serves - and it usually does - my lovely wife once threatened to tie me to our bed if I worked past midnight again-"

His half earnest apology, half comfort and amends seeking through flirtation halts as he takes in the scene before him.

Miri's in the kitchen with his simulacrum - who is conducting its usual evening tasks of cleaning up. Or rather, she's staring down the poor construct. It lingers almost frozen, apron on and hands in dish gloves, gaze flicking to his wizard maker with an almost sheepish confusion.

"Eta-" Miri huffs in a growl, putting her hands on her hips in a way that snaps both his and his construct’s gaze back to her. Gale can tell by the set of her shoulders and tick in her jaw she's beyond mildly irritated. "Be good and listen. Upstairs."

She gestures with a clawed hand towards the hall and the simulacrum scrambles to obey whatever instructions it's been given. It strips off apron and gloves, setting them neatly by the sink, and hurriedly trots from the room and down the hall.

The sight of his own creation scrambling to obey Miri's commands has Gale pausing mid-step and raising a quizzical brow.

The wizard is tired - exhausted, really- but there's a wary amusement in his eyes as he approaches his fiery little wife.

"My word..." Gale drawls, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any more alluring, you go and assert dominance over my own magic.”

Gale huffs a soft laugh, steps rounding with swagger as he grows closer.

“I find myself oddly both aroused and mildly frightened-"

Miri turns to level him with a stern look before he can get close enough to touch. Lips pressed thin and chest rumbling with her simmering ire. Flirting was absolutely not working to mollify her frustration this time.

"If you have any sense left you will join him. Upstairs."

Her tone barters no leniency, her eyes even less.

Gale's smirk falters. He swallows once, hard.

His exhausted brain may be struggling to fully catch up to the events unfolding - but he's not stupid. Far from it. He knows keenly when not to argue with a woman - his mother taught him as much. But especially if that woman happens to be his wife, several fold stronger than he and able to shift into a dire wolf the size of an elk.

And when those fiery green eyes are staring him down with sharp pupils and it feels like he’s a rabbit before the jaws of a wolf - that is not a Miri to smooth talk.

Oh dear.

It appears he’s found the limits of that font of patience. With a huffed nervous laugh, the wizard lifts his hands in a placating surrender.

"As you wish, my love,” he relents, knowing better than to protest further. With a half bow and sweep of his arm, he adds, “After you."

Her eyes narrow with a very obvious doubt of his intentions to listen.

Because she's encountered this before too - a last minute diversion on the way to bed that leads to more hours at his desk. Which she has half a mind to throw off the balcony into the harbor.

"No. You first." Miri returns flatly. "No distractions."

Ah yes, she does know him too well.

Gale lets out a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand through his disheveled hair. "Right. Distractions. Yes..."

He starts slowly for the stairs, a defeated slump to his shoulders. Mori’s footsteps are quiet as ever, but he's acutely aware of her following behind him like a watchful shadow.

The problem with stopping at the end of a long day is how quickly things catch up to you. Gale drags his feet, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin, his movement sluggish and almost stumbling.

Gale spares her a glance over his shoulder as he begins the climb to their quarters.

"I'm not going to like what you have in store for me, am I?”

Those fierce eyes meet his, gleaming in the dim light like a predator waiting to pounce. Clearly more irritated, having taken in the state of him.

"That remains to be seen."

"Oh, I know that tone," he murmurs. Gale chuckles weakly, rubbing at the back of his neck as he continues up the stairs - each step heavier than the last. "You're plotting something delightfully terrifying, aren't you?"

He turns to glance down at her with a weary but fond amusement.

"Should I be worried? Or... intrigued?"

Then, predictably, he stumbles on the next step and barely catches himself on the banister with a startled grunt.

"You should be walking."

"Right."

Gale huffs another weary chuckle as he resumes his ascent, albeit at an even slower pace after nearly taking a tumble. The top of the stairwell can't come soon enough.

Or perhaps it can…

"You do know," he calls back to her, "It's a tad unfair you're still so sharp and alert at this hour, while I'm struggling to keep my eyes open."

He pauses by the doorway to their bedroom, a hand braced against the frame to keep himself standing as he wills his heart to slow.

His complaint is met with a low growl that echoes up the stairwell sounding much more like the wolf than the woman.

"Do not speak of fairness when the consequences are entirely of your own actions," she returns tersely, joining him on the landing.

Gale opens his mouth - then promptly snaps it shut again at the renewed growl.

"...Point taken," he concedes, wisely choosing not to press further as he shuffles fully into the bedroom.

The simulacrum is already there, tidying up with efficient precision (and clearly avoiding eye contact with its creator).

His shoulders slump once more, but there’s an undercurrent of relief beneath his exhaustion. Gale doesn’t even have the energy to complain as he collapses gracelessly onto the edge of the bed and starts fumbling with his boots. He only manages to pry one half-off before flopping backward onto the mattress with a groan.

"...I may need assistance," he admits weakly, one arm thrown dramatically over his face like a man on death’s door rather than an overworked wizard who stayed up too late - again. Trying once more to illicit some good humor from his irked beloved. "Preferably from someone terrifyingly beautiful."

"Not to worry!" Gale's own slightly distorted voice answers from in front of him. "We’re under explicit instructions from our dearest love. I shall help you."

"Oh, how generous of you," he drawls, feeling his mood sour.

Unbothered, the simulacrum lifts Gale's foot and makes quick work of unlacing and sliding his boot the rest of the way off. He winces when the simulacrum pulls off his other boot and his foot protests.

Gale lets his legs dangle off the edge of the bed - hardly feeling the urge to move now that he’s made it to his back on a comfortable surface. He can feel his body clinging to the inertia of staying in bed.

He would be happy enough to crawl under the covers and fall asleep now, of his wife were to join him.

To his chagrin, Miri has absconded to their en suite bathroom and out of sight. His gaze returns from its search to stare up at the simulacrum, eyes red rimmed and bleary.

"And what, pray tell, are these explicit instructions?"

"All shall be revealed in time," it answers with an overly cheerful tone, looking positively chuffed.

Gale gives an irritated huff. It's not often he's so off-put by the construct. But the undiluted cheeriness is a bit grating at present.

"Now, if you could, I am to help you get comfortable in your seat for the evening," it tells him jovially.

“For the evening?” Gale balks.

The simulacrum offers its hands to help Gale rise from the bed. Gale groans dramatically as he lets the simulacrum haul him upright, his back protesting.

“By the Weave-" he grumbles, swaying slightly on his feet once standing, "Is it not victory enough that I'm in the bedroom this early? What in the Nine Hells are you two scheming?"

The simulacrum merely beams and guides him to a plush armchair by the fire. It even has the audacity to pat his shoulder like an overeager nursemaid before bustling off to fetch whatever Miri has planned next.

Gale sinks into the chair with another exhausted exhale, rubbing at his temples. His gaze drifts toward the en suite with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

"This feels suspiciously like an intervention..."

The simulacrum returns post-haste with a potion in a small vial.

He recognizes the amber liquid as a Potion of Watchful Rest. All the benefits of a good night's sleep, with none of the sleep. Suggesting he wouldn’t be going to bed any time soon.

"If you would," the simulacrum asks, offering the vial of sweet liquid to its maker with a soft smile.

Gale blinks at the potion in disbelief, then slowly looks up at his simulacrum with a mix of growing agitation and disbelief.

"No." His voice is hoarse but firm. "Absolutely not!"

He pushes the vial away with one hand while pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. Fatigue has worn his patience thin as a scroll and he finds himself suddenly very irritated.

"That would defeat every possible purpose of you two dragging me away from my work!" Gale crosses his arms tight with irritation, but they quickly unravel once more to gesticulate. "I refuse to be drugged into compliance. Especially not by my own spellwork."

His glare shifts toward the bathroom door, raising his voice just enough for her to hear his indignation. "This is betrayal! Of marital vows! And basic decency!"

Gale harumphs and slumps further into the chair with a glower. His irritation only growing when his calls to her get no response. If he’d known she was just going to keep him up all night for gods know what, he could’ve just stayed at his desk.

Unbothered, the simulacrum continues to stand patiently, offered vial resting in outstretched hand.

"I assure you that is not her intention," it says with a slightly stiff reassurance. It goes on, maintaining its unflappable cheery disposition as it explains, "Our dearest love wants to ensure that you will be able to stay awake for the evening's activities and are well-nourished after a day of neglecting your daily necessities."

"Neglecting my daily necessities..."

Gale's indignation dims somewhat at the reminder of his recent negligence. He has been hyperfixating on his work quite a bit of late. To the point of sometimes ignoring his well-being in favor of his studies... But he was close to a breakthrough!

Gale crosses his arms again, mood turning petulant. His lips press thin and twist with frustration once more.

"I’m a grown man," he grouses. "I am fully capable of taking care of myself. And I certainly don't need a babysitter."

"Miri has instructed me to inform you in the event of this response that-" it holds up two fingers, ticking the items off, "You have not this day. This simulacrum is not tasked with your supervision."

Gale lets out a frustrated huff as his own simulacrum quotes his wife back at him. He's starting to feel rather like a scolded child. Insufferable when he's already so tired. It doesn’t much help that, as usual, Miri manages to predict him quite accurately - probably better than he could predict himself.

But there's a glimmer of guilt in his expression - because he knows damn well it’s his negligence that’s landed him in this situation in the first place.

"Touche," he grudgingly admits with a grumble.

He stares at the vial offered to him a moment longer in contemplation. Gale knows he probably deserves whatever Miri has in store. And he certainly knows refusing at this point would do nothing to quell her ire.

Not to mention… she’s right.

With a resigned sigh, he begrudgingly takes the glass from the simulacrum's waiting hand. It waits patiently, hands clasped behind its back, for Gale to drain the contents of the vial.

Gale eyes the potion warily for a long moment - attempting to steel himself. Then, with all the enthusiasm of a man mounting the gallows, he downs it in one quick gulp.

He grimaces immediately at the cloyingly sweet taste it leaves on his tongue. Miri knows he despises overly saccharine elixirs.

No doubt another intentional choice. Which he gave her ample time to make.

As soon as he swallows, though, warmth spreads through his limbs and suffuses him with energy, and his mind feels nearly jolted awake with a sudden unnatural clarity.

Gale coughs and shudders as if his body is trying to shake the taste away. Then he glares half-heartedly at his own creation before settling back against the armchair cushions with a dramatic resignation.

"There. Happy?"

"Exceedingly." The simulacrum gives him a pleased smile, accepting the empty vial from him. "Your cooperation is appreciated."

The construct returns the vial to Miri's alchemical stash on the other side of the room before returning to Gale to deliver instructions.

"We recommend you make yourself comfortable, as you will be sitting in this chair for a prolonged period. May I take your robe?"

Gale grumbles something about obedience and coercion under his breath, but he acquiesces, begrudgingly shrugging of his robe. Balling the fabric up, he shoves it into the simulacrum’s chest.

The simulacrum accepts the bundle, shaking it out and folding his robe neatly over its arm, pleased smile never wavering. Damnable thing.

"And how long, exactly, will this 'prolonged period' be?” Gale sags back into the chair, rolling up the sleeves of his undershirt. “My backside's numb enough from sitting all day as it is.”

Gale notices as he settles in that his chair is turned from its usual position. Rather than facing the fireplace, it is turned towards their bed.

"Apologies, but I am not privy to that information." The simulacrum answers as it strides across the room and hangs Gale's robe neatly beside the bedroom door. Its cloying tone projects a mild amount of sympathy. "Your instructions are only to stay in this chair, and you are not allowed to touch."

As he watches the construct work, Gale lets out another dramatic sigh - half exaggerated, half genuinely exhausted - but he doesn't fight the arrangement. The chair is surprisingly comfortable, and while he would never admit it aloud, some small part of him is relieved to be forced into resting for once.

The simulacrum strides dutifully to Gale's side of the bed, turning down the bedding to reveal the soft sheets beneath. And Gale stares in stunned disbelief as his own simulacrum, with a methodical obedience, begins removing its clothing, folding each article nearly as it goes and setting them on Gale's nightstand.

"What in the Nine Hells are you doing?" Gale protests in a strangled voice. "You realize you don't actually have to do what my wife tells you-"

"He is listening, like a good boy." Miri's voice cuts from across the room.

She strides out of the bathroom looking absolutely radiant.

Hair tied up elegantly, makeup pristine, and wearing Gale's favorite set of lingerie. A devastating piece of sheer lace that clings to her form, in a perfect deep green and black against her copper skin.

Gale's jaw goes slack.

His exhausted brain screeches to a violent halt as every coherent thought evaporates as his gaze locks onto her. Every perfect inch of her, dressed like sin made manifest.

The simulacrum, still dutifully undressing nearby, is immediately forgotten as Gale’s entire world narrows down to her. The sharp lines of her face, the soft curves of her body. The sway of her hips as she approaches like a stalking predator…. His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

His voice comes out strangled and rough with want as he manages a soft "...Oh."

Miri walks to stand in front of Gale at the foot of their bed. Just far enough to be out of reach so long as he stays seated. Behind her, the now nude simulacrum climbs onto the bed to lie on its back.

Gale clears his throat and straightens in his chair - forcing his hands to settle on the arm rests. Though his fingers curl into the plush covering and his eyes grow dark with a simmering hunger.

"I see… So this is why I'm meant to stay seated," he rasps. A begrudging smirk pulls at his lips as he gazes up at his wife. It’s impossible for him not to admire her. "Clever girl. You are wicked."

Arms crossed, Miri looks down her nose at Gale - clearly still irritated.

"You will stay seated in this chair, and you will watch. And you will not touch - neither us, nor yourself."

She pauses to let that sink in. Letting Gale squirm.

The wizard shifts subtly in his chair, the weight of his arousal quickly becoming harder to ignore. The sight of Miri, beautiful and commanding and absolutely unapproachable, sends a spike of heat and frustrated want through him.

"Do you understand why you are being punished?"

Gods, even her tone like this is maddening. All rough growl and sternness. Gale has to dig his fingers into the arms of the chair to keep himself from rising to his feet and pulling her close. Instead, he grits out his response through a clenched jaw.

"Yes." His voice is hoarse with a multitude of emotions - desire, embarrassment, submission, defiance. "I understand."

"Tell me why," Miri returns firmly.

Seems he won’t be getting away with any half-measures tonight.

Gale exhales sharply through his nose, fingers flexing against the armrests - gripping them like a lifeline. His gaze flickers from Miri’s face to the bed behind her - where his own damn simulacrum is waiting, completely bare and shamelessly compliant.

It's rare for Gale Dekarios to admit fault so plainly. But under Miri's piercing stare? Resistance is futile.

When he speaks again, it’s slow and measured. As if every word is dragged reluctantly from him by sheer force of will.

"...Because I neglected myself." He swallows thickly before continuing. "Again. And because I ignored your attempts to care for me. Repeatedly."

"That's correct," she returns, tone softening slightly. "And because less severe interventions have not changed your behavior, vhenan."

Miri turns and saunters her way to the bed, every movement very deliberate. Gale's gaze follows her across the room, eyes dark with barely contained desire. They’ve not started and he's already white-knuckled with restraint. Gale doesn't dare break her command. His expression flickers between arousal and begrudging resignation.

Miri pauses to give Gale a lingering look as her hand reaches out to stroke the simulacrum’s side.

Gale watches, spellbound, as Miri takes the simulacrum's offered hand and climbs onto their bed to join it. He can’t help the groan that slips free as he watches her straddle the construct’s lap.

The simulacrum - excruciatingly perfect in its replication of Gale's form - raises its hands to hold Miri's waist, gazing at her and only her with eyes full of reverent desire.

Just as he would, if he were the one beneath her. She cups its cheek, returning the affectionate gaze, and Gale can practically feel the gentle touch of her fingers against his cheek.

"You're really going to torment me with what I can't have, aren't you?"

"You could have," Miri returns sharply, shooting him a look.

Riveted and helpless, Gale watches Miri settle her hips over his simulacrum’s with deliberate slowness. The construct’s fingers splay possessively over her sides, while its expression mirrors every ounce of devotion he would be feeling right now.

"Had you come to bed any of the four times you were invited this evening." She glances to Gale where he sits - and he can see the frustrated hurt in her eyes. "Or the evening before."

He feels a guilty ache in his chest, echoed by a frustrated throb in his groin.

"Hopefully this will be an informative lesson, vhenan."

"Oh, I'm certain it will be..." he drawls, shifting awkwardly in his seat as he tries to ease the tension in his increasingly too-tight pants. Already too aware of where his hands cannot go.

Miri cards those delightful fingers of hers through the simulacrum’s hair and a low groan escapes both Gale and his duplicate. Gale shifts again in the chair, the fabric of his trousers straining uncomfortably. He's already wound so tight it aches.

"I've been thoroughly chastised," he grits out between clenched teeth, eyes burning with unspent desire and lingering irritation. "Believe me."

Those green eyes are stern when they find his - and he can read the silent warning within.

"I do not think you have," Miri says simply, before turning her gaze back to the simulacrum.

She gives his duplicate a warm smile, and slides a hand from its cheek down to its chest.

"You will be a good boy for me, yes?"

The simulacrum beams up at her - bright and eager, almost pathetic in its willingness to please - and nods like a puppy who’s just been offered the finest of treats.

"Of course," it answers earnestly, voice dripping with worshipful devotion. "Anything you ask."

Miri smiles, pleased and perhaps a bit smug as she purrs back, “Good boy.”

Gale’s fingers curl, tight grip on the armrests white-knuckled, his legs shifting restlessly. His very bones seem to scream against the command to stay seated and untouched. When his love is right there, doling out love and affection and praise rightfully his, it feels nearly impossible.

"This is cruel and unusual punishment," he mutters under his breath. But there's no real heat behind it. Only need so thick it makes his voice rough.

Miri ignores his complaints, though he knows they’re easily heard by her keen ears.

Instead Miri retaliates with soft praise murmured to the duplicate. She urges its chin up and draws it forward for a deep, needful kiss. The simulacrum obeys eagerly, rising to chase her mouth with a desperate fervor. 

His own face looks so debauched it's almost obscene.

Gale barely stifles another groan as he watches a far-too-obedient version of himself melt under Miri’s attention. She knows him too well. Knows every way to unravel him and he can see how clearly she’s ready to leverage her knowledge against him. And damn it if that doesn't thrill him as much as it infuriates him.

He hates this.

He loves this.

He wants to burn his simulacrum out of existence and take its place in the same breath.

Gale makes another strangled noise as he sees tongues between lips. Breathless and wanting as if he were a participant in the heated exchange and not an observer.

He tries to look away. Recites planar theory from first principles under his breath as he stares at the ceiling. To focus on something- anything- else, instead of the lurid sight of his simulacrum kissing the woman he adores like a man starved.

But he can't. He's drawn back to the scene unfolding before him every time he attempts to stray.

She knows exactly what her husband likes, what drives him mad. Miri has devoted many hours of that careful, observant nature of hers to studying and worshipping him, after all.

And it works just the same on his replica. More easily, even.

Hands on its chest, Miri slowly pushes it back against the mattress, letting her fingers trail over its form. Teasing claws over its skin, kneading at its chest, plucking at a nipple. All the while devouring its lips in a hungry kiss that makes a low growl tumble free from her.

"Hells," he chokes out when Miri's claws scrape possessively over its chest - knowing full well what that does to him. "Hells."

Gale is unraveling in this damned chair and she's hardly started.

His breath grows uneven, his entire body coiled with tension as he watches his wife wring pleasure from his duplicate with the same expert precision she uses on him.

The construct pants and groans under her touch, arching into her hands shamelessly.

While Gale sits, unable to do anything but watch and ache for the same attention.

Miri breaks the kiss, nipping at its lip and trailing more kisses down its throat. Eagerly applying those perfect teeth when, predictably, its head moves back to bare more sensitive skin to her.

Gale can feel the ghost of Miri’s teeth on his own skin. It makes his hips jerk involuntarily in his seat despite himself. His fingers protest at the way they're kept tense around the chair’s arms.

The simulacrum gasps and moans roughly as her hands trail lower and lower down its form - responding just as eagerly and strongly as Gale would. Every gasp, every sound and twitch as his simulacrum reacts just as he would, is maddening.

Miri's fingers wrap around the simulacrum's length while her other hand holds its hips still.

"Doing so good for me," she purrs to it, starting to stroke slowly.

The simulacrum moans at the praise, hips twitching up to press into her hand despite being held down. It's so desperate, so willing, so perfect for her. In all the ways Gale would be.

The jealousy burns white-hot under his skin.

His gaze is torn - watching Miri pleasure his cock with none of the pleasure, and watching his hands grip and cling to her skin with none of the delight of feeling her.

"Bloody hells," Gale rasps, gripping the armrests hard enough that they creak under pressure. He can't stop his legs from shifting in vain search of friction. "This isn't - ah - this isn't fair."

His voice is wrecked already, half-pleading as he watches Miri drag pleasure from a version of himself that gets to touch.

Tendons dance beneath his skin as Gale struggles against the burning urge to reach for himself. He's so hard it's almost painful to be kept in check like this.

And Miri, in her wicked ways, knows exactly how he's being affected.

Yet she doesn't dignify his sounds with a response. She doesn't even look his way before she takes the simulacrum's length into her mouth.

Gale whimpers. Actually whimpers as he watches himself receive pleasure he's being denied. His heart pounds, his blood rushing hot through his veins, every nerve-ending ablaze under his skin - yet he still keeps his ass glued to the damn chair.

He's so wound up from watching just the friction of his pants - a brush of fabric and a hint of pressure when he shifts - almost does him in.

"Please," he gasps out, voice so thick with want it's almost a sob. "Miri..."

Miri responds to his pleas, but now how he wants. Not even close. She releases its cock with a wet pop- and sits up onto her knees.

"Are you ready for more, fenor?" Miri asks the simulacrum in a sultry husk.

She starts unfastening the lacing of her bustier. The simulacrum moans, almost helplessly, and nods frantically. It's so obedient, so eager to be good - just like Gale when he's desperate for more.

"Gods, yes," it pleads. "Please, I need you, I need you, please-"

Gale groans at its response - because it's just what he wants to say. He's aching for her. Needs to touch her so bad he's practically shaking apart in the chair. Making that simulacrum feels like a gods damned curse. It was just meant to help around the tower-

"Good boy," Miri tells it in a low growl. "Let me take care of you..."

Sliding the bustier free, Miri tosses it aside. Gale jolts in his seat when the bustier lands near his feet - as if taunting him with how close it is and yet still out of reach. He knows it would be delightfully warm and smell of her skin if only he could pick it up…

His gaze snaps up once more when Miri guides the simulacrum's hands to cup and touch her breasts, and she moans softly. Gods that perfect sound is a torment.

Gale lets out a strangled groan when her head tips back and his eyes slide down the contours of her body. The simulacrum’s hands roam Miri’s chest with the worshipful reverence she deserves, caressing her like she's the most precious thing in existence.

"By the Weave," he groans again as the construct thumbs over her nipples with that same tender care he'd use himself. Gentle but hungry, desperate worship in every movement.

"Gods, Miri, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, voice almost hoarse with need.

Miri gasps a soft sighing moan, arching into its touch. That earns another desperate whimper from Gale - handsome face flushed dark, lips parted on ragged breaths.

"Your hands feel so good," Miri breathes huskily, whether to him or it, he cannot tell. Either way it makes Gale shiver with want.

The simulacrum's hands roam and caress her bare skin reverently, as if committing every inch of her to memory. Every touch an echo of his desires.

Miri urges the simulacrum's hands lower, and it peels off her lacy smalls with that same worshipful reverence. As it does Miri presses kisses to its skin - trailing over neck and chest.

Gale shifts again, grinding against the tent of his pants unconsciously - aching, desperate, needy. He can hardly keep his legs from shifting to get more.

"Please," Gale begs, the word so close to a whimper its almost plaintive. "Gods, my love, please -"

Miri cups the simulacrum's face once more, achingly tender. The simulacrum looks up at her with so much devotion it almost seems unbelievable - but they both know its genuine.

And she asks it what she would ask Gale when he whines the way he is.

"Tell me what you want, fenor."

"You," it breathes, voice thick with want. "You. I want to be inside you so badly I can't think."

Gale makes a noise in the back of his throat that is pure suffering. Gale knows it can't help but want exactly what he does - but he could kill his own construct for laying his thoughts bare while he's still bound not to touch.

"Good boy," Miri purrs before seizing its lips in another heated kiss.

As their breaths mingle and Miri nips and licks and teases, she reaches between them to stroke its cock a few times - growling in response to its every soft sound.

Then she carefully lines its length up with her entrance. And Gale pitifully whimpers - when Miri begins to sink down onto the simulacrum.

Gods what a vision. The sight of her slow descent is devastating - one he’s not normally privy to. At least not like this. Seeing the way she stretches around his shape.

Gale’s jaw clenches so tight it aches.

He wants to move. He wants to touch her.

Or at the very least touch himself.

Instead he watches helplessly as pleasure overtakes the duplicate beneath her hands while he's left in torturous restraint.

His stomach clenches and flips at that first ragged gasp torn from her lips as she takes it fully inside. That sound which so often drives him wild with want.

Miri's head tips back, long hair dangling, and she moans a soft sigh of pleasure. Letting Gale admire her as she mounts his duplicate. She knows she’s done it correctly when the simulacrum’s hands fly to her hips and Gale moans roughly from his seat.

The sound of Gale's desperation sends heat curling through her.

She wants him to watch and ache... Wants him to never have to be in this position again for having learned the lesson so thoroughly.

Not that she minds having his simulacrum beneath her. It's not quite as clever, and is perhaps overeager - but in most every way it's just the same as her husband. Mostly.

Slowly, she starts to rock her hips, grinding against its pelvis in search of friction for her own desires. And then briefly turning to hold her husband's enchantingly desperate gaze, she starts to ride.

The sight of Miri moving over the simulacrum, taking her pleasure from it - him - in a way he can only ache for sends fire through his veins.

He can imagine - remember - exactly how it feels to have her riding him just like that. He's practically vibrating with the effort it takes to stay still and wait. Worsening with every increase in her pace.

"Gods, Miri," Gale murmurs raggedly, "If you're trying to teach me to be more obedient, you've made your point."

"This- is how good it feels to take care of yourself," Miri moans back between rolling bounces on his simulacrum.

She braces her hands on its chest. They can tell the simulacrum is starting to lose control. Another moan punches free from Miri as the simulacrum starts to piston its hips up into her.

"Oh- good boy-!" Miri cries - knowing how much the praise drives Gale wild. "So good for me-!"

The simulacrum groans - thrusting up with eager, unrelenting devotion. It cries out with broken moans, whining her name.

Exactly how Gale would chase their shared pleasure beneath her - and it's killing him to watch instead of experience it himself. His entire body tenses and trembles where he sits - restrained, denied but so damn close.

And Miri echoes it with cries of his name. “Gale!”

"That's my voice you're ruining," Gale pants weakly. "My name on your lips." He swallows hard as arousal coils tight in his gut. "You're wicked for this."

Miri's hips stutter as she starts to lose control, breathless and dizzy as she chases her pleasure. She gives the simulacrum a pleading look, flushed and wanton.

"Please, fenor," she breathes, twisting the knife, "Make me come-"

The simulacrum doesn’t hesitate, hands gripping her waist as it thrusts up harder, faster. The sounds it drags from Miri are excruciating.

Gale chokes on his breath at the sight - and sound - of Miri nearing her peak.

"Fuck," he gasps, knuckles white where they grip the armrests.

He can feel himself spiraling toward release just from watching. He’s close, just from hearing Miri beg for more while she chases pleasure atop another version of him.

"Fenedhis -" Miri cries, and Gale knows how close she is.

Knows she'd be clenching- squeezing- so hard as she approaches the edge. His hips twitch helplessly in the chair, desperately seeking Miri but finding nothing but air.

The simulacrum knows just what to do - it shares Gale's memories after all. Maintaining its hard thrusts up into her, it snakes one hand down to the apex of her thighs-

He watches it use his hand to stroke between her thighs with practiced precision - circling just right, applying pressure exactly where she likes it.

"Yes," Gale rasps when Miri shudders with pleasure, "Yes, Miri. Come for me!"

Miri's back arches with a high throaty moan, and he sees the tremor rock through her.

Her hips jerk and she cries out perfectly as she crashes over the edge. Gale can barely breathe as he watches her fall apart.

The simulacrum’s thrusts grow erratic as it chases its own release - and he hears the simulacrum choke on a groan as she clenches tight around it. Knows she’s dragged it over the edge with her.

And that realization is what finally shatters him, too.

A broken sound tears from his throat as his own orgasm wracks through him - violent and overwhelming without a single touch. His back arches off the chair as he tenses and shudders.

He collapses against it again, trembling in the aftermath, just as Miri collapses forward against the simulacrum. Panting and shivering in its embrace as she comes down from the high.

"Such a good boy," she murmurs softly. Pressing meager kisses to its skin. "You did so well... Thank you, fenor..."

The simulacrum responds to her praise with a pleased hum, strong arms holding her close. It's an echo of how Gale responds too - the same warm, obedient affection with a hint of pride.

"Gods," Gale rasps weakly, still shaking as he tries to catch his breath. Face heating as he feels the consequences against his skin and soaking into his trousers.

Gale watches them with a tumultuous mixture of heat and jealousy, shame and reluctant satisfaction. Miri had been right about one thing - this was an exceptionally effective lesson.

Miri extracts herself from the simulacrum’s embrace, giving it an affectionate pat as she rises, signaling the end of its assignment. And the simulacrum, wholly unbothered, dutifully tends to the mess and redresses.

Miri retrieves a wet wash cloth from the bathroom, bringing it to Gale's side.

"Bloody hells, my love," he murmurs as she approaches. "I think I've been thoroughly reprimanded."

She kneels in front of him, and slowly starts tending to him with a deep affection. Gale can't help but lean into her touch as she wipes away his sweat, body still singing from the aftershocks. He feels vulnerable and wrung out in a way he usually only feels after an encounter with her.

"You're truly cruel when you want to be," he grouses weakly, though there's no bite to it. If anything his tone is fond. "Consider lesson well-learned, to be sure. But did you have to be so thorough?"

"If you remembered to take care of yourself, you would have had such pleasures yourself," Miri returns with a soft seriousness. Her gaze meets his pointedly - not taunting, but something more tender. "I do not relish punishing you so. But, as you say, 'needs must'."

Gale's expression softens, and he huffs softly in reluctant acknowledgment. It stings his pride, but he knows she's right. He's brought it on himself by neglecting his own needs.

And in her infinite patience and adoration Miri’s gone to great lengths to set him to right. And certainly not for the first time.

"As always, you're infuriatingly correct," he concedes softly. "If I'd listened, I wouldn't be sitting here now with spennd staining my pants like a hormonal teenager."

Miri doesn't quite stifle her pleased smirk. Clearly smug and a bit heated about him having come untouched from watching her. He lifts his hips at her urging and she helps him out of his soiled clothing, cleaning him gently.

"Perhaps now you will be more attentive to the time," she murmurs with a soft smile, reaching up to brush some of his hair back into place, "And you will take breaks more regularly."

Miri rises to her feet, and helps Gale stand from the chair, mindful of his stiff joints. Gale groans as he stretches - aching from sitting too long and too tense.

"You make an exceptionally persuasive argument, my love, I'll grant you that," Gale says, rolling his shoulders. He gathers her into his arms, and he could swear his body sings at the gentle contact - relieved to be allowed to touch again.

Then, quieter, he tells her, "And I will try to do better."

"Thank you," Miri murmurs softly, lips tipping up. She rolls up onto her toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

Gale exhales, the tension in his shoulders finally unwinding. He pulls her close against him, tucking his face into her hair. Just pausing a moment to breath her in and feel her in his embrace.

A beat passes before he leans back and levels a tired but amused glance her way.

"Now. May I finally climb in bed with my wife - who is terrifyingly efficient at making me regret my poor decisions?"

"Yes, ma'vhenan," Miri returns affectionately, voice soft and smile warm, "Come to bed with me."

"Gladly," he murmurs against the crown of her hair before pressing a kiss there.

Tag List:

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@lanafofana, @crimson-and-lavender, @femmefuck,

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Header from the lovely @femmefuck

It had been a good tactical decision earlier in the day to cast enlarge on Miri while she was in her lupine form. Make a massive dire wolf bigger and well... not much can stand in her way. (Not that it ever could.)

But Gale had not been prepared for the sight of Miri when she returned to her humanoid form. Enlarge increases one's size by about a third. And now Miri's 5’2” is nearly 7 feet.

He’s never had to look up to speak with her before. And Gale's not quite sure what to make of the way it had made him feel.

The blasted spell's effect will remain in place until she falls asleep - and Gale's not sure if he'll make it to bedtime with his sanity intact.

He had pointedly kept his gaze on the cookpot and then on his plate while preparing and eating dinner. But there's little excuse to distract his gaze now.

Across camp Miri chats animatedly with Lae'zel. Both women gesticulating quickly. Likely discussing the battle from earlier.

And Gale has a hard time tearing his eyes away - something twisting in his gut at the sight of Miri more than a head taller than the githyanki.

Miri is a petite thing. Fierce, but compact.

But enlarged like this her stocky physique suddenly seems more like an Amazonian than his cute little lythari. It's quite something. To see the woman who only barely reaches his chin be so... towering.

Gale can hardly tear his eyes away from her now. The open book in his hands scantly as interesting as Miri’s form. They trail over her body, up and down, and back again. Looking over every muscle and curve so painfully visible at such proportions.

This tall he probably only reaches her chest...

"You'll catch flies if you don't pick up your jaw," Wyll teases from where he reads in front of his own tent next door.

"Hm?" Gale blinks, realizing his mouth had indeed been slightly agape. He snaps it shut with an audible click and clears his throat noisily. "I was merely... contemplating the lasting effects of an Enlarge spell on lycanthropic physiology."

Wyll muffles a laugh and gives him a knowing smirk over the top of his own book. "Right. 'Physiology.' Of course."

Gale ignores him and pointedly returns his focus to the book in his hands. Absent fingers adjust the collar of his tunic - warm despite the evening chill creeping in.

His gaze drifts back to Miri as she throws her head back in laughter at something Lae'zel said -the sound amplified and rich. The movement makes her throat work, tendons shifting beneath freckled skin.

Miri stretches with a yawn. And the sight shouldn’t be enough to make his stomach swoop like that - but gods, her teeth, her muscles-

Her whole frame just so... commanding. His fingers twitch at his side with the sudden urge to map those new contours.

Miri bids Lae'zel a good night, turning to make a beeline straight for Gale - as she does most every evening without fail. Her stride is easy, if a bit unnaturally fast with bigger legs.

The way she moves - gods, the sheer presence of each step makes his pulse stutter. Her usual lithe grace amplified tenfold, every motion carrying a weight Gale finds himself embarrassingly transfixed by.

Gale closes his book, not bothering to mark the page, and clears his throat once more in an attempt to school his focus away from rather more lascivious thoughts than appropriate for polite company.

"My love," he greets, voice slipping into that warm cadence reserved only for her as she reaches his side.

His eyes flicker up- up!- to meet hers, that unfamiliar thrill shooting down his spine again at having to tilt his head back to meet her eyes. The way she inadvertently looms over him now should be ridiculous.

It shouldn’t make heat pool low in his stomach like this.

And yet…

"Enjoying your new perspective on the world?" Gale gestures vaguely at her height with one hand while the other fiddles absently with the cover of the closed book he grips.

"Tis a bit strange," Miri admits with a wry smile. Amused to be looking down at Gale for a change. (Well, down in full color vision anyway.)

"Strange doesn't begin to cover it," Gale murmurs, half to himself. Then adds almost too hastily, “I imagine.”

Gods, how does she always manage to find a way to make him feel like an adolescent with no control of his sex drive? Just when he thinks he’s gotten a handle on the utterly insatiable need for her, something new pops up and he’s back at square one.

His fingers twitch at his sides again, itching to reach out and test the solidity of her new size. He knows how strong she is - intimately. Knows how dense those muscles feel beneath her soft skin. And yet his traitorous body insists that somehow this is different. Novel. Exciting.

Gale schools his expression into something hopefully less ravenous.

"I must say, watching you loom over Lae'zel like some mythic warrior queen was certainly a sight." The corner of his mouth quirks. "Not that you aren’t already formidable at your usual height- just..." A vague gesture with one hand. "More so."

Miri laughs again, a thoroughly pleased and amused sound.

"Mythic warrior queen?" she repeats with a grin.

Gale merely offers a soft shrug and pleased smirk of his own. He glances toward their shared tent, where everything inside is decidedly not enlarged, and hesitates for a moment. His impulse to make an escape from prying eyes and drag her inside seems a bit less feasible than he’d like.

"This is going to make for an interesting night," he murmurs with a slow sigh.

Her own eyes fall to their tent, giving it a thoughtful look.

"I can sleep out here tonight," she offers, gesturing to the bedrolls around the campfire.

Gale bites back his knee-jerk response to be offended at the very idea of her sleeping somewhere other than with him. Or of her sleeping out in the open. In the cold. Alone.

“My love, the ground is hard and cold and you deserve infinitely better,” he says with a forced nonchalance.

Miri quirks a brow at him, lips twisting with amusement once more.

"You realize before you I slept most nights outside, yes?"

"Yes, yes, I know you're perfectly capable of and experience with roughing it, but-" Gale huffs and drags a hand through his hair, "But you don't have to anymore." 

When she gives him that look - amused and ready to tease him - he huffs and puts his hands on his hips, lips pressing thin.

"Don’t give me that look! There's no need for such discomfort when there's a perfectly good, soft bedroll and warm tent right here."

She huffs a soft laugh at his pre-emptive chastising, her smile affectionate as she looks down at him. A soft exhale escapes him, his irritation at the entire situation replaced for the moment by a rush of fondness. (And maybe a bit of something else.)

"I do not wish to squish or break any of your things," Miri says as she squats to look inside their tent.

Of course she’s more concerned for the wellbeing of inanimate objects over her own comfort. It was so very... her.

"Unless you can...?" Miri makes a casting gesture towards the tent, mimicking the spell he'd used on her earlier in the day.

"Unfortunately, no," he answers with a wry smile, "Enlarge only works on creatures. And I'm fairly certain we have enough room. The tent's structural integrity will probably withstand you moving about." He eyes her critically, gaze sliding over her newly enhanced proportions again. "Probably."

"Mm." Miri hums, the twist of her lips amused. She considers the tent thoughtfully again, dropping from her squat into a seated position on the rug out front with a soft huff. Her eyes slide to him with a slightly cheeky smirk. "I shall try not to shift in my sleep, hm?"

He gives her a look that is equal parts exasperated and affectionate - torn between wanting to rolls his eyes or kiss the smirk off her lips and drag her into their tent.

Instead, Gale lets out a longsuffering sigh and lowers himself gingerly next to her. "You're impossible," he grumbles, leaning in to steal a brief taste of her smile anyway. "I shall simply have to hold you down the entire night to prevent any rolling about."

"That is optimistic," Miri returns with a soft grin, before leaning in for another kiss.

"Is it?" Gale replies in a low tone. Pulling back just enough to look her over again. He takes his time, gaze roaming leisurely over her face, her throat... down across sturdy shoulders, strong arms.

All he can think of is how big she is now. How strong. She could pin him flat to the ground with little to no effort in this state. Well - she usually could. But imagining that big hand pressed against his chest to hold him down as she leans over him… The idea would be enough to make his knees weak, if he were standing.

He doesn’t let her go far without stealing another kiss. He nips at her bottom lip and Miri rumbles a low growl of a sound - probably one of her usual thoughtful growls, but in this embiggened state it sounds deeper and louder than usual.

The noise absolutely do things to him. And she must notice - because Miri's hands find Gale's legs and she scoops him up into her lap. Gale gasp and his hands fly reflexively to her shoulders to steady himself.

Gods the way she manhandles him and her strong arms cage him in… He suddenly feels positively dwarfed against her enlarged form.

His breath shudders out of him when she noses at his hair with an affectionate nuzzle - the way she always does before pressing kisses to his temple. Only now it's much more overwhelming - being all but cradled in her lap and feeling the sheer power of those arms around him...

She hums another low growl as she rubs her face against him. Gale’s fingers curl into the fabric at her back as he tries not to melt completely under the attention.

He's all-too-aware of the eyes on them from around camp. Hells, he can practically feel Wyll's knowing smirk without even looking his way.

"I- ah- see we're abandoning subtlety entirely tonight," he rasps out weakly, tilting his head up toward hers despite himself.

"You do not smell very subtle, vhenan," she purrs softly against his neck. A shiver races down his spine at the huskily murmured endearment and the feel of her lips against his skin. Gale only just bites back a soft moan as she nips at his neck with those oversized teeth.

"This is hardly fair," he murmurs raggedly. "You're taking shameless advantage of my... particular reaction to your enlarged state."

"Are you having a particular reaction, ma'vhenan?" Miri asks with faux innocence, pressing more soft kisses to his neck.

"You know I- ah-!" His words cut off on a strangled sound as her hand slips southward and teasingly cups his rear with one hand. Gods damn her for knowing his weaknesses so damn well.

Gale's head lolls forward against her shoulder and he lets out another shuddering exhale despite himself, squirming in her lap to try and ease the growing ache between his legs. Then he catches himself and hastily grabs her wandering hand, holding it still against his hip with a weak groan.

"Behave."

"Hmm?"

He knows that look. That sly, wicked gleam in her eye that means she's planning something. And the way her lips are curled at the corners, just slightly.

"Don't. Don't give me that look," he murmurs, doing his best to look stern and gripping her hand tight on his hip.

If she were shifted he just knows by the look in her eyes her tail would be wagging. As it is those darkening green depths sparkle with mischief. A flush heats his cheeks as he struggles to maintain a semblance of composure, keenly aware of their lack of privacy.

"This-" Gale squirms again, his voice dipping lower with a pointed look back at her, "-is not happening just outside our tent-"

"Hurry inside, then," she murmurs playfully, nipping at his neck with those large teeth.

The combination of her low, sultry purr and the sharp graze of teeth sends another shiver through him. Gale inhales a ragged breath and lets it out in a shaky exhale.

"...Insatiable," he mutters. “Incorrigible.”

But he's scrambling out of her lap, grabbing her hands and pulling her hurriedly to her feet as well. Ignoring the titters he can hear nearby and the way his face grows uncomfortably warm.

"Come on. Come on-"

With a tug at her hand, he leads her the short distance to the tent and all but shoves her inside. Despite his pushing, Miri is careful when stooping to enter the tent door.

Once inside, Gale wastes no time in sealing the flaps shut with a flick of his fingers - locking them tight with a muttered incantation that ensures privacy for the foreseeable future.

He turns back to Miri - now seeming to loom all the larger over him in the confined space - and exhales sharply before stepping closer, crowding her backwards toward their bedroll.

"Now then," he murmurs as his hands find her waist (still staggeringly broad). His thumb strokes teasingly at the jut of her hip bone. Trying to ignore how easy it is to reach like this for fear of getting too worked up too quickly. "I believe we were just discussing your behavior, weren't we?"

"Were we?" Miri murmurs with a wicked grin.

She sits on the bedroll and greedily pulls him forward onto her lap once more. This time Miri hitches his legs over her hips, and a low, involuntary sound escapes him as their bodies connect. His hands immediately seek purchase on her shoulders, bracing on her wide, powerful frame.

Gods, he's straddling her lap, and suddenly it really sinks in just how much the Enlarge spell has boosted her size.

"Yes," he manages hoarsely, looking up at her almost pouting. "We were.”

"I am listening," Miri purrs with a low growl from deep in her chest.

She tucks her face into the crook of his neck, lips finding bare skin. His breath stutters and he tilts automatically to grant her easier access. Which she gladly takes.

Her hands slide up and down his sides, slow and unhurried, as an appreciative rumble rolls from her. His own hands find their way into her thick waves of wine-colored hair, fingers curling into the soft locks.

Gale struggles to maintain his focus. Her large, strong hands roaming over him make it increasingly difficult. Heat pools low in his gut, and Gale's hips rock unconsciously against her stomach as he tries to get a grip on himself.

"You were teasing me," he accuses breathlessly. "Touching me in front of the others like that-"

"No more touch than usual, fenor," Miri counters in a soft rumble. Clearly unrepentant, she continues like nothing were different than usual. Inhaling his scent with her nose tucked in his hair.

When he tips his head back in response, Miri gladly laves the exposed skin with tongue and lips. His breath hitches sharply as her tongue drags over his pulse point, body trembling faintly under her attentions.

"It was definitely more touch than usual," he insists weakly, even as he arches into every brush of her mouth on his skin. "You were very deliberate about it-"

The last word pitches higher as she finds a particularly sensitive spot just beneath his jaw and nips lightly with those lupine fangs.

Miri rumbles a low considering growl and Gale’s hands flex against her shoulders, hips rocking again. There's so much of her beneath him - wide shoulders, strong arms, powerful thighs.

"I think it is the same," she counters, "But this size is novel..."

Her questing fingers find the ties of his wrap tunic - unraveling them with a deft tug, parting the fabric and sliding her hands beneath. The feel of her hands - so much bigger now, spanning his ribs with ease - pushing his shirt open and off makes Gale shiver all over again.

"And you find it very exciting," she concludes, pulling back to look at him with a satisfied grin.

Gods, of course she'd been able to tell how much this increased size is turning him on. He feels so exposed under that knowing green gaze. It makes his eyes flutter shut as his head drops forward onto her shoulder, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks.

"Damn you and your uncanny ability to read me as easily as I read a book."

Miri titters a soft laugh. But her gaze softens, hands finding and kneading the muscles of his thighs. She waits as she considers him softly - never going further than he's comfortable.

"Is it too much, vhenan?" Miri checks in softly.

"No," he blurts out before realizing just how eager that sounds.

He clear his throat and forces himself to slow down, exhaling shakily as her hands knead gently at his thighs. Maddeningly, both comforting and stimulating.

With a steadying breath, he lifts his gaze so she can see the warm determination in his eyes, despite the flush high on his cheeks.

"It's not too much," he admits more evenly, "Just... new."

His fingers trace idly along her collarbone. "And as you so astutely observed, I find myself rather taken with exploring all of its implications."

"Good." Miri smiles warmly in return, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

His fingers continue to drift over the expanse of her broad shoulders, tracing hard muscle and drinking in the feel of her strength beneath him. Miri likewise lets her fingers roam - gentle, but possessive.

"I am similarly captivated by your response," she murmurs against his temple. Her lips curve into a sharp grin. "And I cannot deny how satisfying it is to have you like this, ma’vhenan."

Miri leans in to press soft kisses to his bare skin - moving from one shoulder to the other. His breath catches as her lips brush over his chest - pausing right where the mark of the orb pulses faintly beneath his skin.

The tender touch and reassurance amid rising heat never fails to take his breath away. Somehow Miri always finds a way to weave comfort and devotion into every moment.

"You are taken with the implications… do you have something particular in mind?" She presses more soft kisses to his skin, speaking softly as she goes.

Miri pauses, licking his warm skin as she rumbles another low growl. Hungry and inquisitive as her hands cup his rear once more.

"Or do you want to let go?"

That low growl, the possessive gleam in her gaze, and that maddening touch - combined with the sheer size of her now... its more intoxicating than any wine. For once her size feels appropriate for all that uncanny strength.

His hands flex against her shoulders again, nails biting in just slightly as he fights for coherence amidst the storm of sensation.

"Let go...?"

The breathless question lingers in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning.

It takes everything in him not to buck his hips shamelessly into hers at just the thought of surrendering completely to her like this. Letting those big hands pin him down and take whatever she pleases while he unravels under her touch...

But Gale hesitates, one hand rising to cup Miri’s cheek with aching tenderness despite how wrecked he already feels. Miri leans into the touch of his hand, as she always does.

"I don't want you thinking this is all I desire from you." He swallows thickly. "That it's only about your strength or size or- or whatever power play we indulge in together..."

He searches her face intently, before pressing a slow kiss over the tattoo on the bridge of her nose. He lingers for a long moment before pulling back and pressing their foreheads together. Just far enough that see his smile - soft and tender. Oozing with his love for her.

Miri meets his loving smile with one of her own.

"I know, vhenan," she replies with a reassuring kiss in kind. "Our bond is much deeper than just desires."

The tension in his shoulders eases at her words, melting into the reassurance that she understands. That their bond- their love - isn't reduced to the raw pull of desire.

He should've known better - but it's all still new for them. Hardly more than a tenday since the night under the stars… And he won't risk this over something so crass.

Her smile turns pleased when she sees him relax. She presses another tender kiss to the thoughtful pinch of his brows.

"But I will gladly indulge yours."

Miri's husky growl of a voice is enough to send a shiver down his spine. That predatory glint flashes in her gaze again and Gale’s breath stutters out of him once more, his pulse thundering in his throat as heat coils low in his belly.

How fast she can unravel him. It should be frightening, honestly.

"Then indulge me," Gale rasps before sealing his lips over hers with a hunger bordering on desperation.

Take me apart.

"With pleasure," she rumbles against his lips.

His hands slide from her shoulders down to the hem of her tunic, tugging insistently. Miri lifts her shirt up and off at his urging - and once it's no longer in contact with her, Miri’s tunic loses the effects of the spell and returns to its original size.

Miri pauses, momentarily distracted by the sight. Gale’s eyes are drawn to where her gaze has turned, and huffs a soft laugh against where he was kissing her collarbone - unable to resist tasting the warm expanse of newly revealed skin.

"Magical effects on objects… dissipate once separated from their source." He explains between languid kisses to her skin, as he drags his mouth up along her throat. A pause, then another nip at her pulse point before adding, "Fascinating... but not nearly as fascinating as you are right now."

Miri huffs a laugh, returning her attention fully to him.

"Sorry, vhenan," she returns with amusement between apologetic kisses over his upper body.

He lets out a soft groan as her lips find him again, one hand threading through her hair to keep her close while the other trails down to splay possessively over the toned planes of her bare stomach.

"Don’t apologize," he murmurs against the shell of Miri’s ear, his rough whisper making her shiver. "Just... keep touching me. Please."

His hips roll downward once more in an unspoken plea, heat burning through every inch of his skin where it presses flush against hers.

"So needy," she muses, but the husky purr is nothing but delighted. Gale doesn't bother denying the accusation - groaning softly instead as her hands slide up his thighs to his hips.

"You have no idea," he admits shamelessly, breathless Miri’s hands make quick work of the lacing of his trousers.

He is needy. Desperate for more contact. More kisses. More anything. And the way he feels under her hands, small in her lap... Gods, he wants her to manhandle him the way her enhanced body would allow.

“Please,” he says again.

Miri growls her approval. Thrilling at the power he puts in her hands.

"Good boy," she murmurs huskily against his shoulder before pulling back.

His entire body flushes at the way she called him good boy, cock twitching against her stomach in response. Gale whines softly, curling his fingers tighter into her hair and eyes fluttering shut as he rocks his hips forward against her hands.

“Patience,” she murmurs with a playful, chastising grin.

Miri lifts him off her lap with uncanny ease and Gale gasps at the sudden shift. She lifts him up like he’s no heavier than a book - strips away the last of his clothes, and settles him on her lap once more.

The sheer effortlessness with which does it leaves him weak in her hands. Gale’s hands scramble for purchase on those broad shoulders again as if to anchor himself. A shudder runs through him as he look up at her, now bare against her and feeling so small in her lap.

"Gods," he breathes.

This was going to be a very long night indeed.

Miri's hands grip his backside and give a possessive squeeze. Gale’s breath stutters out in a moan as her hands knead into him, his hips jerking forward instinctively at the pressure. And the first grind of his hard length against her stomach is almost enough to make him see stars.

Miri encourages him to keep rocking against her, and he can do naught but follow. The friction is exquisite - her skin so warm against him - and with her guidance, he rolls into the motion shamelessly.

Miri leans in to press their foreheads together, leaving little space between them. Gale's grip tightens, fingers digging in to ground himself while his breath comes in ragged pants against her lips.

"By the Weave," he rasps between kisses that grow sloppier by the second. "You'll be the death of me."

"I have barely started, vhenan," Miri purrs in return. Watching his every move with greedy eyes.

"Barely started—ahh," he gasps, words lost around a sharp moan when her grip tightens and he bucks against her. His own eyes flutter shut and his head spins. Gods, his entire body is thrumming with heat now, buzzing with it as he writhes in her grip.

His hands slide from her shoulders to grip at her wrists, trying to pull those big hands further down, lower, closer -

Begging for her to hold him open and take what he so badly wants to give. 

"Please," he groans.

Miri takes his meaning - it's where she'd been heading anyway. But she slides her hands lower at his guidance, gripping him more firmly. Still encouraging him to rock against her with one hand, her other starts to tease a finger over his entrance.

Gale nearly chokes on the breath caught in his throat when her fingers press there- there - his entire body feeling like a live wire as she traces over him with maddening lightness. His hands shoot back to grip her shoulders again, nails biting in as he gasps out a string of half-formed curses and pleas.

Miri growls that wicked sound of delight that he both loves and loathes. Always teasing. But always promising untold delights.

Gale’s back arches like a strung bow, pleading silently for more pressure, more contact. For anything at all beyond this torturous teasing.

"Are you trying - nnh- to drive me completely mad?"

"Perhaps," she purrs, kissing up and down the column of his throat. Miri's finger slides back and forth before circling sensitive skin. Deliberately teasing.

"Miri, for gods' sake," he groans, hips stuttering mid-rock before pushing back into that teasing touch shamelessly. The friction against her stomach is delicious but nothing compared to the promise of what those skilled fingers could do inside him if she'd just stop taunting.

He can’t finish whatever broken plea had been forming - lost in the ether with the rest of his thoughts - as she kneads another finger against his taint and the jolt of sensation draws out a strangled cry.

But she only teases like that long enough for her other hand uncork a vial of oil and apply it where they need.

The slick slide of oil against his skin makes him moan outright - sharp and high and desperate as his hips rock forward into her stomach again, seeking any kind of friction he can find. His fingers scramble at Miri’s shoulders, neck, hair - clutching at her anywhere he can like she’s the only thing keeping him from floating away entirely.

"Please, my love," he gasps against her collarbone between ragged exhales, "You know I can't bear your teasing for long."

His entire body feels taut waiting for what he needs - stretched tight with tension like the head of a drum. His hips squirm with tiny, desperate thrusts forward and back that smear his arousal against her stomach.

"Shh, just relax, fenor," Miri murmurs back softly, nuzzling into his hair.

She doesn't keep him waiting. Careful and gentle, all too aware of how much bigger than usual she is, Miri applies steady pressure until Gale finally relaxes and she can slip a finger inside.

The slow stretch is blissful - exceedingly so, and Gale keens out her name against her shoulder as his back arches sharply at the intrusion. His thighs tighten adn quiver where they bracket Miri’s waist, and his fingers grip almost painfully in her hair as he struggles to adjust to being stretched open so thoroughly by just one of those fingers.

"Hells," he chokes out between gasps. "Oh, gods, you're- ah!- so much bigger like this."

His hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more pressure already despite how his body trembles under the effort of holding still for her.

"Tell me if it is too much," she breathes against his neck.

She slowly guides him to rock his hips, alternating between grinding against her stomach and pressing back onto her finger.

Gale's breath stutters - every nerve in his body alight with pleasure as he follows the push and pull of her hands without hesitation. The drag of her finger inside him is exquisite, just bordering on too much yet not nearly enough to satisfy the growing hunger coiling tight in his gut.

"Nngh- never too much," he slurs against her skin, hips rolling shamelessly between the two points of contact. His words are fractured by little punched-out moans each time she presses deeper, fingers clinging to whatever part of Miri they can reach.

"Oh, gods," he rasps out after a particularly delicious thrust that has stars bursting behind his eyelids. "Gods, please...more-"

Miri savors the desperate way he chases his pleasure with her. Delights in how easy it is to direct his pleasure like this. She angles her fingers just right to press from within and without each time he rolls his hips back. The drag of her finger over that spot inside while she kneads another into his taint has him gasping - lips parting around a silent cry as his spine bows under the sheer pleasure of it.

When Gale throws his head back with a ragged moan and begs for ‘more’ again Miri growls, low and hungry. Lips and teeth lavishing that soft skin as she takes him apart one rock of his hips at a time.

"Another?”

He barely registers Miri’s growl of a question through the haze of his pleasure. But he’s nodding frantically before realizing she’ll demand his words anyway.

"Y-yes," he manages in a strangled moan, nails biting into her shoulders as he writhes against her lap. "Another- please- ahh!"

His hips stutter forward when she crooks that finger inside him just right again, cock twitching where it's trapped between them and smearing precome across Miri’s stomach with every desperate rut.

Miri growls low in her chest as she watches him. Her lips wander his skin with reverent adoration, occasionally nipping.

Gale isn't entirely sure how coherent his begging is. All he knows is she could ask for anything in this moment and he'd give it without hesitation if it meant getting another thick finger inside him right now.

"So good for me," she breathes huskily, spreading praise over his skin, "I love watching you come undone. So handsome..."

His head tips back as she murmurs against his skin, and the way his breath hitches in his throat makes it clear just how much her words are doing for him right now. The praise is a heady thing, as familiar and intoxicating as the pleasure building between his legs.

And ever so gently Miri works in a second finger. And Gale lets out a broken cry against her shoulder.

"By the weave," he pants between ragged gasps, thighs trembling violently where they bracket her hips. The burn is delicious- just shy of too much but not quite crossing the line- and Gale rolls his hips back desperately to chase every inch of those fingers inside him.

Gale is a writhing mess gasping out soft whimpers and syllables of pleasure against Miri's skin. His thoughts have long since scattered under the force of the searing heat pooling low in his gut with every thrust of Miri’s hand.

"Gods- Miri-!" Gale jolts against her when she finds that perfect spot again, massaging from all sides. His voice is wrecked and rough. "I'm- hnn- not going last- ah- i-if you keep doing that-"

Gale doesn't recognize his own voice anymore - somewhere between keening and groaning with every thrust. He can barely form words. Reduced from verbosity to desperate gasps and broken sounds punched out from low in his chest.

Miri revels in how thoroughly she can unravel him like this.

Adores the desperate way his hips roll back and forth. The flush of his cheeks and dark, hooded haze of his sweet brown eyes. That soft part of his lips as he pants and moans for her.

And thrills of heat dance in her own core as his hot, hard arousal grinds against her bare stomach. It's hard to stay patient when he looks like this...

But there’s nothing more satisfying in the world than knowing how good she’s made him feel. And she chases it relentlessly.

Miri lavishes him with praise as she takes him apart. Mixed affirmations in Common and Elvish both. Curling her fingers to press against that sensitive spot as she tells him how much she loves him.

Every word of praise- every murmur of love in Elvish- sends another shudder through him, each syllable striking a chord deep within. His hips stutter between the two points of pleasure, caught between the need to press back into Miri’s fingers and grind forward against her stomach.

His hands clutch weakly at Miri’s biceps, nails biting into her skin. Gale’s cock is flushed too where it leaks against her stomach, twitching desperately every time those fingers curl just right.

"Please," he finally sobs out, voice cracking under the strain as she drives him toward oblivion with alarming efficiency. "Miri- I'm- I can't-"

It's the words in Elvish that finally do him in. That familiar melodic rasp of syllables he's come to associate with safety, love, home.

Combined with her relentless touch there's little he could do to stop the release barreling through him.

Gale comes apart with a cry muffled into Miri’s shoulder, back arching sharply as pleasure crashes over him like a tidal wave. His cock pulses between them, spilling hot and messy over her stomach while he shudders through it - gasping for air as his vision whites out at the edges.

"Well done, ma'vhenan. So good for me, fenor, so beautiful, ma isalath-"

Miri praises and gently works him through it until his shakes subside and Gale hisses a shuddering breath through his teeth. Then she gently withdraws her fingers and bundles him against her chest, holding him close as he comes down.

He goes boneless as he sinks gladly against her heat. His head spins as he comes back down from what may be the hardest he’s ever come in his life. The aftermath leaves him feeling practically gelatinous as he pants, body thrumming with pleasant aftershocks.

Gods, this woman…

His lips find her skin with lazy kisses wherever he can manage to reach. Tracing the column of her throat and the line of her collarbone blearily as his breathing gradually steadies.

"Don't think I'm going to be walking for the next hour or so," he mutters against her skin.

Miri chuckles softly, pressing kisses to his crown as she slowly lays back on the bedding, bringing him with her. A low, rolling purr of a growl vibrates in her chest as she holds him. Gale doesn't even try to stifle the shiver that races down his spine at the contended sound.

"You have no need to," she returns playfully. Then slightly huskier, she adds, "I will not be letting you go anytime soon."

The possessive note in Miri's voice goes straight to his gut, sending a fresh rush of heat through him even as he struggles to regain his composure.

Gods, this woman!

How she so thoroughly undoes him. So raw and primal and real.

Gale lifts his head to catch her gaze, trying valiantly to seem even remotely put-together.

"Is that so?" He rasps, lips curving into a rakish half-smile. "And if I tried to escape?"

Miri's eyes meet his - slit pupils rounded and dark. Her lips quirk up in a toothy smirk.

"Think you could?" Her voice is low and rough.

The challenge in her voice - that smirk, the hunger in her eyes - it makes his breath stutter all over again.

Gale could. Of course he could. He’s an arch mage (or was, anyway) - he knew plenty of ways to disappear. But the thought of even trying to escape from Miri’s hold is laughable when she looks at him like that. When she growls low in her chest and pins him with that predatory gleam in her eyes.

His lips part around a shaky exhale as he stares back at her, pulse thundering under his skin once more.

"...Not for all the gold in Waterdeep," he admits hoarsely before leaning forward to press an open-mouthed kiss just beneath Miri’s jaw. "And you know it."

Miri rumbles, soft and satisfied, holding him more tightly against her and nuzzling his hair.

"Possessive thing," he purrs, shifting in her hold to nuzzle at the spot under her chin. He presses another kiss over her heartbeat, murmuring against her skin, "You know I'm not going anywhere."

"I make no apologies," she murmurs huskily, a hand tightening at his hip.

Gale nips lightly at her skin in teasing chastisement. Miri growls low, lips parting and eyes fluttering at the feel of his teeth on her neck. His lips curl upwards smugly, before repeating the nip.

He's always been a terrible tease and he feels like a bit of turnabout is called for after such a ravishing. And his sweet Miri is so weak the sharp bite of teeth against her skin.

"Never said you needed to."

Gale grins against her skin when he bites more forcefully and he’s rewarded with her growl cutting off around a moan.

Her hands also tighten around him - and Gods they’re so big and strong. The way his breath stutters makes it all too clear what that possessive hold does to him.

His own hands find her shoulders once more, lifting himself up to look at her. And Gale’s heart does a somersault in his chest at the heat in her dark gaze. Like she wants to devour him.

"By the Weave… the way you look at me…" he manages in a strangled whisper.

"Hm? Like you are perfect?" Miri murmurs, tugging him impossibly closer and nuzzling his neck. Breathing in greedy inhales of his scent. "Like you are unreal in every way? Sculpted by nature's touch to undo me?"

Miri kisses and nips at his skin, her own breath shallow from the way he teases and touches and wants. A shiver runs through him as she nips and sucks at his pulse point, fingers digging in against Miri's shoulders to keep himself steady.

"All of those," he breathes, tilting his head back to bare his throat to her teeth.

"Or like you are mine?”

The way she growls the word - the possessive way she clutches him - it makes every inch of him throb with heat. Gale's already growing hard again, unable to stop his hips from rocking against her stomach, sliding in the slick he left behind. Encouraged by the cup of Miri’s hand at the back of his thigh.

"Y-yes, like that," he manages, words catching on a ragged moan when she bites down at the junction between his neck and shoulder. "Like I'm yours…all yours…"

His hands slide from Miri’s shoulders to cup her face to meet those dark, dilated eyes. Her smile is so easy and warm.

"Mm.” One of her hands slides over his, holding it against her face. “As I am yours, ma'vhenan."

Something soft and warm blooms in his chest. How easily the endearment falls from her lips.

The way his heart thunders isn't just from lust. The reverence in Miri’s voice makes his chest ache, even as the rest of him burns under her touch.

"Always," Gale whispers against Miri's lips before kissing her deeply - pouring every ounce of love and devotion into it until they’re both breathless.

When they finally break apart he rests his forehead against hers with a shuddering exhale.

The playful squeeze of her hands at his hips makes him groan again, teeth sinking lightly into his lower lip to stifle another desperate sound.

"Now that I've recovered somewhat…” Gale starts with a growing, cheeky grin, “I think we have far more exploring to do with your newfound size."

“I was hoping you might feel that way," Miri returns huskily, showing teeth with a cheeky smirk.

"Absolutely insatiable," Gale murmurs with a low, teasing laugh. He leans in to press more kisses along her jaw, lingering to savor the taste of her skin.

"For you? Absolutely," Miri rumbles back, returning his kisses with some of her own.

His fingers trail down over shoulders and along muscled arms before coming to rest atop Miri’s own hands where they grip him.

"Where do you want me first?" he asks - breathless and teasing and so very hers.

Miri hardly pauses to think about it. The look in her eye says she knows exactly what she wants.

"On your back, vhenan," she murmurs in his ear, "There is something I have always wanted to try."

Gale’s pulse kicks up another notch at that, heart hammering wildly against his ribs. He’s already in motion before she finishes, rolling off of her to lay back against the bedroll beside her with an unsteady exhale.

"Anything you want," Gale breathes out - half a promise, half a plea - eager and pliant under her hands.

His fingers dig into the furs beneath him in anticipation, legs parting shamelessly as his gaze flickers between Miri's lips and those hands.

Those perfect, enormous hands that could pin him down so easily if she wanted.

"Always so good for me," Miri purrs, taking a moment to just admire him. Laid out on the bedroll like a feast just for her.

In this state he seems so...small. But this new temporary height increase presents the perfect opportunity to try out a position she's dreamed of - one that’s always been out of reach at her normal stature.

"This will be a bit of a stretch for you, vhenan," she tells him with an affectionate but eager smile as she uses a soft rag to clean them both up with a gentle touch. "Tell me if it is uncomfortable."

He's trembling in anticipation, his breath coming out in little gasps as he watches Miri clean them off. When her words sink in, something in him goes molten. His legs part wider without thought, his every muscle going taut.

"I can take it," Gale breathes, managing a shaky smile. He can’t stop himself from adding, "I'll be good for you."

Because of course he will. Because he's hers, body and soul.

Miri grins at him, huffing a soft laugh at his interpretation when he spreads his legs for her.

"For your muscles, Gale," she teases in a low murmur. "But I know you will, fenor."

Gale’s entire body flushes hot at the correction - for your muscles, of course - but he can't even manage a flustered retort because suddenly Miri's hands are under his thighs.

Her fingers roam appreciatively before she cups the back of his knees and lifts. Those strong arms lift his lower body with even more terrifying ease than usual. Gale goes pliant in her grip immediately, letting her maneuver him however she pleases as his breath comes in shallow gasps.

Careful to be gentle and not stretch him too far too fast, Miri slowly lifts and pushes his legs knees towards his chest.

His knees press toward his chest until he's spread open entirely for her, utterly exposed in a way that makes heat coil tight low in his gut all over again. Gale’s fingers dig into the furs and bedding beneath him as she holds him there - letting his muscles acclimate.

"Gods," he chokes out in an unsteady waver, “Miri-!”

The stretch is delicious - just shy of too much, not quite painful, but intense. It pulls taut every muscle along his back and abdomen in a way he’s never felt before. And just the fact that she’s putting him into this position is enough to make it so much more. It doesn’t help that her gaze fixes hungrily on where his body strains for her.

He doesn't even realize how shamelessly his hips are writhing until Miri meets his gaze with that dark look again - the teasing, dark reminder to be patient. It’s enough to have heat pooling dangerously low once more as he looks up at her through half-lidded eyes.

"P-please," is all Gale manages before cutting himself off with a ragged moan when she shifts just slightly to press him deeper into the stretch. He’s already so hard just from being manhandled so effortlessly.

Miri gives him a reassuring smile - but the hunger beneath it only stokes more heat.

She's never been tall enough to try this with him before - so she's careful as she sets the position up to make sure they'll both enjoy it.

Holding him steady, Miri steps closer, encouraging Gale to hold onto her ankles instead of the bedding. His hands scramble eagerly to get purchase.

She positions herself carefully, straddling his hips and using a hand to line him up with her needy core. Then Miri slowly lowers her hips, sliding him inside of her with a grateful moan.

The sound he makes when Miri sinks down onto him is filthy. Broken and desperate - loud in the quiet of their tent.

His legs tremble where she holds them, every nerve ending in his body lighting up at once with just how deep she takes him like this. He can feel every inch inside her - can feel the way her walls flutter around his cock as she adjusts to him - and it steals what little breath he has left.

Gale grips her ankles tight enough there might be bruises tomorrow as he fights to keep himself from bucking up into that delicious heat.

"Fuck, love," Gale gasps out between ragged moans. "Y-you feel... ahh!"

Words fail him entirely when she shifts on top of him, finding just the right angle to start a languid rhythm and sending a fresh wave of pleasure sparking down his spine.

Miri's head tips back with a moan as she takes full control and her pace finds a steady rhythm.

"Nnhh- this is better than I imagined-" she pants as her gaze returns to his.

Gods he looks perfect beneath her. Sweaty and disheveled, lust drunk on her attentions. Skin flushed, messy hair a halo around his head. Not even including how he sounds or how good he smells...

And he just lets her take so eagerly. Perfect.

She can't help but move faster, chasing their pleasure. Delighting in how she can control the depth and grind her clit against him with every thrust. And reveling even more on how clearly he enjoys this.

"You have no idea," he breathes in a voice wrecked and barely audible even to his own ears.

Gale knows already that neither will last long like this.

She has him absolutely unraveling in her grip and she knows it - she can see it in the desperate way his hips shiver under her touch and the way his breath stutters out in broken gasps.

He can't even find words for how good it is - how perfect it feels- but he knows it shows in the way his eyes go hazy with dazed, pleasure-drenched affection as he stares up at the beautiful woman above him.

It's too much. It's perfect. And Gale never wants it to end.

There's something so intoxicating about submitting like this - letting Miri do whatever she wants. Knowing she will bring pleasure to them both. He loves being able to simply let go of every inch of stress and tension that comes with leading and planning and instead just feel.

Trusting entirely that she'll take care of him.

And gods, does she ever.

In the way she watches him, and the way her hands hold him in place, and the way she moves against him...

"I love you- I love you, I love you-"

Miri moans raggedly. "I love you too- gods, I love you-"

Her gasping devotion sends a fresh surge of heat rocking through him - his heart swells impossibly full.

Gale knows better than anyone how bad Miri is with words. How she prefers to show rather than simply say. And every time he hears those words fall from her lips it sets his skin ablaze with a fire that's all but overwhelming.

Gale tightens his grip at her ankles and pulls, trying to make her take him just a little bit deeper in retaliation.

He can't make her budge like this, not with their size difference, but Miri takes the hint. She presses his legs just a little closer to his chest so her own hips can press closer against his, taking him deeper with every stroke.

The sharp moan that tears from Gale's throat at the new angle is absolutely ruined.

His body quakes beneath Miri as he scrambles for better purchase on her legs. His fingers dig into thick muscle and tanned skin, gripping desperately at Miri's calves as if he could somehow pull himself even closer.

Gale’s head spins with every roll of her hips. Every slow drag where their bodies meet - Gale feels it in his bones.

His vision whites out briefly when she shifts to grind against the base of him and it sends sparks, lightning hot, shooting up his spine.

"I- I can't!" Gale sobs out between frantic gasps for air when the pleasure becomes too much all over again. "Nghh! You feel s-so good- I'm not going to last-"

"I am close too," Miri replies in a moaning breath. It feels so good- every press of her hips creating that perfect friction that has her right at the edge. "Come with me," she pleads, "Please, Gale, ma'vhenan- Come again with me-"

How is he meant to say no to a request like that from the woman he loves?

How is he even meant to think right now when his brain is so thoroughly scrambled?

"Y-yes, my love," he murmurs, voice trembling with barely restrained ecstasy. "I'll come for you- come with you. Gods, I'd do anything you ask of me-"

His desperate vow - and the desperate look on his face as Gale says it - is enough to drive Miri over the edge. Her legs tremble as her muscles seize and she squeezes tight around him.

The ragged moan of his name is more than enough to send him tumbling straight after Miri, her name a breathless gasp against his lips as he spills once more.

His body goes boneless all at once. His fingers unclench from Miri's legs as he does pliant against the bedding and gasps for air. Gale tries to find any words to convey how that felt- how amazing that was- as she gently lowers his trembling thighs back to the bedroll.

Miri's own legs tremble from the force of her climax and the sustained effort of riding him like that. Gods, but it was worth it.

Gale doesn’t quite find his usual prose. Instead he reaches weakly up to her with a shaky hands to coax her down to him.

"C'mon," he slurs hoarsely, “Time to sleep.”

She lets out a breathless giggle at his invitation, and stumbles forward gladly. Miri settles beside him, and for once can readily be the big spoon without being lupine.

She pulls him tight against her as she curls around him, rumbling a deep satisfied purr. It's warm and safe and comfortable and he melts bonelessly against her chest with a happy sigh.

With a weary wave of his hand he extinguishes the light in their tent.

His hand finds hers as she wraps an arm around his waist. He lifts it to his lips to press soft kisses against her knuckles.

"That was... gods- incredible," he mumbles, still slightly breathless in the darkness. But never satisfied without making some remark on their experience.

"I am glad you enjoyed it too," she murmurs warmly.

"I think I'll be limp come morning.”

Miri huffs a soft laugh. "I will happily carry you to breakfast."

He snorts against her hand, still pressed to his lips as he takes a final moment to enjoy the over-sized digits. They’ll be normal come morning; but he’s already tucking the utility of the spell away in his back pocket for a rainy day.

"Breakfast," he mumbles into her skin with a smirk, his words already running together with exhaustion. "As if I'm letting you out of this tent before midday."

Miri chuckles softly, enjoying the contented satiety that wraps them both up in warm bliss. She tucks her face into his hair with a pleased hum.

Gale yawns broadly before nestling back against her chest with a contented hum. There could be no place more comfortable than the warmth of her embrace - no matter how big or small.

"Mm... love you..."

"As I love you,” she returns with a soft press of lips to his temple. “Goodnight, ma'vhenan."

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