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Each day, it seemed there were fewer people aboard the Flying Sahuagin, the sixteen-deck flagship of Sword Coast Cruise Lines. In fact, the passenger manifest had not changed. All 3500 cruisegoers were still on board, but most were laid up in the infirmary or confined to their rooms, thanks to a horrific outbreak of norovirus.
The disease took down a few passengers on day one, likely due to a contaminated salad bar. Then it hit a few more, and soon half the ship’s passengers were stuck behind closed doors, puking and shitting their guts out.
Those who hadn't caught it yet were terrified that they would, and were hesitant to take part in any of the adults only cruise’s all-inclusive activities.
Astarion and Gale had no such misgivings, and were determined to fully enjoy themselves. By day eight of the tenday journey around the Moonshae Isles, they had yet to get sick. Whether it was honeymooners’ luck or the fact that they routinely exposed themselves to a plethora of viruses and bacteria during their sexual exploits, they remained in perfect health.
The pair relaxed on an empty deck, sharing a lounge chair and sipping complimentary piña coladas. Astarion, who was absolutely slathered in sunscreen, sat in front of Gale, his SPF 70-coated back adhered to Gale's thick, fuzzy belly.
Through the dark tint of his sunglasses, Astarion did nothing more than gaze blankly at pink and orange clouds as he basked in the last of the day’s warm sunlight. Every so often, he could feel a bit of sweat trickle down his back toward his swimsuit bottom.
It was as scant a piece as a person could get away with in public—little more than a scarlet pouch in the front and a string that ran up the crack of his ass to either side.
Gale tugged at the string, gently snapping it against Astarion's hip.
“Do you want to go for a swim?”
It took Astarion a moment to register that his husband had said anything, and then he still didn't really catch the words.
“Hrm?” he wondered.
“Are you alright?” Gale asked.
Astarion peeled away from Gale to a sound akin to ripping velcro. With a slightly tipsy hand, he set his drink on a nearby table, then turned himself around so he was on his knees facing Gale.
His husband never could get sunscreen application right. Gale's face was bright red, but no less beautiful than ever as it eyed him with concern.
“I am alright,” Astarion said, idly twisting a finger through the damp curls on Gale’s chest. “It's the strangest feeling.”
“Contentedness?”
“Mhm.”
Astarion wasn't worried about the frivolity of spending money on a cruise, like he had been for their perfect mattress. He wasn't worried about his job or about how well Karlach and Wyll would take care of Tara. He wasn't worried about anything. He wasn’t sure he even remembered how.
Gale’s mouth warmed into a smile. “Do you want to go for a swim?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Astarion hopped off the lounge chair and performed an exaggerated stretch, raising his hands to the sky and showing off his exposed ass cheeks. When Gale set down his drink and arose from the chair, Astarion dodged a slap to his bare ass and began sashaying toward the pool.
“You’ll have to catch me, darling.”
If he really wanted to be nude, he could have been. There wasn't a soul around except for the tiefling bartender at the deck’s far end, who was entirely absorbed in watching Fornication Island on her phone. Astarion's teensy red bottom was a tease, though—one that drove Gale wild.
The sound of Gale’s heavy, horny breathing followed Astarion past dozens of empty deck chairs to a shallow, kidney-shaped pool full of pristine water.
Astarion wasted no time, ignoring the stairs that led into the pool in favor of jumping in directly and landing with a SPLISH.
His feet struck hard against the bottom, but it wasn't overly painful. He soon stood in water that came to his chest, skimming his hands back and forth across the surface and gazing at Gale.
“How's the temperature?” Gale asked.
It was a bit cooler than usual—perhaps because it lacked all the urine from other passengers—but Astarion didn't think it was too bad.
“Water’s fine.”
Gale approached the pool stairs in periwinkle swim shorts—a new pair, identical to his old ones but better-fitting and without holes. He winced a little as his feet hit what he clearly believed was cold water, but he kept going deeper.
“You're going to be the death of me, you know,” he said through chattering teeth.
“It was your idea to get in,” Astarion said, swimming over to where Gale was now chest-deep in the pool, his nipples sharp and pointing at the water’s surface.
Beneath the surface, Gale reached for Astarion’s swim thong. “I'm not talking about the water.”
His fingers pinched the string at Astarion's side, then slid slowly along the stretchy fabric until they approached the front. One finger dipped beneath the band and just barely grazed the base of Astarion's soft cock before sliding back to the string.
Astarion stopped being soft almost immediately. He moved closer to Gale, slipping an arm around his sunscreen-slimy back and pulling him in until their small, stiff cocks were touching through wet fabric. His free hand trailed along Gale’s chest, playing with the hairs and pinching at his cold-hardened nipples.
With lust on his mind, Astarion began pressing kisses into Gale's shoulder and up his neck, unbothered by the chemical taste of sunscreen that lingered on his lips.
Gale shivered.
“It really is c–cold in here.”
“Change of scenery,” Astarion suggested, squeezing a bit of fat at Gale’s back. “Hot tub?”
“Let's.”
The deck was dotted with small hot tubs, each meant for two people. As the sun set in the sky, Astarion and Gale made their way over to the nearest.
Tragically, it was empty. Dry. A recessed circle of disappointment.
So was the next hot tub they found.
And the next.
“Excuse me,” Astarion said to the tiefling bartender, interrupting Fornication Island. “Are there any working hot tubs?”
The bartender shook her head. “They kept getting contaminated.”
Considering the symptoms of norovirus, Astarion tried not to think about the meaning behind ‘contaminated’ as he wandered back to where Gale was standing over a hot tub, arms crossed.
“If we could fill it, do you think you could get it working?” Gale asked.
“Of course.”
That’s what Astarion did these days. With his record expunged, the certifications were a breeze. Appliance repair wasn’t the most esteemed profession in Faerûn, but at least he was able to work for himself. And he enjoyed it, for the most part. Experimenting. Figuring out how things worked and fixing them.
As a bonus, he could spend his free time in the shop fashioning spare parts into sex gadgets. His latest creations—the Dildozer and Vibratortilla—were a big step up from that fuck machine he once made out of a boba shaker and mop handle.
He bit his lip. “And how do you imagine we’ll fill the hot tub?”
“There’s likely a fire hose somewhere…” Gale paused. “Were you trying to insinuate something just now?”
“Well, you did marry an elf.” Still somewhat hard from their brief liaison in the pool, Astarion reached for his scant little swimsuit and gave his package a pointed squeeze.
Gale tilted his head in disbelief. “That tub must hold hundreds of gallons of water. As, ah, abundant as your emissions are, it would be physically impossible for you to fill that hot tub.” His voice lowered. “Not to mention a waste when you could be filling me.”
While Astarion appreciated that, he also appreciated a challenge—at least when it came from Gale and not the cold, uncaring universe.
“I think I could do it,” he said, holding his head high.
“I’ll tell you what,” Gale said, raising an index finger. “See how far you can get by the time I return with a hose.”
“If I’m successful…”
Gale chuckled. “Astarion, if you can fill that tub just to the level of the lowest seat, you can have your way with me the rest of the evening.”
“And if I can't…”
“Then I'll have my way with you.”
“Mhm… That almost makes it tempting to throw the game.”
“You would never,” Gale said.
Astarion grinned. “I might. You never know.”
He gave his husband a quick peck on the lips before hopping down into the barren hot tub. Its cool non-slip surface was bumpy beneath his feet, and Astarion flexed his toes against the peaks and valleys.
“Your terms are acceptable,” he said, pulling out his cock. “On your mark—”
Gale lowered his head. “For the love of the gods.”
“—get set—go!”
Shaking his head with amusement, Gale wandered off in search of a hose.
In the meantime, Astarion got to work. He wrapped his fingers around his cock, taking just a second to admire the Dribbles tattoo on the back of his palm. Shortly after the wedding, they’d made their temporary tattoos permanent. Just like the ring on his finger, the smiling clown face was a symbol of enduring love.
Sappily, he thought about their wedding night as he began masturbating.
Once, it might have been Drizzt Do’Urden or one of the cast members of The Mummy, but Astarion’s urges had changed. The fact was that no one in his forty-one years of life had ever gotten him going like Gale did. Gale. That plump, perfect, human man.
In Astarion’s earliest days, sex was something he was forced into by Cazador. He didn’t enjoy it then, learning far too early how to feel nothing when he was being used.
Sex wasn't exactly forced when he went to prison (he had the protection of the Infernals), but it became a commodity. Pleasure didn't really enter into the picture when trading blowjobs for weed gummies. It was just something he did, like eating, sleeping, or showering.
After his release, Astarion sort of enjoyed sex. He tried to, anyway. He really did. During five years working in the kitchen at Sauceman Chorizo’s and then Bowl Hole, he had a few flings. None lasted long after they realized he was a nearly illiterate ex-con with enough emotional baggage to overload an Airbus. Sex with those short-term partners was mostly fine, but he was always just a bit too on edge to fully enjoy himself. A bit too broken.
It was only by chance that he got so high on carbon monoxide fumes with Gale that he forgot to be anxious. After that, sex became fun. More importantly, it became safe, despite the sometimes mind-boggling activities they engaged in. There was space for experimentation.
Only Gale could get Astarion to use a foam superhero hand for fisting, fuck a blood pressure cuff, or shove Legos under his foreskin. Only Gale, with his plush skin and lush curves.
Picturing his husband naked, Astarion bit his lip and began stroking. The ship’s string lights came on as the sun set, and their warm, golden glow would be so flattering against Gale’s olive-toned skin. They’d illuminate the thick, juicy tits that sloped so perfectly toward his sides. They’d cast a shadow beneath Gale’s delicious stomach, obscuring the gorgeous little cock that dwelled there.
Astarion came once, right away. A rush of fluid splashed the bottom of the hot tub and settled in a small puddle. It was a decent release, and it was barely noticeable at all.
It was at that moment he realized just how voluminous the hot tub was, and that Gale was probably right. He wouldn't even be able to fill it to the seat.
Still, he had to try.
His mind conjured up a full picture of Gale’s cock, from the thick mass of musky pubes to the long foreskin that wrinkled around the cockhead when Gale was soft and pulled back only slightly when he was hard. He thought about the glisten of Gale’s wet slit, imagined tasting the salt of it—
Astarion came again, more forcefully than before. Two thick, hot globs of cum splattered into the bottom of the hot tub, followed by a thinner, more watery rush of fluid.
He gripped himself tight—too tight—and stroked on, gritting his teeth and trying to will himself to come harder. Astarion pictured Gale laid on his back, his chest rising and falling slowly with his breaths. Maybe not slowly. Maybe quickly, as Astarion simultaneously fingerfucked him and sucked on his hard, needy cock. Maybe Gale would wheeze and rasp and whine—
With a groan, Astarion forced another orgasm from within. This one was a doozy. He stumbled back and braced himself against the rim of the hot tub as fluid gushed from his cock for a good thirty seconds. For a moment, he saw stars.
When it was finished, his feet were submerged in a layer of what looked like egg whites.
Swaying in place, Astarion realized that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to exert himself after a day’s diet of nothing but piña coladas. On the other hand, his cum smelled fantastic. He bent down and ran a finger through it, bringing a dab to his mouth as he stood.
Pineapple and coconut. His lips rapidly smacked together in appreciation.
Suddenly, there was the loud scraping sound of something being dragged across the deck. Astarion turned to see Gale hauling a fire hose by its nozzle.
“I’ve returned,” Gale announced, coming to a halt and observing the hot tub.
Astarion sighed. “You were right.”
“That’s an impressive amount of ejaculate nonetheless,” Gale said.
“Mhm,” Astarion said, semiplayfully rolling his eyes.
“Truly.”
Astarion hopped out and made his way over to a control box while Gale prepared to fill the hot tub the rest of the way.
Gale pulled too hard at the hose and the first blast of water nearly sent him tumbling overboard, but he quickly got the hang of things (seeing him work the firehose was kind of hot). Soon, he was trickling the last bit of water into the tub to mix with Astarion’s spend.
They didn’t exactly mix, though. Something about elf semen made it buoyant and insoluble, so while the hot tub was filled with clear water, there was a hazy white, gelatinlike layer covering its surface.
Assuming the fluids would all mix eventually, Astarion worked a few knobs and levers to turn on the bubble jets. After a few short groans, the hot tub roared to life and began cycling water. As it gurgled and churned, the sheet of spunk that had been covering the surface broke into smaller pieces that submerged and emerged with the rising of bubbles. The whole thing looked… chunky.
With a shrug, Astarion slipped into the warm, cummy water and took a seat where the jets would massage his back. Clumps of his own spend brushed past his arms and legs as he relaxed there, and Astarion felt like he was boiling in a pot of cum chowder.
Gale cast the hose aside and joined him, stopping for a moment to retrieve their melted, half-finished piña coladas from before.
“Technically alcohol is a diuretic and has a dehydrating effect,” Gale said, plopping down next to Astarion. “I think the drinks are watered down enough that it’s fine, though.” He handed one over. “Hydrate, my love.”
Astarion took a sip. “You just want me to keep tasting delicious.”
“It is a perk.” Gale scooped up a gelatinous glob of spunk that fit nicely in his palm, then slammed it back like he was shooting an oyster. He swallowed with a loud gulp.
Astarion mimicked him, putting a sticky clump in his own mouth, but instead of swallowing he held the sweet thing on his tongue and leaned forward to bring it to Gale’s. The instant their lips collided, Astarion blew the wad into Gale’s eager mouth.
Another gulp.
“Delicious,” Gale said, his lower lip dragging across Astarion’s. “I do believe I won our little wager, though.”
“You did.” Astarion fell back into his seat so he could look Gale in his big, beautiful eyes. “So how would you like to spend the rest of our evening?”
“Hmm…”
Gale put a hand to his chin, pondering. His eyes scanned the surrounding area until he spotted something he liked. A float ring, meant for absent lifeguards to rescue absent passengers. With a mischievous grin, he pulled it from its hanger and brought it into the hot tub.
“For me?” Astarion asked.
He already knew it was, and he leaned forward, holding his arms out in front of his head so he could shimmy into the center of the ring. It was stiff and tight as it settled around his chest.
Gale tugged at the rope that traveled the circumference of the ring. “That’s alright?”
“Mhm.”
Astarion relaxed into it as Gale tested the makeshift harness, pulling him from one side of the hot tub to the other through bits of his own ejaculate that stuck to his skin like beaten off barnacles.
They both giggled as Gale yanked him close for a lingering kiss that tasted like coconuts but felt dry, thanks to all the piña coladas.
“I want you right now,” Gale said.
“Then have me.”
Astarion stood up in the tub’s shallow waters and leaned over the edge, palms and forearms to the deck. The surface of the deck was textured, not for pleasure but so that a bunch of drunks wouldn’t fall on their asses. That wasn’t an issue for Astarion, who jutted his ass toward the sky.
He and Gale had been fucking so much during this cruise that any preparation was an unnecessary formality. Gale skimmed some bubbling cum from the surface of the water and slathered it all over his cock.
Without ceremony, he pulled the red string away from Astarion's ass and slipped his cock between his cheeks.
Astarion moaned happily as he took Gale in. They'd fucked hundreds of times in all sorts of configurations, but it never stopped taking Astarion's breath away.
He wasn't sure whether Gale was some sort of small-dicked sex god, or if love just had that effect on him.
Gale grabbed the float ring by its rope and yanked Astarion upright. Only the tips of his fingers remained connected to the deck, barely supporting anything as Gale fucked into him.
A series of embarrassingly high-pitched whines came out of Astarion. He'd exhausted himself trying to fill the hot tub with cum, and each time Gale’s cock stroked his swollen prostate, he felt like he might explode.
Gale pressed into him, letting his cockhead linger on that sensitive spot. “You can take it, love.”
The water around his legs was getting hotter and hotter. Too hot. Too sensitive. Astarion trembled slightly.
“Ai armiel telere maenen hir,” he breathed.
Gale rocked into him. “Kare mára, evaenya.”
Speaking Elven was a far bigger turn on than it should have been, and Astarion came again, this time spraying a thick rope across the deck.
Like the last time, he became dizzy. Slumping down onto his palms, he whimpered. “Gale—”
Gale could tell something was amiss. He slackened his grip on the float ring and eased Astarion back toward the deck.
“My love?”
Astarion let his cheek fall against the cum trail he'd left on the deck. “I'm exhausted.”
“We probably should have eaten something at some point,” Gale noted.
“Intermission?”
Gale pulled out. “Of course.”
He helped Astarion out of the float ring and steadied him when it seemed he might faint.
Astarion was determined to overcome the fact that he'd overcome.
Leaving their jizz-speckled hot tub running for later, the pair threw on some rough cotton bath robes and made their way to the ship’s oft-maligned buffet.
There were no other diners there. Half the ship’s crew had also come down with norovirus, so the task of tending to the buffet fell to one frazzled deep gnome whose nametag read ‘Barcus.’
“Take whatever you want,” he said, rushing an untouched but obviously spoiled tray of potato salad back toward the kitchen. “There's fountain drinks over there.”
Astarion went to the drink fountain, poured himself a glass of water, and chugged. Then he did it two more times in a desperate need to hydrate.
“That's good,” he muttered at his last empty glass before filling it yet again.
“You were already feeling dizzy when we started, weren’t you?”
Astarion gulped some more water. “Mhm.”
“Why did you let us go ahead with it then?”
“Because I like fucking.”
Gale wagged a finger. “Well, no more until you’ve eaten something.”
“Yes, dear,” Astarion said flippantly, drawing them both into a laugh.
There wasn’t much appealing about the buffet. Its size was grand, with the horseshoe-shaped counter taking up most of the room’s perimeter, but the items available for consumption left a lot to be desired. Astarion and Gale grabbed trays and plates and began working their way down the line.
First, there was the all-day breakfast nook, where wrinkly strips of bacon and dry-looking sausage sat next to overcooked scrambled eggs under a heat lamp.
“I’ll pass,” Astarion said.
“Agreed,” said Gale.
Next, there was an area labeled ‘Small Bites,’ a cold bar full of fruits, sliced deli meat, and cheese cubes that were beginning to harden around the edges.
Astarion grabbed a sad cube of cheddar and popped it into his mouth. “Eh. I’ve had worse.”
With the verdict rendered, he piled a few more onto his plate, along with some fruit for good measure. Gale only took some pineapple.
The next bit of the buffet was wider than it had been so far. A salad bar featuring both DIY salad fixings (lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, etc.) and pre-prepared salads, including coleslaw, macaroni salad, seafood salad, and—thanks to Barcus—a brand-new tray of potato salad. A large fly buzzed above the scene and landed on a bowl of three-bean salad, blending flawlessly with the beans. In the air was a strange combined waft of tuna, dairy, pickled vegetables, and tangy dressing.
“Hrm.”
Astarion picked up a hard breadstick, which seemed harmless enough, and snapped it between his teeth. When he was done swallowing the gritty paste it left in his mouth, he looked from Gale to the coleslaw and back. One of those things was infinitely more appealing than the other.
“Gale, have you ever had sex on a buffet?”
“Does a sushi prep counter count?”
“No.”
“Then not yet.” Gale’s voice took on a chastising tone. “And not until you've eaten a proper meal.”
Smirking, Astarion scooted his tray further down the line and hopped up onto the buffet, letting his legs dangle over its side.
“I am eating,” he said, taking another bite of that breadstick.
With a bit of flair, he brought it to Gale’s mouth. Gale took an obligatory bite and stepped closer, setting his tray aside and settling his hands at Astarion’s terrycloth-covered waist.
“A bit dry, isn’t it?”
“Here, love.” Astarion plucked a grape from his plate and fed it to his husband.
From Gale’s mouth, Astarion trailed his finger down Gale’s chin and neck until it reached his robe. With just a bit of force, he was able to get the robe to part slightly, exposing Gale’s chest.
“Astarion,” Gale warned.
“I’m eating, I’m eating.” Astarion stretched to reach where he’d left his tray and performatively plucked another cheese cube from his plate. When he was done devouring it, he leaned forward and nuzzled into the tangle of chest hairs that decorated Gale’s thick tits.
He took a few between his teeth and pulled away gently.
“Ow,” Gale complained.
“If you want to make sure I behave properly… you could.” Astarion pointedly reached for a bottle of olive oil that sat next to some balsamic vinegar.
In one hard motion, Gale grabbed the two sides of Astarion’s robe and pulled them apart, exposing the tiny red swimsuit. He kicked his own swim trunks to the floor and moved closer to the buffet, taking the oil from Astarion’s hands.
Astarion adjusted himself, spreading his arms out so that his ass was exposed right at the edge.
Working like a master chef, Gale drizzled the olive oil onto his hard length. He once again pulled Astarion’s string aside and pressed his cock up against his hole.
But he didn’t enter.
“Eat,” he said, pushing just slightly into Astarion, not quite breaching him.
Astarion theatrically rolled his eyes and grabbed another breadstick. He traced the crispy rod around his lips before slipping it between them and sucking in his cheeks for a display of grissino fellatio. When he bit down and there was an audible crunch, Gale thrust forward.
“Mmm,” Astarion said, assessing the breadstick and Galestick alike.
His shoulders and head bonked back against a plexiglass shield meant to keep sneezes and coughs out of the food. With each thrust, the thermoplastic wobbled—WOMP WOMP WOMP.
Gale reached right past the safety protocols and grabbed a handful of the fresh potato salad. He brought it to his face and scarfed down a bite before offering some to Astarion.
Astarion eyed Gale’s creamy hand as he swallowed a gritty, wet potato. “Oh, you want to make a mess. Pull out for just a second, love?”
When Gale obliged, Astarion turned to detach the plexiglass shield. It was easy, little more than a few metal clips to undo. He rolled onto the salad bar, tensing just a little at the feeling of cold stainless steel containers grazing his back. One of his hands landed in the three-bean salad, causing the agitated fly to buzz off.
With an oldmannish groan, Gale climbed up to join him.
There was a ladle in the macaroni salad, and Gale used it to create an edible trail. He started just above Astarion’s cock and drizzled the damp noodles along Astarion’s stomach and up to his chest. A second ladleful went directly to Astarion’s mouth, and even though it tasted like nothing more than bell pepper, he swallowed it down with a loud gulp.
Gale began eating the trail he created in reverse, first sucking the macaroni from around Astarion’s sensitive nipples. In wide-mouthed kisses, he worked his way lower and lower.
Once the lowest glob of macaroni salad was gone, Gale positioned his mayonnaise-slick lips around Astarion’s cock. The glide was almost unfathomably good, just a bit greasier than Gale’s saliva, allowing him to move faster.
“Fuck, that’s good—”
It always was when Gale put his talented tongue to use.
Reinvigorated from the water and food, Astarion felt ready to come again. He relaxed into pleasure, dragging his fingers through containers of velvety ham salad and fluffy green seafoam salad. He brought a fingerful of one to his mouth, then the other.
Salty chopped ham and lime jello mingled on his tongue. The flavor wasn’t great, but the blowjob he was receiving was. Astarion moved his sticky hands to Gale’s head, raking them along his scalp as he moaned with pleasure.
“Gale, I—”
His back arched slightly. His toes curled in a sloshy vat of coleslaw.
He didn’t need to say more.
Gale took every inch of Astarion’s cock and sucked an orgasm right out of him, like it was as easy as getting a milkshake with a straw.
It was a strong finish that came in a few waves. Astarion watched Gale’s cheeks puff with his spend, which was odd. His husband normally swallowed him greedily. It couldn’t have been that the flavor was offputting; Gale had to have a plan.
When the last drop was out, Astarion watched Gale shimmy over to the coleslaw. Hitching his mouth wide, he let a deluge of cum stream down into the finely shredded cabbage.
Then Gale stirred it up.
Raising the spoon to his mouth, he sampled the cumslaw.
“Much better,” he said.
Astarion sat up, his ass sinking into some broccoli salad. “Better? You never tasted it before.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Gale extended the spoon to Astarion, who enjoyed a nice gulp of slaw seasoned with his release. It was still a bit sweet on account of all the piña coladas.
“Now. Where was I before?” Gale pretended to ponder. “Ah. Yes.”
His knee slipped into some ranch dressing as he positioned himself above Astarion. He reached down to hoist Astarion’s ass up and grabbed a handful of broccoli salad in addition. It made for a slippery grip, but he nevertheless got everything aligned.
Gale’s cock glided into Astarion with ease once more.
Entertained by the mischief of it all, Astarion intentionally sank his feet into the cumslaw and ranch dressing before hoisting his legs up over Gale’s shoulders. The creamy liquids ran down his legs, trickled across Gale’s shoulders, and dripped everywhere.
Containers and trays rattled around in their nooks of half-melted ice as Gale fucked Astarion harder than before. He was hungry not for the array of cold salads but for his orgasm, and he chased it at a quick pace.
Then out of nowhere, Gale stopped. His eyes were focused on something in the distance.
Astarion tried to peek over his shoulder, but didn’t see anything.
“Astarion,” Gale huffed. “How would you feel about being extra full?”
That was intriguing.
“What did you have in mind?”
Pushing hard into Astarion’s ass, Gale scooted the two of them further down the buffet, dragging Astarion’s back and his own knees through every mayo-based dish known to man. He eventually reached what he was looking for, and presented Astarion with a barely ripe banana. It was a fairly girthy one, and at least twice as long as Gale’s cock.
“I like it,” Astarion said, “but then where will you put your cock?”
Thinking he knew the answer, he parted his lips seductively.
“I was actually thinking it would be right alongside the banana.”
Astarion’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Only if you’re interes—”
“Yes,” Astarion blurted.
Gale grabbed the bottle of olive oil and drizzled it along the banana. With a devilish look on his face, he pressed its non-stalk end into Astarion, stretching him a bit more than usual and drawing a hard moan.
He worked that Cavendish cock back and forth just a few times before lining himself up again. A little extra oil and his stiff cockhead was right there alongside the banana, gliding back and forth across Astarion’s rim.
It pressed forward and Astarion gasped.
Gale froze. “Deep breath, my love.”
Astarion nodded. As he inhaled, Gale pushed into him.
“Hells—” Astarion’s voice was shaky, but his ass felt great stuffed full of banana and cock.
Gripping the banana firmly, Gale fucked alongside it.
With each thrust, the flexible fruit smushed against Astarion’s walls. With each thrust, Gale rammed at his prostate.
“You’re taking it well, my love.”
“You’re… giving it… well.” Blissed out, Astarion began slapping his hands against the counter, fingering various salads.
He brought a scoop of what ended up being seafood salad to his mouth and almost gagged because it had clearly gone off. Annoyed, he tossed the fistful of mayo-coated crab across the room. It landed with a SPLAT.
Gale was breathing hard and fucking harder. “—feel so good—”
Something snapped inside of Astarion, and he was fairly certain Gale had split open the skin of the banana with his cock. He didn’t care, though. He was full of Gale and making a mess and loving it.
“Yes, love!” He shoveled some blue cheese dressing into his palm and flung it at Gale’s chest.
The clumpy liquid looked salacious as it dribbled through thick hairs and onto the ample curve of Gale’s stomach. It also sort of looked like a pigeon had made a mess of a perfect statue, but Astarion shook that thought away.
Gale was sweaty, filthy, and ready to come.
Astarion could see it in the way his cheeks flushed. He could hear it in Gale’s stuttering breaths. He could feel it in the way his husband’s thrusts became slightly erratic.
“—Astarion, I—”
With a hard grunt, Gale found his release. His body jerked a few times and he sank to his knees, catching his breath. He pulled what he thought was a banana out of Astarion, only to hold up nothing more than the bruised peel.
“Well, that will be coming out later,” Astarion said.
Gale looked down at his sticky hands, sticky cock, sticky everything. “We should probably go…”
Out of nowhere, there was a raucous clatter as a tray of roasted potatoes fell to the floor, sending a torrent of tubers tumbling across tiles.
“My salad bar!” exclaimed Barcus.
The deep gnome had returned, furious and horrified.
Soon, Astarion and Gale’s cum and mayo-coated bodies were locked in a small cell on one of the lower levels of the ship. The brig. It was a teensy, sterile space. Nothing but metal walls and metal bars for a door. With each movement, they dripped the remnants of cold salads onto the floor.
“I’ll be back when you two have sobered up,” said the annoyed crewman who’d chased after them on behalf of Barcus.
Astarion, who had wet banana and warm cum leaking down his thighs, was equally annoyed. He raised a middle finger to the crewman before turning to face his cellmate.
Gale’s normally damp eyes seemed extra damp as he slumped against the cell door. “I’m going to be put on a registry and lose my job at the library...”
Annoyed as he was, Astarion wasn’t worried. This was an unfortunate turn of events, but not an insurmountable one.
“You’re not going on a sex offender list,” he said, waving dismissively. “He hasn’t even taken our names down yet, and if it gets to that point I think Mizora will make an excellent case for norovirus-induced delirium.”
“Norovirus-induced delirium?”
“Mhm. I looked it up. We just need to—” Astarion rattled the door. “Shit.”
“I’m sorry,” Gale said. “It can’t be easy for you to be locked in here given your history, and I’m talking like I’m only concerned with myself. It’s serious for us both.”
Astarion laughed and began fussing with the back of his hair. From within, he pulled out a hairpin. “It is easy, actually. And not all that serious. This isn’t a real prison and you’re not some lout demanding I smuggle cigarettes up my asshole.”
He stepped toward the door and shimmied the pin around inside its locking mechanism. Within seconds, there was a KA-THINK as the door opened.
Astarion moved into the narrow hallway and shut the door behind himself.
“I’m not sure I should let you out,” he teased, showing Gale just how unworried he was. “Public Indecency. Destruction of a Salad Bar. Desecration of a Tuna Salad.” Stepping up close to the bars, he looked Gale in the eyes. “Have you demonstrated good behavior?”
His lax attitude had apparently rubbed off on Gale.
“I can demonstrate it now,” Gale said, dropping to knees that let out a loud creak.
Astarion looked around for that agitated crewman, but there was no one in sight. With a grin, he pulled his swimsuit down and slipped his semi-hard cock between the bars of the door.
“We can go back to the room if you’d prefer.”
“No, I’d like to earn my release.”
Once again, Gale put his mouth to good use. His slick tongue and wet lips removed every trace of buffet food from Astarion’s cock as he bobbed and twisted and sucked.
But Astarion’s elven ears picked up footsteps approaching from down the hall, so he willed himself to finish quickly. Fed and fully hydrated, it wasn’t a problem. In no time at all, he splashed the back of Gale’s mouth in a short burst, which Gale happily swallowed.
Astarion hummed. “You are perfect, every time.”
With that, he opened the door again and helped Gale to his feet. At this point, they could both hear the footsteps. Gale’s eyes widened.
“Let’s lay low for the next two days,” he suggested.
“Of course, love. There’s plenty to do back in our cabin.”
They kissed briefly and sweetly before Astarion began leading Gale down the hall, each quick step tracking a bit less mayonnaise than the one before it.
The creamy condiment’s residue was like Astarion in a way—lighter and lighter the further he traveled with Gale at his side.
He looked forward to the path ahead.
