Archive of Our Own ^beta

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“Gale you have to be shitting me, just go talk to him!” She was yelling over the pulsing music and crowd of the club, even as they skirted the bulk of the dancing patrons.

“Karlach, I will not. It’s really late, let’s dip.” Gale laughed back at the tiefling pulling him by the hand toward the bar. 

“Really, Gale, it’s time you move on from her, she’s toxic for you! You just need a good lay to show you how much  better it should be!” She put her hands on Gale’s fishnet wrapped shoulders and pulled him closer so she didn’t have to raise her voice. “You are amazing and beautiful and you need someone to show you that.” Her tone was suddenly serious.

“He’s way out of my league.” Gale offered pitifully, giving her an imploring look, “It’s like 2am, I have to get some sleep before opening tomorrow.”

“I do not understand how you can be so fucking charming and yet still so self depriciating. Wait- no, that’s what she did to you!” Karlach feigned surprise at the revelation. When Gale still didn’t concede, she rolled her eyes, “Fine. Do you have some paper?” She demanded, holding her hand out and grabbing the pen that she knew Gale kept in his right back pocket. 

From the cavernous pocket of his slung low gray jeans, She came away with the pale blue kerchief that had been tucked inside. “You slut.” She laughed heartily before shoving it back in his pocket and reaching for the other. He squirmed away from her intrusive hands and reached into the pocket himself. He fished out his wallet, slung to his belt loop with a chain, a screwdriver, a pen, and a strip of three yellow tickets before handing over the pen and tickets.

“Well, we can’t all just look at little femme girls and then move in with them the next day.” Gale sassed, readjusting his pants so the purple string of his underwear arced over his hip in the way that he knew drew attention. 

“Which is why~” Karlach teased in a singsong voice as she scribbled on the tickets she’d snatched from him, “Sexy Bartender is getting your phone number for a tip! Drinks on me!” 

“He has a name, Karlach!” Gale admonished plainly, trailing after her back toward the bar.

“Oh? Enlighten me?” Gale looked over at the bartender; a halo of silver curls, angular features, the tips of his ears slightly flush from the warmth of the club. He was focused on his job, but also taking moments to charm other patrons and flirt for his tips. When he put on a leering grin, Gale could see his fanged canines and couldn’t help but long to feel them against his skin. He was wearing an open white button up shirt that hung loosely, fluttering open as he moved. Beneath that, a navel piercing that contrasted sharply with his bare skin and occasionally glinted red when the ruby at its apex caught the light. With sinfully tight leather pants that had laced up the length of his legs, peeking out more porcelain skin, he was like something out of Gale’s salacious dreams.

“I… don’t know.” Gale scowled “I’m sure he has one no less!” 

Gale was too embarrassed when “two sex on the beach, Fangs!” later, Karlach absolutely paid and left naught but the strip of tickets in lieu of tip for the pale elf slinging beverages.

“Dude, you have to leave him more of a tip than that!” Gale demanded before Karlach’s rolling eyes.

“Fine.” She groaned, grabbing for his pockets again and retreating with his wallet, “A tenner; can’t give him too much cash, because with the way you’ve been undressing him with your eyes, we’d get busted for prostitution.”

—

Astarion dropped the little strip of two and a half tickets onto the counter in front of the man, “How much can I get with this?” He begged, tone flat and eyebrows raised.

 “What?” Behind the counter, Gale startled at the sudden interruption, his counting being disrupted as he knocked over a tower of coins, sending it over the counter. “Shit.” He groaned, watching them rain out into the open mall space amid the afternoon shoppers. 

The spray of coins that danced onto the tile floor before Astarion spread for several meters. “Darling, I hope this isn’t more tip from last night. If you must throw money at me, I do prefer paper.” He crooned, leaning a hip on the angled counter that was covered in stickers. A little yellow rabbit boasted ‘i like to watch people trip.’ next to the line of coins that had sloped and tumbled from the counter. The man took a settling breath and then swept the remaining coins back into the plastic bin he’d been counting them from.  He looked up at the elf, as if only just registering who had disrupted his counting, then back down at the tickets. 

“Um.” He spluttered eloquently as he skirted around the counter. Sexy bartender, from the night Karlach had dragged him to the club. He dropped to his knees, “that’ll get you two and a half tootsie rolls, or temporary tattoos… or some combination of the two, I guess.” He seemed to collect himself slightly as he spoke, ending the words with a small amused shrug and slight furrowing of his brows as he tried to come up with something more eloquent to say. “Sorry, man, Karlach, my friend, she insisted that I-“ Astarion raised two graceful platinum eyebrows and looked down his nose at the man before him as he chattered on about the events of the prior night. Brunette shoulder length waves dusted Gale’s bare clavicle where the neckline of his tee had been cut off. From one ear, a silver star earring hung, glinting above the purple lines of a tattoo that faintly reached up his neck, obscured by stubble, and disappeared below the modified shirt. Wizards do it with an extra ball, the bottom of the shirt had been cut off along the bottom line of letters, and it showed a swatch of soft belly above the Jnco jeans that hung off his hips. They were low slung enough to show the top of his underwear that pushed into his skin enough to make his softness slightly curve over the black elastic waistband. The light washed jeans’ wide legs bunched on the floor where he knelt. 

Astarion was sure that on his knees was exactly where the dork belonged, though he was currently hunched over and scooping up coins and disappearing them into one of the cargo pockets. “Guess I’ll have to collect more tickets then.”  The elf promised, “I don’t suppose you can make change?” 

“There’s a change machine at the other end of the counter, or I could… well, you’d have to wait for me to count again.” Gale sighed as he picked up the last of the coins, when he looked up, the other man had disappeared from view. The metallic grinding of the change machine began as he regained his feet. He dusted off his jeans and straightened his shirt, wincing at his utter lack of anything that could be called ‘game’. Ironic, considering he was literally surrounded by games. 

And then there Gale was, behind the counter, definitely not listening as sexy bartender moved from game to game. He also did not ogle the sole patron as he rolled coins, and he took special care not to go find the glass cleaner and towel to wipe down the screens of the games in his general vicinity. “Pinball doesn’t get tickets,” Gale explained, not looking up from his cleaning. 

Astarion had approached The Addams Family, the fasteners around the thighs of his black Tripps clinking against the metal game cabinet. He hummed and shrugged in response, depositing two coins and fingering the start button. 

Okay, Gale did watch as he wrapped his fingers, tipped in flawless blood red polish, around the end of the plunger and pull back before letting go with a slight flair. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Could call me ‘Fangs’ like your friend; I quite like it.” He provided a cheeky wink to accompany the sultry tone he spoke with.  A few taps on the flippers later, the silver ball drained and the machine chimed with defeat. Astarion frowned at the game and Gale realized he was staring. “Not my best skill.” Gale realized he’d been caught staring when the elf spoke and watched Gale flush pink.

“Well, Fangs,” Gale swallowed a breath, still reeling from the wink, “Have you ever played pinball before?” He shifted on his feet. The only movement from the elf was his eyebrows raising in question. “I’m actually pretty good, I could give you some tips.” Gale found confidence in his skill, and pulled on it to bolster his flirting.

“Are you? Surely there’s more to this business than standing around playing games all day.” He launched the second ball, and it rolled smoothly up the ramp.

“Oh, yeah. I fix the games and clean and manage the money side of things.” Gale shrugged, “but, I used to play competitively.” He admitted, pointing to a hand-made poster on the wall. 

Beat WIZ and win a free hat!

“The Wiz? Like Richard Pryor?” Astarion goaded, getting his eyes back on the game quickly. He struck the flipper a few times in quick succession, pleased when the ball soared back up to the top of the board.

“Wizard, like ‘The Who’ song. I was something of a prodigy, the youngest in competition for a while. The nickname stuck.” Gale made a slight gesture to his shirt with pride. “I hold the high score on a lot of my games, but rarely get wrecked at pinball.” No need for false bravado; Gale stood confident. 

“One would have to be pretty wack to turn down a lesson from someone so illustrious, wouldn’t they?” 

“In my expert opinion, very much so.” Gale beamed, but his smile faded when the sound of teenage chatter neared the arcade. He turned his head toward the entryway “My bad,” he sighed “The kids,” He offered by way of explanation, “My regulars. They’ll be here until close.”. He deflated more than he should have, those kids had been the one thing that made him open the grate some days. “I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on… this as much as you deserve.” He winced.

“Another time, then?” Fangs let the ball roll off the left flipper and disappear into the depths of the machine. It wasn’t the reply Gale had expected,

“For real?” He looked plainly shocked, “You don’t have to. If I or it’s not your jam.” He admitted, walking slowly backward toward the counter, his glittery converses catching the black lights and sparkling quietly. He looked pathetically hopeful. The elf rolled his eyes.

“What time do you close?” His voice dipped low and quiet again, and Gale was absolutely falling under its spell, stumbling as he was at the giddiness of the implications. 

“I’m, uh, I close at 8.” He smiled at himself, “I’ll talk to Security, she can let you in, if you’d like?”  He slipped behind the counter, still looking at Fangs as the teenagers made the change machine earn its keep. 

“Then I’ll see you at 8, dweeb.” The sound of the machine kept others out of the conversation, and only Gale watched as Astarion turned heel and strode toward the exit of the mall. His blue kerchief from the other night was hanging from the goth’s left back pocket.

————

“It looks pretty simple, but pinball is deceptive that way. You have to spend time with the machine, get to know it before you start pushing buttons,” Gale, as usual, drenched his blush-accompanied awkwardness in information, “It’s not just keeping the ball in play, get me?” He was leaning against the adjacent machine with Fangs once again poised in front of The Addams Family. “Like on this one, you want to spell out GREED first by hitting the bookshelf here.” He tapped the glass window with his nail. “You just keep pounding it until you get the jackpot, but it still needs a gentle touch, if you hit it too hard it’ll bounce off and not trigger.” 

Astarion hung onto his words, amused by his passion and wondering if the man even knew how vulgar the instructions seemed. “Intimate.” He offered; bait for the Wizard to lunge for. The other man attempted to conceal a smile, but said nothing more. Astarion launched the second ball for his tutor’s appraisal. 

Gale tracked the ball intensely until it hit the poppers, Then let his eyes wander. Fangs’ silver curls were flawless, and Gale could see that he had a neat undercut that he hadn’t seen in the dim club lighting. He had applied a thick line of deep purple eyeliner, better suited to bring out the color of his crimson eyes than a classic black. A trendy swirled black choker adorned his alabaster neck, giving way to a bare collar and shoulders. He was wearing a mock-corset top, tightly stitched lace covering everything but showing so much, and it disappeared beneath black Tripps, red stitching decorating the pockets and belts. There was a gap around each thigh, where the pant legs were attached with safety pins all the way around, more smooth skin showing through. Finally, a navy and maroon color block windbreaker had been tied around his waist.

“Take a picture, darling, it would last longer.” The elf genuinely laughed, deep and joyful. 

Gale flinched out of his gawking and looked genuinely distressed for a brief moment. “Oh my goddddds!” Gale groaned into his hands, which had come up to cover his eyes “I’m really not this lame, I swear.” His words were muffled by his palms. He breathed in and out slowly, before dropping his hands and forcing a smile that turned genuine and warm. “Hello, I am Gale Dekarios. I’m the owner, I moved here about six months ago from Waterdeep. Forgive my wandering eyes.” He bit his lip,  “As if you don’t know how fly you look in that shirt.” He extended a hand to shake, but when Fangs reached for it, Gale pulled their joined hands up and kissed his knuckles gently.

“I do.” The elf laughed again, charmed by the sudden effort coming from Gale. “But I won’t refuse hearing it from you.” His smirk waited to see just how far Gale could take the moment. “My name is Astarion. Star if you like. I wasn’t lying when I said I liked Fangs, though, it suits me.” He adjusted his stance so his hip was pressed against the game, supporting his lean. The change in posture angled his waist, and he didn’t miss the way Gale’s eyes glanced down at the curve of his side before flickering back up. 

“No less than Star suits you.”

“Star? Hm, if you say so.”

“Because, if I’m straight with you, you are incredibly hot and it would be a shame to not look at you.”

“Oh, pet, let’s not pretend anything about this is straight.” Astarion rolled his eyes, smiling with those sharp fangs on full display. The sass crackled in the air, and shook something loose in Gale.

“Screw it. Can I kiss you?” He demanded, stepping closer to Astarion; so close that Astarion could feel Gale’s body heat despite the machine-warmed space around them. “I don’t know how to get from this point to the one where I get to touch you.” He admitted, a frantic reverence in his words,  “You are a Star; dazzling, and there aren’t enough adjectives to—“ he was cut off by Astarion closing the fracture of distance between them and gently pressing his lips to Gale’s. No, something deep within Gale knew, not gentle; restrained.

When they separated, Gale’s mouth followed Astarion’s, causing him to stumble forward just slightly. His hands braced on Astarion’s hips. Once they were there, he slid them up Astarion’s sides to his narrow waist, spreading his grasp, warm and wanting. They kissed again, with less holding back; Gale pulling Astarion closer with little resistance until they were flush against each other, plastered from knee to shoulder. 

They kissed like they had been longing for years rather than a few flirty days, pressing into each other like they were going to be torn apart. The smell of  Astarion’s cherry chapstick imprinted itself on Gale’s he pulled away, grinning, “ain’t seen nothing like him in any amusement hall,” Astarion rasped the tune, breathless as his lips refused to move far enough away from Gale’s to not touch as he spoke. 

“You know, I don’t think anyone has ever tried to pull that one on me.” Gale offered, matter of fact but surprised. He pressed forward for another but was carefully evaded.

“That makes me either very lucky or very astute.” It seemed that every time Astarion managed to orchestrate a particularly inspired bit of flattery, Gale was rendered speechless. “Either way, I thought the reason I was here was to pull something on you.” Speechless and blushing like a virgin, even as Astarion stepped back to the game.

“Have you ever played pinball before?” Gale posed, but Astarion could hear the arrogance under the question that only wanted one answer. A prodigy in the midst of his downfall was too easy a spell to counter, even for those less inclined to magic. 

“Even if I had, I’m sure you have some wisdom to share.” He stepped further away, gesturing for Gale to take the player position for the last ball. He did, shifting on his feet and leaning over the game slightly with his palms curled over the top edges of the cabinet, calloused hands covering the yellow trigger buttons. Astarion watched the silver ball soar like Gale had controlled it’s every move. Lights flashed, bells rang, and the points ticked up until the ball descended the field once more, neatly dropping into the left side outlane. Gale offered a small grunt in disapproval, despite nearly tripling the cumulative score that Astarion had managed. As the match roulette scrolled on the points screen, Gale took up Astarion’s hand.

“Come play this one.” He led the elf a few machines over, and Astarion had a wary expression.

“Friends of yours?” He asked, motioning to the two ventriloquist style heads at the top of the board.

“Red and Ted.” Gale smiled, “they’re… well they’re a bit…”

“Unsettling?”

“That’s one word for it, they’re worse when they wake up. Absolutely something from a horror flick.” Gale fished in his pocket for a keyring. “But, this is the newest machine I have and it’s very straightforward to learn, so I think it’ll be easiest to teach you on.” He crouched to unlock and open a door on the front of the game, reaching inside to something Astarion couldn’t see. A chime sounded, and the eyes of the robotic heads opened. 

“Nightmarish.”  Astarion scowled.

“Well, it’s not as if they’re gonna get out.” Gale smirked “I’ll use my wizard magic to defend you.” He joked, motioning for Astarion to take his place before the machine. Once he did, Gale pressed against his back, fitting his arms around Astarion to poise on the flipper buttons. The position had Astarion pressed against the game and Gale flush against his back. “Is this alright? I thought maybe if you emulated how I played you could get an idea of how it’s different.”

“Oh gods, do try this move on all the pretty girls?” Astarion called out the advance for what it was. 

“Only especially pretty goth boys.”

“Smooth.” Astarion shifted on his feet, wiggling his platform boots off and shuffling them under the machine. The difference in height was subtle, but put them on equal ground. When Astarion continued to squirm, Gale backed away a step to allow him space to untie the windbreaker slung around his hips and hang it off the plunger of the neighboring game. “There, that’s better, yes?” Astarion looked over his shoulder to invite Gale back into his bubble. 

The new change worked as planned, and the way Gale’s hips fit against Astarion’s ass was nothing short of apotheosis. “Fuck.” Gale cursed reverently against Astarion’s bare shoulder, and Astarion rewarded him with a hum of satisfaction.

“Oh, I’ve a good one for you! Is that a roll of coins in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?” He bade, mirthful.

“Guess I can only play it cool in small doses.” Gale winced,  “My apologies, I can-“ Astarion’s hand reached back to his hip before he could retreat, holding Gale in place.

“Nonsense, darling, I’d be insulted if your appreciation of me stopped at my attire and apparent incandescence.” He tipped his chin toward the low, poster covered ceiling and leaned further against Gale, turning to whisper close to his ear “Unless it will distract you from the lesson.” Gale lifted his palm from the corner of the machine and wrapped his arm around the elf’s waist, exerting pressure but not forcing. Astarion took the hint and arched his back just so, pulling a small whimper from Gale’s lips against his jawline. The scratch of his stubble sent goose flesh down Astarion’s shoulders.

“Lesson. Right.” He chose after a pause, and kept his hand flat and generously smoothed across Astarion’s front as he withdrew, then traced down Astarion’s forearm to end with Gale’s hands atop Astarion’s. He adjusted his stance to play, and Astarion smirked at the way he could feel Gales erection against him. Each little motion, no matter how necessary, felt like a tease. “This game is unique. Ball starts on the right, but it also has a left plunger for a bonus ball to be launched if you unlock it. The idea is to move through the events on any pinball game, but this one the order is easy, it goes from right to left.” 

“You say that as if I know how to make the ball go to a certain place.” 

“Shut up, I’ll get to it.” Gale chuckled, “You are impatient. You play impatiently. It’s no less a learnable skill than football.” He pulled the plunger back, and let the ball curl along its habitrail to the top of the board. “If the ball is moving, it’s going to continue moving after it hits the flipper. Equal and Opposite reaction, like Newton.”

“Newton. Right”

“Are you being for real right now? You… Sir Issac Newton? Physics, gravity? I- shit.” The ball sailed directly between the flippers while he was distracted. 

“Chill, darling, I’m just riling you up. An object in motion stays in motion unless an unbalanced force acts on it. The acceleration of an object is some kind of math science. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” He raised a challenging eyebrow. Then a knowing wink as he felt just how effective his display of knowledge was on Gale, twitching his hips slightly. “Every particle attracts every other particle with a force proportional to… how charming his company is? Gods, there is no need to have remembered this.” He scoffed, reaching to start the second ball. “And the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. That may be the extent of my scientific knowledge.” Astarion assessed.  Gale rested his chin on Astarion’s shoulder, though his posture tensed  when he focused in on the game. 

Astarion let Gale pin him against the cabinet, lending his attention to the way the muscles in Gale’s arms and chest flexed against him. Gale’s fingers moved on instinct, holding tightly enough to all but restrain Astarion’s hands, accompanied by the percussive sound of the flippers. “Ah, there’s the first one; Almorel.” Gale nodded as he sent the silver ball directly up. When the ball came back down the ramp toward them, Astarion pushed Gale’s fingers into the flipper, bouncing the ball back up and toward the left side. It hit nothing in particular, and careened toward the left outlane. Suddenly, Gale jerked the machine to the right. While driving the ball toward the flipper as opposed to the unguarded drain, Gale had braced his weight against Astarion and relentlessly pushed his undeniable hard on against the elf. Astarion let out an undignified noise at the manhandling, and no the ball rolled directly off the left flipper, which remained stationary under Gale’s suddenly incapable touch.

Outside the playfield, Astarion’s fingers had curled between Gale’s, and when Gale eased his closeness, Astarion still wasn’t willing to let him go. “Don’t.” He begged, maintaining his lean against Gale’s frame.

“Sorry, I guess I should have mentioned, tilting the game is an actual strategy for controlling the ball, especially if it’s headed for the outlane with no ball save.”

“Gale.” Astarion mused, summoning the man’s attention from the game to look at him. Before their eyes met, Astarion kissed him again, rocking his ass back against Gale’s boner to pull a gasp from parted lips. He squeezed Gale’s left hand against the side of the game and brought his right hand up into Gale’s hair, resting in a possessive cradle. Gale let Astarion lick at his parted lips, bringing his right hand up to Astarion’s chest, fingertips deliberately  spanning the border that was the neckline of the lace corset. 

“Star, maybe we should—“

“There’s one ball left.”  Astarion’s chin jerked toward the flickering lights of the game.

“You gonna send that wrecking ball or what?!” Came the mechanical voice of Red, tinged with an accent meant to be comedic. Astarion released Gale’s hair, letting his hand rest on the plunger again. Gale emitted a quiet but frustrated huff.

“What was that about patience?” Astarion teased, coaxing Gale back into poise. Gale cleared his throat, reluctantly placing his hands back on the machine.

“Last ball.” He breathed slowly, “This may be the worst scoring game I’ve played since I was child,” he looked sideways at the game, “Also may be the first game I haven’t wanted to finish since I was a child.” He mused, pausing to take in the thought. He watched the scores scroll on the backboard led matrix for a moment before finally flashing a brief smile. Astarion watched the whole process with interest, trying to glean some insight into just what reverie Gale had fallen into before he began to babble again.“Pinball is physics and accuracy and flow, for the most part, but if you play intuitively as a beginner, easily the first skill to master is stopping the ball.” 

The ball was released a final time, but when it came down the field, it impacted the already inclined flipper; Gale’s hand had pressed the button and waited. After the first bounce, it came back down and rested in the crook of the outlane and the flipper,  “it takes some practice, but with patience and practice, this is the basics of controlling the game. There’s other techniques, but I learned how to cradle first, because it gives you a break if you need it, as long as you hold the button in. Then you can,” he released the button and the ball rolled down the flipper, waiting for Gale to fling at just the intended moment. 

It soared upward into a place on Ned’s left where it didn’t return from. Astarion waited. Gale smirked at the matrix animation of a TNT plunger being jumped on.  He released the triggers quietly and  placed them on Astarion’s hips with a featherlight pressure. As the amber lights flickered in a pixelated approximation of a mushroom cloud and Astarion looked down at those deviously wandering hands, the entire machine rattled loudly. 

The metal legs scraped the linoleum floor. The safety pins on the elf’s thighs echoed a snare where they met the metal. Astarion lurched forward, the hard vibration against his own aching cock. An uninhibited yelp gasped out of the elf that broke in the middle to make way for a light moan as Gale anchored Astarion’s body against his own. He braced both hands on the game, barely noticing the silver ball being released back into its trajectory to drain directly between the flippers, once again unused. 

“There, game done.” Gale tucked his face back into the crook of Astarion’s neck, the roughness sending another shiver through Astarion.

“Hells. You planned that, you devious little thing.” Astarion breathed, tilting his head to the side to allow Gale to place luxurious kisses  as he pleased. 

“Shaker motor. Not extremely rare but it’s quite a novelty.” Gale confirmed, “not nearly as effective if you don’t stand too close to the cabinet.” He rocked his hips again to enforce his point, and loosed a small sound in the back of his throat.  

“You’re the one that put me there.” It wasn’t a protest. Gale had returned his groping right hand to Astarion’s chest, pushing down the barely there fabric and thumbing over Astarion’s nipple greedily. 

“I, hm, I’m not usually this forward, but…” his left thumb had hooked into the waistband of Astarion’s black pants, letting its relaxed weight pull the waistline lower on his hip.  There, where the studded pleather belt suspended casually-one-size-too-big punk style jeans, became sacred ground, and Astarion covered Gale’s hand with his own, pressing searingly warm skin against his hipbone as he used his free hand to unlatch his belt.

“Gods you are a nerd.” Astarion chuckled. The wide belt came apart with a dexterous touch.