for Dorian (makingmyway) - Prince Dorian /Palace Guard Orym AU

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym spends too much time watching the prince. In fairness, it is his job to do exactly that, but it's gone so far beyond just the act of guarding a young noble. Of course it has.

When he'd first been assigned to this position -- the personal guard to Prince Brontë, a promotion really, after he'd managed to be in the right place at the right time to thwart an unexpected assassination attempt against the King and Queen -- he hadn't known much about the younger Prince Wyvernwind, save what he could tell from afar -- that he was beautiful, fair-faced and strong-shouldered, that he always managed to look the part of dutiful and perfect prince.

As he got to know him though, he'd seen more. So much more.

The prince is genuinely kind, not only for show in public. He's gentle and soft spoken, surprisingly down to earth for a young royal who's been sheltered in his kingdom all his life. He's funny too, clever and quick-witted once opened up. It took some time, really, but they've both let their guards down around each other. Orym has to remind himself again and again that he's nothing more than bodyguard, here to keep the Prince safe. Not to keep him company.

But oh he likes his company, has come to look forward to hearing that musical laugh, come to treasure when he's managed to convince Brontë to play or sing for him. There's a warmth in his chest when the Prince confides in him, when he's given glimpses into those surprising insecurities, his hopes and dreams.

It's several months into spending day after day with the Prince that he realizes he's fallen for him. It's foolish. It's utterly foolish and it can never be anything. So he wraps those feelings away and pushes them down as deep as he can.

Today they're in the palace courtyards. The sun shines bright from a sky that is a perfect shade of blue interrupted only by a few white clouds. Orym is rolling his wrist to let his sword dip and then rise, the familiar heft and weight of the blade comfortable in his hand.]

You know, you're good with a blade. I've seen it. But I could probably teach you a few tricks, if you'd be interested.

Comments

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë releases a shuddering breath as the vibration of that moan rumbles around him, sending sparks shooting up his spine. His grip on Orym’s shoulders tightens as his knees feel weak, and his hips once again jerk to thrust into that waiting mouth. ]

I-If it’s too much…tell me to stop…

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym's gaze lifts to seek out those pretty blue eyes, and there's really no hiding the lust lingering in his own expression before he lets his eyes fall shut before ducking his head forward to take Brontë's length in even further as if to assure the other man that he too much is the furthest thing from his mind.

His hands run down along Brontë's thighs, up to grip at his hips once more.]

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë’s breath catches as he notices Orym’s expression, swallowing the lump in his throat when he sees the heat and desire there. Then Orym swallows down more of his length, his head falls back as a moans erupts from his throat.

And as careful as he tries to be, he still thrusts more into Orym’s mouth, seeing how far the other man can take him. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[There it is. That's what he wants is to see Brontë letting go of some of that self control, of letting himself do what he wants, take what he wishes. Orym relaxes his jaw, lets his tongue slide along the underside of that cock as the other man thrusts into his mouth.

When Brontë's length hits the back of his throat, he can't quite hold back a soft choking sound, but manages to fight through it, swallowing him down all the deeper.]

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë shivers, his cock twitching as he feels the drag of Orym’s tongue along it. And he can’t help a moan as he hits the back of Orym’s throat, feels it tighten a little around him, even as the choking sound startles him. ]

O-Orym…? [ Despite the heat still burning in his core, he stills a moment as he swallows the lump in his throat, reaching up to comb his fingers through Orym’s hair. ] Sh-Should I stop…?

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[His eyes open, but only barely, as he looks up at Brontë through a fringe of lashes. His only response is a low, somewhat demanding moan. And just so there's no mistaking the intent of his message, the halfling very deliberately moves toward to slide his mouth along the remainder of his prince's cock, until he's swallowed him down fully, nose pressed to the coarse curls at the base of his arousal.

Brontë had better not stop, is what he's trying to get across loud and clear.]

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë sucks in a sharp breath as the moan vibrates over him, pulling a similar sound from his own throat. But then Orym takes him even deeper, and he makes a choked off cry at the feeling of Orym’s throat swallowing around his length, his nails digging even deeper into Orym’s skin. ]

O-Oh gods…

[ Swallowing the lump in his throat, he takes a trembling breath as he nods absently, the message loudly and clear. And after another moment he finally begins moving again, slow and careful thrusts in and out of Orym’s mouth. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[That reaction makes all this so very, very worth it. The halfling can't stop a pleased sound from rumbling in his throat as Brontë begins to move. For a long moment he watches the other man through half-lowered lashes before letting his eyes fall fully shut.

He may have fantasized about this more than once before, about the way that Brontë would sound and feel like this.

His cheeks hollow around him, sucking, tongueing at him as that length slides in and out of his mouth.]

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë may have fantasized about this a few times himself, but only in a vague sort of way. He’d known about the act itself, but had no idea that it could feel so wonderful.

And he never quite expected Orym to take in all of him. Just from their size difference, he had always wondered a bit how they might…fit, and he’d thought that if they had ever done this, that Orym would maybe take most of him.

But as he carefully moves, he feels Orym’s throat almost constrict around the head of his cock, and his head falls back as he almost loses himself right then and there. ]

A-Aaaaah…Orym…

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[It's crossed Orym's mind as well, and mostly led to a thoroughly determined halfling. He's too stubborn to have given up anyway, and the way that Brontë reacts to him, sounds, it is more than worth the effort.

The way his name sounds alone when Brontë cries for him that way is enough to make his own knees feel weak. But he keeps his feet and grips tighter at his prince's thighs, kneading softly in encouragement.]

[makingmyway]

[ A strangled sound rises up Brontë’s throat as those fingers work the muscles of his thighs, only adding more fuel to the fire that’s threatening to consume him again as he thrusts shallowly in and out of Orym’s mouth. ]

O-Orym…please, I…I’m so close, I’m going to -

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[And that, clearly, is Orym's goal. He opens his eyes to gaze up at Brontë, humming around him. It's permission and plea, for Brontë to let go, that Orym is ready, eager to swallow him down.

His eyes are fixed on his prince's face, wanting to see the way he looks as he comes undone for him.]

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë’s breath hitches as the sound rumbles around him, sending more jolts of lightning crackling through his body. But it’s the look in Orym’s eyes, the way they seem to simmer that it finally becomes too much.

Gripping Orym’s hair tighter, he thrusts a few more times before he feels the pressure boil over completely, and with a sharp cry of Orym’s name he spills himself into that waiting mouth, his body nearly sagging as the overwhelming pleasure leaves him feeling completely boneless. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[There it is. Orym nearly chokes on another moan at the grip tightening in his hair, knowing that Brontë is close, is chasing his climax. And then it comes. He shivers at the sound of his name, swallowing around him as Dorian spills into his mouth.

He swallows again and again, not wanting to spill a drop of him. He lingers around his cock until he's certain his prince is spent, takes care to lick along his softening cock to clean him before finally drawing away, panting softly as he tries to catch his breath back to himself.]

Good? [If there's a faint hoarseness to his voice, well, no help for that after what he's just done.]

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë shivers, another moan falling from his lips as Orym continues his attention on his cock, sending more jolts of heat that adds to the pleasure coursing throughout his body.

When Orym finally draws away, he can’t help a soft whimper, his own breathing heavy as he swallows thickly, his heart still racing even as a deep sense of satisfaction settles in his bones.

With a drunken sort of smile, he gently combs his fingers through Orym’s hair as he nods. ]

Y-Yeah…really good. [ He trails his fingers to gently caress Orym’s cheek. ] You okay?

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym lifts his head into those fingers moving through his hair, smiling up at him before turning into the touch once it lands at his cheek.]

I'm great.

[He answers, lifting a hand to settle atop Brontë's and hold to his cheek.]

Really great.

[makingmyway]

[ His smile somehow softens, and he finally lets his knees buckle to let himself sink to the ground, unable to hold himself up any longer. But it puts them at a more even level, and he gently tugs Orym closer to capture his lips, a sound rumbling from his throat as he tastes himself on Orym lips. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Oh, that's lovely. This way he can step close and wind his arms around Brontë's shoulders to lean into kissing him. Orym could spend entire days kissing his prince, losing himself in the heat and taste of his mouth.

They'll eventually make it to the lake, probably. Maybe.]

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë shivers a little as Orym’s arms wrap around his neck. He rests his hands on the other man’s hips, holding him close as he deepens the kiss a moment.

Then he draws back, just enough space for a breath between them, as he lightly tugs on the waistband of Orym’s trousers. ]

I feel that things are a little uneven here…

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym hums happily against Brontë's lips. He hasn't forgotten his own arousal, but is very caught up in the kiss, and isn't all that concerned by it.

At least until those clever fingers tug at his trousers. Oh.]

You don't have to worry about that. [Orym did, after all, get exactly what he wanted.]

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë considers that for a moment, even as he leans up for another kiss. ]

You’re sure? [ Oh, he absolutely isn’t about to let that stand, but he has an idea for how to take care of that.

So instead of pushing, he simply smiles as he tugs at the ties of the trousers. ] Well, at least let’s take that dip in the lake. That should help you cool off.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

I'm sure.

[Another kiss works for Orym though, and he's distracted enough by that kissing that he doesn't worry about how easily Brontë seems to have given in.]

Yeah, lake sounds good.

[Distracted, very very distracted.]

[makingmyway]

[ He grins a little to himself, realizing that Orym doesn’t seem to suspect anything. But he hides it with another kiss, as he slowly undoes the ties to Orym’s trousers, before easing them down his toned legs. ]

Well then. [ Carefully rising to his feet, he then holds a hand out to Orym. ] Let’s go then.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym reaches out to take that hand, tangling their fingers together and starting down to the waiting lake. The air is warm beneath the bright midday sun, and the water looks clear and inviting.

And Orym has no idea what's in store for him at all.]

[makingmyway]

[ His smile softens a bit as their fingers entwine together, and with a gentle tug he leads Orym to the edge of the lake. A quick dip of his foot to test the water - not too chilly, but cool against the warm sunny day - before he slowly steps in further to let the rest of his body submerge under the surface.

He waits for Orym to join him in the water, then glances around until he spots some rocks sitting against the bank.

From here they look to be about the right size… ]

Hey, come with me a second?

[ He doesn’t quite wait for Orym to answer before he starts swimming towards the rocks, but he does glance back to see if he’s following. ]