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

[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. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym hesitates at the shore, not for any concern over the water or temperature, but because like this he can watch Brontë as he wades into the water. Eventually he shakes himself out of the trance to head into the water himself.

It's cool and welcome, and he finds himself over his head before he reaches his prince, but he's a good swimmer so it's not an issue.]

Yeah, of course.

[As if he'd refuse anything that Brontë asked of him. So he swims after the other man, a little curious.]

[makingmyway]

[ He smiles to himself as he continues towards the rocks, waiting for Orym to catch up. When the halfling gets close enough he pats the lower of the rocks. ]

Sit up here for a moment?

[ Even with the guard’s height, the stone was low enough that his lower half would still be underneath the surface while seated. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym looks at the prince curiously, but hops up onto the rocks as Brontë asks him to, legs dangling over the edge. He's still mostly submerged in the water, and it's a comfortable enough perch.

He reaches a hand out towards the other man to beckon him closer.]

Why here?

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë swims closer easily enough, a mischievous smile on his lips as he runs his hands over the inside of Orym’s thighs. ]

You didn’t really think I wouldn’t take care of you, did you?

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym can feel his cheeks go red as realization washes over him, as he's pinned by the mischief in that smile. His thighs spread at the touch of those hands.]

Ah... I...

[Well, no he should have known better, shouldn't he have?]

[makingmyway]

[ With a chuckle, Brontë leans up on the rock to hover close to Orym’s face. ]

You’re turn, Orym.

[ Then he steals a quick kiss, before stilling his breath in his chest and ducking underneath the water to press more kisses to Orym’s still hard arousal. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym is leaning up, and then after, that kiss as if he could chase it. Then Brontë is disappearing beneath the surface and that mouth is at his cock and he can't stop himself from gasping, voice releasing in a moan.]

Brontë..!

That's... [Fuck. Fuck fuck. It takes him a moment to realize and remember that his prince doesn't need to breathe when he doesn't want to and he realizes exactly what he's in for and gods he's too turned on for words.]