[Orym murmurs, a note of longing that he can't keep out of his voice. He really could pretend. He could pretend that outside the curtained window there was nothing but a flower filled garden glowing in the early morning sunlight, that beyond the door a small kitchen where he could make tea and cook breakfast for this beautiful man in his bed. He could pretend the door doesn't lead to a dimly lit hallway in a brothel, that Dorian didn't have to leave, that Orym wouldn't be taking other men to his bed over and over again and pretending they had impossibly bright blue eyes and a gentle smile.
But it would only be pretend. He knows that. He really does.]
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[Orym murmurs, a note of longing that he can't keep out of his voice. He really could pretend. He could pretend that outside the curtained window there was nothing but a flower filled garden glowing in the early morning sunlight, that beyond the door a small kitchen where he could make tea and cook breakfast for this beautiful man in his bed. He could pretend the door doesn't lead to a dimly lit hallway in a brothel, that Dorian didn't have to leave, that Orym wouldn't be taking other men to his bed over and over again and pretending they had impossibly bright blue eyes and a gentle smile.
But it would only be pretend. He knows that. He really does.]
But you'll be back soon.