[Orym moans his approval softly as he's pulled closer. He doesn't hesitate to let his tongue slip past Dorian's lips, shivering in pleasure at the familiar taste of him, the familiar warmth of being in his arms.
It feels more like home than anything else has in so long.
Maybe it is all wrong, and Orym doesn't care. His fingers find their way beneath the hem of Dorian's shirt, hand splaying against warm skin.]
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It feels more like home than anything else has in so long.
Maybe it is all wrong, and Orym doesn't care. His fingers find their way beneath the hem of Dorian's shirt, hand splaying against warm skin.]