formmusebox | for Dorian (makingmyway)

for Dorian (makingmyway)

(( continuation of this au ))

[It has been a hell of a night. This isn't exactly unusual, really. Orym realizes he's lucky enough to have a roof over his head given the debt that he owes, and if he doesn't work, that debt won't pay off itself. But he's still ready to call it a night and deal with the repercussions of that come tomorrow.

His last client had been... unkind. He has a reputation for being able to handle himself, despite his size, so it's not a surprise that he winds up with clients who have a taste for rough. And he can handle himself, but that doesn't mean he isn't sore and exhausted and worn down by it.

There's a large bruise in the shape of a hand at his throat, that he has tried to hide with a collar of ivy and flowers, bitemarks and other assorted bruises that are only mostly hidden by the scant clothing that he's currently wearing. He had to come out long enough to be on stage or he might have stayed in his room after the man left. But dancing is fine; he likes the dancing. He can fall into the music, into the feeling of letting his body move to the rhythm, let the rest of his thoughts fall away. It reminds him of combat in a way, and there's some familiarity in that.

But dancing done, he hops down from the stage and looks around, very ready to stealth off, when a flash of blue stops him in his tracks. Is that..? Did he actually come back?]

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[In a kinder world, maybe, Orym would be able to offer Dorian something -- anything -- really. Dorian deserves someone who can take care of him, who can give him the sort of life that he should have.

All Orym can give him is this, the press of his lips to Dorian's, the touch of a hand sliding down his side, his body and (as much as it can only be in silence and in secret) his heart. And maybe Dorian's family owns his debt -- owns him -- and maybe that should complicate things. But Orym hasn't been free in a long time, and right now all he wants is to be by Dorian's side.

So he leans into the kiss, into those lips, clearly looking for more.]

[ In a kinder world, Orym would be his own person, free to make his own choices of where he wanted to work, where he would live, who he would be with. In another world, being together wouldn’t be so complicated.

But this is the world they live in, and at the very least Dorian can take of Orym while he’s here, protect him and provide for his every need. And maybe someday, he’d be able to give Orym his freedom.

But would Orym want to stay with him then, after everything?

The uncertainty is why he pulls Orym closer, lips parting in response for the other’s search. It’s wrong, he knows it is, but if their time is limited, he wants to make the most of what he can have. ]

[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.]

[ A moan of his own rises from his throat, muffled between their lips as those familiar callous-rough fingers brush over his skin, sending prickles of heat under their touch. He meets the slide of Orym’s tongue with his own, wanting to simply forget things for a while and just lose himself in the halfling’s presence and warmth. ]

Orym…

[Orym shivers in Dorian's arms at the slick feeling of that tongue along his own. The halfling's of a similar mind, of letting every confusing, complicated thought ebb away for now, for this moment, tonight. Feeling is easier than thinking.

His heart knows what it wants, even if it can't be spoken, so is it so wrong to surrender to that heart?

His fingers make their way further up Dorian's side, his chest, shirt hitching up as he does so.]

[ He draws in a sharper breath as his shirt is slowly lifted higher, exposing more of his skin to Orym’s hand and gaze.

Where once he might have been embarrassed by even this much, now it’s almost a comforting feeling, being seen by the one person who he trusted more than anyone.

Even so, he gently rests his hands over Orym’s, stilling them for a moment as he catches the other’s gaze. ]

You’re sure, Orym? Is this…okay?

[ It’s not, he knows it’s not, but he at least needs to hear Orym say the words. ]

[If nothing else has changed, Orym can certainly comfort himself with the fact that Dorian's hands are the only ones that will be touching him, that these are the only lips that he'll be kissing. And that, well, that is something he's very pleased about. Despite the complications of this, despite the fact that he knows this is still little more than a prolonged fantasy, he's not strong enough to resist this.

And he doesn't want to.

Those hands settle atop his, and he does still, looking up to meet those pretty blue eyes.]

I'm sure. I want this... I want you.

[Truth, gods that is the truth.]

[ Dorian draws in another breath, Orym’s words causing his heart to skip. A part of him still feels guilty, can never be sure how much of that Orym actually means or if it’s just because he’s forced to be here, and feels obligated to stay on his good side. But that had never been an issue before, even when he’d technically been paying for Orym’s time.

And more than anything, he’s much too weak to resist Orym - his warm presence, the touch of his lips and hands, just being with him. Even though this is wrong, he can’t stop himself from drawing Orym closer to him again, capturing his lips once more as he holds him tight. ]

[For a moment Orym worries he's said too much, that he's finally crossed that line, but then Dorian is pulling him closer, kissing him again, and Orym relaxes into him, full of relief. Things are complicated and twisted up, but at least Dorian isn't pushing him away, turning him away.

He thinks that might actually break his heart when it happens -- and he's certain it will happen, eventually.

For now though, Dorian is kissing him like he wants him, and that's enough for him. So he's emboldened enough to start working Dorian's pajama shirt often.]

[ Dorian draws in a breath, muffled between them as he feels Orym’s fingers starting to open his shirt, and he shivers as he slowly draws back from the kiss. ]

O-Orym…

I like it... hearing you say my name.

[Orym murmurs softly, breathless, fingers finishing their current task and slipping beneath the soft fabric of Dorian's shirt to set against his chest, wending its way downward, slow and reverent, over his ribs.]

[ Dorian’s breath hitches, another shiver running down his back as Orym runs his hands along his chest, and he gently tugs Orym with him as he lies back so that the halfling is settled on top of him. ]

Y-Yeah? Well, I like saying it…Orym.

[Orym shifts with Dorian, settling himself quite comfortably atop him, draped across him, hands still exploring. He lets his weight rest fully against the other man, looking down at him with a smile that is dangerously flooded through with affection as much as desire.

He steals another kiss before brushing their noses together, a soft, brief nuzzle.]

Do you want me?

[ Dorian wonders if he’s seeing things, if he’s just imagining the softness in Orym’s expression. If he’s seeing what he wants to see, a reflection of his own feelings for the halfling.

He tries not to dwell on it as he returns the kiss while he can, lifting his head to gently bump into the nuzzle. ]

…yes, Orym…please.

[ He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t. But he’s far too weak of a man to resist. ]

[It's the small gestures of affection, the ones that have nothing to do with lust or sex, the ones that Orym has started to realize that Dorian will return without hesitation, that he's starting to believe he's not the only one to initiate. Hope is dangerous.

So he tries not to let his heart linger on it. But oh it wants to.]

Good.

[Another stolen kiss, and he reaches back and up to take his own shirt off, letting it drop to the side forgotten and then turning his attention back to Dorian's clothes.]

[ Dorian hums a soft, pleased sound as he returns the brief kiss, then watches as Orym removes his shirt. It’s a sight he’s seen more times than he can count by now, and yet seeing that lithe body revealed never fails to still his breath for a moment.

And he can’t help running his hands over Orym’s chest, feeling the coil of ropey muscles that lay firm beneath tan skin. ]

How are you so beautiful?

[ It’s one of the things that he’s picked up during their time together, that Orym is actually a bit shy regarding his looks. But it was one of the things that he’d noticed when Orym first approached him, what feels like so long ago now. ]

[Ory arches towards that touch, like some magnet behind his chest is drawn to those gentle hands. This man can play him as expertly as any instrument, and Orym's body and the halfling himself have learned to sing for Dorian.

The words draw the start of a blush rising in his face. Somehow those words do make him feel shy, more so when Dorian says them, like he means them. He busies himself with undoing Dorian's shirt.]

You really think so...

[He murmurs softly.]

And what about you? [Now that Dorian's shirt is open, he lets his fingertips drag down the center of his chest.] Ever since that first night I saw you, can't take my eyes off you.

[ Gently running his fingers over Orym’s chest, Dorian then leans up a bit to brush a kiss over Orym’s heart. ]

Mm…I do.

[ More than just his appearance though, even if Orym is incredibly handsome. But the halfling’s gentle and caring nature is what really drew Dorian’s attention, why he kept coming back to see him.

He draws in a breath as Orym’s hands move over his chest, the sensation of the calloused fingers across his skin sending shivers down his spine. And he can’t quite stop the blush that spreads across his cheeks as Orym returns the praise. ]

A-Ah…thank you…I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of pretty faces, though.

[Orym's breath catches at the feeling of those lips at his chest, half from the sensation of it and half from the way his heart leaps in his chest at it. Again he wrestles with feelings, with the words he knows he can't say that want to spill from his lips. I love you, you know. I'm yours, if you want me, if you say the word, however you want me. A partner, a lover, a dirty little secret.

He swallows them back, hands rising up to cup at Dorian's face, so he can look at him.]

Not like yours, not anywhere near as handsome.

[And part of that is the kindness, the shy uncertainty and earnest, gentle soul he's discovered in the other man.]

[ As his gaze is lifted to meet Orym's eyes, he feels more heat rising to his face, his heart stuttering in his chest at those words. They seem so simple, yet coming from Orym they seem to mean the entire world.

And the words are on the tip of his tongue, and they would be so easy to say: I love you, I want you so much. I don't want this to just be sex, I want to be yours, I want you to be mine.

Instead he rests his hand over Orym's, turning into his palm and brushing a kiss over his pulse. ]

[Entirely unaware of the fact that his own unspoken pleas and promises are echoed in similar silence in the other man, Orym just watches him, gaze roaming over Dorian's face as if taking all of him in in this moment.

His breath catches at the touch of those lips at his wrist, pulse immediately quickening, heart thundering away in his chest.

It's too much. If he's not careful confessions are going to start spilling from his lips like a fount overflowing.]

Dorian...

[And afraid that it may be starting, Orym shifts to distract himself, to distract Dorian, moving so that rather than draped over Dorian, he's straddling him, deliberately settling himself so that his ass is pressed to the other man's arousal, rocking down against him, a still-clothed pantomime of what he very much wants to do.]

[ Dorian meets Orym’s gaze, still pressing that hand to his cheek. The stillness in the air feels heavy, like they were waiting for something. ]

Orym -

[ But whatever else he’s going to say is cut off as Orym presses himself against his hardened length, straining agains the prison of his trousers, and with a sharp gasp his head falls back against the bed, his hips jumping up to grind against him. ]

[A shiver at the sound of his name alone, and Orym summons a smile as he hears Dorian gasp for him, feels the way the other man rocks up to meet him, the press of his hard cock grinding against him, even through the fabric of both their pants, sending another heated rush of desire through him.]

I need you inside me... think I might go mad otherwise.

[He slips his hand into a pocket, drawing out a small bottle of oil. He's clearly come prepared, and optimistic. And it was something he'd been made aware of being in his room, since the other staff in the household did not seem to have any pretenses at all about just what sort of servant Orym had been brought in to be.]

[ Dorian groans softly, his hands gently gripping Orym’s waist as he rocks his hips, searching for what he needs for relief. But he knows he can’t get it this way, so he whimpers at Orym’s words, even as he flushes a little seeing that he is indeed very prepared. ]

Y-Yes…please, Orym…wanna be inside you, wanna feel you.

[No this won't be enough, not for the need that is roiling in Orym, but that doesn't mean it isn't absolutely exquisite to feel Dorian rutting up against him, to rock back down towards him even as he sets that bottle aside, moving to start reluctantly shifting back so he can work Dorian's trousers open and then down his legs.

His fingers tremble with need and impatience, and he's never known that to happen with anyone else, unique entirely to the mess that the other man makes out of his body and soul.]

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