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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[ There’s still an expression of worry, which Orym can see better as Dorian gets down on one knee so they’re closer in height. But he can see the bruises better this way too, as he gently cups Orym’s cheek. ]

I promised you I’d be back. I’m sorry it took so long.

[Orym leans into the touch like a sunflower seeking out the sun, eyes falling shut for just a moment as if soaking in the affection.

He shakes his head at the apology.]

You're here now.

[He will try to ignore the worry in the other man's expression. That's not why Dorian came here, and Orym doesn't want to ruin this for him. He reaches out for Dorian's other hand and takes it in his.]

You're staying a while, right? [A gentle tug as he steps back. Come with him? To his room?]

[ The worry doesn’t go away, but he at least manages a smile as he nods. ]

I’ve got all night.

[ He doesn’t have to worry about Cyrus asking for him. He’d be able to get back in the morning before he notices.

Getting back to his feet, he lets Orym take his hand and lead him to the privacy of his room. ]

[The halfling beams at that. And all the weariness and fatigue has fled entirely from his body, aches and pains as forgotten as they can be. Dorian is here, and he's very willing to do whatever the Air Genasi wants, be what he needs him to be.]

Yeah? Good. Let's make the most of it.

[And Orym does lead Dorian back to his room, relieved when he shuts the door behind him and closes out the rest of the world, so it's just him and Dorian.]

[ He’s more than willing to follow Orym to where it could just be to two of them, private and locked away from the rest of the world.

A quick glance around shows the room is much the same as he remembers it, the last time he had been there. The only difference was that the bed was about messier.

Like it had been used recently.

He swallows a bit, trying not to think too much about it. This is Orym’s job, after all. He knows that the halfling has to entertain other clients, he’s always known that.

He ignores the way his stomach twists at the thought. ]

[The halfling is a little too observant for his own good. He notices the way that Dorian looks around the room, notices the way he tries not to react. It makes something in him twist unpleasantly as well, this reminder of who they both are in this equation. But no, he pushes those thoughts aside. He won't let his own insecurities ruin this.

Orym hasn't let go of Dorian's hand yet, and is already leading him towards the bed, urging him to sit. There's an ulterior motive to this, really, since once Dorian is sitting, that means that Orym can make himself at home in his lap.]

I've thought about you a lot, you know.

[ It’s a good distraction, really, as the words have him looking to Orym in surprise, even as he follows the halfling’s direction and sits on the edge of the bed. ]

Really? [ He knows that Orym has been on his mind a lot, but that’s hardly a surprise. But Orym must have had plenty of people to satisfy him, especially these past few months. Why would he think about him out of anyone? ]

[As Orym settles into Dorian's lap, he winds his arms around his neck. A little nod at the question, smiling almost in bemusement that Dorian sounds disbelieving.]

Yeah, really. [He leans close to find Dorian's lips with his own, sighing almost in relief at kissing him again.] Hard to forget you. And I didn't want to.

[Even if he was certain he'd never see him again.]

[ He sucks in a breath, the reminder of how warm Orym’s body is in his arms sending a swarm of butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

Carefully he wraps his arms around Orym’s waist, gently pulling him closer. ]

I’ve…I’ve thought a lot about you too, to be honest. I haven’t wanted to forget you either.

Yeah?

[A soft whispered question that doesn't really need an answer so much as the halfling doesn't know what else to say with how happy he is to hear those words.

He lets himself be pulled, melting against Dorian so that he can kiss him again. Then again. It's that gentle touch that he remembers, the way Dorian holds him like he might just be something precious, something worth treating with care.]

[ Dorian sighs softly against Orym’s lips, shivering at being able to taste him once again. Being able to hold him again, to kiss him again, is all Dorian has been thinking of for these past few months, and it’s everything he had hoped it would be.

But as he draws away, his eyes drift down to Orym’s neck. This close now, he can see the bruises better, and his eyes widen a little. ]

Oh, Orym… [ He reaches up, fingers gently brushing over the darkened skin. ]

[He's only met this man once before, and it's been months. There is no way that being in his arms once more should feel like coming home, and yet here he is awash in exactly that feeling.

He's distracted by the warmth of it, enough that he's forgotten entirely about the bruises he didn't quite do a good enough job at hiding.

A small flinch, more at the fact that it's been noticed than the touch -- Dorian is being gentle.]

It's nothing. I'm fine. Just had a bad time earlier.

[ He glances up at Orym’s face, then back to his neck as he tries to peer a bit under the collar without trying to tug at it. ]

…Orym, this is a whole person’s hand! How bad a time was this?

[Orym lifts a hand to his own neck, and the collar of vines and flowers unwinds and falls away so that Dorian can see the extent of the bruise there, a perfect hand shape.]

I mean, not a great time. [A shrug of one shoulder.] He paid at least?

[So that's... something. Besides, it's nothing he won't heal from before all that long.] It's only a bruise.

[One of a number of bruises, but still, only bruises. The annoying part is that he could have taken the asshole down to the ground in an instant if he'd tried, but he's not a fighter anymore, and the job is more dealing with it.]

[ Dorian sucks in another breath as the collar falls away, revealing the entire shape of purple mottled skin around Orym’s neck, looking much worse than he’d thought.

And as he’s inspecting it, he can’t keep his eyes from trailing down, once again reminded of some others he’d caught sight of under his clothing. ]

Not just one bruise. [ His hand trails down, fingers lightly tracing over some of the darker ones that could be seen through Orym’s top.

And he can’t help a rush of sudden anger, thinking of someone treating Orym in such a way to leave such marks on his skin. ]

Dorian... [Murmured softly as he lets his hands come to settle at Dorian's cheeks, thumbs brushing there, soft and soothing. He leans close to brush their noses together before resting his forehead against Dorian's.]

It's all right. You don't need to worry about me.

[Dorian isn't here to worry about him, and the last thing Orym wants is for this to ruin the other man's time here, especially when he's come back after such a long time.]

That's not why you're here.

[ Dorian can’t help a frown, even as he leans against Orym in return, his hands gently stroking the front of Orym’s chest. ]

I’m here to see you, Orym. It doesn’t really matter to me what we do. And I don’t want you to force yourself to do anything if you’re hurt.

[Orym is the one to lean back this time, eyes widening at the words like they don't entirely make sense to him. Dorian can't actually mean that. But oh the warmth that's spreading through his chest is overwhelming, an ache that is so much more distracting than the lingering pain from the bruises.]

I... [He won't tear up at that. He won't. Fuck he is.]

It's not forcing anything if it's you. [There's not even pretense if it's Dorian. But, still, he ducks his head so that Dorian can't see the shine in his eyes.]

Will you still stay?

[ Dorian doesn’t quite notice the tears in Orym’s eyes, though he still looks on with a worried expression. But the question gets a small smile, and he can’t help placing a gentle kiss to Orym’s temple. When he answers, his tone is entirely fond. ]

I told you, I’ve got all night.

[ Then, glancing around for a moment, he gently bounces his legs to draw Orym’s attention back to him. ]

Here…let me up a minute?

[Orym looks back up at Dorian at the kiss to his temple. Good. He's glad at least he hasn't frightened the other man off just yet.

A soft surprised squawk at the bouncing, but he nodded, and slipped off Dorian's lap to his feet.]

Of course. Do you need something?

[ Dorian chuckles softly, gesturing towards the bed as he gets to his feet. ]

All I need is for you to sit back down.

[ He doesn’t wait to see if Orym does, though, as he walks over to a table where he’d noticed a pitcher, and as he peeks into it he’s pleased to see it filled with slices of citrus along with some water. So he busies himself a moment to pour some water into a cup before returning to Orym and holding it out to him. ]

Here…drink.

[Orym fits Dorian with a skeptical look but does sit himself back on the bed, hopping up, his legs dangling, not quite touching the floor. He watches Dorian curiously, trying to hold himself back from getting up to help him with whatever he's looking for.

He blinks in surprise as he's handed a cup of water.]

Thank you.

[Taking it from Dorian's hand, he looks at him in plain confusion now. What is this what is going on? Orym is in no way used to being cared for.]

[ While Orym drinks, Dorian removes his cloak and drapes it over a nearby chair, then sits on the edge of the bed again next to Orym to remove his boots.

Whenever Orym finishes the water, Dorian will take the cup from him to set it on the bedside table. ]

There is something I’d like to do, if you’ll let me. [ He glances at Orym with a shy smile. ] Do you trust me?

[Orym drinks the water, but he's still watching Dorian over the rim of the glass like he's still putting this together in his mind. He finishes and lets the cup be taken, turning a little where he's sitting on the bed, hitching one leg up.]

I... yeah, of course I do.

[He trusts him probably more than he should for someone he's only met twice. Something about him is... well. No need to chase down that path right now.]

[ With another smile, Dorian nods and leans in to press a gentle kiss to Orym’s lips. When he draws back, it’s just enough space to breathe between them. ]

Lie on the bed for me?

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